‘Sophie’s just getting herself some strudel,’ Hope told her, pointing over to the buffet, where the small girl Megan recognised from the bar last night was hovering.
‘I might join her,’ Megan said, sniffing the air appreciatively. ‘I’m absolutely starving.’
Charlie let out a low moan and clutched his stomach.
‘Poor Charlie had a touch of food poisoning last night,’ Hope explained, giving Megan a quick look that said, ‘you know what men are like’. Megan did know, and she told them all about Ollie and his tequila misadventure.
‘I wish I’d had tequila instead,’ Charlie grimaced. ‘Booze I can handle, rich food, not so much.’
Sophie was back with her strudel and said a shy hello to Megan before taking her seat. The cutlery looked enormous in her tiny hands, and Megan wondered if she’d even manage to hold it up long enough to transfer the warm apple and crisp pastry from her plate to her mouth.
‘It’s good,’ Sophie said after the first forkful had gone in. The icing sugar from the strudel was all over her top lip, and Megan saw Hope pick up a napkin and instinctively go to wipe it off, before stopping herself at the last second.
‘You’ve got sugar on your face,’ Megan said instead, laughing as Sophie looked horrified and hurriedly licked it off.
‘Has it gone? Oh my God – I’m so disgusting. You can’t take me anywhere. That’s what Robin always says – he thinks I eat like a dog.’
‘Robin?’ Megan enquired politely, thanking the waitress who had just come over with coffee for the table.
‘He’s her fiancé,’ Hope said, sounding like a proud mother.
‘Oh.’ Megan suppressed a yawn. ‘Congrats on the engagement. Sorry – I didn’t sleep very well.’
‘Me neither,’ Charlie grumbled, and Hope met Megan’s eye again across the table. Megan considered telling them all about her walk to the Charles Bridge that morning, then hesitated. She wanted to keep that moment private for now.
‘Is Robin here with you?’ she asked Sophie instead, immediately noticing the girl’s smile drop from her lips.
‘He’s been held up at home,’ she replied, nudging her knife through the puddle of leftover cream on her plate. ‘He’ll be here in a few days.’
As she said it, the phone on the table in front of her lit up, and Megan saw a picture flash up of a man with messy blond hair and a big grin.
Sophie jumped on it and leapt to her feet. ‘I should take this,’ she told them, and slipped out of the glass doors into the courtyard.
Megan busied herself by going to fill up a plate from the buffet, which offered just about every breakfast food you could ever want, including some other delicacies that she couldn’t imagine ever craving at this time in the morning. Radishes? Really? And piles of pickled gherkins and coleslaw? There were also spicy frankfurter-style sausages sliced into chunks, and some rather dubious-looking pasta salad. Clearly the Czechs liked to have every single taste catered for, even those that belonged firmly in the later part of the eating day. Thankfully, there was also eggs, toast and a copious amount of strudel.
‘I think I’m dying.’
She turned to find Ollie, staring down at a platter of dressed boiled eggs and gripping the edge of the wooden counter.
‘Eat something,’ she chided. ‘It will make you feel better.’
Ollie pulled a face and reached limply for some bread.
‘How come you’re so chirpy?’ he demanded. ‘You had pretty much the same amount to drink as me and you look fine.’
‘I’ve got youth on my side,’ she said. ‘You’re an old man, don’t forget.’
‘Thirty-five is not old,’ he muttered, adding bacon to his scrambled eggs.
They joined the others and Megan introduced Ollie to Hope and Charlie. The two men seemed to hit it off immediately, linked as they were by their individual ailments and shared self-pity. Sophie was still outside in the courtyard, her phone clamped to her ear and her arms wrapped around herself.
‘She must be freezing out there,’ Hope said, her face full of concern.
‘I’m sure she’ll come back in if she is,’ Megan replied, smiling to reassure her.
Ollie was telling Charlie about his job, and Hope turned her attention to the two men as Megan got stuck in to her breakfast.
‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Charlie was saying. ‘I only have to teach one person at a time and that’s hard enough. How the hell do you cope with a whole classroom full?’
‘You get used to it.’ Ollie shrugged. He had a bit of colour back in his cheeks now that he’d eaten something, and Megan watched as he told the other two a story about his early days as a trainee teacher, when he’d been left to cover a class of year tens at a secondary school and they’d locked him in the stationery cupboard.
‘I was in there until the caretaker found me at six,’ he said, as Charlie laughed his head off. ‘I even offered to pay them if they let me out, but they were having none of it. I was quite impressed in a way, but I was also busting for a pee, which wasn’t quite so good. After that I decided that primary school kids were the way forward.’
‘I’m amazed you ever went back at all,’ Hope said, wiping her eyes with her napkin.
‘Well, I love teaching,’ he said simply. ‘I see children as the future, and being part of that, and being able to help those kids find their way through those tricky few years … Well, that’s what keeps me motivated, I suppose. Even when they’re swearing at me.’
‘I wish my Annette had been taught by someone like you,’ Hope told him. ‘She had terrible teachers all the way through. She never really gelled with school; she always preferred talking to people than reading books, you know? It’s no wonder she became a hairdresser. But she’s happy, and that’s all I care about.’
Megan was reminded of her own parents saying the same thing about her when she’d informed them that she wanted to go to art college, and felt punched with emotion. Thankfully, a shivering Sophie chose that moment to come back to the table and the conversation was forgotten as Hope stood up to put a tentative arm around her.
‘Oh, darling, you’re absolutely cold right through – do you want my cardi?’
Sophie shook her head. Her teeth were chattering and her fingers looked almost blue.
‘Here.’ Ollie handed her a cup of hot chocolate that he’d managed to conjure up from somewhere.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled at him, and Megan quickly introduced them.
‘Was that your fella on the phone?’ Charlie asked.
Sophie nodded, smiling as she sipped her drink.
‘Did he say when he’d be here?’ Hope asked excitedly.
‘In a few days,’ Sophie said, her shoulders dropping as she started to thaw a bit. ‘I told him about you all – he can’t wait to meet you.’
‘And we can’t wait to meet him,’ Hope exclaimed. Megan was still playing catch-up, but she smiled encouragingly at Sophie, wondering then what the rest of the group thought about her being here with Ollie, who was neither boyfriend nor fiancé. Megan had never been away with a male friend before, but then she’d never really had a man in her life that she was this close to before. It shouldn’t be any more awkward than if she were here with a girl, but for some reason it felt different. When she’d told Magda that she was coming over to Prague with Ollie, her Polish friend had raised a suggestive eyebrow immediately. Did Sophie, Hope and Charlie feel the same way? Did they assume there was more to her and Ollie’s relationship than friendship?
‘We should get going,’ she said to Ollie, who downed his coffee and nodded. ‘Maybe we’ll see you all later, in the bar?’
‘For a soft drink,’ Ollie quickly added, pulling a face and making Charlie chuckle again.
Megan caught Hope’s eye once more before they left and could almost see the loaded questions behind her lashes. Thinking back to Ollie’s affectionate words last night made Megan’s stomach lurch – the poor thing must have been seriously drunk to blurt
them out like that. Although perhaps it was time to tell him the truth about her past and put a stop to the uneasiness she was beginning to feel once again.
The only problem was, she had no idea where to even start.
14
Charlie insisted on a lie-down after breakfast to make sure his stomach was fully recovered, so Hope used the time to paint her nails and check her phone – not looking for messages from Annette, of course. She’d sent her a text when she’d come up to bed last night, and every minute that passed without so much as a few words of abuse in return broke Hope’s heart a little bit more. It was hopeless, and she felt too sad to even appreciate the irony.
