Following The Conversation
Marek read chapter 7. It was about a sailing ship that had crossed the Baltic in 1849, with a hundred and forty-two passengers, in a winter that should have been impossible. The chapter was very good. He could see why his grandfather had wanted somebody to tell him what they thought.
In *Gdańsk: A Hundred Years*, Marek found another note, between pages 88 and 89. It said: *I went to the museum on Tuesday. The exhibit changed. Better now. The new curator is the granddaughter of the man on page 91. — A.*
In *Letters from a Cold Coast*, between the introduction and chapter one: *This is the third time I've borrowed this in twenty years. It still makes me cry. I am leaving you tickets at the desk for the lecture on Saturday. Bring your grandson. — A.*
Marek's grandfather had not got to the lecture. He had died a week before.
Marek went to the library again the next Saturday. He took the books back. He stood at the counter holding the three slips of paper.
"Mrs Soltan," he said quietly. "Who is A.?"
Mrs Soltan looked at him over her glasses. She did not pretend she did not know what he meant.
"Sit down, Marek," she said.
He sat at the reading table. Mrs Soltan made him a small cup of warm milk and brought it over.
"A. is Mrs Andresen. She lives at number forty-two on Bridge Street. She and your grandfather were friends. They had been friends since they came to this country,