A Year and a Day

by Isabelle Broom

  It had grown dark some time ago now, Sophie wasn’t sure exactly when, and a glance at the illuminated face of a nearby clock told her it was close to eight p.m. Just four hours left.

  It was Robin who had first told her about the golden cross on the Charles Bridge, about the legend of St John Nepomuk and the wishes he could grant. They had visited Prague together so many times over the years, but not once had either of them taken advantage of this myth. They both agreed that they had everything they could ever wish for, that to ask for more would be greedy and needless, so they admired the cross from afar instead. Always in awe, but never tempted. Well, not until the last time they’d visited.

  Sophie had begged Robin to come away with her as soon as the doctor delivered that awful news. It was only a few weeks before Christmas, and Robin wanted to wait until the festivities were over to tell his family. That was Robin all over, putting everyone else ahead of himself, not wanting to ruin Christmas. So he and Sophie flew over to Prague as they habitually did, only this time was different. This time she insisted they go straight to the Charles Bridge to make their wish. They couldn’t afford to lose even a second, she’d told him, dragging him over the cobbles in her haste to reach the magical spot. Robin’s limbs had already begun to weaken, but he never once made even a murmur of complaint. He watched in silence as Sophie got to her knees on the cold ground, her hand firmly on the gold cross, ignoring the stares from passers-by as she whispered her wish again and again into the air.

  When it was Robin’s turn, he closed his eyes, and she’d stared at his silently moving lips through eyes saturated with tears. It had felt special, and magical, and she knew the city’s ghosts were listening to them. She could feel it in the air and smell it in the bricks. So much history, so many spirits. Before Robin, she hadn’t been sure if she believed in true love, and before Prague, she had never believed in magic. Now she was convinced that the strength of her belief in both those things was going to bring him back to her.

  A year and a day it had been. A year and a day since she had stood on that bridge and wished with every fibre of her soul that Robin would always be with her. It had become the hook on which she hung her hope, and even when it seemed that all was lost, she still believed. She must believe. She could not and would not accept that she had lost him, and that there was nothing ahead of her but emptiness, a missing space where Robin should always be.

  She hated this. Being alone here in this city that she loved so very much. But there was nobody she could have brought. Her family and Robin’s family were dealing with their own grief, but she knew they were worried about her. Her phone had barely stopped ringing since she arrived, and she knew her parents were growing frantic. None of them understood. None of their words could make a dent in her absolute certainty that Robin would be returned to her – and that it would happen here, in the place where they had met.

  Blackness had crept across the city as she walked, and from her position on the road behind Prague’s central train station, Sophie could see a mosaic of coloured lights. The Charles Bridge was where she needed to be. That was where he’d be waiting. She could hear the sound of her own heart as it crashed wildly against the inside of her chest, and her legs felt unsteady beneath her. The sickness had not returned, but her breathing had become erratic, and Sophie found that she had to stop often to rest. There was something else, too – a feeling she couldn’t find a label for, a complicated mess of trepidation and exhilaration. One second she felt free, as if she could kick off from the ground and take flight over the cobbles, but then, just as quickly, it felt as if those same stones were shifting like quicksand under her feet, threatening to suck her down into the sewers below.

  She just had to make it to the bridge. She had to get there.

  Sophie knew the intricate pattern of the city’s streets well enough to trust her instincts over her actual thoughts, and sure enough, she eventually stumbled across the tramlines and up under the Old Town Bridge Tower, its looming bulk a comforting sight in the darkness. Her phone had long ago run out of battery thanks to the almost incessant calls which she had mostly been pretending to answer for the past few days, but Sophie had the city’s many clocks to help her keep track of the time. There were only a few hours left now until midnight – and then there would be just one choice left open to her.

  As she made her way along the right-hand side of the bridge, her eyes searching the stone wall for the muted golden glow that would tell her that she was where she needed to be, Sophie saw the snow begin to fall around her.

  45

  ‘I still don’t understand.’ Megan stared at Ollie. The ashen look on his face was scaring her. She had never seen him so worried, or so clearly distraught.

  ‘The poor duck’s in denial,’ Hope told her, close to tears. ‘Prague is where they met, where they spent so much time together. My guess is she wanted to come here to feel close to him. Toby says she’s barely spoken since it happened – not to anyone.’

  ‘And Toby is?’ Megan asked, still playing catch-up.

  ‘Robin’s older brother.’ Hope pointed through the glass of the hotel doors, where a blond man in a sheepskin coat was pacing up and down, his phone clamped to his ear and a grim expression on his face.

  ‘I knew there was something wrong,’ Ollie said, shaking his head. ‘I just knew it in my gut.’

  Megan remembered what she’d said about knowing things in her gut, and blanched. This was not the time.

  ‘I can’t believe Robin’s dead,’ she stuttered. ‘All those calls Sophie took. I even saw his picture flash up on her phone once. What was all that about?’

  ‘She must have been lying,’ Ollie said simply.

  ‘And perhaps that photo was of Toby, not Robin,’ suggested Hope. ‘He’s got the same blond hair, and he told us he’s been trying to get hold of her non-stop over the past few days. She only let slip where she was yesterday, apparently, and he booked the first flight he could.’

