A Year and a Day

by Isabelle Broom

  Megan had always thought of herself as an independent spirit, someone who was easily strong enough to cope just fine without a man in her life. This new neediness she was feeling towards Ollie was unsettling, and it made her feel weak. One thing Megan did not want in her life was weakness – not after what had happened with Andre, when her terrible judgement had led her to such misery. She knew that the only way she could confidently take back the life she wanted, and show the world exactly what she was made of, was to create the best launch exhibition that London had ever seen – and she wanted to do it alone.

  However, the more time she spent with Ollie, the more she found herself drawn to him. Her feelings kept creeping up behind her and tapping her on the shoulder, demanding attention.

  ‘Look at him,’ they seemed to nag. ‘He’s lovely and tall and funny, with all his own hair. Go over there and kiss him!’

  But Megan would shake her head and shoo them away. Ollie was just one complication too far at the moment, and it wouldn’t be fair to act on what she was feeling. She cast her mind back to the previous evening, when events had taken a rather strange turn.

  After they had all left the quirky café behind the Old Town Square and stumbled across that brilliant, mischievous donkey – Megan grinned to herself now as she remembered all the photos she’d taken – Charlie had wandered off to make a phone call and the atmosphere between him and Hope had immediately turned even colder than the weather, which was really saying something, given that it had been below freezing. Hope had asked him who he’d been talking to, only for Charlie to bizarrely accuse her of imagining things. They’d all seen Charlie with his phone clamped to his ear, so it was odd to hear him deny it outright, and Megan had turned to Hope to find her muttering under her breath. The awkwardness level soon cranked up to a solid, skin-itching ten, and Sophie’s huge eyes had met Megan’s and widened.

  Ollie, ever the pragmatist, had stepped in and rescued the situation by suggesting that he and Charlie head off for a ‘man’s pint’ in one of the horrible-looking English-themed pubs on the other side of the square, leaving Hope to silently seethe with the two remaining girls.

  ‘Another wine?’ Megan had suggested, for want of anything better to say.

  Hope had arranged her features into something resembling a smile, and shaken her head.

  ‘I think I’ll go back to the hotel, but you girls go ahead.’

  Megan looked to Sophie for help, but she merely brought her shoulders up to her ears and shivered.

  ‘Come on,’ Megan pleaded. ‘There are so many nice bars. Why don’t we go to that one over there, with the heated lamps outside? I fancy a hot wine under a blanket, don’t you two? It’s been, oh, at least ten minutes since the last one, and I’m already freezing again.’

  Hope looked from her, to Sophie and back again, and finally managed a proper smile.

  ‘Oh, go on then – you’ve twisted my arm.’

  There was barely a cloud in the sky, but the artificial lights illuminating the impressive architecture of the Old Town Square cast a glow that obscured the stars. Thankfully the wind had dropped, so they were all relatively cosy as they sipped their hot drinks under three thick red blankets. The waiter, Megan noticed, who was impressively tall with a rather large nose, took his time tucking hers in around her waist and thighs.

  ‘You’ve got yourself an admirer there,’ Hope chuckled, winking at her as the man weaved his way back through the tables. He was dressed in a smart shirt and tie with absolutely no jacket, and Megan shivered in sympathy.

  ‘The cold has clearly addled his brain,’ she said.

  ‘Good thing Ollie didn’t see,’ Hope went on, nudging Megan’s arm conspiratorially.

  Megan ignored her, picking up her glass instead and then swearing as the hot, spicy liquid burned the back of her throat.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s obvious that he fancies you,’ Hope continued. ‘He can’t take his eyes off you.’

  ‘You heard what he said at dinner,’ Megan reminded her. ‘He only sees me as a friend. There was a time when …’ She stopped, unsure of how to continue.

  ‘You don’t have to talk about it,’ Sophie piped up from across the table.

  For one so quiet, she was clearly very astute, thought Megan. But actually, perhaps it would do her good to talk about it.