She glanced over at Charlie, who was fully clothed on top of the covers, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady. She knew he wasn’t asleep, because he always made these sweet little snuffling noises when he was really out for the count. She’d never known him to be so silent, and it was disquieting. Should she say something? Attempt to cheer him up? When Dave had been feeling ill he’d wanted her to fuss around him, fetching him tea and bringing him a cold flannel for his head, but poorly Charlie was a new one on her. It only reminded her of how little she really knew him.
It had been easier in a way when their relationship was all a big secret. She’d kept waiting for the day that her guilt would charge to the surface and force her to confess what she was up to, but it never arrived, and now her single biggest regret in life was how the affair had come out in the open. It had happened in the worst possible way imaginable, and she supposed that was her punishment. Cheating on your husband wasn’t a very nice thing to do, even if your marriage was as lifeless as road kill, but being caught in the act by your own daughter? Well, that was a karma kick in the teeth too far. She didn’t know how to say sorry to Annette.
Charlie had been just as mortified as her, especially given that they were sitting in the back seat of his car at the time, kissing each other with abandon. It had been reckless to do such a thing only a few streets from her front door, but Hope had fallen for Charlie like a stone into a pond, her feelings when she was with him stamping all over the qualms she was having. Annette, who was on her way over following an argument with her boyfriend Patrick and ironically had been looking for comfort and reassurance from her mum, had glanced through the car window purely by chance as she passed.
Hope actually winced whenever she thought about it, and she understood why her daughter was finding it difficult to move past her anger. Annette hadn’t even stopped to think after her eyes had met Hope’s through that window; she’d sprinted straight off in the direction of home to tell her dad exactly what she’d just seen. Hope, who’d been rendered temporarily immovable by horrified shock, caught up with her daughter just as the words were spilling out of her mouth. Dave had simply glared at her, shaking his head from side to side while he attempted to console a now-hysterical Annette. It had been so awful.
‘Ready to go in a bit, love?’
Charlie was sitting up and smiling at her now, a lopsided look of adoration on his face.
‘Yes, of course.’ Hope rubbed her eyes. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I was miles away.’
‘Luckily not literally.’ Charlie swung his legs round and made his way across the room. ‘I like having you right here, right where I can kiss you whenever I want.’
‘Feeling better, then?’ she guessed.
‘A bit.’ He looked down at her. ‘But feel free to keep fussing over me – I love it.’
They headed straight to the Charles Bridge, Hope almost bouncing up and down inside her boots with excitement. She could feel Prague easing its way into her, its beauty and inherent sense of magic lifting her spirits. Wherever she looked, there was an ornate building to make her gasp, a street entertainer to make her giggle, or a young couple snuggling under a blanket together watching the world go by. It was such a happy place, and she was content to let herself fall under its spell.
‘Here we are,’ Charlie announced, as they crossed the road and walked under the huge arch of the Old Town Bridge Tower. ‘Welcome to my bridge!’
It was a terrible joke, but Hope felt so cheered by the walk that she indulged him in a laugh.
Wide as a road and dappled with cobbles, the bridge stretched out ahead of them enticingly, both sides lined with entertainers, stall-owners and artists, each offering to paint portraits on the spot or sketch a caricature. Small tables were covered in trinkets, ornaments and photos, and statues stood grandly at irregular intervals upon the outer walls, surveying the bubbling brook of tourists making their way past.
Hope was rummaging in her handbag for the guidebook, but Charlie put a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t bother with that,’ he hissed under his breath. ‘Let’s just tag along to one of these tours.’
‘Isn’t that a bit naughty?’
‘It is a bit.’ He winked at her. ‘But I’m game if you are?’
They strolled as nonchalantly as possible to the opposite side of the bridge, where a walking tour had come to a halt beside a large statue of a woman holding a baby in her arms, surrounded by worshipping men.
‘This is the statue of the Madonna, St Dominic and St Thomas,’ droned the guide. ‘It was placed here in 1708 and shows the Dominicans, the Madonna and, if you look here, there is also their emblem, a dog.’
‘They all look pretty stoned to me,’ Charlie whispered, earning himself a yelp of amusement from Hope. The guide turned towards them and frowned at the interruption, and Hope quickly scuttled away.
