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to get our powder. I can feel my skin shuddering as they move about. I can’t strip to get at them because they would see the money belt. There are eyes upon us all the time. God have mercy on me!
    July 8th
    Abdul came! I was so pleased to see him. He said that there is a big battle going on and no one is concerned for us so perhaps he can take us away. He has some orders on official paper.
    July 9th
    We are out of the camp! Abdul showed his orders to the officer and he grunted and waved so we got up and we just went. I think they were glad to get rid of us. Out of the camp we went, past the soldiers and the sellers and the water-carriers. Mehmet gave us some bread. Father is walking quite well. We didn’t halt until we were miles out into the country. Forests. Trees. I haven’t seen a tree for ages. When we stopped for a rest beside a well Abdul told me that we had to keep moving till we got to a village five miles further on where he had relatives. He said his orders were faked. His father taught him to type and he had typed them on the commandant’s machine. He said the battle was going badly and soon he would be killed. But if he was found out he would be shot and us too. I told him that he was very clever and brave and we were no worse off. And at least we were out of the cage. And there were flowers growing around the spring. Sweet flowers. God is good.
    July 10th
    We got to this village, whose name I do not know. Father has fallen ill. I think it is malaria. I have nothing to give him; that beast Mehmet stole my quinine tablets. Abdul’s aunt gave us a little hut to hide in. At last I managed to strip and scrub and kill my lice. Then I stripped Father and washed him, too, and laid him down on a straw mattress under a single sheet. It is hot. He is hot, too. Abdul belongs here. His auntie screamed when she saw him and ordered him to be washed and cared for. She gave him clothes instead of his uniform. The barber shaved his head and mine. It is odd but airy and much easier to keep clean. Auntie Fatima gave me a pair of pantaloons and a loose sort of blousy thing to wear instead of my khaki tunic. I managed to wash and change without revealing my treasure belt. If only I could change one of the coins! But this is a small village. There is a blacksmith, a carpet maker, a place that sells food, a sort of general store. No banks. A peaceful place of mostly women and old men and small children. All the men are away at the war. But we can still hear the big guns. The war hasn’t gone away.
    July 12th
    Nothing happened yesterday. Father is raving. His forehead is hot enough to scald my hand. Auntie Fatima gave him a bitter tea to drink and shook her head. She is a large lady in dark clothes. She seems sad. She said she would pray for Father and even though they are the prayers of a pagan, who knows but they might work? It is a very cruel world and maybe their god knows more about such things than ours.
    July 13th
    Same as yesterday. Officials came through the village collecting taxes. They were very arrogant and beautifully dressed. They took away a lot of stuff from the shop. The whole village wept and wailed until they were gone. Then they dug up the stuff that they had hidden and the boys brought the goats back. No one seems to think that this is unusual. They were not interested in Father or me. We look like we belong. Father was whispering about putting on the armour of faith, in English, but luckily no one recognised it. I wasn’t even really scared. What else can God do to me, if Father dies? Talked for a while with Abdul. He doesn’t want to stay here. He wants to get back to Istanbul to see his father in jail but he knows that he cannot. If he is caught that will give them another weapon against his father. So he intends to go away. The nearest border is with Greece. He won’t be welcome there. He wants me to teach him Greek. I will swap if he teaches me more Turkish. I can’t go