Chapter Ten
Just as I did yesterday, I tuck into my hearty hotel breakfast. Today, though, I opt for a creamy bowl of porridge to set myself up for the day. Then I go back up to the buffet again for some waffles. I tell myself that it will stop me wanting everything I see and smell at the markets, but I know that isn’t really true. How can I resist? The food is far too nice here.
I check my itinerary for the day. Dewi suggests I go to the top of the Clock Tower to see the views of Prague. Hmm, but I saw the outside of the Clock Tower last night. I am desperate to see the castle. I debate whether I should stick with his itinerary or do my own thing. But the one thing I do know is that it is nice to wander around anonymously here and not have to worry about bumping into someone who knew me as Craig’s wife or, worse still, coming face to face with Josephine and the kids.
I am deliberating what to do when the bellboy rushes up to my breakfast table.
‘Mrs Edwards, there’s a phone call for you. Can you come to the reception?’
Reluctantly, I leave the breakfast table. I hope it isn’t Tomas, as I have made the decision that what is going on in that family is between them. While I am a teeny bit curious, it could involve Marek, and he can’t speak up for himself, so it is not anyone else’s business at this stage. As far as we know now, it was all a magical romance between them. Why should we shatter that illusion? I decide to tell Tomas that I have no interest in the family secret, but when I hear the voice, I immediately realise it isn’t Tomas. Instead, it is Dewi, who has been waiting for me to update him.
‘So, how’s it going then?’
‘Sorry, I know I haven’t called you yet. I thought you’d be busy being Santa back home.’
‘Ah, you read the story in the paper then.’
‘I did.’
‘Well, I thought I’d give you a quick call before I visit a care home later to spread some Christmas cheer. How’s it going? Job done?’
‘Yup, you’ll be pleased to know I’ve been to the apartment.’
‘That’s brilliant. Well done. So, how was Marek? Was he shocked to see you?’
‘It seems he died years ago. So, I just spoke to his family, and they told me that they knew about Aunt Grace. I was a bit surprised, given the fact that I never knew about Marek until the letter. It seems like a big secret for her to have kept from me when everyone else knew.’
‘Well, I don’t think anyone here knew apart from Silvie. Maybe Grace felt guilty about meeting someone after Harry and, in some ways, punished herself. I don’t know why; he was such a bastard. Oh, I’m so sorry. That slipped out. Pardon my French. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘What? That’s harsh. He was a bit miserable, but is there something else you want to tell me?’
‘Please forget I spoke. That was the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever said in my long career. Please forgive me. He was a lot older and bullied me in school; we never got on. That’s all. Sorry.’
‘He was a bully?’ I think back to how Aunt Grace said that Uncle Harry could be a bit domineering. What if he was a bully at home too?
‘Yeah, but never mind. Look, it’s Marek we’re talking about now. Not Harry. I was hoping for a happier ending than him having died.’
‘I know. Me too. But afterwards I had a strange letter sent to my hotel. It was from his nephew. He wrote, after I left the apartment, saying that there was some family secret he wants to tell me. But, to be honest, that’s not what I came here for. I’ve done my bit, and that’s enough.’
‘What? Don’t you want to find out what it is?’
‘No, not really. That’s between them.’
‘Oh, but I bet your lovely aunt would have wanted you to find out.’
‘No, I’m not nosy.’
‘You don’t have to be nosy to find out what he wants to tell you. Do it for me.’
‘I’ve done enough.’
I think about how I do not want anything to extend this trip for a moment longer than I have to and regret confiding in Dewi. I also realise the receptionist is getting impatient and needs to use the phone.
‘By the way, I finally got a mobile in duty-free. You can take my number if you like?’
‘Sure, I’ll contact you on that if I need to. Anyway, you having a nice time?’
‘Not bad, considering. I’m off to do some of the sights in a sec, but I’d like to see the castle today. I don’t think your itinerary is quite right. Plus, I was thinking, maybe I could get out of here early. Is there anything to say I can’t change my flight? I mean, I’ve done what I had to do.’
