by Isabella May
“But what’s stopping me as a guest from knocking on all the doors in the hotel and finding them that way?” said River, his voice desperately trying to shroud his irritation. “This is my mum we’re talking about—”
“Our friends besides,” added Alice, removing her shades and propping them up on her head so her curls fell enticingly over her face and it was all River could do not to sweep them away, or attempt to nuzzle them as they swayed to and fro. “Surely you wouldn’t begrudge them our company tonight?”
He’d always swore that he’d never be one of those sickeningly sweet men who refer to their partner with a pet name, or adopt childlike habits in the bedroom, lest he lose his dignity completely. But Alice had him hook, line and sinker and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it if he tried.
And then he felt a little justified, having taken in the come-hither smile of the designer-stubbled ‘Piet’. It wasn’t just River after all.
“On this occasion, I suppose I could overlook that conformity,” Piet replied, gazing solely at Alice, “In return for your signature on one of those CDs.”
River delved, overenthusiastically into his suitcase’s thin outer pocket, his large hand straining, mimicking a duck webbed foot until he finally fished out a spare CD. He handed it to Alice. “You’re in luck,” he told Piet, whose eyes remained permanently fixed on their new object of desire.
“Pen?”
Alice challenged him, unperturbed by such public sleaze. Piet opened the drawer beneath the desk, still unable to break out of his trance. “The travel group have made a booking for a restaurant called ‘Nejen Vepřové a Knedlíky’ this evening. This loosely translates as ‘Not only Pork and Dumplings’, in case you are interested. It is geographically located near the castle across the Charles Bridge,” Piet said, with all the automation of a robot, as if he had always known this would be a part of their check-in drill.
“Thank you,” said Alice. “We got there eventually… and um,” the intensity of his gaze was starting to wear a little thin now, clearly knocking her confidence, “would you be able to add us to this reservation… as well as um… as well as kindly booking us a separate taxi, for an hour later… please?”
“Why of course, Madam… and Sir,” Piet finally snapped out of it. “That would be my pleasure, and thank you again for the CD. I look forward to playing it… very, very soon indeed. Yes, very soon indeed.” He held it close to his chest and River could feel Piet’s eyes burning his back as they wheeled their cases to the antiquated looking lifts which would apparently take them to the penthouse suite on the upper deck.
They squeezed themselves inside, River suddenly regretting the garlic croutons he’d unnecessarily sprinkled on his budget airline soup at 38,000 feet a couple of hours prior to their current jigsaw puzzle of a conundrum – although, the way they’d equally been squashed together on that flight had hardly afforded them that many extra inches than their latest dilemma.
“You push yours into your corner first then wedge yourself up against it, and I’ll just have to sit on mine and curl into a very small ball in my corner,” said Alice. “And please God, nobody else attempt to join us or I think I might die.”
River craned his neck awkwardly to press the button to their floor, the doors shut, the mechanics creaked ominously, and finally there was upward movement. Just for a little while anyway. Seconds later the lift stopped with a rather abrupt clunk.
“Holy shit! What did you do?” Alice shrieked. Her eyes were wild and terrified, bouncing back at him through the mirrored glass. “We should have stayed home and opened the bar, I knew it. Never mind that Jägermeister bomb you referred to, this is like drinking Ernest Hemingway’s Death in the Afternoon, quite literally.”
“But I did press the right button, floor three we’re on… I swear I hit the right one,” River said cringing at his bleary reflection as it steamed up the mirrored glass, and wanting but not daring, to smile at the fabulous way mixology jargon had started to creep into Alice’s vocabulary.
Before either of them could further process the horror that was, or search for the alarm button, a familiar voice came through the loudspeaker, though curiously it was quiet as a mouse.
“Sit tight. This always happens when there are two in a lift. I will just go to the technical room to hoist you back down. Then one of you must take the stairs.”
“I think we’ll both be taking the stairs, mate!”
“Bloody hell, I need that mulled wine and I need it now,” screamed Alice.
***
“Oh,” said Alice minutes later. “I thought we’d booked two singles.”
