A God in Every Stone Read Online Free Page B

Viv plucked leaves and fruit off the fig tree beside which they were standing and placed them, alternately, within the Circlet’s outline.
    â€“ Oh! There it is. You’ve found it for me, Vivian Rose.
    There are passages of time a person enters into knowing unshakeably that they will always retain a rare lustre, one that will gleam more brightly as disappointments attach themselves to life. That was once me, Viv thought, anticipating the reminiscences of her future self; that was once me, plucking figs off branches and cramming them into my mouth while watching the sun glitter from the Carian coast to the horizon, across water as blue as ink and clear enough to see all the way to the rocks at the base of the cliffs. Almost driven mad by the purple on my tongue, the blue in my sight – a moment to understand Sirens weren’t creatures of the sea, they were the sea itself. Tahsin Bey laughed as though he’d heard her thoughts and said, Look, your eyes have changed colour; the Aegean Sea is in them now. Lightly touching her wrist, at the jut of her bone, he added, And the sun is in your skin. The metamorphosis of Vivian Rose Spencer.
    â€“ I prefer this version.
    â€“ I’ve been thinking. It’s been so long since I saw Christmas in London. I thought I might visit at the end of this year.
    â€“ I’d like that very much.
    There was nothing further either of them needed to say. For now they would continue on as colleagues, without any word or gesture to indicate what was understood between them so that he could approach her father from a position of honour. Papa would be taken aback at first, but there were few people in the world he regarded with more admiration than this generous, learned man – ‘more English than most Englishmen’ he’d once said – and surprise would soon give way to delight. Next summer Viv and Tahsin Bey would return to Labraunda as husband and wife, and all the summers after that. She had never felt so much at peace in her life.
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    They reached the south coast of the Sea of Marmara, from where they would take a ferry to Constantinople, and it was there that news of the war in Europe finally reached them. It had started just after they set off from Labraunda, and the Ottoman Empire was still neutral, though that situation wasn’t expected to last long. The Orient Express? said the man at the ferry terminus. Oh no, that had been suspended. The Germans and the Englishwoman would have to find another way home, but not together, of course, now that their nations were at war. But – was the Englishwoman’s name Miss Spencer? Her countrymen had been leaving messages for her all along the coast. Here – he held out a letter.
    From the moment he said ‘war in Europe’ – everyone there had enough Turkish to understand the phrase – Gretel and Viv had taken each other’s hands, and now Wilhelm took the letter from the Turkish man and gave it to Viv, his fingers touching hers lightly.
    The message, from the Embassy in Constantinople, was brief. Her father was worried about her. She must contact the Embassy immediately and arrangements would be made to get her home safely.
    After that everything moved too quickly. A telephone was found, the Ambassador himself spoke to her and said it was a stroke of luck, a ferry was on its way to where she was with an English couple on board who were returning home via the sea route. They knew about her – every English person in Constantinople had been worrying about her – and would be only too happy to accompany her home, so she must wait at the terminus and make herself known to them.
    â€“ But surely there isn’t such a great hurry?
    â€“ Miss Spencer, you should have left a long time ago. I’ll telegram your father immediately – he has been more worried than I think you can understand.
    There was no time for proper goodbyes, no time to accept what was