Anyush by Martine Madden Page B

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,