“I’ll behave if you will,” said River with a wink, secretly delighted at the rather snug double bed Alice was flinging her case on, practically unzipping it mid-air such was her enthusiasm for catching the Christmas market before dinner, as well as generally exiting the hotel.
“You know how important my rules are to me and now you’re just making them a mockery.” She stopped her unpacking suddenly and fell in a frazzled heap on the bed. He couldn’t blame her. The early start, the entrapment in the lift and now the let-down that was a poo brown hued room dubbed a penthouse, had put him in a sour mood himself.
“Let’s just make the best of this,” he said, sitting beside her on the hideous seventies inspired duvet complete with its giant moths perched on sunflowers. “This was a last minute decision anyway, so I take full responsibility for the current balls up. Next time you are in charge, and we’ll go wherever you like, promise. In any case, this trip was simply to surprise our friends and family, to feel proud of what we’ve both helped a bunch of people who previously didn’t get out much, to achieve.”
“You make them sound like they’ve never left Somerset.”
“Well in Terry and Hayley’s cases, that couldn’t be more accurate.”
“She did drive us down to Dover.”
“Yeah but only with the lure of a four times mark up on the fare… plus two service station stops for a snack both on the way there and on the way back.”
Alice was all smiles again. “Ohemgee, her head’s going to be positively spinning at all the Czech dumplings and sweet pastries in the markets. I can hardly wait myself.”
“Well then, let’s take a quick tour of the erm… hotel… boat… whatever it markets itself as, and get going.”
They hugged and Alice walked over to the massive window to draw back the curtain linings and drink in the view.
“Actually, River, furnishings aside, it’s pretty damn impressive. Just look at this.”
He crossed the epically large room; that was the curious thing, in terms of space they were practically inhabiting a palace; it was just a shame the décor hadn’t caught up with the modern world, and put his hand around her waist, in awe of the beauty in front of him, as well as the beauty beside him. He slid the sheer glass double doors wide open so they could step out onto their own personal balcony and enjoy it even more. The water twinkled, dappled here and there, reflecting sunbeams in other spots as the light hit its surface, a barge tugged with the grace of a swan to the right of them, its cargo headed for who knew where, canoeists hugged the Vltava’s outer banks, canary yellow and populated with bobbing heads, the bridges of Prague hung elegantly over the river like strings of pearls as far as the eye could see, the castle overseeing all of this in its top hat Gothic grandeur. And music floated from one of the lower decks. It sounded suspiciously like banjo music, which hardly went hand in hand with the distinctly wintery climate or the city’s architecture.
“Banjo Boy, it’s gotta be,” said River.
“Well, he is here with the group after all, and I must admit, I’m wondering how Cassandra is keeping him so entertained, shall we say, twenty-four-seven.” Alice folded her arms and took to jogging lightly on the spot in a bid to warm up.
“If he’s down below then the others are sure to be floating about too.”
“Ha, and hopefully not in the literal sense
,” said Alice.
“Perhaps she’s getting ready to go out and he’s sat at one of the cafés on the lower decks, passing the time,” River continued. “In other words, let’s get ourselves out of here now and head for the market, before they spot us.”
His words were a click of the fingers, transporting Alice into ultimate city break mode. She skipped around the room like a character out of a Disney movie gathering scarf, coat, gloves and ear warmers.
“Let’s do this. I’m so pumped! I think it’s just the novelty of being free, no ulterior motive for being here – surprise aside. We’re on holiday, a real holiday, a holiday without the constant fear of the snail trail of the media… sorry, I, erm, the last thing I wanted to do was hark back to the vaycays of my last relationship. But you know what I mean.”
“Hey, this is me, Al. If this is it now, you and me… possibly… hopefully, for ever and ever, then I don’t want you walking on eggshells. We’re always going to let the odd thing slip out when it comes to the past,” irritatingly, Georgina sprang to mind, “and if you can’t be you around me and I can’t be me around you, then none of this is going anywhere.”
