The Sunrise (30 page)

The newspaper claimed that it was the intention of the Greeks to wipe out all Turkish Cypriots on the island, and for that reason the Turkish army had moved south to try and save them. The massacres in Maratha and another village, Santalaris, had only proved that they had been right to take action.

Maratha was Emine’s family village, the place where the Özkan family had lived before they had moved to Famagusta. All the names listed there in black and white were familiar to her, but four of them were her own flesh and blood:

Güldane Mustafa 39

Mualla Mustafa 19

Sabri Mustafa 15

Ay
ș
e Mustafa 5

It was her sister and three nieces. Emine began to wail. Her keening drowned out every other sound, the crying baby and the noise of Vasilis gathering together some of their possessions lost beneath her laments.

Several of the families in the village comprised six children, and each and every one had been hacked to pieces, often alongside grandparents. The names of men and older boys were missing as they had been taken prisoner.

Irini drew Markos to the other side of the room and challenged him.

‘How long have you had that newspaper?’

‘Not that long,
Mamma
,’ he answered quietly. ‘I had no idea that was where the Özkans came from. I thought it was kinder to protect them from what has been happening to Turkish Cypriots out there.’

Markos knew that there had been other exhumations, not only of Turkish Cypriots but of Greek Cypriots too. Both sides were guilty of atrocities. He had another newspaper under his bed that described the killing of many Greek Cypriots in Kythrea. He would keep that one until it was of use to him.

‘But where are we going?’ asked Irini, turning to Vasilis.

His impatience was palpable.

‘Does it matter?’ he snapped. ‘But if we don’t go soon, those soldiers could be back and we’ll still be sitting here.’

Vasilis’ primary concern was his own family, but he was still taking in the idea that Greek Cypriots were not the only victims of this conflict. He had not faced this until now.

Halit was trying to comfort his wife. Hüseyin thought of his cousin’s engagement and all those broken dreams. Mehmet stood close by, bemused by events.

Emine’s fathomless grief would be there forever, but her husband was urging her to stand up. Hüseyin had never seen his father so tender towards her.

‘We must leave,
tatlım
, my sweetness,’ he said quietly, holding her in his arms. ‘We need to save ourselves.’

‘I have a suggestion,’ said Markos quietly to his father. ‘We could all go and stay in The Sunrise.’

‘The Sunrise?’

There was something preposterous about the idea of these two families staying in a hotel where under normal circumstances a night would cost them more than they earned in a month.

‘I have all the keys,’ said Markos. ‘The gates and railings are so high that the Turks haven’t bothered to try and get in.’

‘Perhaps it’s not such a mad idea,’ said Panikos.

The discussion went around in circles for a while, but time was passing and they could not be sure how long they had. It was clear that there was no better option. It would be impossible for them all to leave the city without being seen. And who knew what capture would lead to?

‘We’ll have to be careful about getting there,’ said Maria. ‘There are so many of us. And the baby …’

‘It’s getting dark,’ said Hüseyin. ‘But we still need to be very cautious.’

He and Markos were the only ones who had experience of moving about in the city with vigilance.

‘We should leave now, find somewhere else close by where we can hide. When it’s completely dark, Hüseyin and I will lead everyone in.’

‘I don’t think we should go back home for anything,’ Hüseyin said quietly to his father.

He knew that the only things his mother might have wanted were the photographs of lost family members. Hüseyin had seen that they had been stolen for the value of the frames.

Maria had quickly assembled a few things she needed for the baby, including a bottle of the penicillin, just in case, and some nappies. Vasilakis held a bunch of wooden clothes pegs. They were his soldiers.

All of them filed out of the Georgiou home at the same time and waited for a few minutes in the
kipos
. Vasilis locked up and then picked up a large bag crammed with spare clothes and personal possessions. He could scarcely lift it.

‘Why are you bringing that?’ asked Maria. ‘We may not be there for long.’

She was holding the baby, and Panikos carried Vasilakis. Irini helped her husband with the bag and the two families separated, each taking a different route to a prearranged location.

