A Year and a Day

by Isabelle Broom

  ‘Why the babies?’ Ollie asked.

  ‘Ah, we have David Cerny to thank for those,’ she told him. ‘He’s quite a famous Czech sculptor. I remember him now from when I did my art foundation course. They were put up there temporarily in the year 2000, it says here, then brought back by popular demand a year later.’

  ‘We should go!’ Ollie was all enthusiasm. ‘I want to see that baby – and those babies – up close.’

  ‘I could probably take some great photos,’ Megan agreed, but she wasn’t quite as keen. The tower wasn’t really what she had in mind for her upcoming exhibition. Megan’s work was all about finding a connection between an image and an emotion, and there was nothing about the cold, clean lines of the tower that were drawing her in. She had, however, already snapped her way through at least a hundred photos, and all they’d done was walk from the hotel across the square. She’d been utterly captivated by the riot of colours at the Christmas Market, and Ollie got so bored waiting for her to finish taking pictures of the fairy lights against the grey afternoon sky that he’d chewed his way through two enormous sausages.

  ‘I shouldn’t have had that second sausage,’ he said now, with a wounded expression. ‘Eating that lot then coming all the way up here at speed was not the best idea I’ve ever had.’

  ‘I told you to take the lift,’ she said, jabbing him affectionately in his full stomach.

  ‘Careful, woman!’

  She pulled a face at him. ‘Where to next?’

  ‘Well …’ Ollie pointed off to the south. ‘There’s Wenceslas Square and the National Museum that way, or we could head over the Charles Bridge …’ he swung an arm over to the west, ‘and visit the castle or the parks?’

  Megan wiggled her freezing toes inside her boots and looked down. The red rooftops of the Christmas Market were spread out below them like burning embers and the warmth it exuded was too much to resist.

  ‘Or we could get a mulled wine and just have a wander?’ she suggested. Megan always found that you got the best from a place simply by exploring – and you discovered its true essence by taking the streets that nobody else was bothering with. She was enchanted by Prague’s historic centre, but she also wanted to see the more secret side of the city, the parts that the people who lived here kept to themselves.

  ‘Whatever you say.’ Ollie smiled down at her. ‘You’re the boss.’

  She was glad they were in agreement on that point.

  Back at street level and with a warm and deliciously spicy wine in hand, they strolled slowly around the edge of the market, pausing every so often to examine one of the many stalls in more detail. Megan stopped Ollie at one selling a whole range of trinkets adorned with the image of the Astronomical Clock. She had read about it on the flight over and couldn’t wait to see it in action.

  ‘Remind me again what’s going to happen,’ Ollie asked ten minutes later. They were back at the Old Town Hall, the tower stretching high into the air and a solid hub of tourists surrounding them on every side. The Astronomical Clock was directly above them, its gold, blue and bright orange colours gleaming in the dusk.

  ‘Just before the hour, that little skeleton up there,’ she pointed to the right of the main clock face, ‘pulls on a rope and turns over his hourglass. Then up there,’ she pointed again to a narrow doorway above the clock, ‘the eleven apostles – plus St Paul – come out in a little procession.’

  Ollie squinted upwards.

  ‘Afterwards, a cock crows, and then the hour will chime,’ she added, referring to the book to make sure she was getting it right.

  ‘What about the other clock, the one underneath?’ Ollie asked.

  ‘That one shows the movement of the sun through the signs of the zodiac,’ she told him, retrieving her camera from her bag and pointing it upwards. The lower clock face was predominantly gold, with two circular rings of twelve images going from the outside towards the centre. Each one was painted inside a round frame, with the outer images depicting the months of the year and the inner selection each zodiac sign.

  ‘There’s your sign,’ she told Ollie, showing him the photo she’d just taken of the gold, M-shaped logo, complete with tiny tail.

  ‘That doesn’t look much like a scorpion to me,’ Ollie said.

  Megan had her nose in the book again. ‘The other figure up there, next to Death, that’s the Turk, a symbol of lust,’ she told him, blushing as she realised what she was saying.

