Chapter Nine
The cold air outside hits my cheeks as soon as I leave the building. I pull my coat up around me to protect me from the elements. It feels as though the temperature has dropped further since I was in the cosy apartment. I look around for ways to get back into the main town. I notice that a metro station isn’t far from the apartment building, but I don’t feel brave enough to do it without that local lady’s assistance. I don’t want to risk getting lost on the underground. I am relieved when I manage to flag down a passing taxi. I jump in, still a little stunned about my meeting with Marek’s family. Since this whole thing began, I was so worried about taking the trip that it hadn’t even occurred to me that Marek could have already died. Although, with his advancing age, I should have realised that something could have possibly happened to him by now. I thought perhaps he may have moved from here and not left a forwarding address, but I never dreamed this would be the outcome of my visit.
I lean my head into the back seat. I feel stunned. I wish Aunt Grace could have known that Marek loved her as much as she loved him. Oh, Aunt Grace! Once again, I am annoyed that she never told me any of this when she was alive. It also makes me feel a little guilty. What if this had been on her mind all this time, and she felt she couldn’t confide in me because she assumed that I was too busy with Craig and work? I have no idea what was going through her mind, but it is obvious that he was important to her, or I wouldn’t be wandering around like a bewildered tourist in Prague right now.
As we get nearer the Old Town, the midday illumination of the Christmas lights make Prague look even more magical than ever. A warm glow radiates from an angel in the Town Square that towers above the crowds. The Christmas market is already bustling and packed with visitors. I get out of the taxi and jostle my way through the crowds. As I try to get from A to B, the last thing I am looking for is the Christmas magic that refuses to go away, but there is no avoiding it. It is like an annoying fly that won’t buzz off.
The smell of local sausages sizzling on open-air grills combined with the sweetness of waffles and Czech Trdelnik (chimney cake) lingers in the air. Would I be giving in to a little festive spirit if I ate something Christmassy? I mean, we all need food, after all. Although a mulled wine is hardly an essential dietary requirement, I could certainly do with one to calm the nerves. Meeting Marek’s family and introducing myself like this has shaken me up a little. I haven’t spoken to my friends in yonks, let alone broken the ice with complete strangers.
For a couple of euros, I settle my nerves with a mulled wine from a nearby stall and look for a place to sit. It’s a little too busy, though, so I walk away from the centre of the market to lean against the wall of a nearby building. As I sip on my mulled wine and look around, I realise that I have the perfect view of the Town Hall and see that the crowds are gathering to watch the clock as it is due to strike the hour. What perfect timing, and it means I can cross another thing off my to-do list. The thought occurs to me that I could catch an earlier flight home if I can continue to complete my itinerary in record time. Now, that’s motivation to get moving.
I cup my hands around my drink as the Astronomical Clock strikes; it sounds like a little bell is ringing. Two windows above the dial slide open, and I spot the first of the Twelve Apostles, St Peter, holding a key. A little shiver runs through me as I remember from Sunday School as a child how St Peter was the patron saint of fishermen. It feels as though both Aunt Grace and Marek are watching over me. I hold my cup up to the clock and silently say cheers.
I turn back to watch the other apostles as they make their procession. What a mechanical wonder. They don’t make things like this any more. After the figures finish their parade, there is the sound of a horn, like a little bugle, and then the windows close shut and the apostles move back inside. Dewi was right; this was not to be missed. I finish my mulled wine and return to the market stalls. I have a teeny smile to myself as I think how I would never have got to see this had I stayed at home. Still, though, it will be nice to be back in my own bed again soon.
During the afternoon, I walk through the rest of the market stalls with their traditional Christmas foods. There are snails, which I don’t mind passing on, but then I see oysters and gorgeous local sausages. The smell of the sausages grabs my attention, and I can’t resist them a moment longer. I bite down on a hot dog and look around at the crowds enjoying themselves and realise that I probably do need to get out more. Perhaps when I am settled again back home, I will call Paul and the girls at work and plan that drink. I do wonder if I should try reaching out to Liz, but that might not be so easy after so much time has passed.
