A Year and a Day

by Isabelle Broom

  At the end of the bed, directly in front of where Megan and Ollie were standing awkwardly side by side, was a banquette upholstered in cream and gold satin. It matched the two chairs that were tucked neatly away underneath a small wooden table in the corner by the circular window, which was framed by yet more red and gold curtains. They were at the very top of the hotel, and the ceiling rose high above them into the eaves of the old building, exposed beams criss-crossing the white painted walls. It was stunning, if a little twee, and Megan felt her fingers itch for her camera.

  Ollie had ventured into the bathroom, and she heard him emit a shout of laughter.

  ‘There’s a tub for two in here!’ he called. ‘And gold taps.’

  Megan rolled her eyes. At least he was seeing the funny side. Their journey to the airport earlier that morning had gone without a hitch, the only awkward moment coming before they left her flat, when she’d bumped into him in the hallway wearing just his boxers and a sleepy grin. He didn’t seem at all bothered by his near-nudity, but the mere sight of him had sent Megan scuttling back into her bedroom like a frightened woodlouse.

  Once through security at the airport, Ollie insisted they get a pint of beer for breakfast. Apparently, the fact that it was seven in the morning did not matter – they were officially on ‘holiday time’, he told her, and that meant all the normal rules were now defunct.

  ‘Oi, Spencer!’ he’d barked, distracting her attention from the laminated menu she’d been examining. He’d produced a pack of playing cards from his bag and begun shuffling them on the table.

  ‘There’s another hour until take-off and I want to thrash you at Rummy at least twelve times before then.’

  He had as well. Ollie was good at cards, just like he was good at most things, not least diffusing the awkward tension that had reared up like a stroppy horse as soon as they’d found themselves standing in front of this ridiculous bed. He was now merrily running himself a bath while shouting through that she should investigate the contents of the minibar.

  It’s only a bed, she told herself sternly, extracting a miniature bottle of vodka and splashing it into two plastic cups. It’s no different to if you were here with a female friend, she added firmly, tipping in orange juice.

  Ollie came to the bathroom door to collect his drink, again clad in just his boxers, and grinned at her.

  ‘I’m going to go down to the bar,’ she squeaked, rather than said, downing her vodka and orange in one and heading across the room to retrieve her bag.

  Ollie laughed. ‘I won’t be far behind you – I can never resist a hotel bath, me. I’ll meet you down there in a bit and we can go exploring, yeah?’

  ‘Okay!’

  She slammed the door behind her and leaned on it for a few seconds. This was going to be even weirder than she’d feared. What was Ollie thinking, prancing around in his pants like that? She wasn’t one of his bloke mates, for God’s sake!

  It wasn’t until she was in the lift heading downwards that Megan realised with an audible groan that she’d left her camera in the bedroom. She couldn’t exactly go back and fetch it, not when her potentially-by-now-naked friend was roaming around like a tipsy peacock. She’d had half a plan to sneak out and explore the immediate area while he was in the tub, but there was little point if she couldn’t take photos. The brief glimpses of Prague that she’d seen on the taxi ride over from the airport had whetted her appetite to an almost unbearable level. Ollie had better make this bath snappy.

  Stomping resolutely into the hotel bar a few minutes later, Megan immediately noticed a couple snuggling at a table in the corner.

  Wow, they really needed to get a room.

  After ordering herself a coffee – definitely much needed after a morning of beer followed by the vodka she’d just necked – Megan retreated to the opposite corner of the room and chose a seat by the window. The décor in the bar wasn’t quite as garish as in the bedroom upstairs, but there were still plenty of polished gold fixtures, an extremely large chandelier and an abundance of cushions, each with a gold tassel attached to the zip. A buzz in her pocket alerted her to the free Wi-Fi connection, but she couldn’t be bothered to waste any time online – especially not when she had this view to gaze out at.