He held his arms out wide, inviting her in for a tender embrace, ever hopeful that this shiny and new, carefree mood would carry its sentiment into an equally carefree evening. It was time. They were almost entering a brand new year, after all. And he had plans for the both of them, plans he couldn’t keep to himself for much longer. It wasn’t that a certain kind of intimacy was a prerequisite to his future announcement, rather that he couldn’t help but feel Alice was holding part of herself back from him, out of protection maybe, or some similar kind of self-deprivation to the way she would frequently refrain from partaking in calorific food perhaps, some unnecessary trace of guilt for winning his heart over and above the infatuation of Georgina? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something wasn’t right.
Still, it made no odds because the only thing he did know was she was right.
The One.
It was crazy really that it had taken them both so long to see it.
They left the room, gingerly, it had to be said, River taking Alice by the hand and leading the way along the hideous transcendentally-carpeted corridor to the stairs. Once back down on the ground floor the passageway looked safe, remarkably so given the increased volume of the banjo strumming, whose chords seem to bounce off the tread of what appeared to be a very freshly laid carpet, another seventies creation, this time in buttercup yellow.
“Oh no! It’s Cassandra and friends—”
Alice almost hyperventilated, an over-excitable child in one mammoth game of hide-and-seek.
“Quick, shunt yourself up against the wall next to me.” River had already transformed himself into Flat Stanley. “We’ve come too far to let them see us now.” He pulled her closer to him and they held their breath against the side of a rather expensive looking grandfather clock, conveniently lining the corridor.
Cassandra and her groupies marched past, giggling, intoxicated in the kind of glee that only a girls’ holiday among ladies of a certain age, can manufacture.
River chanced a peep around the edge of the highly polished heirloom to see them walk through the inner part of the hotel’s café and out onto the deck beyond, presumably to take custody of Cassandra’s lover, chaperoning him en-masse for today’s pre-planned excursion, whatever that entailed. One of these days he would find out Banjo Boy’s name.
“The coast is as clear as it’s ever going to be,” he whispered to Alice behind him, “after three, yeah?”
“One, two, three,” they counted together and then sprinted, past Piet and his second daze of the day, and out onto the quayside.
***
A remarkably short stroll later – short because they’d absolutely pegged the distance from the boat to Prague’s infamous Wenceslas Square, hardly daring look over their shoulders – and they were in what could only be described as utopia. To look at Alice in that moment was to regard a Victorian doll in one of those cute snowstorm globes, the old-fashioned beauties with rosy cheeks and cascades of curls, wearing Santa-red muffs on their wrists, elegantly cast out before them with traditional intent as they skate the vast perimeter of the ice rink. Indeed the only thing that was missing was the snow.
“I’m in love,” said Alice, “in love with life, in love with Prague, in love with you.”
“I can’t even,” River wanted so badly to reciprocate those words but the crowd had grown thick now and so he linked his arm in hers, leading them to somewhere, anywhere for a little privacy. “I can’t even begin to tell you—”
“Look, mulled wine!”
She dragged him back into the cheery throng and he knew then that the moment had decidedly passed but that was fine because he didn’t actually want to tell her what she’d told him, in some kind of pathetically whimsical ‘me too, babe’ half-hearted effort of a retort – what she’d only just gone and flipping well told him… that she loved him! He’d find his own moment sure enough.
And talking of moments, this was another time capsule of absolute enchantment – once Alice had weaved them both through the dawdlers and gawpers with their precariously balanced hot toddies, anyway. Quaint little market stalls stood proudly, exhibiting their handmade wares, and draped in the most promising of red, the red of all his childhood Christmases parcelled together with a giant satin bow. Heather may not have celebrated many conventional English traditions, but unlike Halloween, she always made an exception at Yuletide, so River didn’t feel completely left out compared to his friends. Being here, totally enveloped in this festive spirit, it was to be a boy again, to catch the scent of cinnamon and clove on the air, then emanating from the old-fashioned Aga and the (spelt flour) Christmas cookies Heather used to bake, now from the vapour trail of the mulled wine the stall holder was gently ladling into two cups.
“Here,” said Alice. “Get this down you.”