  ‘I broke it off with Ollie before it really even started,’ she told them, explaining between tentative sips of wine how the two of them had met and kissed on that first night after the pub quiz. ‘I had a bad break-up a few years ago,’ she added, deciding not to go into detail. ‘It’s not that I think Ollie’s a bad person, quite the opposite, in fact. I love being his friend.’

  ‘How did you end up here together?’ Hope asked, putting her pretty head on one side. With her blonde hair set in curls, she reminded Megan of one of the many carved stone angels and cherubs dotted around the city.

  ‘Ollie wanted to come and check the place out before he taught the kids in his class about it, and he thought I could help by taking photos for him.’ She paused, realising as she said it that all she’d really done since they arrived was focus on taking her own photos. Had Ollie noticed and simply not said anything? That would be just like him.

  ‘How’s it been?’ Hope went on, looking towards Sophie, who smiled.

  ‘It’s been really fun,’ Megan admitted, then grimaced as she remembered Ollie’s drunken confession on the first night out. ‘But there have been a few awkward moments. I sometimes get the impression that he’s annoyed with me.’

  ‘Why would he be?’ asked Hope, pulling her blanket up a fraction higher and clasping her gloved hands around her glass.

  Megan shook her head. ‘Maybe because I never let that kiss go any further? I don’t know. Or maybe I’m just annoying?’ She laughed, but the other two didn’t join in.

  ‘Why didn’t you let it go any further?’ Hope asked gently.

  ‘You must have had your reasons,’ Sophie interrupted. ‘There’s always a reason.’

  She was shivering, Megan realised.

  ‘Do you want another blanket?’ she asked. ‘Or we can ask for a table inside?’

  ‘Oh no, I’m fine.’ Sophie hunched up her shoulders.

  There was a loud sound of metal scraping against stone as Hope dragged her chair closer to Sophie’s and put a protective arm around her shoulders, rubbing her hand vigorously up and down to warm her up.

  ‘Ollie needs a proper girlfriend,’ Megan told them. ‘Someone who is free to spend all their time with him. He deserves that. But I’m not that person – I’m too selfish.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re not,’ argued Hope, but Megan shook her head.

  ‘I am, believe me. At least, when it comes to my career. The thing is with photography, it’s not a nine-to-five job. I can’t just clock off at the end of the day and put it out of my mind until the morning. Sometimes I’m up for hours just editing one frame, only to dump it in the trash at three in the morning. Other times I get up before dawn to work. It really depends on my mood, but the fact is that I have the freedom to do what I like. If I had a boyfriend, I’d have to sacrifice some of that free time, and I’m not prepared to do that.’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  This had come from Sophie, while Hope stared at Megan in bewilderment.

  ‘You mean Ollie?’ Megan coloured and laughed a little too loudly. ‘No! I mean, yes, as a friend. Oh, I don’t know.’

  ‘Love isn’t always straightforward,’ Hope said gravely. ‘Sometimes you can feel like you are in love with someone, only to realise years later that you never really were at all. In love with the idea of love, rather than the person.’

  ‘You have to be sure,’ Sophie said quietly. ‘I always have been with Robin. There has never been a day since I met him that I wasn’t absolutely sure I loved him. I think if you know, then you just know.’

  ‘It’s rare, love like that,’ Hope told them, her eyes misty as she gazed up at the lights of the square.
‘Some folk never know for sure if what they’re feeling is the real thing.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Megan asked them. ‘I mean, is there a moment, like a firework going off in your brain?’

  There was a pause while they all considered the question, then Sophie spoke first.

  ‘When I met Robin – and I mean literally the moment he first spoke to me – I just felt something change in me. It was like the hands of a clock going round and clicking into place as they reached the hour. He told me that he felt the same thing. It was like the universe brought us together.’

  ‘I did have fireworks in my pants when I first met Ollie,’ Megan admitted. The mood had turned far too serious for her liking, and she was keen to lighten it.

  Hope giggled and signalled to the lanky waiter for more wine.

  ‘Don’t you ever worry, though?’ Sophie asked Megan.

  ‘Worry about what?’

