‘It must be time for a beer. This place needs more time and we can come back another day,’ he said with an enthusiastic grin, without even looking at his watch. ‘I know just the place.’
‘It’s not even eleven o’clock.’ Anna shook her head.
‘It will be by the time we get there. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk.’ He turned the screen of his phone towards her, showing a line of little blue dots on a map.
Anna smiled. ‘So you haven’t looked up anything about the sights of Prague, but you have researched the best places to drink beer. Why aren’t I surprised?’
‘You wouldn’t want to miss out, would you?’
Retracing their steps, they walked back down the hill and took a few turns not far from the bridge before arriving atLokál, a building on a corner. Inside, Leo led the way past busy tables, all of them full, down a set of stairs to a stone-vaulted cellar, the scarred tiled flooring proof of the pub’s popularity. Anna marvelled again at Leo’s confidence. It was as if he knew where he was going. Simple, well-worn dark wooden tables filled the room, while the bar itself was all modern technology with a stainless-steel counter over a glass cabinet containing stainless-steel tanks and the pump equipment to ensure quick delivery from tank to glass.
‘Wow,’ she said, the hairs standing up on the back of her arms. Okay, so she was a beer nerd. ‘That’s some bit of kit.’
‘I know,’ said Leo, throwing her a delighted smile. ‘Natálie said I had to visit this place. What are you going to have?’
‘I’ll have a Pilsner Urquell,’ said Anna. How many new friends had he made since he’d been here?
‘And how do you want it poured?’
Anna cocked her head slightly. Was this a trick question?
‘In a glass?’
‘Lesson number one in Czech beer coming up,’ replied Leo, without a hint of condescension as they chose a table and each picked up a menu. ‘There are several pour options. Pilsner insist that their beer is only poured by a trained tapster. There are three options:hladinka,a standard pour;šynt, which is two fingers of beer, three fingers of foam and a finger of empty glass, ormlíko, which is nearly all foam apart from a sliver at the bottom.’
‘You know your stuff,’ said Anna, scanning the menu, a little embarrassed that she didn’t know this.
‘That’s the bit I’ve been swotting up on. We make the perfect team, you with your touristy knowledge and me on the food and drink. We could eat here too, if you fancy it.’
The place felt very authentic but also pleasantly touristy and she was keen to try the beer.
‘What are you having?’
‘I’m going to try amlíkoas it’s not lunchtime yet,’ he teased. ‘Less beer but plenty of flavour. So I’ve been told.’
A waiter appeared to take their order. Anna was about to play it safe and order a standard beer but at the last minute she ordered the same as Leo because she was intrigued. That was his effect: he’d often persuaded her to do uncharacteristic things. She could imagine Steve’s response. He didn’t hold with fizzy lager, no matter how often she’d tried to explain that real pilsner was nothing like the gassy lager so freely available in English pubs. He’d run screaming from a glass full of foam.
When the beer arrived they took simultaneous sips, Anna ending up with foam on the tip of her nose, which Leo immediately swiped away for her. A frisson ran through her at his casual touch, igniting nerve endings that she’d hoped were impervious to him. Although she froze, she carefully maintained an impassive expression. It probably hadn’t been so much as a blip on his radar, while for her it had been a quick electrical surge of bitter awareness. Leo had always been able to affect her without even trying; that had been a big part of the problem. It was far too easy to love Leo. From the day she’d met him, she’d fallen hard, even though she’d known he was way out of her orbit. It had been the biggest surprise of her life, the first time he’d kissed her.
She took a gulp of the foamy beer, rolling the texture around her mouth, savouring the sweet, creamy flavour.
‘That’s delicious,’ she said, perhaps a touch over-enthusiastically, determined not to let Leo know that his touch had affected her in any way.
‘It is,’ said Leo, perusing the menu. She took advantage of his concentration to watch him as those deep brown eyes, still the colour of whisky, flecked with gold, narrowed as he pondered his choices. No one would ever have said Leo’s face was one for playing poker, every emotion flashed across those mobile features.
He was totally absorbed in the menu and clearly not the least bit aware of the battle going on in her body as her hormones clamoured for his touch. God, she’d been in his company less than a day and already, she was reverting to the same old pattern. It was just physical attraction, she told herself sternly. It didn’t mean anything – any more than it would mean anything to him. Their short marriage had been a colossal mistake. Leo thrived on novelty and jumping into things without thinking. She’d fallen for him so hard that it had blinded her to reality. So she’d been equally spontaneous and married him – and her one and only flirtation with spontaneity had ended in heartbreak.
At that moment, Leo looked up and smiled at her, that sweet, guileless smile that had reeled her in, the very first time she’d laid eyes on him.
‘I’m spoilt for choice. I can’t decide between the Prague ham and whipped horseradish or the Frankfurters and whipped mustard and horseradish. ’
He gave her one of his endearing grins.
She rolled her eyes, determined to harden herself against his charm. ‘Yes, I’ll share with you.’
‘I hoped you’d say that.’
‘You knew I would.’