‘You can’t leave early. You’ve seen nothing yet. Trust me. And I gave you the castle at the end so you can finish up with a bit of a finale. Everything on the itinerary was meticulously planned, you know.’
‘Hmm. Look, I’m going to have to go,’ I insist. I can’t quite agree, as I am far too impatient for faffing about and taking my time.
‘Alright, but promise me you’ll speak to Marek’s family and find out what they want to tell you. You should at least hear what they have to say.’
‘I don’t know. Can I just have a break now and start counting the days until I get home?’
‘Oh, come on, find out what they want. You might learn something you never knew about your aunt, or Marek.’
I shake my head. Dewi is so insufferable sometimes.
‘Merry Christmas, Dewi. I’ll speak to you when I get back.’
As I put the receiver down, I can still hear him going on. I can just guess what he is saying. Sometimes, I think he is more invested in Aunt Grace and Marek’s story than anyone else. I am saddened that Uncle Harry bullied him in school though. There is never an excuse for bullying. I try to remember how Aunt Grace was around my uncle, but I was probably too busy being a teenager to notice him being nasty to anyone. I mean, he died in the early Nineties. That was ages ago. Although now Dewi has said that, I do remember Uncle Harry berating her in front of all the family on a few occasions. We all just thought he had a bit of a temper and seemed to accept it.
I head back upstairs to get my coat before leaving the hotel for another day on the tourist trail and notice Tomas’ letter on the bedside table. I read over it once again. His uncle has something he should have told me, hey? I can’t begin to guess what it is. Is it some love child somewhere? What if Tomas is a secret relation of mine? No, that couldn’t possibly be true. We can’t be far off the same age, and Aunt Grace didn’t meet Marek until after both of us were born.
Does it really matter if I never know what the secret is? I really don’t care to know. This story is from the past. It is all history now. I grab my coat and ignore the letter as I walk out of the room.
As I follow Dewi’s itinerary, I head to the Town Hall as instructed. This time I am not in front of the clock but at the back of the frame inside with all its workings.
The apostles spin around inside, and, once again, I am face to face with St Peter and his key. The patron saint of fisherman brings Marek to the forefront of my mind again. What if Marek deserves this truth to come out? Am I letting everyone down? Nobody could save Marek, but what if he has some sort of legacy I should know about? Or honour in some way? I look at my mobile phone with the number stored for Tomas. Then I put it back in my pocket. Anything could happen if I contact him. I could open the biggest can of worms.
My next stop is a cosy cafe near the Town Hall. I order a hot chocolate and then remove the phone from my pocket. As I sit here alone, the temptation to call Tomas starts to peak, and I find myself dialling his number. I want to stop myself and can’t explain why I am doing such a thing. Boredom, I suppose. As soon as it rings, I want to put it down. What am I thinking? But before I can change my mind, I hear Tomas on the other end.
I stutter for a moment, unsure how to start the conversation; then I tell him that I received his letter.
‘I was hoping you would call. Where are you now?’ he asks.
‘I’m in the Old Town, having a hot chocolate.’
‘Can we meet?’
‘Yes, sure. When?’
‘Now? I can be in the Old Town in, say, twenty minutes. Do you know the name of the place you’re at?’
I pick up a napkin with the name of the cafe and try my best to pronounce it.
‘I know it. How about I meet you there and take you to my uncle’s? I think you need to come to the apartment to hear what he has to say.’
‘Okay, as you wish.’
I nervously finish my hot chocolate. Oh, what have I done now? Something tells me I should never have phoned Tomas. This is what happens when you don’t keep yourself to yourself. You end up finding out things that you might not want to know.
It doesn’t matter how lovely this place is, my nerves are on edge. I can’t focus on anything apart from what Tomas and Albert might have to say.
