Chapter Twenty-Four
I sink into bed in a dreamy daze. You would think I’d be more sensible at this age, but Tomas makes me feel like a love-struck teenager every time I look at him. I tell myself I have to get a grip. I toss and turn and can’t sleep as I think about my feelings for him. It annoys me that we have so much in common, that Aunt Grace thought he sounded perfect for me all those years ago and that I can’t keep track of what is happening between Tomas and Milena. Exactly what has he sorted out between them? I have purposely avoided the subject because I am afraid of the answer. Everything about Tomas gives me conflicting feelings, from the biggest crush I have ever had on a man to frustration that it is all so complicated.
Eventually, I grab the remote and pop the television on to take my mind off things, but I can’t find an English channel and soon turn it off.
I look across to the pile of letters on the dressing table that I still haven’t read and consider doing some bedtime reading. But after having seen the letter about Craig, I feel hesitant to pick them up. It is all in the past.
Despite my reticence, I get out of bed and flick through them. Do I really need to know anything more? I come to the conclusion that I don’t. Except, when I look at one envelope in particular, I feel compelled to read it. Perhaps it is the pretty bluebells embossed on the stationery that remind me of the bluebell woods near the mill, or the fact that the envelope looks slightly more padded out than the other letters. I can’t help myself from taking out the letter from inside the opened envelope and promise myself that I will not read another after this. Then I see the photos inside. They are photos of Marek in London. In one of them he is standing in front of Big Ben with Aunt Grace. I expect Silvie must have taken these photos. He was every bit as distinguished as Aunt Grace described him. Some would say he was dapper-looking with his handkerchief in the pocket of his blazer and the cravat around his neck. I am not surprised Aunt Grace had never met anyone like that before. I read the letter that comes with the photos.
1 June 1994
Dearest Marek,
I have included some photos that Silvie took when you were in London. She finally went to get her camera film developed after all this time! I asked her what had happened to the photos, but she took forever to get the film developed. That’s the problem when you buy a roll of thirty-six!
Anyway, I have copies from her negatives, so this is your set. I kissed the photo of us outside Big Ben before I posted it. It was so wonderful to see these photos. A marvellous memory. Oh, how I miss you. Some nights, when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t sleep, I wish you were next to me in bed. Those nights in London sleeping together meant the world to me. The memory of feeling our skin touch side by side all night has kept me company on these lonely nights.
I put the letter down. Perhaps I shouldn’t have read that part. But then a name jumps out at me as I fold it back up.
I meant to ask about your conversation with Zuzana. She sounds very lovely, and I’m glad you have someone so caring to confide in. Did Zuzana really think that we should…
Oh, my goodness, Zuzana is mentioned in the letters too. I wonder what Aunt Grace knew of her. But after that, there is a big watermark, and I can’t read what it says.
Would it be incredibly nosy of me to corner Zuzana at the party tomorrow and tell her about the letter and ask her what she thought Aunt Grace and Marek should do? By the next morning, I can’t stop wondering what Zuzana thought of Aunt Grace. I know we mostly just smile at each other because of the language difficulties, but I am sure I can ask her what she knew about her somehow. It would be nice to learn a bit more. Maybe she would like to see the photos too. I put them safely to one side.
In the morning, I decide to visit the Strahov Library, as Tomas has suggested, and see the Premonstratensian monastery with its collection of preserved books.
Like everything I have seen in Prague, there are beautiful views of the city around me, and the historic monastery is no different. The church brewery on the grounds comes as a pleasant surprise too. But, as I go inside the library, I am taken aback by its magnificence, and even better is the fact that there are apparently around 200,000 books here. I thought my to-be-read pile was big!
As I am taken on a tour around the baroque-designed Philosophical Hall, it seems that it isn’t only families who have intriguing secrets, but buildings too. Amid walnut and gold-plated shelves, hidden behind fake books, is a spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor. No wonder Tomas calls it the most beautiful library in the world. My local community-run library is nothing like this. Well, they certainly don’t have ornate scenes from Greek mythology and philosophy on the ceiling like this place does. In fact, their ceiling is about to collapse, and I will be putting some of the inheritance towards their fundraising.
After a full tour of the library, I have to tear myself away from all the books and head back into the centre of Prague. I take a walk along Charles Bridge before going to the hotel. The cold is making my nose go red, and I shield my cheeks with my mitten-covered hands to try and warm my face up. Then I pass the statue that Tomas showed me previously with the dog. I remove a mitten to touch the dog for a little extra luck for the forthcoming new year.
Once I have stroked him and walked a bit further, I accidentally head off in the wrong direction and find myself at Lovers Bridge. I remember from what Dewi told me that this was the place where couples sealed their love with padlocks. However, Tomas told me that it is frowned upon now as the locks rusted away, and it was terrible for pollution as people carelessly threw the keys into the Devil’s Channel below. I had originally considered it to be a great way to somehow seal Aunt Grace and Marek’s love together, but this is not a sensible option. I will think of something to do to tie them together one day though; I owe them both that much. They may not have stayed together in this world, but somehow, I want them to be connected again.
I stop for lunch at the Christmas market near the hotel since I can’t resist the smell of onions being fried. This market does terrible things to my appetite, and I have my eyes on the doughnut stall next. I find a bench and watch people walk around the market as I eat the tasty Czech sausage with onions.
By the time I eventually reach the hotel, I am grateful for the fierce heat that greets me in the lobby. The temperature has definitely dropped further today, and not even my long red coat with its fur collar is keeping me warm. It is Baltic outside.
As I loosen my scarf from around my neck, my favourite bellboy rushes up to me.
‘Madame, there is a package for you.’
‘A package?’
‘Yes, it came this afternoon.’
I take the package from him and squeeze at it. It is squidgy, almost like when I received the Christmas jumper from Dewi. Surely, he hasn’t sent me another. But there are no postage stamps. This is a local delivery.
In the lift, I look at the parcel. What could it possibly be?
As soon as I reach my room, I tear open the paper. Inside, something is wrapped in lilac-coloured tissue paper with a heart-shaped sticker keeping it in place. Sequins reflect through the paper, and as I remove it, I can see that it is the sparkly gold sequin jacket that was in the fancy boutique Tomas and I stopped at. A card falls out that confirms my suspicions.
I know you loved this. Hope it fits. Thought it might be something for this evening, if you wanted to wear it, that is. Tomas X.
I throw off my coat and remove my thick, knitted jumper from underneath. I am so excited to try the jacket on that I can’t wait. I pray it fits. I put one arm in and then the next. It fits like a glove. This will certainly brighten up the plain black dress I had planned for this evening. It is absolutely stunning. I twirl around in the mirror, watching the sequins as they catch the light and see the old me in my reflection. Can I possibly shine this bright again? I am hesitant about that as my confidence has been shattered so badly over the past few years. But wearing this lifts my spirits and makes me want to say goodbye to my self-inflicted lonely past.
This must be one of the most beautiful items of clothing I have ever owned. It seems all the best things come from Prague, and, just like my snow globe, I will treasure it forever.