Letters From Prague
Page 35
Marsha said: ‘I feel a bit better, now.’
‘Good. Why don’t you and Gaby walk on? You lead the way for a bit.’
‘Okay.’
They left the railing; the sun sank lower; the river shone.
Harriet and Karel followed the children, walking slowly.
She said: ‘You have never been troubled by doubt, or self-dislike –’
‘Not in the way you have spoken of, no.’
‘You know who you are.’
‘I think so. Yes. I think that is true.’
‘I used to be like that. I think that is how I used to be –’
‘And now?
‘Now I’m not certain. Nothing seems certain. I have to pick up my life again –’
How was that possible? What should she do?
They came to the stretch of gabled houses, ochre and cream beneath tiled roofs. Havel and his family lived near here. She remembered something.
‘Karel? I read – I think I read somewhere that since the Revolution something has gone from politics now. The existential kick, I think that’s what I read. Is that true?’
He thought about it. ‘Yes, in a way. But still – I feel I have plenty to do.’ He looked at her, walking so slowly beside him. ‘We are talking again about the public arena –’
‘What happened – in the mountains – for you that was very much in the public arena.’
‘But not for you.’
‘No. I’m in different territory, now.’
The children were tiring. Time to go back.
He said: ‘I feel we still have a great deal to talk about. Not now. Now you are too distressed. But I should like to – to keep in touch. Yes? May I come to London? To visit you and Marsha?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. We should love it. You have been wonderful.’
‘Thank you. You also, I think.’
They stopped; he turned her towards him, his hands on her shoulders.
‘And perhaps – one day, perhaps you will come back here. When you are calmer. When you are ready.’
‘Yes. Yes, I should like that.’
He drew her towards him; he kissed her forehead. The children were calling. He held her away again.
‘Shall we see?’ he asked gravely.
She looked at the face which had haunted her, for months after his departure, twenty-five years ago, when she was young. Clever and vital and loving. And now she had found him again.
A bell was ringing, a single note, sounding across the water. She felt herself on the threshold of a journey, which began here, now, in this moment of grief and consolation, and ended – where would it end?
Copyright
First published in 1994 by Century
This edition published 2012 by Bello an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR Basingstoke and Oxford Associated companies throughout the world
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Copyright © Sue Gee, 1994
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