By the time Tomas arrives, I am relieved to see him. I just want this over with so I can get on with sightseeing and the countdown to going home. Tomas leads me to his car, which is parked quite a bit away. As we walk through cobbled streets dotted with vintage gas lamps, Tomas tells me how difficult the parking is around town. Eventually, we jump in his car, which is pristine, unlike my car, which has all sorts of rubbish in the back. Although, I notice he has a book on the back seat that looks very familiar.
‘Chekhov?’ I ask.
‘Um, yeah. I’m a big fan.’
‘No way! I don’t ever admit this to anyone, but he’s one of my favourites. People would think I’m far too intellectual if I came clean.’
Tomas laughs, looks at me and winks.
‘Ah. Yes, you don’t want to appear too intellectual, hey? How funny. You might read Chekhov, but I bet you’ve gone drinking in the Angel in Cardiff.’
‘I have! I mean, I’m not from Cardiff. I’m further away, but when I was younger, me and the girls used to sometimes go out drinking in the Angel.’
‘You see, I knew it,’ says Tomas.
When my all-time favourite song comes on the radio, I ask Tomas if I can turn it up.
‘You like this song?’ asks Tomas.
Will he tease me if I tell him how much I love this? What if he isn’t a fan? I hesitate for a moment.
‘Yeah. I do.’
‘And me. Don’t tell me Phil Collins is your favourite too?’ says Tomas.
‘Yeah, he’s quite good.’ I daren’t tell him he is my absolute favourite and I have seen him in concert five times. At this rate, he’ll think I am trying to imitate everything he loves, like some kind of love-bombing chameleon.
‘So, do you live near here?’ I ask. That is one thing we won’t have in common.
‘I live quite close to my uncle. It’s easier to keep an eye on him. Generally, he’s quite strong, but he’s had a couple of falls.’
‘Oh no. That must be difficult. Do you have any other family that can help?’
‘No, I’m an only child. Albert is the last of the family. I’ve always been very close to him.’
‘No way! I’m an only child and very close to my aunt. Well, I was close to her.’ I can’t believe that even a conversation about where he lives in Prague has shown us further similarities.
I see that he wears a ring, it’s patterned with a design. It doesn’t look like a wedding ring, although it makes me wonder if he has a wife who could help him out a bit. I don’t mention it though. Perhaps he feels that it isn’t her job to help with an ailing in-law.
‘Yes, I’m very sorry about your aunt.’
‘Thank you.’
Tomas appears to be thinking about something, and we fall into an awkward silence until we arrive at the apartment. I follow him through the main door that I remember from my last visit.
‘Lift or stairs?’ he asks.
I don’t want to fall in front of him or be out of breath by the time we reach the top, so this time, I choose the prehistoric lift and hope for the best.
The lift is tiny, and as it slowly rises through the floors, I am almost pressed against Tomas and can smell the musky aftershave he is wearing. I am almost touching his dark stubble at this point, and I notice once again what a fine-looking man he is. I imagine it is those family genes. Perhaps that is what attracted Aunt Grace to Marek.
I can’t help but stare at Tomas as the lift shudders and shifts, and I feel his breath practically on my face. Whilst it is a little uncomfortable, there is something nice about it too.
I concentrate on the buttons and the tiny screen on the lift as it lights up with the floor numbers. Tomas smiles at me as we reach the first floor. Why does he have to have such a cute smile? My cheeks start to burn, and I hope he can’t see how red they are from his attention. I tell myself there is just one more floor to go. Thank goodness Albert doesn’t live on a higher floor; I don’t think I could bear much more of this. It is a bit too close for comfort. I haven’t been this close to anyone since before Craig left, let alone a stranger in Prague. Although, the Christmas market was pretty packed. Perhaps I should get used to not having as much personal space as I am used to while I am here.
The lift finally dings and the doors open. Slowly. I almost leap out of them as soon as there is enough space for me to escape. It was getting quite hot and steamy in there.
Tomas opens the door of number twenty-five, and we walk in to be greeted by Albert, who is sitting on the sofa, just as he was the last time.
‘Good afternoon,’ says Albert.
