A Year and a Day

by Isabelle Broom

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Megan scolded him playfully. ‘As if it isn’t bleak enough for these babies, out here in the snow, now they’re no better than donkeys.’

  Ollie shrugged. ‘If I were them, I’d appreciate a bit of human warmth.’

  Megan blushed as another flashback of Ollie’s own considerable warmth swam into view. She blinked it away, turning to hide her red cheeks.

  ‘“The babies are a symbol of the Communist era,”’ Ollie read aloud. He was still sitting up on his bronze baby perch, but now had the guidebook open in his hands. Megan looked up and saw that his glasses had slid so far down his nose that they were in danger of falling right off.

  ‘“They are unable to reach adulthood, their growth stifled by totalitarianism.”’

  ‘You can take the teacher out of his classroom …’ Megan mocked, pleased when Ollie responded by sticking out his tongue at her. ‘I couldn’t care less what they mean,’ she told him, finally feeling brave enough to step forward and touch one. ‘I just want to know why they don’t have any faces.’

  ‘Perhaps they’re shy?’ Ollie swung a long leg over and slid down to the ground, his foot slipping on a patch of ice that sent him careering sideways into Megan.

  ‘Sorry!’

  For the briefest second, Megan felt herself enjoy the sensation of his weight against her, felt his warmth flow through her. The urge she’d had yesterday, to kiss and touch him, seemed to be making a return. But she mustn’t. She wouldn’t.

  ‘I don’t think they’re shy.’ She indicated the huge bare bottom by his face. ‘I think they’re evil.’

  ‘Just because you don’t want any babies, don’t go slating all the others.’

  He’d meant it as a joke, of course, but Ollie’s casual assumption made Megan’s face pucker up just like the statue next to them.

  ‘I never said I didn’t want a baby, I said I wasn’t sure.’

  Ollie held up his hands. ‘Okay, okay – don’t bite my head off.’

  ‘I wasn’t!’

  The last thing she wanted was to argue with him, but he clearly wasn’t going to give her even a centimetre today, let alone an inch. She watched as he kicked at a patch of uneven ground, his head down as he bit furiously on his lip. The worst thing was, she didn’t even blame him for being fed up with her. She tried to imagine how she would feel in his position, how humiliated she would be if she’d put herself out there twice and he had freaked out, if he had run off and she’d woken up alone in bed, a rapidly cooling groove in the mattress beside her. It would have been horrendous.

  Turning from the babies back towards the park, Megan watched the breeze bothering the topmost leaves in the trees. They were a heady autumnal mix of greens, oranges and yellows, and the relentless sunshine lent a startling clarity to the scene. She felt as if she could see every individual strand of grass, every spidery vein on the fallen leaves by her feet. Why, she wondered, when the beauty of the world was so blindingly obvious to her, could she not let herself see it in what she had with Ollie? It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him not to treat her well, or even to be understanding when she needed time alone to work, it was more that she didn’t trust herself not to hurt him.

  What Megan really needed was to be able to see into the future. If only she could reach out a finger and push the hands around on just one of the many clocks in this city. If she could leap forward in time and see herself and Ollie there, together and happy, then she would be able to give in to what she was feeling. She would be free to enjoy all these emotions, rather than feel strangled by them – they would be her wings, rather than her bars.

  But nobody could see into the future, and wishes rarely came true – they were empty pockets of hope, a fleeting rush of desire or of need. If Megan thought that there was any truth in the myth surrounding that golden cross up on the Charles Bridge, she would run there right now and wish with all her heart for some certainty. But without an absolute assurance that she wouldn’t be responsible for breaking Ollie’s heart, she just wasn’t willing to take the risk.

  41

  Annette ran her fingers over the arms of the golden cross and gazed in wonder at her mother. Hope had just relayed the story about St John being tossed over the side of the Charles Bridge.

  ‘Did you really wish for me?’ Annette asked for the second time.

  Hope nodded. ‘I did. I know it’s silly, but at that moment it felt possible.’

