Chapter Seven
The aeroplane takes off into the sky as it makes its way back to the UK. Its wings tip to the side as it tilts and turns over Prague, like an eagle creating a shadow over the city. I watch every movement it makes until only a tiny flashing light is visible.
I am too late; there is no turning back. The plane is heading home. I remind myself it is only six more days until I am back there too. Six more days! That feels like forever right now.
I console myself by thinking how Aunt Grace thought I could do this, and she was never wrong about anything. I remember that poor old lady in the newspaper again, and it reminds me how easily that could be me if I don’t get a hold on my life. I steady myself by gripping my luggage and try to calm down. Somehow, I have to get through this, and I will. Although, first, I must put on my Christmas jumper. It’s blooming freezing!
As I pull my head through the jumper, I notice a piece of paper flying out that must have got caught up inside. It is in Dewi’s writing.
Welcome to Prague. Don’t forget to have some fun. I’ve made an itinerary for you that I thought you’d enjoy. I hope you can get out and about once you’ve met with Marek. PTO.
I look at the other side of the paper and see a list.
Day one, visit Marek. If time, Old Town Hall/Astronomical Clock. Must see this ASAP!
Day two, Old Town Hall (in case you didn’t make it on day one.) Even if you did, you must go up the tower there. Check out the views of the city! Then stop for a drink at the rooftop bar opposite the Town Hall. Cheers! Later, have dinner in the Old Town.
Day three, don’t forget to stop at the Christmas markets. By now you’ll have walked among the Old Town marketplace, but make sure you go to the ones at Wenceslas Square and Charles Bridge too. Then head to Letná Park, there’s a beer garden if you get thirsty after all the shopping.
As I am about to read what I should be doing on day four, a bus arrives. I place the paper in my pocket and ask a lady who looks approachable if this is the correct bus into the town. Even though Dewi has drilled into me which bus I need, I still doubt myself and need to double-check.
‘Yeah, sure. I’m going that way. You can follow me if you like.’
Her English is excellent, her smile is warm, and she makes me feel welcome in her country. It makes me think that we do need other people in life. After all, where would I be without this kind stranger and her help?
She sits beside me on the bus to make sure I don’t get lost and puts her headphones on as I look out the window and watch the scenery for the next twenty minutes. We weave around roundabouts, and then the landscape turns to fields and trees as the bus makes its way to the final destination of the metro that will take us into town. As we pass all the greenery, it reminds me of home, which makes me feel a little more chilled. Although, despite starting to relax, I am still dreading the moment I reach Marek’s, as I imagine a wife opening the door as I stand there blank and tongue-tied.
When we arrive near some apartment blocks, the lady tells me that we have to get off as this is the final stop. She kindly navigates me down some stairs and stays with me until we get to the platform for the metro, which will take me into the Old Town.
‘Okay, it’s five stops. It’ll be about ten minutes,’ she says as we board the metro together. Then she leaves me on my own and takes a seat further up the carriage.
As the metro moves along, I count each stop until I come to number five. Still, I doubt myself and start to worry that I miscounted. Fortunately, I see the lady further up ahead, who looks back to make sure I am getting off. She gives me a thumbs-up and rushes off.
As I reach the outside once again, I look up in awe at the old-style buildings that confront me. Renaissance, baroque and Gothic styles fuse together and reflect the city’s historic past. The architecture is stunning here and no doubt every building has an important relevance.
My Google maps app informs me that the hotel is only a few minutes’ walk from here, and I figure I will manage to find it since it is practically a straight line and then a turn or two. Surely, even I can manage that.
As I walk along, I notice again how much colder it is here. Between the cold air and the Christmas decorations that hang ubiquitously on the lamp posts and distinguished buildings, there is no disguising what time of year it is. I try not to think about it and hope that the clattering of my suitcase wheels hitting the cobbled street will eventually drown out the sound of Christmas carols that I can faintly hear coming from somewhere nearby.