  ‘I like him,’ Ollie said. Of course he did.

  ‘And those two, on the other side,’ she went on, ignoring him, ‘are Vanity and Greed.’

  ‘I can totally sympathise with Greed after those sausages,’ he interjected. Megan tried not to laugh.

  ‘You’re such a plank,’ she smiled.

  ‘Yes. A greedy one,’ Ollie quipped, smiling down at her and giving her a nudge. She wasn’t used to him touching her this much. Usually they were on opposite sides of a pub table or far ends of her sofa, but here in Prague they seemed to be constantly side by side.

  ‘Be quiet now, please,’ she said, giving him a gentle head butt on the arm. ‘The clock is about to begin.’

  A hush fell over the square as Death shuffled into life and turned his hourglass over. A light creaking sound followed, and the Apostles appeared, their bearded little faces popping up in Megan’s viewfinder one at a time. She was amazed at how different they all looked, and how much care had clearly been taken to create and then keep them in a pristine condition. She was noticing that in general about the city, in fact, just how clean and well cared for it was. The inhabitants of London could learn a lot from the people of Prague.

  The clock was chiming now and she could hear the delicious click of cameras going off all around her. A few idiots had even switched on their flashes. There was more than enough natural light still lingering around – plus the gold of the clock was so intense it was almost luminous. If only people went a bit further than just setting their cameras to the auto mode and pressing a button. They were missing so much beauty which could easily be captured with just a few adjustments. Ollie, who was busy taking photos with his phone – his bloody phone! – beside her, was definitely not doing much to support her cause.

  ‘I’m glad we saw that,’ he told her when the chimes came to an end. ‘I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. I must make sure I tell the kids about it – perhaps a project on the zodiac signs is in order.’

  He was talking more to himself now than Megan, but she nodded along encouragingly. She wished she’d had a teacher like Ollie back in primary school. Her form tutor, Mrs Benstead, had been so old that she used to nod off at her desk at around eleven and not wake up until the bell rang at half three. Megan had gone up into secondary school with terrible handwriting and a total lack of respect for anyone in authority. If she was honest, she still struggled with those types of people even now. She hated anyone telling her what to do, even her boss at the gallery, and she was really nice. Just last week there’d been a tense moment when Sally, the owner, asked Megan to take a bunch of torn wrapping down to the recycling bins on the corner of the road and an engrossed Megan, who was halfway through hanging the latest set of watercolours from one of their best artists, unthinkingly snapped at her to do it herself. A cup of tea and a stern chat followed, and Megan had been apologising to Sally ever since.

  ‘Cheer up, chicken,’ Ollie prodded her out of her unpleasant train of thought. ‘Shall we go and get on the beer?’

  Megan thought about the Charles Bridge with its army of statues, Prague Castle and its promise of history, and all the narrow, cobbled alleyways in between, just waiting to be discovered. But they had four more days after this one. The city could wait. And anyway, she couldn’t even feel her toes any more.

  ‘I’m bored of being the boss now,’ she said, putting her hands in her pockets. ‘You lead the way.’

  8

  Sophie pushed the edge of her spoon through the corner of the apple strudel, relishing the
cracking sound of the light, crispy pastry as it gave way beneath the stainless steel.

  After walking through the Little Quarter all the way up to the castle gates, she’d sat on a low stone wall watching scores of tourists passing by until she couldn’t feel her hands and feet any more. There was a stall selling fold-out maps and hot drinks nearby, and the vendor kept smiling at her from underneath his thick woollen hat. He had kind blue eyes and a thick white beard, and his skin looked tarnished with age. While the people of Prague weren’t the chattiest, they were always ready to smile. In ten years she’d never encountered even a smidgeon of rudeness in the city – it was just one of the many reasons why she and Robin loved it so much.

  It hadn’t taken her long to get from the castle back down the hill to Café Cukr, the very same place that Robin had brought her for that first magical breakfast all those years ago, and she was thrilled to discover that it hadn’t changed at all.