  Annette, who had been sitting quietly off to one side listening, finally asked the question that the three of them were avoiding.

  ‘What is Toby so afraid of?’

  At that moment Robin’s brother came back in through the doors, his hair wet from the beginnings of snow. His skin had the weathered look of a man who spent much of his time outside, and Megan remembered what Sophie had told them about Robin’s love of surfing.

  ‘I’ve just spoken to her parents,’ he said, addressing Ollie. He didn’t even seem to notice Megan, so she stepped forward and offered her hand.

  ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she whispered, her mouth set in a line as he squeezed her hand in response, a polite smile flashing up momentarily on his face.

  ‘I’m afraid if I don’t find Sophie, we could have another loss on our consciences,’ he told them all, his voice unsteady. ‘Sophie’s mum said she found a note. It said that she’d be home with Robin, or she wouldn’t be home at all.’

  ‘But how could she …?’ Hope stopped mid-sentence, then brought her hand up to cover her mouth. ‘Oh no.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s been eating much these past few days,’ Ollie added. Megan looked down and realised he was holding her hand. She hadn’t even noticed him take it. ‘I should have stayed with her after she fainted on the bridge. I’m so sorry.’

  This, again, was directed towards Toby, but Robin’s brother shook his head.

  ‘It’s not your fault. How were you to know?’

  ‘I know,’ Ollie stared at his feet. ‘But I still feel dreadful. If something happens to her …’

  Annette stood up. ‘Come on,’ she told them, reaching for her coat and shrugging it on. ‘Let’s go out and look for her.’

  Megan, who’d only had the briefest of introductions to Annette and still had no idea where the hell Charlie had vanished off to, looked over at Hope’s daughter with admiration.

  ‘Annette’s right,’ she agreed, pulling her gloves on. ‘The receptionist here has Toby’s number, ri
ght?’

  Toby and Ollie nodded.

  ‘Well then, if Sophie comes back here then we’ll know soon enough. I don’t know about you lot, but I don’t like the idea of her alone out there in the snow.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Toby was already moving towards the doors. ‘I have no idea where I’m going – can I come with you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Ollie touched his shoulder briefly. ‘I’ll lead the way. We can start in St Wenceslas Square and work our way from there through the Old Town.’

  Outside it was eerily quiet, as it always seemed to be when the snow began to fall. Megan thought guiltily of the way she’d wished for it earlier in the day. Now all she could think of was Sophie, hunched over somewhere in the city, her grief eating away at her insides, the snow landing on her cheeks and eyelashes. She couldn’t begin to imagine what must be going through her mind, what turmoil she must be in. It made her shudder just to think about it.

  Toby and Ollie were walking side by side ahead of her, with Hope and Annette just behind, their hands clasped in each other’s as they scanned either side of the near-deserted street. When Ollie described the rainbow-striped hat that Sophie always wore, Toby’s mouth dropped open in a new horror.

  ‘That’s Robin’s hat,’ he told them, his voice cracking again. ‘She knitted it for him years ago.’

  Megan could hear Annette trying to comfort her mum. Hope had started crying almost as soon as they left the hotel. She wasn’t demonstrative about it, and Megan guessed she must be trying not to upset Toby more than was necessary, but her face was a mess of tears. Annette looked so much like her, with her delicate features and her bright eyes. Megan would have liked to take a photograph of the two of them – but that would have to wait.

  Prague’s endless collection of souvenir shops, cafés, bars and restaurants had seemed so charming just a few hours ago, but now all they represented was another place to look, another dead end in their increasingly frantic search. Megan noticed that Toby kept wringing his hands and running them through his hair. He wore neither gloves nor a hat, and seemed outwardly unaffected by the cold, although Megan knew he must be feeling it. She could feel it even in her tiniest joints, and in the stinging of her lips and bare cheeks. The Prague winter wasn’t taking any prisoners tonight, and this only made the hunt for Sophie all the more urgent.

  ‘No sign of her in there,’ Ollie called out, emerging from an Irish bar on the south side of the square. They’d already been walking for over an hour now, and Toby was beginning to stamp his feet with frustration. His phone was ringing every ten minutes, as well, and the last time he’d actually yelled into the handset, telling whoever it was to keep the line clear, for God’s sake. Megan imagined what her mum and dad would be doing if they were trapped at home in the knowledge that she had potentially lost her mind and was alone in a snowy foreign city, and she shuddered violently.

  They must find Sophie.

  The clocks in the Old Town Square inched around towards midnight, and still there was no sign of her. They had been inside every bar and the girls had checked every single ladies’ toilet this side of the city. Toby had found a photo of Sophie on his phone and was showing it to everyone who passed by, from locals to huge groups of tourists, but nobody seemed to have seen her.

  Megan couldn’t help thinking about how well Sophie knew the city in comparison to any of them. There were so many places she could be hiding out that were away from the centre, places that none of them would know how to find.

