Page 29 of A New Life in Amsterdam

Saying goodbye to Debbie is harder than I imagined and almost as painful as when I left her in Wales.

As we promise to see each other again very soon and her taxi pulls away, I close the door to an eerie quietness.

It’s gone from being party central to total silence overnight.

For a while, I find myself walking from room to room until I decide to remove Debbie’s bedsheets and fold the camp bed back up.

Anything is a distraction from the sudden quietness in here.

With all the mundane jobs complete, I take out my felting for company. I have ten cavapoos to make by Monday morning and desperately need to finish them instead of procrastinating around the place.

Soon, my arm is hurting from jabbing the needle into the foam base so many times.

Right now, it feels as though it will be impossible to get these done in time without developing some sort of repetitive strain injury.

I consider that I may have bitten off more than I can chew with this latest order, and it makes my confidence crumble.

What was I thinking? I am not a felting superwoman; it is a hobby that is getting too big.

If I can’t handle a Facebook order, I’d never manage a market stall.

I don’t know what is wrong with me. Suddenly, I have gone from thinking I can take on the world of felting to feeling down about myself.

I feel like a silly woman who has moved to a country where I don’t know anyone and am trying to fit in with a whole new crowd that listens to dance music.

The more I think about it, it is starting to sound like a midlife crisis.

I begin to doubt all my decisions, despite being so deliriously happy since I’ve been here.

Debbie leaving has obviously affected me more than I thought it would.

I pick up the phone and ring Hannah for a much-needed chat.

We hardly ever speak anymore, and I miss her so much, even though I know she is out enjoying herself too much to call.

‘Hey, Mother.’

‘Hannah, nice to hear your voice. I miss you.’

‘I miss you too, and I’ve got so much to tell you.

So, I went to the Great Barrier Reef last week.

That’s why I haven’t called. I only just got back, like.

I walked through the rainforest. I went swimming on the reef.

You should have seen the colours. It was so magical. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘I can imagine. How wonderful for you.’

‘Oh, it was. I could easily move over to that side of the country. Who knows, one day? You’d have to come and visit if I do.’

‘That would be lovely.’ Although whether she’s in Melbourne or Cairns, we couldn’t be further apart.

Listening to her excitement, I realise how selfish I am for wishing we were closer.

I tell her how lucky she is and put my worries aside.

She doesn’t want to know her mam is feeling a bit down when she is having so much fun.

If she is worrying about me, she might feel she has to fly over to check on me, and I don’t want that.

I want her to be free to live her own life.

‘So, how’s the houseboat?’

‘Yeah, great. Had a party on here last night. Invited all the neighbours. You’d love them. Someone brought a dance CD over.’

‘No way. Were you up dancing?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘Good on ya. That’s my mother. Oh, gee. I’m going to have to dash. Dad’s here, and I promised we’d head to the mall. He really needs some new clothes, and I need to save him from buying something he may regret. You know what Dad’s like – he’ll buy the first thing to get out of the stores.’

‘Ha, yeah. He never changes. Oh, great. Well, say hello to him.’

‘Yeah, will do. Take care.’

As Hannah puts the phone down, I imagine them laughing together as she tries to get Paul to wear something she thinks would suit him. Paul’s such a great dad, but still, I can’t help feeling a little envious of the fun they are having together while I am here alone.

I begin to wonder about my house back home. Would I be happier going back to Wales? I tell myself that I am simply missing Debbie. That’s all that’s wrong, but next I call the estate agent for some reassurance that I’ve done the right thing.

‘Hello. This is somewhat spooky, as I was just about to call you,’ he says.

‘Really? Do you have an update for me?’

‘As it happens, I do indeed. I’ve a young family who adore your house. I took them around on Wednesday and they’ve just this second called to say they want to make an offer.’

‘Well, that’s good.’

‘It certainly is. They’ve made quite a reasonable offer.’

Before I can listen to what they want to pay, I need to know what they are like.

How many children do they have? Are they a young, happy family, just like Paul and I were when we bought the house with a daughter on the way?

If I am going to hand over the house to new custodians, I want to make sure they are the right ones.

‘Oh, they’re a lovely family. Husband is an accountant, wife works for the Post Office. Two lovely little girls. Around seven and ten, I’d say. The kids loved the treehouse out the back. You should have seen their faces. Comical, they were.’

This memory of Hannah’s beloved treehouse leaves me with a mixture of emotions. She would have lived in there when she was young, had we allowed it.

‘They loved the treehouse, hey?’

‘Oh, yes. I think that was the moment the parents were sold.’

‘Okay, they sound lovely. So what sort of offer were they willing to give?’

‘Five thousand off the asking price. They said they need to put new windows in around the back, so wondered if you’d accept that.’

Those windows in the back do need replacing.

They have for years; we just never got around to it and then Paul left.

The family’s offer may have caught me by surprise, but how can I refuse?

Winter is on the way, and while I don’t want the pipes freezing here, I don’t want them to freeze there either.

My beautiful home deserves to be lived in.

‘Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll accept the offer.’

‘Oh, that’s brilliant. I don’t think there’ll be any hitches, but I’ll go back to them now and confirm.’

I sit on my bright pink sofa, looking at the felting that remains to be done and still waiting for me.

I sigh loudly, knowing that nobody can hear me.

I feel so sad, yet I have everything I dreamed of.

I couldn’t ask for more when I have a beautiful houseboat, a hobby that keeps me busy, a gorgeous next-door neighbour, and I can decorate my home the way I want without answering to anyone.

I have complete freedom to do as I please.

It has been a long time since I cried but, once I start, I can’t seem to stop.

I may have convinced myself that my life has turned a very exciting corner, but the fact is I also never thought I would be alone at this age.

When I was younger, I assumed I would be married, surrounded by my adult children and grandchildren.

Then, if we had enough money, my husband and I would go off on a cruise somewhere in the sun to escape the coldest months.

Instead, I am living on a houseboat, all alone, on the other side of the world to everyone I know.

Would I have been better staying next door to Debbie?

I am beginning to wonder. Today somehow feels like a day of closure.

My best friend has gone home. I am reminded again that Hannah and my ex-husband have made lives for themselves without me.

Finally, I am told that my house is going to be sold, and I will never be able to go back there.

I remind myself that it was me who chose this new life.

It’s just that when everything changes and there is no chance of turning back, there is that moment when you get cold feet.

What if I’ve made a mistake? As I sit here alone with my felting, I need some convincing that selling up was the right thing to do.