‘I need some help at the bar,’ says Tomas.
‘Yes, he does need help,’ says Albert.
I look at the two of them, who have obviously been plotting together.
‘I would certainly need more persuading than that.’
‘Will this persuade you?’ says Albert, pouring more wine.
‘Hmm, you’re heading the right way,’ I joke.
Thankfully, everyone drops the subject when our meal arrives. We enjoy our Czech dinner with pork and potatoes, and it makes me think how much I will miss this glorious food. The more wine I drink, the more I want to stay in Prague. Do I really want to rattle around the mill on my own when I could be here with this lovely family? But, the truth is, Wales is home.
As I sip on the last of my wine, Tomas leans over to me.
‘I meant it. I’m so glad we met. I was just teasing you about needing your help to get the bar ready.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m going to miss you when you’ve left,’ says Tomas.
I don’t tell him that I am going to miss being with him more than I have ever missed anything in my life. Instead, I smile and pretend that I am fine about going home.
‘Let’s try not to think about it. We have a New Year’s Eve party to enjoy tomorrow first,’ I say.
I lean over to him and give him a hug, which feels like the most natural thing in the world. If only I could stay holding him like this forever.
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.
