‘It’s totally organic,’ says the stall owner.
‘Wow, now I can see why this is your favourite stall,’ I say to Beatrix. I take a bottle of the wine to try at home and then move on to a stall selling art. The most beautiful pastel painting of a canal in Amsterdam with bikes and people dotted around attracts my eye. I can’t leave without having it to hang on the wall of the barge and I promise myself that I won’t spend a penny more. This market might be just my kind of place, but I am determined I’m not going to slip back into my old shopping habit.
By the time we head for home, Abe is carrying the painting and I am laden with food and drink. As always, I ended up going overboard but I did need a painting for the wall and, well, who can say no to a bottle of wine that promises it won’t give you a headache? Maybe having a stall in a flea market like this wouldn’t be such a good idea. I’d end up spending more than I could make on buying stuff. I try to tell myself that I don’t needstuffany longer, buying a houseboat is fulfilling enough. But today was different. This is about organising my new home.
When we reach our canal, Abe brings my new painting inside the houseboat, and I thank him for giving me such a lovely time.
Erik is finishing off for the day and gathering his tools when we arrive back, and Abe and Erik say something in Dutch to each other. Abe looks disappointed and they both shake their heads. I spot the half-completed floor, which looks worse than when he started.
‘I’ll have to come back next Sunday,’ says Erik.
‘What? Are you going to leave it like this?’
‘I’ll put something over it. I’ll see what I can find in the van, but I’m full until next weekend. There is more rotten wood than you said. I should have come here first to check before starting. I thought it was a small job, but now I’ve started…’
‘Oh, I thought at least we could finish the floor. I’ve got the floor sander ready and everything now. I’ve only rented it for a week.’
‘I’ll explain to the store what happened. These things take time. You can’t expect a big job like this to be finished so quickly. There’s been no work done here for a long time. I’m sorry. Look, I noticed your front door was sticking. At least I can do this on the way out so it’s secure for you. Would you like me to take a look at it?’
‘If you could. Thank you.’
I try to weigh up the positives – at least I won’t have to fight with the door each time I open it, but I am disappointed that I can’t get down to polishing the new floors tomorrow as planned. I am also a little freaked out that I have been sharing this place with little critters unknowingly, although Erik assures me before he leaves that the woodworm damage is limited to the kitchen cabinets and we have caught it early enough.
We say goodbye to Erik, and as Abe and I stand there looking at the carnage that Erik has left behind with practically no floorboards or cupboard doors, I could burst into tears. There were bound to be hiccups, and with Abe standing here in the middle of it all, I desperately try to hide my disappointment. I thank him for introducing me to the market and to Beatrix, and we part ways politely as our day together comes to an end. I have enjoyed his company, and after the setbacks with the houseboat I open my new bottle of wine and devour some cold meats and cheese, trying not to dwell on the negatives and instead thinking about how I could have spent so much longer with Abe and Beatrix. In fact, I wish they were here now sharing this bottle with me but that would be terribly pushy of me. We have only just met. They have their own lives and other friends. Just because Abe is particularly caring and helping me settle in doesn’t mean that he wants to spend an evening with me too. No, he is a helpful neighbour and there is nothing more to it than that. In fact, this super-cool handsome guy and his lovely wife probably feel sorry for their new neighbour and that is why they are so kind.
Chapter Twelve
Over the next few weeks, I live in a building site. Every now and then Erik drops more materials off with me and the houseboat feels increasingly smaller. It seems his estimation that he could do most of the work in one week was far too optimistic. It is like a huge can of worms, and as one thing is done, another problem seems to appear. Then the inevitable finally happens when he tells me that I must move out so that he can arrange for the fumigating of my home to make sure there is no chance of the woodworm returning. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I don’t fancy being fumigated, so I happily oblige.
Finally, once it is safe to return and I have checked out of the seedy hotel I stayed in when I first arrived, I return home to find Erik already at work as I weave my way through new kitchen units and yet more planks of wood.
‘Today I’ll be done,’ says Erik with a big smile.
‘That’s great news. What a headache it’s been.’
‘Ah, this is how it is when you start. But you’ll have a brand-new kitchen by the end of the day. You’ll be happy.’
‘Thank you, so everyone keeps telling me.’
He is right, and by the end of the day, the pale blue worktop and co-ordinating kitchen cabinets look wonderful. The wooden flooring is also finally perfectly level.
‘It looks amazing. Thank you, Erik. What a difference.’
‘You see, it’s worth doing the job right. No point taking short cuts, it needs to be done properly.’
‘You’re so right. I will bear that in mind tomorrow when I start on the sanding.’
By the next morning, I am eager to start work, and as instructed by a YouTube video, I start with brushing the floor. Then I don my goggles, ear defenders and mask and press the start button on the sander. Even with the ear defenders, the noise is deafening. I brace myself for the pull of the drum sander, but it almost takes me flying across the room as it kicks off. A harsh scrape appears along one of the boards where I have viciously sanded the area while being preoccupied with keeping my balance. I am horrified that I have managed to mark a brand-new floorboard in seconds. It seems I am not as cut out for this as much as I thought I was. How does YouTube make it look so easy? The woman I watched glided across the floor like a gracious ballerina, while I was more like a bull in a china shop.
I take a breather and switch off the machine to try and compose myself. Eventually, I tell myself I can do this and refuse to admit defeat. I start again and, knowing how much force to expect this time, I grip on harder and make sure my feet are properly balanced so I don’t cause the floor any further damage. This time, I manage to glide it along and instantly see that it is making a difference, even if there is dust and grit all over the living area and it ends up surrounding me like a smog. Thank goodness I have only painted the bedroom walls so far. Despite the mask, I cough and splutter and stop for a moment, waiting for the air to settle. It’s a win.
Once I finish brushing up all the debris, I start varnishing the floor. I want to get started on it as it’s going to take an age to dry. I’ve no doubt it will feel like one of those dodgy nightclubs with a sticky floor for ages if I don’t do it properly. I remind myself that patience is needed and feel content as I paint on the first strokes of varnish, revealing a glossy dark-wood floor. Ten minutes later, my body forces me to remember Abe’s advice about the kneepads. Now I see what he meant. My knees are killing me. In desperation, I find two tea towels and wrap one around each knee using some masking tape. Thank goodness nobody can see me now.
I sing to myself as I varnish the floor and start to see the rewards of my hard work. Two coats and the floor will look like new. But then, as I am screeching out a song, I think I hear a knock on the door.
I groan as I stand up, since I can’t seem to move nowadays without groaning. Then I look down at the tea towels on my knees as I head to the door. Oh no. I have no choice but to open the door like this. It’s Abe, and the first thing he does is look down at my knees.
I try pulling at the masking tape but practically manage to strangle the circulation around my legs and end up plopping backwards as I stumble.