  The décor inside was basic but attractive, with lots of dark wood, cosy alcoves and a large mural of happy diners painted on the ceiling. Each table was covered in a plain yellow cloth, and in the centre sat the traditional Prague offering of supersized soft pretzels, dangling from their specially made wooden racks. Sophie wasn’t much of a fan, but Robin loved them. The last time they’d come here, he’d broken bits off and dunked them in his pint of beer. She smiled fondly at the memory.

  She’d almost finished her strudel as her mind wandered, and all that was left on her plate was a puddle of cooked apple and a smear of cream. Nowhere she’d been in the world did strudels as delicious as these, and the taste always made her think back to that breakfast; the day her feelings had caught up with Robin’s, and she realised that she’d met the love of her life.

  ‘How did you find this place?’ she’d asked him, sipping her coffee and peering at him over the rim of her cup. Robin was wearing a dark blue hoodie, which made his eyes gleam, and his chin-length blond hair had been flattened by his hat.

  Café Cukr was located halfway along a tiny cobbled street in the depths of Mala Strana, and from the outside it looked like nothing more than an unremarkable plain wooden door. When he’d opened it to reveal a staircase leading straight down and the smell of slow-cooked beef, apple and coffee had floated up to greet them, she’d been seriously impressed.

  ‘Oh, you know, just stumbled across it.’

  Robin had a way of looking at her that was cheeky at the same time as being intense.

  ‘I bet you bring all the strange girls you meet on snowy bridges here,’ she joked.

  ‘Well.’ He grinned at her and took a big bite of pretzel. ‘You are pretty strange, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘I don’t mean in a bad way; I just mean that any girl who chooses to spend her leisure time with me must be strange. I mean, you could probably have your pick of all the boys in Prague, yet here you are.’

  I would choose you every single time, over every single other person in the world, not just in Prague, she thought, but she kept her mouth closed.

  ‘I wish I could tell what you’re thinking,’ he said then, reaching his hand across as though to stroke her cheek and then changing his mind at the last moment. Sophie couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed her fingertips the night before. She wanted him to do it again, but this time she didn’t want him to stop at just her hands.

  ‘I’m thinking that this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had,’ she said, scooping up some cream and offering him her spoon.

  ‘Mmmm.’ He grinned, deliberately letting a large splodge dribble on to his chin. ‘What?’ he asked, as she started laughing. ‘Is there something on my face?’

  He ran his tongue around his mouth, missing the splodge of cream on purpose and looking at her in pretend panic.

  ‘Save me!’ he implored. ‘Save me from the cream!’

  Before she had time to think about what she was doing or what his reaction would be, Sophie had launched herself across the table and was kissing him full on the mouth, licking away the cream as she did so.

  Momentarily taken aback, Robin soon followed suit, sliding his hands clumsily around her back. It was only when a nearby diner coughed loudly and scraped his chair pointedly across the wooden floor that they came up for air and sat back down in their seats, gazing at each other in awe over the remains of their breakfast.

  Robin recovered first.

  ‘Is it gone – the cream?’

  And then they laughed, and it was perfect.

  Inspired by her memory, Sophie took out her phone and snapped a photo of her empty plate, making sure she got the dangling pretzels in the background. She hoped Robin wouldn’t be cross with her for coming back to this place without him. He could be a bit hot-headed at times, always led by his heart rather than his mind, but Sophie could count the number of arguments they’d had on just one hand. As she pondered, the shadow of a dark memory loomed over her, and Sophie shook her head, shoving the thought away before it took root.

  From down here in the warmth of the café, it was hard to tell just how dark it had become outside. She knew that the sun would start to go down no later than four at this time of year, but she had no fear about making her way back to the hotel. She always told family and friends that Prague was a city where getting lost was almost an impossibility. There were so many landmarks to follow, and everything was accessible on foot – even the outer boroughs were only a forty-minute stroll away from the city centre. There was barely a corner of Prague that she and Robin had not explored, and they’d discovered some real treasures as a result: lively beer gardens hidden away in remote parks; cocktail bars in basements on distant back streets; restaurants where you could get three courses for less than ten pounds each – and that included copious amounts of beer to wash it all down with.