  The hotel courtyard on the other side of the glass was covered with a thick layer of frost, but that only made it seem all the more magical. The ground sparkled as if dusted with glitter, and Megan could make out neat banks of sagging winter flowers alongside little pathways. Everything was paved in red and grey stone, and in the centre of the garden there was an ancient-looking fountain coughing out a feeble trickle of water.

  If only she had her camera, she would have been able to capture the faint sunlight streaking through the surrounding trees, the way the dribbling water from the fountain had cut a ragged path through the frost, and the tantalising glimpse of Prague’s famous red rooftops peeking over the wall from the street outside. It was so beautiful already, and they hadn’t even left the hotel yet.

  ‘Excuse me, are you here alone?’

  Megan looked up with a jolt to find the woman from the other table standing in front of her. Her lipstick was smudged slightly where she’d been kissing her bald companion, but her eyes shone with kindness.

  ‘No. I, er …’ Megan hesitated for a second, suddenly unsure of how exactly to describe Ollie. ‘I’m here with a friend. He’s having a bath, the weirdo.’

  The woman chuckled at this. ‘Charlie, that’s my boyfriend – he’s gone up to have a shower. Men, eh? I just want to get outside and explore, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes! Oh my God, I totally agree. Have you seen the view out here – it’s amazing!’ Megan moved her chair aside so the woman could slip round and stand next to her. It was a full minute before she spoke again.

  ‘It’s like a proper fairy grotto,’ the older woman said, her warm breath leaving a damp circle on the cold glass.

  She was quite glamorous up close, Megan realised, taking in the neatly set ash-blonde curls, flattering black dress and perfect nails. She guessed the woman was probably around the same age as her mum, but she’d looked far younger from a distance. Only a faint spiderweb of lines around her eyes and mouth gave her away, and she’d done her best to cover these up with foundation.

  ‘Have you been to Prague before?’ the woman asked Megan now, turning to face her.

  ‘Never.’ Megan motioned that she should sit down. ‘My friend is a teacher and he’s doing a project with his pupils about Prague next year, so he wanted to check it out. I’ve just tagged along to take photos. How about you?’

  ‘I haven’t been before, no – and I didn’t choose it. Charlie booked it all as a surprise. He got an online deal for a good price, but I won’t even tell you what time we had to leave Manchester this morning.’

  ‘That’s men for you,’ Megan said. ‘Great at the romantic gestures, not so great with the important details. Have you two been together long?’

  It was an innocent enough question, but the woman seemed to tense up a fraction before she answered, and fiddled with the stem of her wine glass.

  ‘Not very long, no.’ She glanced sideways at Megan. ‘We’re very much in the honeymoon stage, I guess.’

  ‘I noticed!’ Megan told her with a grin. ‘I saw you two over in the corner.’

  ‘Oh, God!’ The woman blushed, but she was laughing, too.

  ‘I’m Hope,’ she added, offering Megan a perfectly manicured hand.

  ‘Megan.’

  They chatted for a while about the hotel – Hope had found her bedroom furnishings hilariously over the top as well – and about Megan’s photography. Hope confessed that she didn’t have a job at the moment, but that she was keen to find something part-time when she got back to Manchester.

  ‘I get so bored rattling around at Charlie’s,’ she explained. Megan wondered why she was living with him if they’d only been together for a short time, but she was astute enough not to ask. Ollie was really taking his time
, and just as she was wondering if she should head up and check that he hadn’t actually drowned, Hope suggested another drink.

  ‘We’re allowed to, we’re on holiday,’ the older woman assured her as she returned from the bar, and Megan nodded along in agreement. She had never really been the type to make friends with total strangers in hotel bars before, but there was something irresistibly fun yet also motherly about Hope. She had real warmth to her, which reminded Megan of her own mum – albeit a far more polished version. Megan’s mother was a stereotypical artist – she used a paintbrush to keep her wiry thatch of hair in a bun and dressed like a Victorian orphan most of the time – but she also had that unidentifiable mother-ness about her. She should really make more effort to see her mum – and her dad, too, thought Megan. They were actually pretty brilliant, even if they did keep trying to talk her into marrying Ollie.

