Page 1 of A New Life in Amsterdam

I don’t like the way Hannah’s looking at me.

She’s been pacing up and down the living room all morning.

Every now and then she sneakily glances over at me, looks at her phone, then goes to say something but stops herself.

I know her so well that I can always tell when something is bothering her. I just don’t know what.

‘Are you okay, Hannah? You’ve been acting weird all morning.’

She hesitates, gazes at the floor and then clears her throat.

‘I’ve something to tell you and I don’t know how you’ll react. I thought I could just come out with it but…’

‘Come on, spit it out. I’m your mam, you know you can tell me anything. I won’t be cross. Well, I might be for a moment, but whatever it is I’m sure I’ll soon calm down.’

‘See, that’s what I mean. You might go bonkers.’

‘I won’t go bonkers, I promise. I’ll always support you no matter what.’

‘I know, it’s just I’m worried you’ll be sad.’

‘You never make me sad. I’m always proud of you. Come on, you’d better just tell me. Whatever it is, I promise I’ll understand.’

I try not to let my mind go into overdrive. Has she had bad news? What could be so bad that she is afraid of telling me in case it makes me sad? I have to take a deep breath to stop myself from panicking. Whatever she is about to tell me, I have to be strong in front of her.

Hannah bites her lip and looks down at her phone, which is ringing in her hand. She ignores it, placing it down on the table, looking at me seriously.

‘Okay. Please don’t burst into tears.’

‘I won’t burst into tears, I promise.’ I try to smile even though she is unnerving me further.

‘I’m moving to be closer to Dad.’

‘What?’

‘I’m moving to Melbourne.’

‘Right.’ I nod my head approvingly. I know that I have to show my support, no matter how devastated I am that she is moving so far away from me. That’s what mams must do. It’s part of the job description.

I try hard to remember that I must not show any reaction on my face other than a smile; although I have to grab the arm of the sofa to steady myself as I take in the news.

If I’m honest with myself, I always had a feeling she would move to Melbourne eventually.

I just didn’t expect the decision to come today as I am standing in the middle of the kitchen making a morning brew.

As I absorb the news by staring out of the kitchen window, I notice the dip in the grass where Hannah used to dig as she attempted to get to Australia when she was small.

Hannah was absolutely convinced she would get to see her grandparents and cousins in Oz if she dug deep enough.

If only it were that simple. I think back to those long flights we used to take.

I even used to believe that if my marriage to Paul could survive a long-haul trip like that with a busy toddler, it was surely bullet-proof.

The problem is that when we get older everything changes.

Our children grow up and leave us to start their own lives, and people want different things.

While Hannah may have always had that yearning to live in Australia among Paul’s large family, I didn’t think Paul felt the same way.

He had been living in Abergavenny for thirty years and while he missed the outdoor Aussie lifestyle over the years, I never suspected that one day he would return there for good.

Then he started reminiscing about the Christmases he had on the beach, the family barbecues, the views from Mount Dandenong overlooking the Melbourne skyline, the Vegemite toast and even the witchetty grubs.

In all our visits to Australia over the years, I had never seen him go anywhere near witchetty grubs.

He was hankering for his homeland more than I ever realised, and with my mam not well I couldn’t join him on his trip home.

Just like Hannah standing in front of me now, it was time for our lives to take different directions.

As he turned fifty, he reconnected with the outdoorsy person he was when we first met.

A five-hour hike and foraging for food were now his idea of fun.

Whereas walking around Waitrose for twenty minutes was enough foraging for me.

I may have married a gorgeous Aussie who had been working his way around the UK until he stopped in my local Welsh bar in his twenties, but Paul has gone for good and now our only child is running off to join him in Australia.

I feel utterly bereft. How on earth am I supposed to pretend I’m happy?

Those baby books I read about motherhood when I was pregnant never prepared me for this period in my life.

I plaster on my best pretend smile and try to say the right words.

‘Wow. Well, I’m so happy for you. This is incredible. Just what you’ve always dreamed of.’

‘Are you really happy for me?’

‘Yes, of course. I mean, I know you have some good friends here, but we don’t have much family left. You have cousins and aunties in Oz and, of course, your dad. I’m super happy for you, really. I expected you to make this decision one day, and what better time than now you’ve finished uni.’

Hannah rushes over to me and gives me a big hug.

‘Oh, Mam. Thank you for being so good about it. I hate the thought of leaving you here on your own. At least you’ve got Debbie though.’

‘Yes, Debbie’s only next door. Thank goodness for besties. I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.’

‘So, when are you planning on leaving?’

Hannah gives me that nervous look again.

‘Soon, I’m guessing by that look on your face.’

‘Yup. Next week. It’s taken me ages to pluck up the courage to tell you. You know I’ll miss you so much.’

‘Yeah, I know. Me too, my lovely girl. Oh, come here and give me a hug.’

Hannah’s eyes are filling up as I hold her.

‘I’m sorry, Mam.’

‘It’s okay. It’s the right thing for you. It’ll be the best thing you ever do. Better not to have too long to think about it. I’ll just have to cancel that dinner reservation I made for us next weekend.’

‘Oh, Mam. Now I feel guilty. Maybe it’s also time for you to have a new start – that’s what you need.’

‘Please don’t be guilty, I’m fine here. I don’t need a new start. Come on, shall we open a bottle of wine and celebrate? We’ve got to make the most of our last moments together for a while.’

‘Oh, go on then, thanks, Mam,’ says Hannah with a grin.

The relief on her face at my calm demeanour is palpable.

Mentally though, I am already working out whether they do parental visas in the Australian embassy.

Although, even as I seriously consider it, I realise that I can’t be one of those mams who doesn’t give her daughter the freedom to find her own feet.

I have to let her go. My only child, my world, my everything, is moving to the other side of the world and I don’t know when I will see her again.

I am the mother hen who is being left with an empty nest, and I have to hide the sadness of this loss.