Page 36 of A New Life in Amsterdam

Two weeks later, Beatrix has spoken to her contact at the market and put my name down on the waiting list. They said that when a place opens up, they will need to meet me and discuss what I’ll be selling.

It isn’t as straightforward as giving me a stall simply because I know someone.

This is great news, though as I want to be given the stall on merit, and it leaves me enough time to create some nice pieces that will hopefully convince them to choose me.

In the meantime, Beatrix has managed to get together a knitting group for every other Monday evening at my houseboat, which starts tonight.

My new life seems to be coming together, and it is all thanks to Beatrix and her friends.

She even knows someone who is selling a second-hand bike I can have.

Tomorrow, I will finally have my own wheels so that I can cycle around the city just as Abe and Beatrix do.

As Abe potters in the kitchen, helping me get everything ready, I have some last-minute concerns about starting a knitting group.

I have never taught anything in my life.

What if they don’t understand a word I’m saying and can’t grasp my advice?

Despite trying to remind myself that these are Beatrix’s friends, and they are all very lovely, the thought of teaching people something new still fills me with some dread.

However, I soon have ten ladies in my living area, including Beatrix and Theresa, who have all brought a pair of knitting needles and some wool and are ready to cast on.

My voice shakes slightly at first as they all stare at me, awaiting instructions.

‘So, if we start with a few easy loops around your needle, which is called casting on. This will be like the foundation of your project,’ I say.

I do a demonstration with my own needles and then watch everyone closely as they copy me. Theresa manages to get into a muddle immediately.

‘Now what do I do?’ she asks me in a panic.

‘Unthread it all and start again, it’s fine. Take your time.’

‘I really want to crack this. It’s so important. I’m going to make a willy warmer. I thought it could be a Christmas present for Frankie.’

Oh, good gosh, I wasn’t expecting that from my knitting group on the first night, but then again, that is what happens when Theresa’s around.

Everyone is laughing and Abe, who originally only popped in to give something to Beatrix, looks at me, smiles, and then grabs a bottle of wine to top everyone’s drinks up.

Even though he didn’t mean to stay, he ends up being so helpful, and the perfect co-host as he remains in the background making sure everyone is fed and watered.

In hindsight, I’m not sure wine and knitting are the best combination creatively, but it is huge fun.

By the end of the evening, we are all merry and Theresa has managed to do a basic knit stitch and get the hang of binding off.

If I can teach Theresa to knit, then it feels as though I can conquer the world.

I look in amazement at this group, who knew nothing about knitting when they arrived and are now excitedly chatting about creating their first item.

I did it! I managed to take my first knitting class successfully.

I am delighted as everyone leaves and thanks me for such an enjoyable evening. ‘I can’t wait until the next one,’ says Theresa as she heads out.

‘I’m so glad you enjoyed it.’

As I say goodbye to Beatrix, Abe comes behind and puts his arms around me.

‘That went well. You’re a big hit with Beatrix and her friends, you know that?’

‘Am I?’

‘Oh, yes. And a big hit with me, too. Do you need me to show you quite how much I think of you?’ says Abe, kissing my neck.

‘Yeah. Maybe I still have some doubts. You might have to convince me a little bit more.’

‘Oh, do I now? Then you’d better follow me.’

I follow Abe into my bedroom where he proves once again just how wonderful he is.

My social calendar is quickly filling up with knitting classes every other Monday, usually followed by an amazing night of passion with Abe, and book club on the last Friday of every month, which is also followed by a night of passion.

In between, I have my Dutch lessons, ride my second-hand blue bicycle to go shopping, and create more items for my future stall in the hope that one day it will become a reality.

I now even know how to say knitting in Dutch.

Then, one bright sunny morning before Abe and I take Ted out for his walk to the beautiful Vondelpark, my post arrives. I open the official-looking letter, wondering what it says. I hope I haven’t fallen foul of any houseboat rules that I didn’t know existed.

I open the envelope and see that it is my request for planning permission.

Even though I only want to replace a few windows, do the outside painting and change the name, I had to go through all the legal channels and this is the letter I have been waiting for.

I can finally do the outside work on the barge.

‘I have the permission!’ I shout to Abe.

‘That’s wonderful news. Shall we start painting soon?’

‘Are you sure you don’t mind helping me?’

‘Seriously, you have to ask that? Of course I don’t mind helping you. Is there anything more therapeutic than painting a houseboat?’

‘Well, I’m not sure yet. I suspect it’s going to be hard work, but it’ll be fun having you help me. I’m just so excited that I can finally change the name. I can’t wait to see what it’s going to look like when it’s all done.’

‘It’s going to be perfect. It will be the final touch to reflect its new owner.’

Ted is getting impatient for his walk so we head off hand in hand to Vondelpark, excitedly chatting about where we will start on the outside renovations.

We walk straight through the orange and gold leaves that are littered along the path.

Ted seems to enjoy the noise and is in his element scrunching the leaves beneath his paws.

It’s funny what makes us happy. For Ted it’s a walk in the park, crushing the leaves; for me it is this moment, as I prepare to finish the houseboat and walk along here with my handsome Dutchman and lovely little Ted. How quickly my life has changed.

Cyclists and joggers whizz past us as we stroll along by the lake and a man runs by us in his workout gear with a sleeve of tattoos visible.

Abe notices him too.

‘I liked his tattoos. You don’t have any tattoos, do you? What’s your opinion of them?’

‘I don’t mind them. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about. I feel I’m a bit old to have one now. Hannah has one; it’s a little map of Australia on her wrist.’

‘What? You’re never too old for a tattoo. It’s something I’ve often thought about, but it has to be special. I don’t know what I want yet. It’s my goal to get one before I turn sixty. Australia sounds like a good choice for Hannah. I’d love to meet her one day.’

‘Wouldn’t that be lovely? I wish she wasn’t so far away, but I can’t blame her for wanting to living there.

I’m pleased she’s happy and healthy; that’s what’s important.

Maybe one day she can come to Amsterdam, or I can go over there.

Perhaps one day you could come with me to Melbourne and meet her. ’

‘I’d like that very much.’

It feels heart-warming that the man I am seeing takes an interest in Hannah and wants to meet her. Even though I don’t see much of her, it’s important that Abe cares so much, as we take our relationship day by day.

‘So, when shall we start the painting, now all the permissions have come through?’ says Abe, changing the subject.

‘As soon as possible. I can’t wait to put my mark on it.’

‘How about we start next week? I’ll ask Beatrix to cover for a day or two. She can always get Willem to help.’

‘Really? We can start that soon?’

‘Absolutely. I know a place we can get the marine paint. If you like, I can pick up some paint colour charts for you. I don’t believe in waiting for anything you want. Do you?’

As Abe looks at me, with his kind smile, I can’t help agreeing.

Why wait when you know something is right?