  ‘A year and a day is a long time,’ Annette mused. ‘I don’t think I would ever have been able to stay away from you for that long.’

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ Hope put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and squeezed. How bizarre, she thought. Just a few days ago she’d been standing in this exact place with Charlie, trying not to cry over Annette, and now she was here again with her daughter, trying not to cry over Charlie.

  ‘Are you okay, Mum?’

  Hope swallowed. ‘Of course. I just wish that …’ She stopped, realising how ironic it was that she was wishing for things in this particular spot.

  ‘Wish that what?’ Annette asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ Hope shook her head and smiled. ‘Now, come on, let’s go and waste some money on one of those people who draw caricatures. I’ve always wanted to get one done, but Charlie wasn’t keen. He was worried they’d draw him to look like a boiled egg.’

  ‘Well,’ Annette grinned, ‘he does look a bit Humpty Dumpty-ish. Not in a bad way, of course.’

  Hope pictured Charlie, his lovely smooth head and his jolly grin. She missed him terribly, but there was also a sense of relief. The past few days had been tough for both of them, and she imagined he was feeling the same way as her.

  ‘Has he texted you since he left?’ Annette asked gently, as they made their way slowly along the cobbles. She was all wrapped up now in the hat, scarf and gloves that Hope had insisted they buy, her long brown hair glowing like polished wood against her shoulders.

  ‘Not yet.’ Hope looped an arm through her daughter’s. ‘I’m not sure if he will, to tell you the truth. I think he’ll leave it up to me.’

  ‘And will you?’

  Hope paused to watch a collection of pigeons that had gathered in a patch of sunlight, each doing that strange head-bobbing dance as they picked at the ground for crumbs.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘I care about him, but I don’t want to mess him around. My head’s been all over the place since me and your dad … Well, since it all happened.’

  Annette’s face fell, and Hope knew she must be picturing the night she’d caught them in the car.

  ‘I don’t know why I did that,’ Annette said, staring at a gaggle of girls with their selfie sticks held aloft. ‘I shouldn’t have run off to Dad like that.’

  ‘Please.’ Hope squeezed her arm. ‘Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who cheated.’ She had decided not to tell Annette about Dave’s vasectomy. The only thing that mattered now was the future, and while it was frightening to know that she now had the freedom to go and seek her own adventure, it also filled her with excitement. Prague, with all its magic, colourful history and inescapable clocks, had reminded her how important it was to live life to the absolute fullest. She wanted to set out and make her mark in her own little corner of the world.

  After they’d had their caricatures drawn, Hope took Annette up the hill to visit Prague Castle, the two of them giggling at the stoic guards in their fur hats and grimacing at the gargoyles hanging off the roof of St Vitus’s Cathedral. They came across the Golden Lane purely by accident, and spent hours exploring the tiny shops and galleries, luxuriating in the pleasure of each other’s company and the warm welcome of the Czech shopkeepers.

  As the wind picked up, Hope and Annette scuttled from one pool of sunlight to the next in search of warmth. They bought cups of wine laced with rum, each growing happily merry as the hours passed. For a late lunch, Hope took Annette back to the little café behind the church, ordering them both huge plates
of steaming goulash followed by deliciously gooey honey cake. The waitress greeted them like old friends, adding what Hope suspected was a lot of extra cream to their desserts.

  As she had anticipated, Annette was absolutely enchanted by Prague, and was now lamenting the fact that the two of them were flying home the following day.

  ‘You will stay with us over Christmas, won’t you?’ Annette asked now, licking cream off her spoon.

  ‘What about your dad?’ Hope asked. She knew Annette was willing to offer her a bed for now, but she didn’t want to come between her daughter and Dave, not when she felt responsible for the fact that he might be facing Christmas alone.

  ‘He’s going to Granny’s.’ Annette shrugged. ‘Apparently she can’t wait to spoil him.’

  Hope rolled her eyes in good humour. ‘That sounds about right.’

  ‘I meant what I said,’ Annette went on. ‘You’ll have a bed at mine for as long as you need it.’

