The Blue Hour

Chapter 36: Flora

When the first rays of morning sun filtered through the white linen curtains of Flora's room, they brought relief. It was as if she had been running all night, gasping, away from something - or towards it - she didn't know which. When she woke, her body felt bizarre, as if charged with an alien energy. She was calm and restless at the same time, wanting and not wanting, confident yet filled with dread, and the inside of her head was cloudy even though she was frantic.

When she went to bed last night, she had been determined to forget about Hamid's invitation, but now, in her disoriented state only one thing was clear to her: she would meet with Hamid at the Grand Bazaar. In her sleep, she had decided. She felt relief. And despair.

Before noon, when Anoush and Siran were already in church, she left the shop. Most of the people in Pera followed the Christian calendar: on Sundays shops closed and people went to church, the Serbs, the Bulgars, the Greeks and Armenians and all the other Europeans.

She, too, would have gone to church, not the Armenian but the Catholic, built in honour of the French soldiers who had fought in the Crimean War, alongside the British and the Turks. But this morning she did not want to think about Mr Fowler's sermon. Too often, the priest made her feel naked and afraid, as if God himself observed her, an all-knowing and vengeful God pointing his finger for the whole parish to see.

It was her own decision to accept Hamid's invitation, Hélène knew nothing about it. After dining with William she waited one full day before reporting back to her. She couldn't face Hélène's enthusiasm. First, she had to rebuild her resolve to go through with the wedding, erase all trace of self-loathing and doubt which Hélène would not understand.

She had been right to wait; Hélène bombarded her with questions. What did her ring look like? Why did she not wear it? When would they announce the engagement? Where would it take place?

Flora explained. The engagement was to remain secret until announced at the Seagrave spring ball. Jane had planned the whole thing already, the ball, the surprise announcement, the caviar and the champagne, even Flora's dress. The seamstress had taken all the necessary measurements and worked around the clock to get the dress ready in time.

"Jane?"

Flora shrugged, pleased with her self-control.

Hélène said: "I told you Jane would come around. What do you care about her? She's nothing but air to you. Tell me about Hamid and Reza. Did you go to the doctor?"

"Reza survived, but the doctor denounced him. It's all I could find out."

"Do you think they killed him?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"And Hamid?"

"Nothing."

"So that's the end," Hélène was disappointed.

"Yes, that's the end."

It wasn't really a lie. Her fleeting meeting with Hamid outside her shop was not an enticing anecdote she wanted to share, but more like a secret - a speckle of stardust - which she held on to. Maybe because, when she had resolved to turn down Hamid's invitation, sorrow had filled her heart. It felt like the end of everything, adventure, opportunity, desire. The end of all which could have been.

She sought Hélène's gaze, but her friend's attention had shifted to what Flora should wear at the Seagrave ball. A part of her did share Hélène's excitement about her bright future. It was peace of mind, it was accomplishment, it was a dream come true. No, she did not want to lose that. As the wife of William Seagrave, she would arrive, and her triumph would take the edge off the sacrifices she had made to get here.