Page 13 of A New Life in Amsterdam

Gerrit heads back to the office, leaving me at the houseboat alone.

He told me to call him if there are any problems and said he is happy to show me a hardware store where I can find the materials I’m going to need to get this place into shape.

I think it’s going to take a whole construction team!

I remind myself that Rome wasn’t built in a day and that instead of looking at the big picture, I have to do one thing at a time.

If I am to get myself out of this mess then I am going to have to take it step by step.

As I get a clearer view of the kitchen cupboard door that nearly hit my head, I can see that it is hanging off its hinges.

My first purchase is going to have to be a set of power tools.

To think, the last time I was in Amsterdam, I was rushing to the shops for cowboy boots.

Now it’s going to be paint stripper and planks of wood.

I would never have imagined I’d be thinking about which power drill I would need over a fancy new dress, but this is the new me.

‘I can do this,’ I tell myself, something that I think might have to become my new mantra.

But when a piece of wood on the kitchen work surface comes off in my hand, I regret being even a tad positive.

Everything I touch seems to fall apart. I tell myself once again that I knew what I was getting myself into and there is nothing that a handy screwdriver, or possibly a whole team of workers, can’t fix.

Despite the risk of someone breaking in, I open the windows and let the fresh air blow through before I leave to return to the hotel and check out.

I may as well spend my first night here, and there isn’t anything much a burglar could take.

The place can’t get much worse: maybe they might even do me a favour and tidy up.

An hour later, I return to my new home with my suitcase and thankfully can see that nobody has been near here.

Perhaps it looks a bit too haunted and unwelcoming and scares potential thieves away.

As I grapple with my front door key to get back in, I notice my new neighbour rushing down from his houseboat.

‘Hallo! Wil je da ti je help?’ he says.

‘Hi, sorry, I don’t speak Dutch.’

‘Ah, no worries. I was just asking, will you let me help you?’

‘Oh, well, that would be great. Thank you. Everything I own is in this suitcase, so it’s a bit heavy to wheel around.’

The neighbour grabs my suitcase as though it’s only a feather.

‘That’s so helpful. Thank you so much.’

‘You’re welcome. I’m Abe, by the way.’

‘Sandy. So pleased to meet you.’

As we both stand in the small doorway of the houseboat, I can’t help noticing how handsome he is and how his blond hair is streaked with grey.

Even though it’s cold, he’s wearing cargo shorts with wheat-coloured hiking boots.

He reminds me of some of the Australians I met when I was in Melbourne.

My first impression of him is that he looks like the type of person who wouldn’t want to be constrained by a mortgage, a nine-to-five job or any sort of normal humdrum life.

He looks quite nomadic and outdoorsy. As I look up at his bright green eyes, I feel something wet at my feet.

I look down to see his beautiful Dutch water dog has followed him and is now greeting me with a big lick at my ankles.

‘Hello, you’re a happy little soul, aren’t you,’ I say.

‘He likes you.’

‘He’s gorgeous. What’s his name?’

‘Ted.’

‘Hello, Ted. It’s so lovely to meet you.’

‘Ted says it’s lovely to meet you too,’ says Abe with a big grin. I find myself blushing under his attention. I guess that is what happens when you’ve been around things more than humans.

‘Well, anyway, I’d better head off. I guess you have a lot of work to do,’ says Abe, gesturing around the room.

‘Oh, yes. Not quite sure where I’ll start. The first thing is to freshen this place up a bit, I guess.’

‘It was empty for a while after the owner died. It got a bit stale in here. It was left in a bit of a mess before it was cleared out,’ says Abe.

‘Ah, right. That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll get it all sorted.’

‘You look very capable of managing it yourself, but if you need anything then please give me a shout. I know the old guy here used to have trouble with some of the heating thermostats so I can try to help if you have a problem.’

‘I did hear some funny noises coming from the boiler room earlier.’

As if there is the ghost of the previous owner on board, as I say it I hear a great big rumble once again.

‘I think I might well be needing a plumber.’

‘Sure, see how you get on. If there’s anything else you need, just shout. I’m only next door.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’

Ted looks up at me for attention and I give him a big stroke before they leave me to my own devices.

I close the door behind them and start to believe that I could be happy here eventually, even if the boiler, and everything else, is a bit dodgy.

But then I see a shadow on the window of the wheelhouse.

For a moment, I wonder if there is a strange man up there.

How secure is it, living here? However, as I watch the window closely, I see a great big stork parading about.

A stork! I have no idea whether they can be vicious, but I am so excited that I open the door to take a look.

I quietly creep outside and sit down on a black-and-red striped deckchair that has been discarded, left by the previous owner.

The stork spots me and glides away, leaving me alone.

Looking at my surroundings, I realise that the deckchair directly faces Abe and Ted’s houseboat.

I move my chair slightly as I don’t want Abe to think I’m watching them.

Despite all the jobs I have to do indoors, I can’t help but take time out to relish the scenery and watch as people pass me on the canal.

At the moment, the thought of sitting out here is more appealing than being inside.

A woman on a bike rides past with bright red tulips wrapped in paper in her basket.

That’s exactly what I need – tulips! That will brighten the houseboat up.

A little voice in my head tells me that it will take more than flowers, and not to start my old habit of shopping again, but I drown it out and try to remember where the flower market is from my last visit.

Once the barge is sorted, that’s the first place I’ll go.

I am telling myself to imagine how rewarding it will be once all the work is done, when I hear the voice of my neighbour from his roof.

‘Hey. Did you unpack that quickly?’

‘Ha. No. I came out here because I saw a stork on the roof.’

‘Ah, yes. It’s a regular visitor around here.’

‘How fabulous. I love storks.’

‘Then you’ll have to visit the house with the stork.’

‘A stork lives in a house?’

‘No, it’s a landmark around here. Have you seen the movie Ocean’s Twelve? It was in that.’

‘Oh, no. I’m not much of a movie buff. I prefer…’ I decide not to mention the felting hobby since he probably won’t know what I mean. It might sound a bit strange trying to explain that I repeatedly stab needles into yarn, resulting in the creation of miniature animals.

‘Even if you don’t like movies, you should search for the house with the stork. It stands on the corner of a building. You should see if you can find it.’

‘Oh, that’s cute. I definitely will. Thanks.’

I watch as Abe turns his attention to a beautiful woman who opens the front door of his houseboat. I observe her closely as she takes her shopping bags inside. Ted is jumping all over her and I realise it wasn’t only me he was pleased to see.

‘Ah, Beatrix is here. See you again,’ says Abe.

‘Yes, have a great evening.’

We wave goodbye to each other, and I summon the courage to face the musty interior again.

After I have scrubbed the barge from top to bottom, unpacked and put the photo of Nicky and I up along with one of Hannah, I can finally see the potential in this place becoming a home.

By the time I stop for a coffee, the sun has gone down on Amsterdam and I pop outside the front door for some fresh air before it gets too chilly.

I watch as a couple snuggle up together as they walk down the street and feel a moment of loneliness.

Everywhere I look people are with others.

Abe is next door with Beatrix and Ted, while I am here with just an empty mug of coffee for company.

Feeling slightly forlorn, I head back in.

It’s been a long, emotional day and I momentarily fall asleep on an old chair that’s been left in the living room.

But within minutes, I am woken up by a cacophony of unfamiliar noises.

The wood creaks and crunches and the sound of groaning old pipes startles me as I wake up.

In my dozy state, I begin to worry. What if I can’t run from that hole in my life?

All the other things I bought didn’t make me feel any better about myself. What if the houseboat doesn’t either?