When I spot a stall selling homemade candles, I tell myself that I am here on a mission and not for splurging. Still, I fail to resist a vanilla-scented candle that I can use to light up at home in front of a lovely photo of Aunt Grace. She would have loved the idea of the candle coming from here and that persuades me to buy it.
Finally, I stop at a bar for the evening before heading back to the hotel. I am still in the Old Town, as instructed by Dewi, so that is another thing ticked off the list. I will be home in no time.
The bar is busy and crowded, but as someone leaves a table in the window, I grab the chance of a front-row seat to watch the people of Prague go by. Despite being someone who has recently shied away from people, I can be inquisitive. So, I enjoy watching everyone from the protection of the indoors as they walk by the window, all wrapped up for the chilly temperature outside, with bobble hats and thick coats.
As I am people-watching, a young lady comes up to the table and asks me if the other seat is taken. I smile and tell her no and she grabs the chair, whisking it away to a table full of friends. I sit at my table for two, now with only one chair, and it is a reminder that I am here in Prague alone. It hits me that perhaps that is why I don’t like leaving the mill and would rather stay at home. Seeing people in couples and families is a constant reminder that it is just me.
When the waitress eventually gets to my table, I order a glass of Becherovka. I tell myself it is because I want to sample a local drink, but secretly, I want to feel closer to Marek’s family by trying it. This is what they drink, after all.
The little shot glass is put down in front of me, and I take a sip. As soon as it hits my oesophagus, I begin to think locals may drink this to warm themselves up. I don’t drink much alcohol, and this is strong. Almost immediately I feel woozy. It gives me a warm and fuzzy sensation, like I am drifting on a cloud. I think one will be enough to send me off on a good night’s sleep though. Thankfully, the hotel isn’t too far away.
By the time I arrive back at the hotel, between the cold air and the Becherovka , I can almost feel my nose glowing as much as Rudolph’s on my jumper. I rub my nose self-consciously when I hear a voice call after me as I rush through the reception area.
‘Hello, Mrs Edwards.’
I stop and turn back to see the friendly bellboy looking at me.
‘How was your day? Did you have a nice time?’ he asks.
‘Oh, yes, thank you. You live in a wonderful city.’
‘Thank you. I hope you managed to visit our Christmas markets.’
‘Oh, yes.’ I hold up the little paper bag with my candle that I managed to keep safe despite stopping off at the bar.
‘That’s good. I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay in Prague.’
I turn to walk towards my room when the bellboy stops me from leaving.
‘Actually, the reason I stopped you was not to talk about the markets. This came for you.’ He hands over an envelope.
‘Oh, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Good night.’
I am bewildered, as the envelope has the hotel’s name on it. Surely, they aren’t giving me my bill already? I know I am keen to leave, but I do officially have a few more days to go before I have to settle it and check out. When I get into my room, I put my bag down, lie on the bed and tear open the envelope. I quickly realise that the letter isn’t from the hotel at all.
Dear Olivia,
It was our pleasure to meet you today.
After you left, my uncle and I spoke at great length about you, Marek and your aunt. He told me something that I had never known before. It seems my uncle has been keeping his own secret. I would like to tell you about it. I suppose it won’t change anything, now that Marek and your aunt are gone, but it might explain some things.
Please forgive me for contacting you at your hotel. I noticed your hotel key, so it wasn’t hard to find you. I do hope you don’t think me forward in writing to you.
I think we need to meet up to discuss this matter, so please call me.
Yours,
Tomas
I look at the telephone number he has written down and store it in the new mobile phone I bought in duty-free.
I put the letter down and plump up the pillow behind my head. What could he possibly mean by Albert having kept a secret? What if it is some kind of earth-shattering secret? Do I even want to know? Don’t they say to let sleeping dogs lie? Perhaps there is a reason they say that. I get this feeling that I might be getting in over my head. I only came here to break the news that Aunt Grace had died, and now I may have landed in some kind of complicated family web of lies.
I don’t plan on being here a moment longer than I have to. What if the secret means I have to extend my stay? I realise that I have a choice here. I can confront the truth and find out what it is that Albert has lied about, or I can walk away. But then I argue with myself. What if it is something I need to know about Aunt Grace? Something that is important? I am so confused.
I have done the bit I came here for; isn’t that all that matters?