Divorce Turkish Style Read Online Free PDF Page A

mocking me?
    After passing rows of brown doors, we finally came to one with a small GreTur plaque on it.
    â€œWe should have eaten something first,” I said despondently. “Anyway, we’ve found the office. Now what?”
    â€œHow often does Professor Langdon eat in Angels and Demons ?”
    â€œHow should I know? Do you think I count every mouthful consumed by Dan Brown’s heroes?”
    â€œHe drinks a glass of hot chocolate on page three and has his first meal on page 710. There are pages and pages without even a mention of hunger. The man even parachutes out of a plane on an empty stomach. This business takes discipline and professionalism.”
    â€œOkay, but I don’t subscribe to puritan self-denial,” I protested.
    â€œNor did Professor Langdon. Now ring the bell and let’s get this over with,” said Fofo.
    I reached out for the doorbell, but my hand stopped in mid-air.
    â€œOh, that’s just great!” I exclaimed, elbowing Fofo back out of the way.
    Fofo’s expression changed from bewilderment at my apparent hesitation to wide-eyed apprehension on seeing that the door latch was broken and dangling uselessly.
    â€œSomeone’s been here before us,” I whispered.
    â€œDidn’t I tell you?” whispered Fofo in reply.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat it was hotting up.”
    Deciding not to argue with him, I knocked at the door.
    It immediately swung open and a young woman, her eyes red from crying, stood before us as if she’d been waiting for someone to knock. I instantly assumed that she was a secretary, though I was later to question why I’d jumped to that conclusion so quickly. Perhaps it was the air of transience about her. Something was odd. She didn’t look as though she belonged there, and would certainly never have been a contender for an office manager prize. Giving the appearance of being a visitor at one’s place of work isn’t exactly the best way to advance a career. At my shop, the situation was quite the opposite, because my employees were so involved that I was almost redundant. But that’s another matter.
    The state of the office looked no more promising than the woman. Files, papers, folders and general office paraphernalia were strewn all over the floor. The woman looked me, as if expecting me to say something.
    I cleared my throat, in preparation for telling a little white lie.
    â€œWe’ve come to enrol as members of GreTur,” I said, peering into the office as if I’d only just noticed the chaos, and asked with feigned concern, “What’s happened here?”
    â€œI thought you were the police,” said the woman.
    Even the humblest of employees should have recognized that Fofo and I were not the police. Still, our appearance was irrelevant.
    â€œI’m waiting for the police,” she said. “We’re not allowed to touch anything.”
    â€œLooks like a break-in,” said Fofo, “but what would anyone steal from an office?”
    â€œWhat do you think? They’ve taken the computers.”
    â€œThere was a security guy downstairs when we entered the building,” I said, craftily nudging the woman inside. “Isn’t anyone on duty during the night?”
    â€œI don’t know if it was night or day when the burglary happened. We weren’t open on Saturday because it was our president’s funeral that day, God rest her soul.”
    â€œWhy do things all happen at once like that?” I mused sympathetically.
    â€œWas your president elderly?” asked Fofo, with an air of innocence.
    I had difficulty suppressing a smile.
    â€œNo, she was young. You must have read about her in the papers – Sani Ankaralıgil,” replied the woman.
    â€œAh yes, of course. My condolences. We obviously couldn’t have chosen a worse time to apply for membership,” said Fofo.
    â€œWe don’t take members,