  Hope felt tears in her eyes yet again – she really was a wreck today.

  ‘I’m sorry if I let you down,’ she said, her voice small.

  ‘I just wish you’d talked to me,’ Annette whispered, playing with the edge of the tablecloth.

  ‘I thought you’d hate me.’ Hope shook her head as she realised just how foolish she’d been. ‘He’s your dad and you love him. I didn’t know how to tell you.’

  ‘It’s over now,’ Annette said, drawing a line under the conversation. ‘And now you can do whatever you want.’

  ‘Pah!’ Hope laughed. ‘I’m too old now. Old and past it.’

  ‘Oi!’ Annette scolded. ‘I hear that fifty is the new thirty these days.’

  ‘Only if you can afford Botox.’

  They laughed for a few seconds, and then Annette looked at her thoughtfully.

  ‘You know Patrick’s parents are retiring next month?’ she asked.

  ‘Are they?’ It was the first Hope had heard about it.

  ‘Well, they’re looking for someone to take over the B&B – someone they can trust. Patrick thought you might be up for it.’

  Colour flooded into Hope’s cheeks. ‘Me?’

  ‘No, the Queen’s pack of Corgis. Of course you!’

  ‘But I don’t have any experience.’

  Annette glared at her, mock stern. ‘You ran our house for years. And Patrick’s dad can teach you anything you need to know. Honestly, Mum, it’s not exactly quantum physics we’re talking about – you could do the job blindfolded with one arm tied behind your back.’

  ‘I don’t think I could,’ Hope protested again, but there was a slow excitement building inside her. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d been hoping for? Her own income and a chance to do a job she knew she’d love …

  ‘Do you really think I could?’ she asked, unable to stop herself from grinning when her daughter bobbed her head up and down so rapidly it was in danger of falling right off.

  ‘Of course you could. I’m going to call Patrick right now and let him know.’

  ‘I can’t believe this.’ Hope’s hands were shaking as she counted out some money for the bill and attempted to pull on her gloves. ‘I just can’t believe it.’

  Annette pulled her new hat down over her mess of brown hair and stood up.

  ‘What was it you were saying about Prague being a place where all your wishes come true?’

  Yes, thought Hope, as she linked arms with her daughter and led the way back out into the bright afternoon – this was a place where magic happened.

  42

  ‘I think it might snow.’

  Ollie squinted into the distance, following the direction of Megan’s outstretched finger to where an ominous throb of dark clouds sat gloomily in the east.

  ‘I think you might be right.’

  ‘I hope it comes before it gets dark,’ she mused. ‘I’d love to take some photos of it falling. I bet the Charles Bridge looks amazing in the snow.’

  ‘I bet it does.’

  He’d been providing her with these non-committal replies all afternoon, and Megan was beginning to feel irritated. She knew he had every right to be short with her, though, so she swallowed each sarcastic remark as it occurred to her, choking every now and then on the sheer bitterness.

  She’d convinced him to walk off their lunch of pork shoulder, bacon dumplings, mashed potatoes and piles of sauerkraut by strolling up to Letna Park, but she hadn’t been prepared for just how many steps they would have to climb. The trek up here had been worse than the one up the Observation Tower. However, when they’d reached the summit of the hill, the view over the city had made the arduous ascent more than worth it. Megan had also been delighted to find a rope strung up from the metronome to a nearby tree which had been decorated with loads of discarded trainers – a perfect addition to her album of the past few days. Just when she thought she’d seen all the beauty that Prague could offer, she’d turn a cobbled corner, open a creaky old door or climb a slippery, snow-covered hill and be confronted with gem after gem. It was such a special place.

  She should be feeling excited about getting back to London and shutting herself away with her photos, going through the many thousands she’d taken since they arrived and selecting the ones she wanted for the exhibition. But she didn’t feel excited at all. Instead, she was filled with an uneasy sort of dread.

  ‘What do you fancy doing now?’ she asked Ollie, unable to bear the silence any longer.