  Sophie loved the fact that she and Robin had their own version of Prague, the side that most people would never see. It made the place all the more special to them.

  ‘Would you like anything else?’

  A waitress had appeared at the table to clear away her plate, and Sophie looked up at her and smiled.

  ‘No, thank you – dekuji.’

  She should really learn more Czech, Sophie thought. She’d almost bought one of those online language courses for Robin’s birthday a few years ago, but then changed her mind at the last minute and got him a watch instead. She’d had it engraved with the date they met.

  In return, just a few weeks later, he’d bought her a beautiful gold pendant with a photo of himself inside, doing a thumbs up, and had their entwined initials engraved on the back. Sophie hadn’t taken it off since. She could feel it now resting against her chest, still slightly cold from her time spent sitting on the wall up by the castle, and it comforted her. Even if Robin couldn’t be here with her right now, she still had him next to her heart. If only she could wish away the next few days until it was time for him to arrive.

  As she made her way back up the stairs, buttoning up her coat and pulling on Robin’s battered old hat as she went, Sophie felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Removing her gloves despite the freezing air, she tapped on the screen to read her message, the light above the café doorway casting a contorted human shadow across the icy cobbles.

  For a few seconds she didn’t move, and then, as slowly and softly as the sleet that had just started to fall, she wrapped her arms tightly around her shoulders and made her way back along the street.

  9

  ‘Are you sure about this place?’

  Hope put her hand on Charlie’s arm as they reached the entrance to the restaurant.

  ‘I told you this trip was going to be a treat,’ he reminded her. ‘And I intend to spoil you.’

  They had crossed the Charles Bridge to get here, Charlie hurrying her past all the statues with the promise that they would come back the next day. Hope felt drawn to the bridge as soon as she set foot on it, and was disappointed when they reached the other side and turned right, h
eading down towards the edge of the water. The pathway up to the restaurant was dotted with lanterns, each one throwing a golden shaft of light across paving stones that were wet with sleet. The rain had started coming down in the late afternoon, leaving them both numb with cold, but it had also washed away a good portion of the frost, and Hope was able to brave the pair of high heels she’d brought along.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ Charlie told her now, for at least the tenth time since she’d slipped into her clinging black dress with the lace panels all down the back. She was still becoming accustomed to his constant flattery, and blushed with mild discomfort at the compliment. The hostess at the restaurant had just returned from the cloakroom, and handed Charlie two coat tickets before beckoning for them to follow her.

  ‘Wow,’ Hope said, a few minutes later. They had been given a table overlooking the Vltava River. Blue and amber lights from both the Charles Bridge and the surrounding buildings were reflected in the rippling surface of the water, and as the rain continued to hit the windows, the scene beyond was lent a smudged, almost dream-like quality. Hope could barely drag her eyes away for long enough to take her seat.

  ‘Like I said,’ Charlie told her, opening the wine menu, ‘I wanted to spoil you.’

  ‘Well, you’ve truly outdone yourself.’ She finally looked away from the view and at him. ‘First the amazing hotel and now this – I don’t deserve any of it.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Charlie waved a hand in the air. ‘You deserve all this and so much more. I meant it when I told you I wanted to make you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.’

  ‘I just don’t understand how this can be my life,’ she admitted, looking around the restaurant with its candlelit tables and vases packed with extravagant blooms. ‘If you’d shown me a photo of this place a few months ago and told me that I would be sitting here, with you – well, I would’ve laughed you into the middle of next week.’

  ‘Are you really happy?’ Charlie asked her now, lowering the menu. His eyes looked serious and Hope felt the all-too-familiar guilt brush over her again. She thought about Annette, back home in Manchester, crying about the fact that her mum had left her dad. How could she be happy when her poor baby girl was so sad?