More from The Importance of Being Arthur

More from The Importance of Being Arthur, from previous blog ...

"Well, this is one way you could get to know her," said Joan, smiling impishly. "Look Martin, she wants to help with finding her father and this little excursion could unearth him for her."

"Look, Mum, I know you only want the best for me but don't push it. I'm not ready for anyone else yet," said Martin, his politeness obviously being stretched.

"So, what are you going to do - wander on home, wishing you'd come and helped us out in a sticky situation?" asked Joan.

"Oh, okay, I'll see if she can help," said Martin, knowing his mother would not be deterred by obvious obstacles. He called Emily and was surprised that she jumped at the chance to help him out.

"Perhaps you take Dottie when she returns, Martin, along with Toby, who knows the way," suggested Arthur.

"And I'll ring Amanda to see if she can help," said Joan.

"Gosh, yes, grand idea," said Arthur. "And you, Dominik and I will go in the van." Dominik visibly brightened at the mention of his name, perhaps fearing being left out. "No Dominik, we're not going without you!"

"Me good for punish new bad man!" said Dominik, smiling and patting Toby on his good shoulder. Arthur was relieved that Dominik had made friends with Toby and had no lingering hatred or 'bad man' thoughts about him.

The Turkish Connection
Tuesday, 13th March 2012, 11.36 p.m.
 "Ah, yes, I see what you mean," said Ahmed, his conflicted look not disappearing to any perceptible extent. "Perhaps I could ask Safak …"

"Don't talk about it, man, do it!" said Mary in frustration.

"Uh, right, yes," said Ahmed peering out, left and right, along the street. "Follow me!"

"Oh God, not more running!" said Mary as she hitched the case up under her arms and forced her legs to move at an unnaturally rapid pace.

"Come on, our lives could be at stake, Miss Collins!" said Ahmed, looking back and smiling.

My God, thought Mary, the sod hasn't even broken out in a sweat, as she had, and he wasn't even panting. Such an infuriating man - so resistant when action is needed, so jovial when it's serious and like a blasted robot on steroids. How do these people do this exercise thing, she wondered, it can't be good for them, surely!

"Oh, Miss Collins, I thought you were with us," said Halee, popping out of a Turkish restaurant in front of her. "Come in here."

"How the hell did you get… ah ha ah ha ah ha … get here so quickly?" asked Mary, genuinely perplexed, between her heavy breathing.

"We did what they call running," said Halee, chuckling. Up at the counter Ahmed was talking rapidly to a young, dark man - obviously not in English. Another older, dark man was summoned and the foreign language discussion started all over again, accompanied by much hand-flapping and head-nodding. So that's how they keep fit, thought Mary, conversation aerobics.

After some haggling and uncertainty, they were hustled into a small, darkish room through the back of the restaurant and told to sit. It was obvious they weren't to move from there. Mary detected a strange smell wafting through from an adjacent room. There seemed to be low murmurings coming from the room, as if men were quietly talking amongst themselves. Mary looked at Ahmed quizzically as Safak returned to the restaurant. Ahmed seemed to be looking everywhere except at Mary.

"Ahmed, what's that smell? What's that room there?" asked Mary quietly, holding Sam's briefcase to her chest.

"Oh, it's … ah, a den, a smoking room," said Ahmed, smiling uncertainly.

"So, are they smoking drugs in there, Ahmed?" asked Mary, feeling quite queezy inside.

"Yes, I think they might be," said Ahmed. "But please keep the noise down, Miss Collins. We're only here because they know me and because I promised we'd be quiet."

"Oh, sorry," said Mary, looking around uncertainly.

"Perhaps we just relax a bit, open our minds and let the angels in with an answer," suggested Halee tentatively.

"The angels? The answer?" asked Mary, now totally confused by the turn of conversation.

"An answer about what to do next," said Halee.

"Yes, just as we do, ask Allah for help," said Ahmed. "You ask angels. Perhaps it's similar."

"You two are bonkers, blooming mad," said Mary sitting back on the wooden chair, hugging the briefcase. "We're being stalked by a bunch of foreigners …"

"Kiwis," said Halee.

"Whoever. We're being stalked and they could be after our lives or Sam's life or something," said Mary, bringing the conversation back to reality. "Look, Ahmed, I don't want to say anything against your religion but this is hardly the time to be talking to God."

"So, Miss Collins, when do we talk to God? When we don't need Him?" asked Ahmed gently. He looked at Halee and they smiled to each other.

"Look Miss Collins, we're stuck in this Turkish restaurant and we need to get out and we don't know how or where to go next, safely," said Halee, looking steadily into Mary's eyes. Safak brought a pitcher of water and three glasses and then disappeared as quickly as he'd arrived. "Maybe if we just sit and pray, in our own different ways, something might happen. I don't know … it costs nothing and, well, what else can we do here?"

"Praying? You think Allah or God or angels will just lift us out of here or something?" asked Mary, her voice rising as she fought to keep the other two idiots on the ground.

"Praying does not change Allah, Miss Collins. It changes us," said Ahmed quietly.

"Oh I give up!" said Mary, exasperated but without an immediate alternative to sitting and wishing on angels. She just wanted to cry. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was working out as it should. She thought of saying the Lord's Prayer to herself and immediately felt embarrassed for some reason. The other two were silent, holding hands with their eyes closed. She put her hands over each of theirs, across the table and remembered all the times she'd asked for God's help and He hadn't delivered.