  ‘Did she mention anywhere special to any of you?’ she asked, as they came together at the base of the Astronomical Clock. ‘A place she and Robin might have gone together?’

  The others collectively shook their heads from side to side.

  ‘Shit!’ Megan threw up her arms in frustration. She was close to tears herself now. They were all exhausted and frozen, and they’d still only covered less than a third of the city. The music and laughter coming from the bars only served to remind them of how bleak their situation was beginning to look. It was getting so late, they were all silently thinking. Sophie should have come back by now.

  ‘We’d better start searching in Mala Strana,’ Ollie said, inclining his head in the direction of the Vltava. ‘Perhaps she went up Petrin Hill.’

  ‘But it will be so dark up there.’ Megan wrapped her arms around herself. The snow was falling harder now, and she blinked as the flakes fell against her face. Ollie, sensing her mounting panic, moved to stand behind her, his hand a solid comfort in the small of her back.

  ‘What about the castle?’ Annette suggested. ‘There are plenty of places to shelter up there, and it will be deserted at this time of night, surely?’

  They all jumped as the clock above them began to chime, and Megan peered up through the falling snow just in time to see the figure of Death emerge and rattle his hourglass. A grasping unease made its way through her as she allowed herself to believe for the first time that Sophie’s life could be in danger.

  Hope was watching Death, too, but unlike Megan, she didn’t look frightened. Instead, she looked thoughtful, her pretty head on one side as the succession of wooden apostles completed their little circuit high above them.

  ‘What was it you said about that note Sophie left again?’ Hope asked, turning to Toby.

  He had been momentarily distracted by the clock, too – the heavy snow no match for the awe-inspiring power of its intricate beauty.

  He took a deep breath, ‘That she would be home with Robin, or she wouldn’t be home at all.’

  There was a weighty pause as they all digested the implications of his words, then Hope spoke again.

  ‘She thinks he’s going to come back to her,’ she said slowly, as if the words were written on pieces of a shattered vase that she was painstakingly slotting back into place. ‘It’s why she’s here.’

  Megan squinted at her through the snow. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The bridge,’ Hope said, a sudden look of triumph on her face. ‘The Charles Bridge, that’s where we’ll find her – she’ll be waiting for her wish to come true.’

  Ollie got there faster than Megan, his teacher’s brain reaching the end of the puzzle first, and she watched as his face registered relief, only for it to fill again immediately with dread as he looked up once more at the clock; the clock that had just struck midnight.

  ‘But her wish isn’t going to come true,’ he said, urgency and fear distorting his features. ‘And I think time may have just run out.’

  There was a horrified and unified beat of silence, then Ollie turned and began to run.

  46

  Sophie’s legs were shaking as she prepared to climb up on to the wall. Whether it was from cold or fear, she couldn’t be sure, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay upright. She knew it was snowing, she could feel it on her cheeks and see it settling between the cobbles. Glancing left in the direction of Mala Strana, she could see it beginning to form little white mounds on the heads and shoulders of the many statues dotted along the bridge.

  There had been so much death here already, so many fallen souls honoured by a stone likeness – what would it matter if there was one more?

  Sophie didn’t want to die, but she didn’t want to live without Robin. This part was always going to be difficult, and she realised now that it was this fear that must have been gnawing away at her over the past few days. It had rendered her unable to eat, barely able to sleep; it had woken her up screaming in the hotel in the middle of the night and brought her literally to her knees – but now she was here, and in a few moments it would all be over. The pain, the loneliness, the agony of yearning for him – with just one step, one leap, she could wipe away all that intolerable suffering.

  The city clocks had stopped chiming now, and the silence crept back along the bridge and wrapped its dark arms around her. The snow continued to fall soundlessly, and Sophie stared again over the side of the wall – down into the inviting blackness of the Vltava. The water
shifted and swelled, a silent whisper of promised salvation rising up from its hidden depths.

  The time had come. A year and a day ago she and Robin had stood here side by side and wished for a miracle. But their wish had not been granted. Robin was not going to be returned to her, and so she must go to him.

  She stepped forward, her leg raised ready to climb, when all of a sudden there was a shout.

  ‘Sophie!’

  She turned and saw a figure approaching through the snow, his blond hair illuminated in the soft glow of the moon.

  It was him, he had come.

  Sophie returned her foot to the ground, her hands still gripping the wall of the bridge. The figure stopped a few metres away, his hand raised over his mouth to mask the sobs of what sounded like relief.

  ‘Robin?’ It was the smallest of whispers.

  The figure stayed silent, and it was then that Sophie saw the other people behind him. Confused, she ran her eyes over them, counting four. Who were they? Was Robin not the only person to have been returned tonight?

  ‘Robin, it’s okay,’ she said, her voice sounding far away from her. She squinted through the snow at him. Why wasn’t he coming to her?

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said again. ‘I’m here. It’s me. It’s Sophie. I came back for you.’

  The figure shook his head, bending forward to rest his hands on his knees. Sophie heard an anguished cry, and looked again at the other people on the bridge. There was something about them, a familiarity, but she couldn’t feel her way through the thick brambles of twisted confusion in her mind. What was happening to her?