A horse trots beside me at one point with a couple being towed behind in an ornately decorated pink carriage. I look at them enviously as they snuggle up together. Then the horse trots ahead of me as my wheel gets stuck in a cobble, and I fight with my case to get it released.
Finally, when I reach the hotel, I get quite a surprise. I hadn’t expected anything quite this luxurious. It is the type of place where a man in an expensive-looking uniform opens the door for you. The hotel reception is so magnificent, with its stucco columns and old portraits of posh-looking people, that I walk straight into a statue in the middle of the lobby. I automatically apologise to it and scuttle away. Aunt Grace certainly gave Dewi the budget to book me into one of the best hotels. This is just the kind of place she would have loved. It is so glamorous and sparkly that I am not surprised she chose it.
I am so impressed that, for the first time since this whole trip was planned, I forget about not being at home. As I check-in, the receptionist hands me a glass of fizz, which also helps me forget where I am for a moment. It’s as if the Olivia who enjoys gardening and staying at home has been transformed into some glamorous champagne-swigging socialite! Except that I don’t give off the appearance of a socialite as Rudolph’s nose on my jumper seems to be flashing particularly brightly under the hotel lighting. Even though I am warm, I button up my coat to try and hide the intermittent flashing light that beams out from the centre of my chest and seems far too incongruous in this place.
Once I am given my room key, which comes on a heavy brass ball, and I finish the lovely welcome drink, a helpful bellboy leads me to my room. We go up in a super ostentatious lift with gold leaf, befitting of the hotel, and then walk along the corridor to the room, which is as beautiful as everywhere else with its polished wooden doors and fancy blue wallpaper. The bellboy hands over my luggage and tells me that if I need anything at all I should not hesitate to contact him. I look at the huge comfy bed and luxurious room and begin to wonder how much room service is. I could snuggle right in here and have a bite to eat. Normally, I probably couldn’t afford it, but with Dewi’s holiday allowance and the imminent inheritance, I am tempted to push the boat out.
Before the bellboy leaves, I ask if he can arrange to send up another glass of that fabulous fizz I had at reception. This moment is deserving of a toast to Aunt Grace.
I can already see that it is going to be quite tempting to not leave the room for the next few days. No wonder Dewi gave me an itinerary. He probably guessed I wouldn’t want to leave this luxury once I walked through the door. Perhaps he shouldn’t have gone along with booking such a fabulous hotel then – this is partly his fault!
After walking around the room examining everything, including sniffing the gardenia toiletries in the bathroom, I think even Dewi could forgive me for staying put tonight.
With all the travelling, a lovely bubble bath would be perfect. So I skip the room service and decide that the roll-top bath is calling me the loudest right now. As I change into a lovely, soft, cosy, white dressing gown branded with the hotel’s insignia that I found hanging on the bathroom door, a lady from room service knocks with my glass of fizz. What perfect timing.
I walk straight to the bathroom with my glass and pop it on a ledge beside the bath. I jump into the bubbles and soak right into them. This has to be the most perfect night in I’ve ever had. I can’t remember when I last felt such pleasure. The water at the mill takes ages to heat up so I am normally too impatient by the time it gets to the right temperature to have a bath at home.
I sink deeper into the foam until I feel as though I could get lost. Amidst the bubbles I make the toast to Aunt Grace and remind myself why I’ve come to Prague.
After one of the best nights’ sleep ever, I refuse to go anywhere the next morning until I have eaten the hotel breakfast, which has everything a hotel guest could wish for, from avocado and salmon to French toast with caramelised bananas. There is, of course, no contest and I wolf down my French toast.
No matter how long I take at breakfast though, I can no longer delay the task ahead. I have to get on with the mission that I am here for. Every time I go into my handbag to get something, the piece of paper that has Marek’s address on, given to me by Dewi, is a perpetual reminder.
I ask the helpful hotel staff where I can find a taxi, and five minutes later, I am on my way to the address that Dewi has given me. We start our drive, and I get to see some of the sights that I have been told to visit as we drive past them in the distance. The castle that is in the snow globe comes into sight, and I gasp out loud.