‘Good afternoon, Albert.’ I smile at the old man, who has a kind face. He doesn’t look like a liar with some terrible secret. Then again, what does a liar look like? Craig was lying to me for goodness knows how long in our marriage.
‘Right, so I’ll make you a coffee? Then Albert can tell you exactly what he told me,’ says Tomas.
‘Sure, okay.’
I hear some banging about, and the kettle whistles in the kitchen. Albert stares at me again, and I don’t know where to look, so I keep smiling at him and then averting my eyes. Each time I look back at him, he is still staring at me, so I look towards the window once again and the view outside of someone walking a puppy. However, Tomas distracts me when he walks in with a big brown box and puts it down on the coffee table that separates Albert and me. There is no indication as to what the contents could be, apart from some writing in Czech on it that I don’t understand.
Albert looks at the box and points to it.
‘This,’ he says.
‘This?’ I repeat.
‘This is my secret.’
‘Okay, so you keep a secret cardboard box. I don’t quite follow, sorry.’
‘It’s what’s inside,’ smiles Tomas.
Dare I ask? Since I am here, I decide that I probably should.
‘Right. So, what’s inside?’
‘Marek’s post.’
Okay. I am still none the wiser here. What does his post have to do with me?
Tomas leans in between us to open up the box and pulls out a bunch of envelopes, all held together by an elastic band. As Tomas goes to remove the brittle band, it snaps in two between his fingers. Clearly, this post has been wrapped up for some time. He passes the bundle towards me, and I notice the envelopes have yellowed, despite being kept inside the box. As I flick through, there is no mistaking the writing on the collection of opened and unopened mail.
My heart rate quickens as I realise who the beautiful cursive writing belongs to. I slowly nod my head at Albert and Tomas.
‘Ah, I get it. They’re from Aunt Grace.’
‘That’s right. You see the Welsh postmark?’ says Tomas. He points to an envelope with a stamp of Queen Elizabeth II underneath the Welsh franking.
‘Goodness.’
I flick through the pile of pretty envelopes. There must be at least thirty letters. I can see Aunt Grace used her best stationery, which makes me smile. I can’t stop looking at the writing on a neatly opened envelope, and I gently scroll my fingers over each of the letters. One by one, I trace the letters of Marek’s name. Even though I wasn’t privy to their love story, I can see that care has been taken to write his name perfectly. I imagine Aunt Grace taking her time as she swirled each letter around as she wrote. She was always such a perfectionist.
‘So, what else is in the box? Are there more letters?’
Tomas tilts the box towards me and shuffles his hand inside, pulling out some brighter-coloured envelopes. Again, they are all carefully organised and held together with another elastic band.
‘Bethlehem,’ I say as I flick through the envelopes.
‘Sorry?’ says Tomas.
‘The Christmas card. She took every one of her Christmas cards to a little place called Bethlehem in Wales so that she could have the stamp. There is no doubt my aunt sent this with a lot of love. She was always so thoughtful.’
I hold a bright red envelope in my hand and again feel the need to stroke it. The stamp is a nativity scene with Bethlehem stamped over it.
Albert has been incredibly quiet for a man who was supposed to explain everything, but now he finally speaks.
‘She wrote to him after he died. I put the post that was sent here with the letters Marek kept in his bedside drawer. I found them when we were clearing things out. Her address is on the back. I should have told her about his death. I’m sorry for that.’
I look at Tomas, unsure of what to say. If only Albert had written back, Aunt Grace could have known the reason she didn’t get a response. It is too late now, but she would have been spared all the uncertainty she had about what had happened between them.
‘It’s okay. It’s all in the past now.’
I play with one of my earrings, a simple stud I always wear, and twiddle it around. It is quite the shock to see proof of their love in front of me. Until now, apart from the confessional letter, there was no physical evidence of their relationship.
‘I suppose at least she clung on to the hope that Marek was alive. It never occurred to her that he’d died, or she wouldn’t have sent me here. It would have probably broken her heart, had she known,’ I say, hoping this will ease his guilt.
