Anyush (10 page)

Jahan

J
ahan sat against the wall of the ruin, just inside the doorway. Below him the line of white sand swept a majestic curve around the headland, past the rocky promontory, and merged in the far distance into the grey sea. The beach was deserted. She wasn’t coming.

Since the day in the cove he had not been to the ruin. He had stopped keeping track of Anyush’s movements and tried to put her from his thoughts, but being saved from drowning does strange things to the mind. Her courage in the service of a man, whose motives were, at best, questionable, had a profound effect on him. She had risked her life without a moment’s hesitation, and it was the most selfless act any other human being had ever undertaken on his behalf.

He felt ashamed. He had decided to seduce Anyush, and, watching her shivering and half naked on the stones, he knew she was his for the taking. A bit of harmless fun to stave off the boredom of being banished to the back end of the Empire. But it didn’t seem so harmless any more.

A year previously Jahan had been in Paris finishing his officer’s training at the French Military Academy. Enver Pasha, the commanding officer of the Turkish army, was determined to rid the ranks of
the older
alaylı
, those officers who had been appointed without going to military school, and replace them with the
mektepli
, young, eager graduates of the Military Academy such as Jahan. Like other cadets sent to Berlin, Vienna, Rome, London and St Petersburg, Jahan’s head was full of the modern advances he would bring home with him. He was determined to establish the first Ottoman aviation corps, and an armoured vehicle squadron, and his superiors were suitably impressed. But the outbreak of war put an end to all Jahan’s dreams. The cadets were recalled to Constantinople to bolster a decimated Ottoman army. The military had never recovered from the disastrous Balkan War which had destroyed it as an effective fighting force. As the events of 1914 lumbered towards the inevitable, the Ottoman army found itself understaffed, ill-equipped and totally unprepared for another war.

Not every aspect of the war was unfavourable for the Orfalea family. Jahan’s father, a leading figure in the Ottoman military, had substantially increased his fortune during the Balkan War and since the advent of the Great War. The family tannery in Constantinople had become the biggest army supplier of saddles, bandoliers and boots, and, being the only son and heir of his father’s business, Jahan ought to have been grateful for an armed conflict.

In reality, he was disenchanted with all things military and disturbed by the nationalistic fervour spreading throughout the country like fire. ‘Armenian,’ he thought, looking up at the darkening sky, had become a dirty word.

Over the course of a few restless nights, Jahan had decided never to see Anyush again. His company was moving to the Russian front in a couple of days, and it would be his parting gift to her, a sincere thank you for saving his life. So sincere in fact, that he had come to the ruin in the hope of saying it in person.

A stiff breeze blew up. The sky and sea merged in a heaving mass of grey and the first drops of rain hit against his face, presaging the storm to come. Pushing his cap firmly onto his head, he stepped into the wind to walk back to the base.

Anyush

‘S
hort, Anyush,’ Bayan Stewart said. ‘Keep a little length on top but cut the rest short.’

‘I don’t need a woman to cut my hair,’ Robert complained. ‘I like it long.’

‘Sit still, Master Robert,’ Anyush said, holding the scissors away from him.

‘Nobody complains about Mahmoud Agha’s hair. Nobody makes
him
cut it off.’

‘Mahmoud is a Kurd,’ his mother said. ‘Cut it like you did Thomas’s, Anyush dear.’

‘Think how much cooler it will be,’ Anyush said, snipping off a lock. ‘Short hair is easier in the heat.’

‘That’s what hats are for,’ Robert muttered.

‘Told you you’d have to cut it,’ Eleanor smirked.

Her brother made a face.

‘Charles … I was wondering when we’d see you.’ Bayan Stewart rose to greet her husband who seemed a little distracted.

‘
Barev
, Dr Stewart.’

‘
Barev dyzez
, Anyush. You’re here today? I expected you at the clinic.’

‘Clinic tomorrow,
Doktor
.’

‘Oh … yes, that’s right.’

‘Robert is having his hair cut,’ Bayan Stewart smiled. ‘Samson shorn by Delilah.’

‘Not before time,’ Dr Stewart said, lowering himself into a chair.

Taking the comb, Anyush began to pull the tangles from Robert’s hair.

Since the evening at the cove she had not been to the beach. She never walked that way and kept busy from early morning until she fell onto her bed at night. But sleep didn’t hold her for long. In the early hours she would find herself awake and thinking of Jahan. Telling herself that nothing had happened and knowing that everything had changed. What she had felt sitting on the pebbles that day did not go away but lingered like a sickness in her veins. She thought of him constantly. She tried to imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t behaved as he did. She wanted to know what that would have been like. The warmth of his hand against her breast left her aching to be touched again. In her bed at night she touched herself, but in the cold light of morning she was ashamed. Days went by and she struggled through them – ordinary days, where only the thought of him gave her any pleasure. You need never be afraid of me, he had said, but, in fact, she was more afraid of herself.

‘What was the commotion on the square this morning?’ Bayan Stewart asked.

‘Soldiers. Some sort of manoeuvres. They’re packing up apparently.’

‘Leaving?’

‘Yes, and good riddance. They’re a damn nuisance.’

‘Where are they going?’ Thomas asked.

‘The Russian border. There won’t be a soldier left in Trebizond by nightfall.’

‘Oww! My ear!’

‘I’m sorry …’

The scissors fell from Anyush’s hand as Robert pressed his bleeding ear to the side of his head.