She passed him a cup and he knew immediately this baby of a punch was going on the special Christmas menu. They were soon planning to throw an end of year party, to thank all the locals for their support over the past few months, and a River-style twist on mulled wine was going to be a must. He tentatively began to sip, almost burning his mouth at the sudden intrusion behind them.
“Well, well, well, fancy bumping into you two lovebirds here,” said a woman’s voice, snapping him immediately out of his creative daydream. She looked remarkably like Hayley, holding aloft several slithers of the juiciest looking ham in one hand and a trdelnik pastry in the other, reminding River that he himself hadn’t eaten in hours. His heart thudded, first through the short sharp shock of being caught red-handed, second with utter disappointment.
“You haven’t seen us!” said Alice, almost choking on her drink.
“And you haven’t seen the half of this yet, you wanna get on down to Old Town Square, guys. That’s where the real buzz is. Flippin’ heck, the Christmas tree is summit else. What are you two even doing here, anyway? Who’s looking after the bar? It’s carnival weekend, are you mad?”
“I could ask the same of you,” said River. “Think of all the money you could be making.”
“Tsk,” said Hayley, in-between her sampling, “I never operate over the carnival weekend, oh no Siree, not since the year Burnham-on-Sea’s entry of a float broke down halfway up the High Street and Muggins here ended up having to jump start the bleedin’ tractor.”
“Gosh,” said Alice. “That would be enough to put you off.”
“Anyway,” said Hayley, “three’s a crowd and I’m beginning to feel like a strawberry.”
“Don’t you mean gooseberry?” River corrected her.
“I think I know the rumblings of my own stomach better than you, River Jackson. Jahodový Řez, says that wooden sign over yonder.” Hayley pointed to a traditionally painted sign which could have been written in Japanese, for all of River’s linguistic capabilities.
He shrugged his shoulders
at Alice as she continued to down the fragrant magic with somewhat shaky hands.
“Czech Strawberry cake,” said Hayley. “Oh my days, I’m glad one of us did our culinary homework prior to coming over here, like.”
“Oh yeah, that… Czech Strawberry cake, of course… heard loads about it,” he lied.
“Laters!”
Hayley had somehow finished her various collections of morsels already, as well as the unexpected conversation, and was beginning to walk, very briskly, in the direction of the stall she had pointed to.
“Hey, Hayley, wait up, just a minute,” River called after her. “Not a word to the others, please… we’re here to surprise them.”
But she was already a speck in the crowd.
“Well… that went well,” said Alice, eyes glazing over from lack of food and sudden consumption of alcohol. She looked dreamy, ethereal, but despite the devil of temptation perched on River’s shoulder, he was categorically not going to take advantage of that.
“I guess we ought to Czech out – geddit? – the Old Town Square then.” River paused for a laugh, met only by the kind of face one pulls a propos a Bruce Forsyth gag.
“River Jackson, tipsy I may be, but that was the corniest thing that has ever flown out of your mouth. If you’re trying to impress me… to build things up to a dirty weekend of pure unadulterated sex, you’re going to have to try a helluva lot harder than that.”
***
Czech folk music greeted them as they were led through the foyer of the restaurant by an elderly waiter. River began to feel nervous, transferring his irrational fear to Alice through the energy centre of his hand which she squeezed gently to reassure him.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, course,” he replied, clearing his throat.
It wasn’t so much that he was about to potentially give his mum a heart attack, rather that he’d built his hopes up high for tonight, and now he was wondering if he’d taken things too far, like the architects who’d designed Dubai’s Burj Khalifa, when frankly the Burj Al Arab had sufficed. He’d even snuck off to ask Piet to scatter rose petals on the bed while they were out – this whilst Alice was blissfully unaware and taking a tepid bath. It was probably the most ludicrous and potentially risky request anyone could make, Piet evidently having become completely smitten with the love of River’s life, and totally spooking him out when on arrival in reception, Avalonia’s one and only love song, ‘And Then My Eyes Found You,’ from the recently gifted album, blasted out as the latest arrivals checked in, but he wanted things to be perfect.