‘I know, but she sent you here now. Maybe if she knew then she could’ve died peacefully and not thinking about Marek.’
‘It’s done now. None of us can change anything. It’s okay. But can I ask why you didn’t want to tell her?’
‘As I said when we met, I hated her for what happened to him for a long time. I resented her because Marek was working so hard to return to her. If he’d met someone here, maybe he’d still be alive. He wouldn’t have gone out fishing, slipped and hit his head on a rock like he did. But now I realise that she never gave up on him, and for that, I’m sorry.’
‘Well, it’s not like her whole life was on hold. It’s just that she put everyone else in front of her own needs, and she regretted it at the end.’
‘It’s quite romantic in a way though. I mean, they both thought about each other until they died,’ says Tomas.
‘It was a very big romance. Marek loved her very much and was desperate to get back to her,’ says Albert.
‘How was he after they split? She said she wrote and told him that it was over.’
‘I don’t know anything about that. He was happy when he died and excited to get back to her.’
‘Well, I guess we’ll never know what he was thinking. Although I suppose the letter could have got lost in the post, and he never knew.’
‘Possibly,’ says Albert.
‘I still think it’s odd she never confided in me. My one wish is that she’d told me about him.’
‘I wonder what she wrote? I guess you can find out, since this is your property now,’ says Tomas, pointing to the box.
‘Oh, I only flew with a budget airline. I couldn’t possibly carry a box of letters home. Besides, these letters are between Marek and Aunt Grace, and that’s where they should stay,’ I say.
‘But what if they wanted their story to be told?’ Tomas looks at me curiously. Albert stares at me, waiting for me to agree.
‘No, absolutely not. Under no circumstances should we open the letters. That would be like going through someone’s diary. In fact, maybe we should burn them and protect Aunt Grace’s privacy.’
‘That’s terrible. Sacrilege! You can’t burn a love story!’ says Tomas.
I look at the Christmas card that is still on my lap. The postmark is dated from 1994. He was already dead when this was sent, and that’s why it was never opened. Looking at the number of envelopes here, it seems she wrote for longer than she admitted. All these letters, just to lay in a box, never to be opened by their intended recipient. It is a waste, but that doesn’t mean to say that we have any right to read them.
‘I think the time might be right to open them,’ says Albert.
‘Definitely. What if there’s something inside we need to know?’ says Tomas.
‘Like what?’ I ask.
‘He’s right. You could be Marek’s secret daughter, for all we know,’ says Albert.
‘I don’t think so. I’m far too old. I was in the pubs by the time they met,’ I laugh. I self-consciously feel for that one long grey eyebrow hair that always sneaks its way in. I must remember to pull it out when I get back to the hotel.
‘No, you don’t look old enough,’ smiles Tomas.
I feel myself blush, as I tend to do, every time Tomas looks at me.
‘But aren’t you curious, Olivia? When someone passes, there’s always so much we never knew. This is our chance to learn more about both of them.’
‘I don’t know. Besides, you’re never supposed to open someone else’s post. In fact, I think it might be illegal. I’m sure Ken told me that once.’
‘Ken?’ says Tomas.
‘My postman.’
‘Ah. I see. But if we don’t open these letters, we will never know about their love. It would be a shame for their story to die with them.’
I look at the box, unsure how to persuade these two to stop. As much as part of me would love to learn more about Aunt Grace and Marek and this magical love story they are supposed to have had, going through their post seems far too intimate.
‘Well, I don’t agree. I’m certainly not their secret daughter, and I’m quite sure there’s nothing we need to know about in that box. I’m sorry. I need to leave now.’
‘Sure, I’ll take you back into town, but will you please say you’ll think about it?’ says Tomas.
I would agree to anything to get some breathing space, so I nod and tell them both that I will consider it. But I decide that I will tell Dewi about the pressure they are putting on me, and he would never allow it from a legal perspective, so I am quite sure it is a hypothetical argument.