Barbara Taylor Bradford - Letter from a Stranger

‘I do back you, that goes without saying. I’ll get the photograph this morning and send it out immediately. But listen, I hope you know what you’re doing—’

‘She won’t be angry, I promise you,’ Justine interrupted.

‘I wasn’t referring to Gran. I was referring to the fact that if you publish an advertisement in a newspaper, asking for people to come and talk to you about the city they live in, thousands will show up.’

Justine laughed. ‘I doubt that: most people are very shy about such things.’

‘You’ll see,’ he warned, and then laughed with her. ‘My God, only you could think up something like this.’

‘That’s not true, you could. Very easily. You’re my twin.’

‘Do you always have to have the last word?’

‘Yes, because you had the first when you were born fifteen minutes before me. Dad told me you yelled your lungs out.’

‘I can’t remember,’ he answered, the laughter still echoing in his voice. ‘Okay, so it’s a deal. Talk to you later.’

‘I’ll send the ads for your approval, once they’re done,’ Justine said. ‘I’ll need your feedback.’

‘Keep them simple. Remember, less is more.’

For the next half-hour Justine made additional notes about Istanbul in her Moleskine, and stopped, suddenly thinking about the advert. She now realized that Richard had been right on two points. Firstly, if she invited people to come and talk to her about Istanbul, hundreds might indeed show up. Secondly, her grandmother would most likely be unhappy to see her photograph in a newspaper. So she must rethink certain things, and carefully word the advert; she must make a decision also about using the photograph of Gabriele. Maybe it was a bad idea, after all.

As soon as she saw Iffet she would offer her the job as chief researcher on the project. She hoped Iffet would accept; she believed she would. Iffet was proud of her city and would want it to be shown in the best way, in the right light.

Now her next task, which had become a daily ritual, was to send her e-mails to Daisy, Joanne and Ellen at the office. All three were done swiftly, and Justine closed down her laptop and went to get ready.

Iffet had warned her it was going to be a very warm day again, and so after she had done her hair and make-up, she chose a light cotton dress and sandals for lunch and the boat trip around the Bosphorus.

The fact that they had not found the two women nagged at her unmercifully; on the other hand, Justine now found solace and renewed hope in the idea of the advertisement for the documentary about Istanbul. Also, she was looking forward to the trip on the boat, since it would show her different aspects of this city which she was coming to know and love.

‘And if you would become the researcher on the project, I would be thrilled,’ Justine said finally, looking intently at Iffet, having told her about the idea.

‘I would be very happy,’ Iffet replied in her lovely quiet way. ‘I am flattered that you would ask me.’

‘Thank you, Iffet, thank you so much. What a relief that is; my office will put you on the payroll of the new company I’m forming for the project. You just have to let me know what your fee will be.’

Iffet simply nodded. Taking a sip of the sparkling water, she then said, ‘I believe Richard is correct. You cannot invite people to visit you here at the hotel. Hordes will come. Might I make a suggestion, Justine?’

‘Yes, go ahead.’

‘I think you should ask people to write or e-mail to my office, and we will sort them. We can select the right candidates for you to interview.’

‘That’s a fabulous idea! And who better than you to choose the people. After all, you’re an Istanbulite.’

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