Hüseyin avoided passing the Özkan home. It took longer, but he did not want his mother to see the mess of their broken belongings on the pavement in front of it. She had suffered enough pain in the past hour.

The Georgious were already waiting in the empty shop when they arrived. It had been stripped completely of its contents. They all sat quietly and immobile for two hours until it was as dark in the street as it was inside the store.

‘I think we’re safe to go now,’ said Markos, taking a look outside.

They stood up. It was time to move into their new home.

M
ARKOS AND HÜSEYIN
led their respective families along different routes again, both aware of the safest roads to take.

The rest of them, who had hidden inside their homes for so long, were shocked by what they saw: the silent streets, the ransacked shops, the bomb-shattered buildings, the neglected gardens. The sight of their beautiful Famagusta in a state of shadowy semi-dereliction was painful.

Hüseyin looked at his father and saw him reduced by fear and sadness. Markos saw the same in Vasilis. In their sons’ eyes, both men seemed to have shrunk in the past weeks.

Emine, silent and quietly weeping, was apparently unaware of anything.

Markos got everyone to wait in the doorway of the city’s grandest department store just across from the hotel entrance. He wanted to unpadlock the gates and open the metal grille across the main doorway before the families got there so that they could all file in quickly. It was a complex process. Savvas Papacosta had been diligent about security. He prized his luxury hotel and had wanted to make it as secure as a diamond in a safe.

Within a few minutes they were inside and Markos locked everything behind them.

The reception area seemed very alien to them. Away from the intimate space of their own home, Irini and Vasilis felt especially ill at ease. In spite of the luxury that Markos had described to them, they already wished they were back at home.

A faint glow of moonlight illuminated the foyer. The families saw the glint of the dolphins and the mysterious silhouettes of the chandeliers. The white marble floor beneath their feet seemed solid yet insubstantial. This was a new world for them in every sense, its size intimidating and strange.

‘So this is how foreigners live, is it?’ commented Vasilis.

The acoustics amplified their whispers.

‘I will find a bedroom for everyone and then tomorrow morning I’ll show you all around,’ Markos announced. ‘It’ll be easier in the light.’

He took five keys from the boards behind reception and led everyone up the main flight of stairs to the first floor.

In the half-light, Irini felt her way up, running her hand along the cool marble banister. The deep pile of the carpet and the width of the treads impressed her. The Sunrise was even more like a palace than she had imagined.

Markos opened the doors one by one and the hotel’s latest guests went into their rooms. They were all on the same side of the corridor, from 105 to 113.

Before they shut their doors, Markos issued some instructions.

‘Don’t draw your curtains. It might attract attention from outside. In fact it’s best to stay away from the windows. We don’t want anyone to spot movement.’

Hüseyin could not help resenting that his family were suddenly being given orders by Markos Georgiou. For the past weeks they had accepted
his
authority, and overnight this seemed to have changed. For now, though, he appreciated that the only thing that mattered was that they were safe.

In the darkness, they all groped their way towards their beds, bumping into other pieces of furniture on the way. The feel of the satin bedspreads and smooth cotton sheets was unfamiliar, but the comfort they offered after their exhausting day was welcome. All of them lay fully clothed on top of the spacious beds and almost immediately fell asleep. The sheets on some of the beds, hastily vacated when the tourists had fled, were tangled.

In Room 105 were Emine and Halit; next door to them came Hüseyin with Mehmet; after that was Irini and Vasilis’ room, and then Maria, Panikos and the two little ones.

Only Markos was alone. He remembered that Room 113 was one of the last places he had met with Aphroditi, but the smell of her perfume had long since faded. He lay back on the bed and thought of her for a while, recalling her caresses with satisfaction.

When he had first seduced her, she had seemed like a child, but over time she had become among the most passionate women he had ever slept with. He briefly wondered what had happened to her. The image that stayed with him was of her pale, perfect body naked but for a long chain that snaked down her neck, between her breasts and across her stomach. He enjoyed seeing her wearing nothing but gold.

