The Blue Hour

Chapter 5: Flora

Siran followed her older sister like a shadow. They had put away the knives and kept watchful eyes glued on Hamid as they put pots of water to boil on the stove and cut fabric into large swathes. He too, seemed weary of the girls. Avoiding to turn his back to them, he kept close to Flora.

She wetted a cloth and padded Reza's forehead. "You will be alright, Reza," she murmured. Of course, there was no way of knowing.

When she started to free the wound from his kaftan and underclothes, Reza turned to Hamid and spoke with painstaking difficulty, just a few words, enough for her to sense fear and hostility. He was young, thickset, with a tangle of long, dirty hair over his low forehead, broad cheeks and a thin, unkept beard. She was struck by the dark gaps in his mouth where teeth had once resided, and the tongue which sometimes slipped into the gaps when he spoke. Hamid was of medium height, with high cheekbones and shiny black hair. His nose was large, but his fingers, long and delicate, made him look refined.

Hamid turned to her, uncomfortable, searching for words. "He asked if there's a man in the house?"

"Why?"

"Well,... you are a woman, he'd rather you were a man."

She was dumbstruck and anger filled her heart. No man in the whole of Pera had lifted a finger to save them. She had. And now this man told her she was not good enough - not man enough - to treat his wounds. She sought Hamid's gaze.

"Well, there's you, I suppose. You're a man."

Hamid blushed and lowered his gaze.

"Yes, but..."

Forcing herself to regain her calm, she murmured.

"Look, we must stop the bleeding before it's too late. If he won't let me, will you get the kaftan off him?"

He nodded.

"And find a blanket in the cupboard to wrap around his legs and feet to keep him warm."

Hamid cleaned his hands and face, and did as she had asked. The next time she lifted her gaze from Reza's wounds, she caught Hamid watching her with a hesitant smile, which, for a second, distracted her. It was the contrast which caught her attention, between his full, inviting lips and his eyes, velvety brown with long lashes, but brooding as if something was eating him inside. It aroused her curiosity and sympathy. There was something more that intrigued her, she could not put her finger on it. She pressed her lips together to restrain a smile.

After she had torn the fabric of Reza's shirt, she cleaned the wound with water. Siran had placed a wooden spoon between his teeth and tried to distract and comfort him to keep him silent, but more than once, he cried out in pain. The whole time Anoush assisted Flora, quietly and efficiently, with her eyes glued on Flora's face to second guess what she might need, fresh water, another clean towel, all of which she supplied. Hamid spoke incessantly to Reza, soothing words in a low and steady voice.

Flora worked in silence but with confidence, boosted by the deference which Hamid showed her. She sensed - or imagined, perhaps - that he found her clever and strong and was eager to show him he was right. She was all those things.

When the wound was clean, she applied pressure to it with a large piece of cloth, then wrapped it with a makeshift bandage. The room was noiseless, everyone was still, only the smell of blood was intense, sweet and mineralised. Reza mumbled words sounding like a prayer. His eyes were closed.

"Will he make it?" Hamid asked.

She looked at the towel in her hands, then motioned for him to follow her into the shop. She had done what she could, but it was not enough.