  ‘That Ollie could be the one? What if you’ve been brought together for a reason and you’re doing the wrong thing by keeping him at arm’s-length?’

  ‘I know it’s not the wrong thing,’ Megan said automatically. ‘I can just feel it, you know, in my gut. It’s not right.’

  ‘What do you think Ollie’s gut is telling him?’ Sophie asked. She didn’t appear to mean it as a dig, but Megan narrowed her eyes a fraction. This scrutiny was starting to get to her, and she felt a bit as if she was being ganged up on. It was always the same when the subject of Ollie came up – her family and friends all adored him, all thought she was crazy for not taking the friendship to the next level, and now these two had closed ranks against her too.

  ‘I think Ollie knows we’re just friends,’ she said simply. ‘Even if he doesn’t understand my reasons for not being with him, I think he tries to.’

  Hope took her hand off her glass of wine and squeezed Megan’s arm through the blanket. ‘You have to do what’s best for you,’ she said. ‘Don’t put anyone else first. I did that with my Dave for so many years, and now I’d do anything to turn back the clock.’

  ‘Sometimes I wish I could stop all the clocks,’ Sophie said dreamily. ‘I’d give anything to have hundreds of extra years with Robin.’

  ‘I cannot wait to meet this fella of yours.’ Hope grinned. ‘He sounds so perfect.’

  Sophie smiled at that. ‘He is. Well, he’s perfect for me.’

  She’d gone on to tell them more about her fiancé, the plans they had for their wedding and all the places in the world they still wanted to visit together. Megan had been glad for the change of subject, but she’d also found herself feeling jealous of Sophie’s happy relationship. Why had it all come so easily to her, yet seemed such an impossibility for Megan?

  Megan glanced up at Ollie now, at his red nose with the glasses perched on the tip, at his pink cheeks and the ugly fur-lined hat that he’d picked up from a stall on the way over the Charles Bridge, and tried to concentrate on what she was feeling. Whatever it was, it was warm. She could feel it oozing through her insides like melted caramel. Her limbs felt lighter and her heart quicker, the cold barely distinguishable. Was this love? And if it was, what kind of love was it? How could she be sure that she didn’t simply love Ollie as a friend? Sophie had said she’d just known she loved Robin as soon as she met him, so why was she, Megan, finding it so difficult?

  ‘I think the John Lennon Wall is this way,’ Ollie announced, cutting abruptly through her meandering train of thought. He was in charge of the map, holding it folded open in his gloved hands.

  They’d left the Charles Bridge now and headed left, entering into a series of twisty streets flanked by high-walled yellow buildings. Smooth cobbles decorated the ground beneath their feet, each one adorned with a glittering spider’s web of frost, and swept snow sat in sad, forgotten heaps by the kerb. The sound of chattering tourists faded the further they went.

  It would be the perfect place for a kiss, Megan was horrified to find herself thinking. Nobody around to interrupt them. It had been so long now since she’d first kissed Ollie, but she could still recall the tentative way he’d slid his tongue against her own, not awkward or clumsy, just measured and tender. Her knees throbbed and she instinctively reached down to rub them.

  ‘Are your joints still aching from that climb we did yesterday, old lady?’ Ollie asked in amusement.

  If only he knew …

  ‘Who are you calling old, Mister Closer-to-forty-than-thirty?’

  Ollie stuck his tongue out.

  The next corner they took brought them out on a small bridge, which had a low wall on one side and wrought-iron bars on the other. Attached to these bars were literally hundreds of padlocks in a multitude of colours, sizes and styles, each bearing the names or initials of the couples who had placed them there. Megan thought of the lone padlock she and Ollie had found halfway up Petrin Hill the previous day, and smiled. If she was ever going to leave a love padlock anywhere in Prague – not that she ever would, of course – then she would definitely follow the lead of that couple and hide it away somewhere discreet.

  ‘There are a lot of people in love in this city,’ Ollie remarked, flicking over a few of the padlocks closest to him.

