Chapter 14 #2
‘You idiot,’ snaps Astrid. ‘Now they’ll not tip at all for the entire trip.
’ They stomp away from me while the captain reminds them we have to carry all the luggage to the correct cabins even though none of it is labelled.
This seems to infuriate them even more as they thud back down the plank to pick up the thirty or so suitcases that have been abandoned by the cars.
We begin picking up the heavy cases and bags.
Lord knows how we are supposed to know whose luggage belongs to whom.
It’s only as I bring up the rear that a thought suddenly occurs.
Where’s the child? I drop the bags onto the decking and race back down the plank towards the cars.
They have started their engines. They are ready to drive off.
I wave my arms about frantically. ‘Wait! Wait!’
I run to the first car and peer in through the window.
Empty. I race to the next, banging on the window for it to stop rolling away.
Empty. I run to the next and try to peer in, but the windows are too dark.
I yank open the door and see a small child on the back seat, wearing a T-shirt with a picture of He-Man on the front and written underneath the slogan, ‘By the power of Grayskull’.
He is swinging his legs and licking an ice lolly.
His face and hands are sticky. As he lifts his sweet face towards me, his floppy dark hair hangs down into his adorable, huge dark eyes.
So cute. He stops licking and takes a second to speak. I wonder how much English he speaks.
He screws up his little nose. ‘Fuck off, lady, I’m busy.’
I stare at the boy and diplomatically choose to ignore what he’s just said on the grounds that he might be repeating the adults and unaware of what he’s saying. ‘Hello. I’m Maddie. It’s time to get on board,’ I say, pointing towards the gulet. ‘The boat is about to leave.’
He shakes his head and continues licking.
‘We really need to go. Look, your mother is already on board and your grandmother. Everyone is waiting for you.’
‘Not coming.’
How do you administer discipline to a five-year-old? I have no idea. ‘We have more lollies on board. And chocolate. Do you like chocolate or sweets?’
This appears to get his attention. The driver takes this opportunity to twist around in his seat. He lifts his sunglasses, a frustrated glint in his eyes, and says something rapid in Turkish as all the cars beep at him to get a move on.
The child considers what he says, looks from me to the driver and back again. ‘How much chocolate?’
‘All of it. Whatever you want.’
He stares at me as though assessing whether I’m telling the truth.
‘Good,’ he says, shuffling along the seat. ‘Because my parents do not allow me to eat anything with sugar. They are mean. I hate them.’
Oh dear. As soon as we shut the car door, it speeds away, tyres squealing.
* * *
After scanning the allocation list, I manage to get the child to the right room and knock on the door. Silence. The boy rolls his eyes and tuts loudly. ‘They are pretending not to be in.’
I gulp. Surely not. I knock more vigorously this time, and we hear loud thumping steps coming towards the door which is flung open with considerable force.
A thick-set, bare-chested man stands scowling at me before he looks down and a warm expression spreads across his face.
He greets the child in a strong Turkish accent.
‘Emir! There you are. Me and your mother were just… wondering where you are.’ He’s a terrible liar.
I peer behind him to see his mother splayed on the bed in a state of undress.
His father digs into his trouser pocket and pulls out an even bigger wad of notes than earlier.
He smooths his wet-look, jet-black gelled hair from his handsome face and raises his eyebrows mischievously.
‘Here. Take this. Keep him entertained.’ His eyes twinkle as he winks, thrusts the money at me and shuts the door in our faces.
I swallow hard and look at the cash in my hands. ‘This can’t be normal behaviour?’ I whisper, not expecting an answer.
A small voice replies, ‘Yes, they will keep giving you money. They have no time to play with me because they are always busy.’
My heart tugs as a brief look of hurt clouds Emir’s little face.
‘Come with me.’ I take his little hand, a gesture that instantly surprises him.
Poor child. Fancy being routinely ignored by your parents like that.
‘Let’s find you some chocolate.’ I stuff the money in my skirt pocket but honestly it barely fits.
It’s double the size of the last wad, so I wonder if it is double the amount. That’s a lot of money.
I don’t care what the others think about tipping, it feels wrong for me to take it so I will return this money at the soonest convenience. For now, I need to keep this child entertained. I lead him through the No Entry PERSONEL door and towards the kitchen.
‘Erm, what do your parents do? For a living… I mean.’
‘We own Hello Chicken and More,’ Emir says casually as his youthful bravado returns. ‘Biggest franchise in eastern Europe.’
Oh. Why does that sound so familiar?
We arrive at the kitchen to see a blaze of colour as the two hard-working, scrawny chefs are busy chopping mountains of coriander leaves, piles of tomatoes and red onions while different meats are sizzling away on a massive hotplate.
The smells are incredible: lamb infused with mint, garlic and herbs, delicate pastries stuffed with cheeses, meatballs in sauce, and a colourful selection of dips.
My stomach instantly rumbles, reminding me that I skipped most of breakfast.
The boy speaks Turkish to them, and I watch amazed as they both immediately stop what they are doing, wipe their hands on their…
I want to call them aprons but really, they are glorified rags, and race towards a huge cupboard.
When they fling open the doors I can see dried foods, packets, tins and a stash of chocolate bars and biscuits.
Emir scans the selection and points to a box of sticky-looking baklava, a large bar of pistachio-filled, crunchy chocolate and a bag of assorted Turkish delight.
‘Pay them,’ he instructs, nodding towards the money in my pocket.
I find myself doing as he instructs and hand over a note to each of the chefs.
Their astounded expressions immediately erupt into praise and thanks as they hold the notes aloft.
They shake Emir’s little hand as though I had nothing to do with the transaction and that’s when I notice a huge gold Rolex dangling from Emir’s skinny wrist.
‘Now you have your chocolate, I think it’s time to return that watch to your grandmother, don’t you?’
‘She never notices they are missing. I have four of them at home,’ he says, shrugging. ‘Besides, I might sell it. Do you want to buy it?’ He holds his wrist aloft and the watch falls down to his armpit. ‘Twenty big ones.’
‘No thanks,’ I say. ‘We will return it.’
‘Think about it, lady.’ He flicks his hair from his angelic face, grins disconcertingly and taps the side of his nose, eyes shining mischievously (unnervingly like his father). ‘She paid eighty thousand dollars for it, so it is a bargain.’ I hear a clunk and look down. It has fallen on the floor.
Oh, Christ. I pick it up and slip it in my other pocket. ‘We’ll return it at lunch. Come on. And it’s not lady, I’m called Maddie.’ I glance down at him. He is a miniature version of his father, in looks, mannerisms and everything. ‘Are you sure you’re only five?’
A clanging announces that lunch is ready to be served.