  ‘He’s perfect for you. Such a nice boy, and so tall,’ her mum had said, running a despairing hand into her hair and promptly getting it stuck. ‘You don’t want to end up with a grumpy hobbit like I did.’

  ‘I heard that,’ Megan’s dad had intoned, peering over the top of his Sunday broadsheet with a scowl on his face. He couldn’t really argue the point, though, given that he was only five foot six in his socks. Megan, who had inherited both his height and his ability to scowl like an absolute pro, had given her dad a sly thumbs up as soon as her mum turned back to her latest messy landscape.

  Hope was talking about her daughter now. Apparently she’d just left home for the first time and moved in with her boyfriend – and she was only twenty-five. Megan had never lived with a boy, and nor was she planning to any time soon, much to the despair of her assorted friends and family. She was only thirty; there was still plenty of time for all that.

  They were still chattering away when the door opened and a girl walked in. Megan and Hope both looked up, expecting to see their respective male companions, so they each watched as the tiny figure made her way silently over to the bar and ordered herself a tea. The barman was very friendly, and he started chatting to her, asking the normal questions such as how long she was staying and whether she’d been to the city before. Megan strained to hear her replies, but her voice must be as tiny as she was, because she could barely make out a word.

  Once the girl had her drink, she turned and smiled briefly at Hope and Megan, before settling herself down at one of the other tables and taking out her phone.

  ‘Should we ask her to join us, do you think?’ Hope said. The second glass of wine had given her cheeks an attractive glow.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Megan murmured. ‘She looks like she’s waiting for a call.’

  It was true – the girl had put her mobile down on the table, but was staring at it intently. After a time, she took off her huge, floppy beanie hat and put it down next to her phone.

  ‘That’s a brave hairdo,’ Hope breathed. ‘You see so many girls with short hair these days. Mine was right down to my waist when I was her age.’

  ‘It is very short,’ Megan whispered back, feeling a bit guilty to be gossiping. ‘I could never have my hair that short, but she’s so pretty she gets away with it.’

  As they were both watching the girl staring at her phone, Megan’s own phone buzzed across the table with a message. It was Ollie:

  I wanted to bring your

  camera down for you, but

  there are about a million bits.

  Get up here and help me! X

  Megan snorted with laughter. ‘I have to go,’ she told Hope, downing the dregs of her beer and picking up her bag.

  She bounded back up to the fourth floor, taking two extravagantly carpeted stairs at a time, enjoying the sensation of excitement that was bubbling away in the bottom of her stomach like soup in a pan. Weirdness aside, she was in one of the most beautiful cities in the world with her camera and one of her most favourite people. Sometimes life was pretty good.

  5

  Sophie jabbed a finger at her phone and slipped it into her coat pocket. The frost-covered cobbles crunched under her boots, but it wasn’t enough to distract her from the tears that were threatening to fall. She stopped, took a deep breath, then continued, keeping her eyes down.

  It wasn’t Robin’s fault that he couldn’t be here. She knew that. But this knowledge was doing little to comfort her. She’d thought it would be okay, being here without him. She thought she knew the place well enough to feel comforted by the surrounding buildings, so familiar and so magnificent, their multi-coloured facades peering down at her like a collection of kindly aunts.

  It’s only a few days, she told herself now. He would be here before she knew it.

  Glancing upwards, she saw heavy clouds clustering together in the east and slyly crossed her fingers in a silent prayer for snow. Prague was beautiful at every time of year – she knew that for a fact, because she and Robin had visited in every season – but nothing made the city seem more magical than a thick coating of the white stuff. Even snow itself was quite magical, if she thought about it, each flake unique and intricate. If angels existed then Sophie liked to imagine that it was they who sat together up in the heavens, knitting together these beautiful frozen creations to shower down on the Earth. When she was a child, she used to try and catch them in her outstretched palm and memorise the pattern before it melted away.

