What Was Left by Eleanor Limprecht

Author:Eleanor Limprecht
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ligature Pty Limited
Published: 2021-11-09T19:36:28+00:00

Chapter 13

Rachel explores the streets of Zurich. She visits the museums and she walks along the riverbank. She window-shops the narrow streets of the old city where buildings close in on her. The churches and squares and overpriced boutiques – none of it appeals to her, just as the food doesn’t make her hungry. It seems like all of the chocolate in the world is here and she can’t bear the thought of it. She has to force herself just to eat the dry breakfast rolls at the hostel and something for dinner each night, just to keep going. People come here to shop, but that doesn’t interest her either. There is only one store that catches her eye on the day she is meant to meet Ben for dinner. She stands outside of the shop for a while, her nose centimetres from the glass. The window is dressed with beautiful, old-fashioned toys. They are familiar in a way that makes her nostalgic not just for her own childhood, but for her mother’s and her grandmother’s. There is a little painted man that whirls on a trapeze, a spinning top made from tin, colourful trains on an interconnecting track, flapping wooden cards on a ribbon, and a dog on wheels with a cord to roll it along the floor, making it wag its tail. The dog makes her think of Lola, who squeals and laughs whenever she sees a dog. She walks in and the bell above the door rings. Inside she must take off her coat. It is warm and smells of varnish and boiled meat.

‘Guten tag,’ says the woman behind the desk.

‘Hello,’ Rachel says. She always forgets and lapses into English.

‘May I help you?’ The woman stands from what must be her dinner. A small television flickers and there is the voice of an announcer—regardless of the language, it is unmistakably the news.

‘The little dog in the window,’ Rachel says. ‘I would like to buy it.’

The woman frowns and nods. She goes to the window and picks up the dog.

While she wraps it, Rachel walks past the other shelves and runs her fingers across the beautiful toys. There is a doll with porcelain skin and thick, red curls. A miniature Ava. Rachel picks her up and turns her over so that the price tag peeps out of her skirt. The curls hang upside down and Rachel can see where they have been stitched in even rows. The doll costs as much as her coat, and much as two nights in her hostel.

‘This as well.’ She carries the doll up to the register. ‘Can you gift wrap it for me?’ The shopkeeper nods but doesn’t say another word.

Later, Rachel takes the train and walks to the address on Ben’s card. It is an apartment building just south of the old part of the city. She is early, and walks through a park to slow herself down. The people around her are on their way home from work; they carry briefcases and shopping; they return to families, dinners, bedtimes.

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