  He barely turned in her direction before replying.

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘Come on,’ she forced a note of enthusiasm into her tone. ‘I chose this place, so now it’s your turn.’

  Ollie took a deep breath. ‘You mean you’d actually consider doing something that I wanted to do?’ he asked.

  Megan could detect a tinge of spite in his words, but she wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this line of conversation yet, so she decided to play dumb.

  ‘Of course I would.’ She smiled stiffly. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘I just didn’t think my opinion counted for much in your eyes,’ he said, giving her a hard look.

  Megan opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again.

  ‘You can’t keep doing this to me,’ he went on, picking a leaf off a nearby bush and shredding it into tiny pieces. ‘Not any more, Megs. Things have changed.’

  ‘Don’t let’s do this,’ she begged. ‘I don’t want to argue with you.’

  ‘What about what I want?’ he cut across her, his voice rising an octave as the bits of desecrated leaf fluttered to the ground. ‘Does what I want ever even occur to you?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to be friends,’ she stammered, following him as he crunched across the frozen grass towards the path.

  ‘I thought so too.’ He stopped and stared at her. ‘But now I’m not so sure I can be.’

  He’d never looked at her like this before, with such dismay, and Megan felt as if she’d been slapped.

  ‘I’m sorry for what happened,’ she began, although it was a lie. She had wanted it to happen just as much as he had.

  Ollie opened his eyes a fraction wider. ‘If you regret it so much,’ he muttered, ‘then why did you do it at all?’

  ‘It’s not that I regret it!’ she implored. ‘You know I don’t. I just …’ She stopped as her thoughts slipped away from her into the quicksand of fear. This was the moment she needed to be honest with him about her own shortcomings and tell him that it was herself she couldn’t trust, not him, but for some reason she couldn’t find the words.

  Ollie was blinking rapidly behind his glasses, his cheeks filling with colour as he waited for her to continue.

  ‘I don’t want to lose you,’ she said eventually, and so quietly that Ollie had to take a step closer in order to hear her.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘I said, I don’t want to lose you,’ she repeated, this time failing to keep the pleading tone from her voice. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling for Ollie any more, but s
he did know that she wanted him in her life – she knew that for certain. It was one of the only things she really was sure about.

  Ollie sighed and folded his arms.

  ‘Have the last few days meant nothing to you at all?’ he said then, and she knew what he was asking. All those looks exchanged between the two of them, all the crackling chemistry in the air, the way it had felt to finally touch one another, to taste one another, to be with one another.

  ‘You ask me that question as if you think they didn’t,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m not dead inside, Ollie – I feel things just as much as you do.’

  ‘So then why?’ He wrung his hands with exasperation.

  Megan didn’t have an answer for this, so she just shook her head.

  ‘I’ve liked you since the first moment we met,’ Ollie told her, his voice steady despite the turmoil she could see all over his face. ‘When you backed off at the beginning, I thought all you needed was time. I guessed you must have been through something awful in the past, but I didn’t want to push you. And being your friend has been amazing, Megs – it really has. But over the past few days, I’ve started to like you a whole lot more than a friend really should.’

  Megan looked up and let her eyes find his. He was saying all the things she couldn’t, and alongside the glow she felt at hearing him admit all this, there was also shame.

  ‘I don’t want to be your best friend, Megan,’ he said, taking another step forward until he was only inches away. ‘I want to be your boyfriend. The thing is, I—’

  ‘Don’t.’ Megan put up a hand, unable to bear hearing him confess his true feelings. Saying it after a night on the tequila was one thing, but for him to admit that he loved her when he was sober? That was a different thing entirely.

  Ollie recoiled, his mouth opening in shock.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking at the ground now instead of him. The snow was thick up here under the trees and she couldn’t even see the grass beneath it. ‘You deserve better than someone like me.’

  ‘What are you so scared of?’ Ollie asked her then, his voice gentle as he noticed her tears beginning to fall. ‘Whatever it is, Megs, we can work through it. Just don’t give up on us because you’re scared.’