‘Where are you going?’ Charlie plodded after her. ‘You’ve blown our cover – now we’ll have to find another tour to crash.’
‘You are a bad man,’ she chided, taking his hand.
They continued along the bridge, stopping every few metres to gaze out at the view or admire a brazen pigeon washing itself on the wall. A lot of the statues had birds sitting up on their shoulders and heads, and Hope found herself amused by their audacity.
‘Wouldn’t it be great to be able to fly?’ she said now, looking up to where two seagulls were fighting over the remains of a hotdog bun in mid-air.
‘I’d rather be on the ground with you.’
He pulled her to him, and for a while they just stood leaning against the wall at the edge of the bridge. Hope thought she could spend all day here, her eyes drawn upwards by a never-ending mosaic of red rooftops, clock faces and the spires of centuries-old churches. It felt like they’d opened the pages of a fairy-tale book and stepped inside, and with every minute that passed, she was aware of her senses unfurling like a creature coming out of hibernation. The air that passed held an intriguing mixture of scents, and her ears picked out the distant clicking sound of passing trams and the throbbing swell of the Vltava River below them.
After a time, Hope found her eyes drawn to a statue up ahead with a large crowd around its base. Taking Charlie’s hand, she made her way over and found them a spot not too far from the tour guide, who was clearly enjoying having such a rapt audience.
‘This is the statue of St John Nepomuk,’ the woman announced, waiting while everyone raised their cameras and snapped away at the figure above them. St John was clad in robes and a hat, a small replica of Christ on the cross in one of his hands and a large golden feather in the other. Behind his head there was a halo punctuated by five gold stars. He looked sad, but also wise, and Hope felt a shiver run through her that was nothing to do with the cold.
‘This was the first statue to be placed on the Charles Bridge in 1683,’ the tour guide continued. ‘St John is very famous here in Prague, and his tomb can be found in St Vitus’s Cathedral.’ Everyone craned their heads around to where Gothic spires were clearly visible on the hill.
‘St John was arrested by King Wenceslas in 1393 and tortured,’ she went on, causing many members of the crowd to widen their eyes.
‘It was later claimed that the Queen had confessed to St John, but that he would not tell the King what she had said. After he was tortured, St John was brough
t down to the bridge, his arms were chained and wood tied in his mouth, and he was thrown over the side.’
‘Bloody hell,’ whispered Charlie. ‘That’s a bit barbaric.’
‘The legend says that after St John went under the water, five stars rose up, and later his followers recovered his body. People now like to come and touch this statue for luck,’ she added, moving aside to reveal the base of the plinth. On one side there was a plaque depicting the moment St John was thrown, the figure of his tiny body polished gold by the many hands that had touched him. On the other side, another plaque showed a soldier petting a bright golden dog.
The tour guide smiled to herself as the crowd surged forward, taking it in turns to touch the plaques. Hope couldn’t stop looking up at the face of St John above them.
‘Do you not want a turn?’ the guide asked. She had taken a step back from the rest of the group and was making sure that only Hope and Charlie could hear what she was saying.
‘It is said that touching the falling Saint will bring you luck and ensure you come back to Prague one day, but there is a better way to make your luck on this bridge.’
‘Oh?’ She had Hope’s full attention.
‘If you go back along the bridge on this side, you will find another small structure, not like a statue, but an ornament, which is also showing St John in the water,’ she whispered conspiratorially. ‘In front of this is a golden cross, embedded in the stone. If you touch this cross and make a wish, it will come true one year and one day later.’
‘A year and a day?’ Hope repeated.
The guide nodded, looking very pleased with herself.
‘Not everyone is knowing this secret,’ she said, turning away so that the rest of the crowd didn’t hear her. ‘I like to tell only a few people.’
‘We’ll definitely go and find it.’ Hope could feel her excitement bubbling again. She knew there was something special about this bridge, something that had made it sneak its way under her skin as soon as she stepped on to it.
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