I’m glad you’re getting life sorted. Give the family my love.
Will do. Love ya. Take care.
Hannah finishes the conversation by sending a photo of Paul’s party.
I recognise the house. Hannah must have arranged to hold the party at Paul’s sister’s place where she is temporarily staying. It’s been modernised since I was last there but the fireplace in the background is instantly recognisable. However, it isn’t the fireplace I’m worried about. The photo shows everyone happy and smiling, and Hannah is standing with her arm around her dad. On the other side of Paul is a woman who looks around the same age as him, perhaps a bit younger. She looks sporty and surfy and everything I am not. I never did enjoy water sports like Paul did. I suppose he was brought up with surfing the Australian waves, whereas I only had the local community swimming pool to visit. Paul looks happy in the photo. I can’t help comparing how he looked in photos with me. Was he smiling as much as this? Perhaps not. Moving back home seems to suit him and, if I am honest, his new girlfriend is probably more suited to him too.
I put the phone down, realising that our relationship coming to an end was hard but ultimately it was better for both of us. We are free to live our best lives now, with people who are more suited to us at this stage.
After my conversation with Hannah, I grab the paint chart and scribble a ring around the colours I have decided upon. Hannah was right about the darker green. I can’t wait to share my decision with Abe, so I rush down to the coffee shop for a chat and a hot chocolate. I can hardly contain my excitement as I hurry down the canal on my bike.
With a big smile I open the door of the cafe and see Abe at the counter, talking to a woman in her forties. His perfect smile dazzles as he jokes with her. I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. I tell myself not to be so silly. He is nice to everyone; it is the way he is. The woman laughs back with him and he hands her a coffee without charging her. Abe is so busy chatting in Dutch to her that he still hasn’t noticed me standing near the door. I shouldn’t be nosy but I can’t help listening in and trying my best to translate what they are talking about. I can understand some of the words. Slowly I digest each word, repeating the sentence in my head and then translating it in English to myself.
Did Abe really just say, ‘Let me give you my number and we’ll arrange a date’? I must have misinterpreted a word somewhere. Abe surely wouldn’t do that to me. I trust him. I watch closely as he gets a piece of paper, writes something down and hands it over to the woman. I stare at them, not able to believe what I have just witnessed, when Abe spots me and waves like he doesn’t have a care in the world. How could he be so brazen?
I drop the paint chart and walk out the door. To be fair to him, I guess we never had a conversation about being exclusive with each other, but I assumed he wouldn’t go around giving his number out to random women who come into the coffee shop. Was all that talk about him not having been on a date with anyone for a long while the truth? Perhaps he is a serial dater. What if he wasn’t truthful about Camilla? It could all have been one big lie.
I rush back out into the street and cycle straight across a bridge, oblivious to everything around me. I hurry down the streets until I feel my heart racing and finally find myself near Dam Square. I stop my bicycle to catch my breath and lean against a shop window. Surely there must be some explanation? Could I have got the translation wrong? But then my brain reminds me that he handed his number over and didn’t charge her for the drink, so it corresponds with what I think I heard. Does Abe make a habit of giving out free drinks to women he likes? As much as I want to convince myself that this is all some kind of linguistic mistake, I have to accept the truth. I may have thought we were exclusive, but I got it wrong.
What surprises me is how disappointed I feel, despite promising myself that I wanted to keep things casual. I begin to realise that I had started falling for him; something I promised I would never do. How could I let myself get hurt like this? I am so annoyed with myself for not seeing through it all after Camilla. Perhaps she and I have more in common than I thought. He probably did the same to her, but I was the other woman, and now he’s moving on to the next.
I pass the street organ near Dam Square, which always makes me smile, but not today. Instead, I find myself fighting back tears as I rush through the crowds, realising that I am not living the dream with a handsome Dutchman by my side; instead I’m an invisible woman in her fifties who thought she could have it all.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Once I am home and close the door, any bravery I tried to show outside is long gone. I start sobbing and once I start, I can’t stop. I fling the Dutch homework that is still on the table across the room.
‘Damn you,’ I shout. Stupidly I think that if I hadn’t understood what Abe was saying then I might not be so hurt. Truthfully, though, I know that I needed to find out. What was I thinking? Abe is a handsome man who has everything. It’s time to admit that I got swept away with the romance of a houseboat and the charming guy from next door. Abe lives his life so freely that thinking he only wanted to be with me shouldn’t have even occurred to me. I should have known better. Just because he makes me feel like the only woman on earth when he is with me, it doesn’t mean that is how he behaves when we are apart. I suppose it is lucky I found out now, before I get even more hurt. So much for him wanting to meet Hannah!
In between tears and trying to work out why I didn’t spot any red flags earlier, I turn to my knitting. It feels cathartic, taking my anger out with the clicking of the knitting needles. They go ten to the dozen as I clack away in a temper. My mood ranges from sad to angry and then to one of annoyance. Although I don’t know if I am more annoyed at myself or at Abe. After all, did he promise me anything? I merely assumed everything. It’s not like he ever said that he wouldn’t ask anyone else out on a date now that we were casually seeing each other, although surely that’s not the done thing unless he is polyamorous and has forgotten to tell me that little nugget of information. Perhaps I have read this whole thing wrong. Abe never promised me anything; we were simply having fun together.
However, I think about how Beatrix called me Abe’s girlfriend when she introduced me at book club. She must have thought there was something to our relationship. Which suddenly reminds me that tonight I am due to be at book club and it is my pick! That’s all I need. Abe will be here at seven p.m, all smiles, ready to walk over to Beatrix’s. I don’t want to tell him what I saw and act like a jealous ogre. Quite honestly, I don’t know how to handle any of it.
By the time Abe comes over to collect me for book club, I decide the only thing to do is feign a headache. When I hear him knock on the door, I answer him in my dressing gown. I only hope he doesn’t look at my puffy eyes.
‘Hey, did I catch you early?’
‘No, not at all. I can’t make it. Sorry.’
‘Really? Are you sick? You look a little…’
A little what? Sad?
‘Got a bit of a migraine, that’s all.’
‘Do you want me to stay in with you? We can have a quiet night if you prefer. I’ll let Beatrix know.’
‘No, you go ahead. You know what it’s like when you have a headache. Bed is the best place.’
‘Are you sure you’re okay? Because you dropped your paint chart and seemed to run out when I saw you earlier.’
‘Oh, yeah. That. I had to rush off suddenly. Felt a bit faint. Maybe it was the migraine coming on then.’
‘I wondered what was wrong. You looked like you’d seen a ghost.’
Seen a ghost? He must realise that I saw him giving the woman his number but he doesn’t seem to care. Is he that blasé that he assumes something else must be wrong? I don’t know what he thinks about free love and open relationships, but it’s certainly not for me.
‘Oh, no. It’s just this headache. Look, you go over to Beatrix’s, and please give her my apologies. I am terribly sorry for not being there when it was me who chose the book.’
