‘No,’ said the blacksmith. ‘I don’t have guns. You must have heard wrong.’
With a nod, the man directed the others to start the search. They began, unhurried, opening the cupboards, peering under the divan, between the mattresses and pillows and under the rugs next to the loom.
‘Can I get you gentlemen anything?’ Fatma asked, ‘Perhaps you’d like a coffee?’
The unarmed man nodded, and one of the gendarmes followed Fatma into the kitchen while the others carried on searching. The unarmed man sat down next to Gül, Timur took the seat opposite them. He looked completely calm.
‘Come here a minute, little one. Come here, Gül,’ said the man, once he’d taken off his cap. He pulled Gül into his lap.
‘Do you get on well with your sister?’
Gül nodded.
‘I bet you’re a good big sister, aren’t you, you take good care of her?’
Gül nodded again.
‘Wonderful, now tell me, how old are you? … Don’t you know? You can’t be five yet, can you? Or six? Are you at school yet?’
Gül said nothing. She didn’t nod, didn’t shake her head; she simply stayed silent.
‘Come here,’ the man said to the gendarme, who was standing about looking hesitant, not knowing where to search next.
‘Have a look at this,’ he then said to Gül, pointing to the gendarme’s gun. ‘Look at it, have you ever seen anything like this before?’
He laughed and stroked her cheek.
‘There’s nothing to be scared of, Gül.’
Gül wasn’t scared, she didn’t even feel particularly uneasy sitting in this strange man’s lap. She simply stayed silent.
‘You’ve seen a gun before, haven’t you? Practically every man has a gun. It’s quite normal, isn’t it? Your dad’s got one too, hasn’t he?’
Fatma came in with a tray, offering the commander a cup of coffee first, then his two assistants, who accepted their cups but set them down without taking a sip. They wanted to finish searching the last room, the bedroom, where the wrought-iron bedstead had been returned some weeks earlier.
Timur received his cup last. His hands didn’t tremble. Even if Gül did say that her father had a gun, it would make no difference, since they’d never find them.
‘One of you check the stable,’ the commander called to the bedroom before turning back to Gül.
‘Your dad’s got a gun, hasn’t he? And you know exactly where he’s hidden it. Be a good girl, Gül, be a good girl and tell me where your dad’s hidden the gun. He’s got two, hasn’t he? You’re a big girl now, I’m sure you know where the guns are.’
Thank God we sent her out, thought the blacksmith. Gül said nothing and shrugged.
It was pitch-black outside when the gendarmes abandoned their search, thanked Fatma for the coffee and left.
‘Go into the other room and stay there until I call you,’ Timur told Gül.
‘Can’t it wait till tomorrow?’ Fatma asked, but Timur just shook his head.
‘Go on, Gül.’
‘But I already know where they are.’
‘Oh really, where?’ her father asked, teasing.
Gül ran to the window ledge and placed her little hand roughly over the spot covering the hollow.
Fatma smiled, lifted Gül up in her arms, kissed her on the cheek and said: ‘You did very well. It’s very important not to tell strangers about what goes on at home. Bravo, I’m proud of you, my darling. You did a great job.’
Timur noticed his hands had started to tremble.
Gül didn’t tell anyone at home what went on outside either. That summer, she didn’t feel like going out to play with the other children. Even when Fatma told her to look after Melike, who always wanted to go out, Gül would often find an excuse to stay in the summer house or play in the garden by herself, building mud houses in the shade of the apple trees or picking flowers to give to her mother.
‘Why don’t you play with the other children?’ Fatma asked. ‘Don’t you like them? You always like playing with the children back in the village.’
Gül shrugged and said nothing.
‘Melike likes playing with them too. They’re nice children, aren’t they?’
Fatma had lifted Gül onto her lap. Gül raised her shoulders again, but she leaned her head against her mother’s chest.
‘Do they tease you? Do they laugh at you?’
Gül nodded.
‘And why do they laugh? Because you always get caught when you play red rover?’
Gül shook her head and said: ‘Wed wover.’
‘You’re just as fast as the others, it’s alright.’
‘Awright,’ Gül said, very quietly.
Now Fatma understood.
‘They laugh at you because you talk like the people from the village.’
Gül lowered her head.
‘But that’s not such a bad thing. If you play with them a couple of days, you’ll soon sound just like them, you’re a quick learner. And they might laugh at you once or twice until then, but they’ll soon get bored. There’s no need to be ashamed.’
Fatma poked her fingers under Gül’s arms and laughed and started to tickle her, first slowly but soon she and her daughter were rolling on the floor. Gül laughed and screeched; she sat on her mother’s legs to tickle her feet. Fatma kicked and struggled a little, screaming, and then she let her body go limp and said: ‘Now you’ve tickled me to death.’
She stayed face-down, motionless. Gül went on tickling the soles of her mother’s bare feet, but Fatma clenched her teeth and kept perfectly still. When there was no response for a while, Gül stopped, sat up next to Fatma and shook her.
‘Mummy?’
Fatma didn’t respond.
‘Mummy, don’t be dead. Mummy?’
Not until Fatma realised Gül was getting scared did she open her eyes with a laugh, hug her daughter and say: ‘I’m still here, don’t worry. If you go out for a bit today, we can play again tomorrow, awright?’
From then on, they played together every day, and sometimes Fatma played dead. Gül cheated. She went out the front to the children in the street, but she’d soon go into the stable, which had one door onto the road and one to the garden. She was scared of the mice in there, but she simply closed her eyes all but a tiny sliver, held her breath and ran as fast as she could from one door to the other. That was how she spent almost the whole summer before she started school, on her own in the garden.
She liked it at the village school, where all 60 pupils from the first to the fifth year sat in one classroom; she liked it even though the teacher would hit them on the palm with his ruler if they misbehaved. The boys got clips round the head or the ear as well, but the girls didn’t need to fear that. Only twice in her first year at school did Gül get hit with the ruler.
Recep, the only blond boy in the village, was in the fourth year and infamous for playing tricks and making trouble. One day he flicked balls of paper across the classroom. When the teacher caught him at it, he smacked him so hard in the face that his cheeks were still red the next morning. But just two days later he started flicking again and hit