‘I’m very sorry, Master Robert …’

‘It’s only nicked,’ Dr Stewart said, prising away the boy’s fingers. ‘Let me see, Robert. Take away your hand. A tiny cut, that’s all. Keep it compressed. Anyush, he’s fine. You’re terribly pale. You’re not going to faint, I hope.’

She shook her head.

‘I knew I shouldn’t have had my hair cut,’ the boy whined.

‘Are you certain you’re not feeling weak?’ Bayan Stewart asked. ‘You really do look pale.’

‘I think I need some air.’

‘Go home, dear. We can do our lesson another day. The weather is about to change for the worse anyway and your mother will be concerned.’

When she was no longer visible from the Stewarts’ house, Anyush started to run. Taking the shorter path through the wood, she followed the river until she came to the stony track along the old river bed. The wind pushed hard against her when she reached the beach but she didn’t stop. It was raining now, slanting into her face and streaming down her neck. The sky was so dark and the rain so heavy that it was hard to make out the landmarks, but her feet brought her to the cliff and the steps leading to the ruin. Her lips were blue from the cold, but she whispered the same words over and over.

‘Let him be there … please, please let him be there.’

Soaked to the skin, she climbed upwards, stumbling once on the slippery stone. At the top the wind roared in her ears, buffeting her across the little graveyard. From what she could see, the place was deserted. Nothing moved except gusts of wind threatening to blow her over the cliff. The church doorway was in darkness, but it was darker still and noisier inside.
Currents of air whipped around the circular interior giving voice to the whistling winds. She was too late. He wasn’t there. Battered by the rain, she stood gripping the crumbling lintel until she saw something move in the darkness ahead of her.

‘Anyush …’

It was the light reflected in his eyes that she saw coming towards her, and the outline of his uniform. His hands caught her as she fell against him. Combing her fingers through his hair, she pulled his head towards her, searching for his lips. They found each other, and her mouth opened to his, but she felt him hesitate.

‘I can’t.’ He drew away. ‘This is wrong.’

But she already knew what he wanted. She began to open the buttons of her blouse, her fingers trembling as the fabric fell to the floor and the cold air touched her skin.

‘No, Anyush.’

His eyes dropped to where her breasts pushed against the drawstrings of her chemise. Until that moment it might have been possible to put an end to it. To be themselves again, the soldier and the girl they once were. But she couldn’t stop what had been started and she didn’t want to. She needed to go beyond the point of return – to put an end to everything childish and all that marked them as different. She wanted to be seduced. Used by him. Opening the last button, she took off her blouse and stood in her chemise. They looked at each other while the storm blew outside and her clothes dripped pools of water by her feet. He came towards her and picked up her wet blouse. Draping it carefully around her shoulders, he stepped away. But she reached for his hand and placed it against her breast. She pressed his fingers hard against her nipple like he had done that day in the cove. Suddenly his lips were on hers and he pushed her against the wall, pulling away her blouse and the straps of her chemise. The stone pressed into the bones of her back, cold against the heat of her
skin. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he bent and took a nipple in his mouth. A shudder passed through her, long waves of pleasure that grew stronger as he worked his tongue. She heard a sound, an animal noise that seemed to be coming from herself. An intense feeling was building at the base of her spine, spreading to her belly and limbs and changing the rhythm of her breath. His lips had moved to the base of her throat, kissing the hollow between the bones, licking the angle of her jaw. He took the lobe of her ear between his teeth.

‘Is this what you want, Anyush?’ he whispered. ‘Tell me. Say it to me.’

With his free hand he bundled up her skirts and tugged down her drawers. They felt wet where they brushed against the skin of her thighs. His fingers moved inside her and her head fell back against the wall as though the muscles and sinews of her neck were no longer strong enough to support it. She had the feeling of being borne upwards, higher and higher while the air rushed from her lungs.

‘Say it, Anyush.’

‘I …’

‘Say it.’

‘… please.’

He moved her away from the wall and they stumbled to the floor. Pushing her clothes to her waist, he pulled her drawers below her knees and tugged them off. She was barely aware of the cold stone beneath her and her nakedness. She felt no shame only an unbearable desire to have him inside her. Of their own will her legs parted and his hand caressed the inside of her thighs and the mound between. She began to sigh, incapable of anything like words. His eyes were fixed on hers when he released himself from his trousers. Stiff and swollen his flesh stood rigidly from him and her body opened to receive him. She closed her eyes, all feelings of fear and hesitation gone. This was not what she had been told to expect, the whisperings and half-truths among the village women,
giving no hope of pleasure or joy only pain and humiliation. A flash of anger shot through her at the unfairness of it, the trickery of her own sex. But she was distracted by Jahan’s tongue moving across her belly, her breasts and nipples, and then, shockingly, inside her until she could think of nothing but their two bodies coming together and an urgency she couldn’t contain.

‘Now Jahan …’

Her breath was coming too fast.

‘Please … now.’

She felt him enter her and then a sharp, penetrating pain. He hesitated when she cried out, but she put her hands on his hips and guided him back inside her. Barely there at first and then deeper, faster, swelling so that they moved almost as one. Just when she thought she could endure it no longer, a wave of pleasure such as she had never imagined broke over her, flooding though her body again and again as she arched her back beneath him. Distantly, she heard him call her name, but she was gone from him, cast adrift on a warm and welcoming sea.