‘Wow, that’s beautiful.’
‘Yes, it’s our famous castle,’ says the taxi driver.
If I remember right, the castle was on the itinerary for day four. Although, looking at it from here, I really think that I should go there today if I have time after visiting Marek. Dewi definitely got that bit wrong.
But I try not to let myself get distracted by the views. I have to do what I am here for, first and foremost. Then, I can relax and know that I am a day closer to heading back home. Right now, the thought of knocking on a stranger’s door is making me a bag of nerves, let alone thinking about visiting any sights.
For the time it takes to get to the apartment block, I rehearse in my head what I will say when I arrive. When the taxi pulls up outside a Vinohrady apartment block I am still unsure where to start with this conversation. I hesitantly jump out with no idea what I am about to say to a total stranger. I attempt to stall time by looking up at the tall apartment building with its little white wooden sash windows. Like much of Prague, the building looks ancient but so elegant.
The taxi drives off, leaving me standing there at the door of an apartment block, where I realise that I will need to be buzzed in. None of this had occurred to me. How can I possibly explain over a buzzer who I am and why I am here? This puts me off my tracks a little, and I walk up and down the path a few times before I can think about how I am going to approach this. Unfortunately, Dewi didn’t give me instructions for this part. This bit is all on me, and I need to think for myself.
Eventually, I decide that I have come all this way and that I can’t let the fear of a door buzzer deter me from my plan. Bravely, I press it with determination. I wait for a voice, not sure who to expect on the other side. The thought of Marek’s wife answering comes to mind once again. What will I say then? I rehearse the words I think I’ll say over and over, but there is no reply.
I am about to turn away when someone comes out of the main door and holds it open for me. They smile, and I thank them. I am not sure if there is much point going to the second floor if there was no response from the buzzer, but I figure since I am inside, I may as well knock on the door.
The building is old and the staircase a little uneven. I almost tumble as I reach the top step of the second level. I begin to wonder if the prehistoric lift I passed on the way in would have been safer. Surely, Marek doesn’t still live here? I guess he would be in his eighties by now, if not older. I assume he was around the same age as Aunt Grace, unless he was a toyboy. She didn’t mention anything about that. But, even at my age, I can hardly manage to make my way around the apartment block. Perhaps he is in a retirement home, and a young couple who are out at work live here now. I realise how silly this idea is. Why on earth would Aunt Grace think he still lived at the same address?
I reach the flat I am looking for, number twenty-five. Outside the front door is a plain brown woven doormat. At least it shows someone is definitely living here.
I question myself again about whether I should knock. It is obvious nobody is home, or they would have answered the buzzer.
Then I decide, after battling with those steep stairs, it is surely worth one knock on the door. But even worse than nobody answering, I pray that a sweet little old lady doesn’t answer and I will have to explain who I am. How are you supposed to tell an eighty-five-year-old that you’re her husband’s ex-girlfriend’s niece fulfilling her dying wish?
I knock loudly and hear a noise inside immediately. Perhaps they have a cat I have disturbed. But then I hear footsteps coming closer to the door. They are almost shuffling. Someone is definitely coming to the door.
I clear my throat and nervously pull down the zip of my jacket. I can feel heat surging through my body and up to my face. I really wish Dewi could have come and done this instead of it having to be me, particularly given the fact that he is so enthusiastic about everything.
The door slowly opens, and an older man pokes his head around.
‘ Ano? ’ he says.
‘Sorry, hello, English?’
‘Yes.’ The man looks at me confused, and I can’t blame him. I am sure it isn’t every day he has some British tourist turn up at his door.
‘I’m looking for Marek.’
I try to say it as clearly as I can and hope he understands me.
The man steps back and looks shocked. It is as though he has seen a ghost.
He blinks a few times and then shakes his head. His voice begins to crack as he tries to speak, and he looks at me with suspicious eyes.
‘Marek is dead.’
Then he closes the door in my face and it seems he has nothing more to say.