Glancing at the luminous hands of his watch, Markos got up from his bed. He needed to make sure that all the doors were properly locked, including the inner door to the nightclub. He was fairly certain that everyone would be asleep now. As he crept down the corridor, he could hear the muffled sound of crying.

Except for Emine, they all slept with ease. They had never rested their heads on such soft pillows or felt the comfort of such mattresses beneath them. Just after six thirty the following morning, however, they were woken almost simultaneously by a dazzling light.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the morning was being born. The clarity of the sky magnified the size and power of the huge orange star that rose steadily in front of them. The floor-to-ceiling windows gave them a perfect view of the bright rays spreading across the sea.

None of them had ever seen day breaking with such a majestic sunrise.

Weary eyes opened and were rubbed. It was magnificent. Every morning of their lives, the same phenomenon took place, but only a few times had any of them felt that the sun was coming up just for them.

Half an hour or so later, when the reds and golds had dissipated and the sun was sitting in the sky, Irini and Vasilis ventured into their bathroom and experimented with the ornate gold taps. They were relieved to find that the water was flowing. At the same time, Halit nervously tried out the shower and sniffed the soap suspiciously. In his bathroom, Hüseyin picked up a thick, soft towel. He had handed similar towels to guests every day but had never expected to use one himself. Mehmet put on a bathrobe and ran around the room tripping and giggling.

Emine was less impressed, as she was well used to the luxurious environment of The Sunrise. In any case, she was very preoccupied. Halit had not been able to make her part with the newspaper. She had even slept with it under her pillow. There was no question of her leaving her room.

‘She must grieve today, tomorrow and maybe for a few days after,’ explained Halit to Irini, who expressed concern for her friend.

‘Of course,’ said Irini. ‘But we must take some food to her.’ In Irini’s mind, a meal would make her friend feel better.

About an hour after sunrise, everyone else had wandered down to the foyer. Wide-eyed, they took in their surroundings. Mehmet and Vasilakis chased each other round and round the fountain, squealing as they went. They felt as if let out of a cage and were intoxicated by the size of the space.

‘Shall I show you around?’ Markos asked them, in the voice he might use for a guest checking in for a fortnight’s vacation. ‘The most important place is the kitchen. Let’s start there.’

They were astonished by the sheer scale of it. There were rows of silver pans hanging from the ceiling, a multitude of meat cleavers and butchers’ blades, sets of glinting whisks arranged like silver flowers, towers of white plates, huge copper urns, banks of gas hobs almost as far as the eye could see. It was a little dusty but otherwise spick and span. The chef was tyrannical, and before they had evacuated, he had insisted that everything was in its place.

‘But is there anything to eat?’ asked Mehmet.

Markos smiled. ‘The food is kept in a special room,’ he said. ‘Shall we go and see?’

Mehmet made sure that he was close to Markos for the next stage of the tour. They walked into the cold room.

‘What are those silver cupboards?’ he asked.

‘They’re the refrigerators,’ replied Markos. ‘And I’m afraid there won’t be much to eat in there.’

‘Can we see?’ The little boy believed nothing unless it was proved to him.

Without knowing what lay inside, Markos opened one of the meat fridges. The stench that invaded the room was overpowering, a cloying sweetness that hit the back of the nostrils, descended to the throat and then went quickly to the stomach. The effect was almost instantaneous.

Hüseyin turned away just in time to vomit copiously. Mehmet made a dash from the room, quickly followed by the others. Everyone was coughing and retching.

Only Markos had actually seen the contents of the fridge: whole sides of raw beef that were blue-green and animated by writhing maggots.

He rushed back into the kitchen with the others, and apologised.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, shutting the door to the cold room. ‘I had no idea …’

He was silently glad that he had not opened the fridge in which fish was kept.

‘It won’t all be like that,’ he promised, seeing that they had lost heart. ‘There is plenty we can make use of where the dry goods are kept.’

Fortunately he was right. There was another room off the main kitchen like a small warehouse, where flour, sugar, pulses and rice was kept. It was clear that mice had discovered this, but there were mountains of food still left, along with every other cooking ingredient that a gourmet chef needed to produce meals for hundreds of guests.