  Megan didn’t reply, because she was too busy taking photos from every angle imaginable. It was nice not to feel inhibited in front of Ollie any more. After yesterday’s moment of mad abandon in the monastery, she’d come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter what he saw her do. If they were going to be friends, then he had to know the real her – and this was the real her.

  ‘Are you actually going to lie down on the …? Oh.’ Ollie hopped aside as Megan wriggled along the ground by his feet. ‘You are.’

  All Megan could see was colour and love and joy – and as she framed her shots, she tried to feel what the owners of these locks must have felt when they brought them here. Those feelings of mutual affection, a longing to be sure that what they were feeling for one another would last for always. A solid guarantee, one that they could see and hold in their hands, perhaps revisit when the going got tough. Which it almost always did, as far as Megan was aware.

  ‘You’re making a face like a baby filling its nappy,’ Ollie pointed out, unhelpfully.

  ‘It must be like looking in a mirror,’ she quipped back sweetly, finally struggling to her feet as yet another Segway tour came hurtling around the corner behind them.

  Ollie took her hand to help steady her, crushing her fingers gently between his own, as if trying to communicate something he wasn’t prepared to say out loud. Megan thought again about the kiss, and forced herself to step away.

  ‘It’s freezing,’ she stated, looking down at her now-damp clothes and shivering violently to illustrate the point. ‘Let’s go and find this wall you won’t stop going on about.’

  Ollie looked down at her through the smeary glass of his spectacles and brought his hand up to brush away a single strand of blonde hair that had adhered itself to her lip balm.

  There it was again, that warmth.

  ‘You’re very beautiful,’ he told her. ‘I think it every time I look at you, and most of the time I can stop myself from telling you. But not this time.’

  Megan said nothing, but she felt herself tremble. For once she didn’t turn away from his gaze either; she simply stood as still as one of the statues up on the bridge and stared back at him.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he said eventually, visibly shaking himself out of the trance he’d lulled them into and reaching for her hand. ‘Let the teacher lead the way.’

  26

  When the soft morning light had snaked through the curtains just after dawn that morning, tiptoeing its pale fingers down on to the carpet, across the ornate rug and up across the tangled sheets of the bed, it found that Hope was already awake. She had been awake for hours. Ever since the screaming woke her.

  Charlie lay beside her, his head facing the opposite direction, a few sparse hairs just visible on the back of his shoulders. Hope could hear his gentle snores, bu
t she took no comfort from the sound. They had gone to sleep on a row – the first proper one they’d ever had – and Hope could still feel the sting of their angry words.

  ‘You’re imagining things, love,’ he had argued, when she’d accused him of taking a secret call on his phone in the market while she was distracted by the donkey. ‘Why are you having a go at me?’

  But Hope hadn’t been imagining anything – she had seen him. When she told him so, Charlie had looked at her with scorn, as though the mere sight of her was an irritation. It was so unlike the gentle, loving Charlie that she’d grown accustomed to, that Hope had been momentarily stunned into silence. She’d tried a different tack.

  ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me,’ she’d said, forcing a conciliatory tone into her voice. ‘I won’t be cross, I promise.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ came his reply. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes.

  It was so strange to feel disconnected from him like this. Their relationship had always been passionate, but, as Hope now acknowledged, it had always been very physical, too. Had the two of them simply got carried away with the lust that had consumed them and failed to notice the gap opening up like a chasm between them? Had they been too impatient to fall in love? Hope had been so sure of her feelings – even a few days ago she had felt certain that Charlie was the answer to her puzzle – but had she been wrong? Had her desire to change her life propelled her into something that wasn’t real?

  The sticking point Hope kept coming back to was that she did care about Charlie, but she wasn’t ready to let him look after her in the way that he wanted – and she was going to have to face up to it.

  The light shifted as she peeled back the covers and walked quietly across to the bathroom. She groaned out loud when she saw herself in the mirror, the complicated map of lines on her face testament to how little sleep she’d managed to get. She thought again about those screams she’d heard from one of the other rooms – so miserable and so wretched that she’d been compelled to dash out into the corridor and call out, ‘Hello? Is everything okay?’