  Sophie’s warm memory bubble was all of a sudden punctured by a shriek of delighted laughter. Peering through the groups of people who were heading into Prague’s annual Christmas Market, she saw the woman who had been in the hotel bar earlier that morning, the one who had smiled at her so kindly. She was with a tall man wearing a red woolly hat and was laughing at something he was whispering in her ear. Like many others, they had most likely been lured over by the enticing smell of cinnamon, brandy and berries coming from a makeshift bar, and the cups of mulled wine in their gloved hands were sending up twists of curly steam into the freezing air.

  For a minute, Sophie considered going over to join them. They looked so irresistibly happy that she couldn’t help but yearn for a slice of it. However, when she took one tentative step towards them, the man bent his head and kissed the woman full on the mouth, and Sophie, feeling like she was intruding just by standing there, scuttled away.

  It was past lunchtime now, but she didn’t feel hungry. Not even the stalls offering enormous, sizzling vats of potatoes, sauerkraut, cheese and roasted pork could tempt her, nor could the huge klobasy sausages. One of her favourite photos of Robin was of him holding one of these massive treats up in front of his mouth, the two ends curled upwards like a big, meaty grin and splatters of spicy sauce dripping all down the front of his scarf. He was such a plonker sometimes, but he was her plonker.

  There was music coming from somewhere and Sophie paused for a few seconds, trying to locate the source. There was always music playing in Prague, whether it was streaming out from one of the many bars or coming from a local band that had set up on the cobbles, a flat cap tossed on the ground in front of them to encourage tips from generous passers-by. She wondered if these musicians knew just how intrinsic they were to the beauty of this city, and how, by turning up every day and transforming one small corner of Prague, they made a home for themselves in the memories of so many.

  Squeezed tight in the warming hug of her surroundings, her earlier melancholy put aside, Sophie headed towards her destination with a renewed energy. She’d known Prague wouldn’t let her down. She had been silly to ever let the dark shadow of doubt cast its nasty hunched shoulders across her mind. Everything was going to be perfect, she could feel it – and now here she was, back in the very same spot she and Robin had first laid eyes on one another: the Charles Bridge.

  Back then it really had been snowing, and Sophie was standing with her back to the passing train of pedestrians, staring out across the Vltava River towards Mala Strana, the south-west area of the city. The surface of the water was the colour of granite and the lights of the far bank had turned ha
zy amid the falling flakes. Sophie was captivated, and it was a good few minutes before she realised that someone had come to stand beside her.

  ‘I love watching the snow, don’t you?’

  She turned to find a pair of blue eyes, a slightly large nose turned red with the cold and a wide, smiling mouth, all of which were framed by messy blond hair escaping from a striped bobble hat.

  ‘Who doesn’t?’ she replied, realising as she did so that this boy’s smile was extremely contagious.

  ‘My parents bloody hate it,’ he told her, staring out across the water. ‘My mum would move to Australia if she could – she’s a total sun addict.’

  He was English, that much was clear, and Sophie felt something begin to flutter deep inside her chest. She liked this boy.

  ‘Australia’s on my list, too,’ she said, daring to look at him again. ‘I’m doing Europe first, then hopefully the rest of the world.’

  ‘A girl after my own heart,’ he grinned, making her insides lurch like a fairground ride.

  ‘Are you travelling as well?’ she asked boldly, going bright red as he looked at her and nodded.

  ‘Yep. All on my tod. How about you?’

  Should she really tell a man she’d just met that she was travelling all by herself?

  ‘Just me.’

  There was a short silence as they stared at one another, each wondering if what they were feeling was real. Robin later told her that he’d known right then, right in that moment, that she was going to be by his side for the rest of their lives. He couldn’t ever explain how he knew – he just did. Sophie, meanwhile, was simply thinking that she wanted to kiss this boy more than anything she’d ever wanted to do in her life. Whether or not that was the same thing, she didn’t know, but what was instantly undeniable was the chemistry between them. It was as clear as the silhouettes of the Charles Bridge statues against the white sky, and they both knew it.