by Judy Leigh
‘All right.’ Cassie’s brow clouded, a moment’s anxiety. ‘I’ll be standing right here in exactly thirty minutes. Don’t go too far – make sure you don’t get lost. And I’ll pick the coffee shop today and buy the coffee. There will be absolutely no more brownies.’
Maggie was already wandering away. Lil gave Cassie a peck on the cheek and was gone too. Cassie stood by herself, making a mental list of gifts she wanted to buy. She thought about Jamie, and wondered if he was still missing her. He had texted her earlier that he was going to the theatre this evening with Mark and Cathy, so she needn’t ring until tomorrow. That was convenient, Cassie thought, as she’d be having dinner with Piet tonight. It would be better if she didn’t let Jamie down again by ringing him too late or forgetting about him altogether, as she had yesterday. He was a proud man, confident on the outside but sensitive and easily hurt; it was clear that he was very fond of her. Cassie was very fond of him too.
She decided she’d buy him the bottle of wine he’d requested to share, and some presents that might show him that he was important. When they were back, she’d get in touch with some of her contacts and arrange to perform at several venues across the UK and ask Jamie to go with her. He deserved a break and she’d spoil him, take him out to dinner, make a fuss of him. She was looking forward to seeing him again.
Cassie turned and walked past several shops, the frontages packed with a gaudy range of gifts. She paused to gaze at beer mugs, T-shirts, clogs, windmill models, windmill clocks, windmill plaques. She wondered what cheap souvenirs Maggie and Lil were currently buying. She lifted a T-shirt in bright orange, emblazoned with the word Amsterdam, then pushed it back on the rail with so many more. She turned to walk away and stopped suddenly. A couple was strolling past, holding hands: a tall, elegant man and a short, slim woman with dark hair. She recognised the woman’s tinkling laugh as she clung to the man, reached up on her toes and kissed his lips before they sauntered away. Cassie put a hand to her mouth to hide a smile: it was Ken and Sue.
Cassie, Lil and Maggie returned to the Roodhuis Hotel with their shopping. Lil and Maggie decided that they were going to have a snooze; yesterday’s antics and the late night had left them feeling tired. Cassie was going to shower and change; she was meeting Piet at five o’clock. Once inside their room, Maggie pulled off her shoes and fell back onto the bed.
‘I’m all shopped out – presents for Darren, Ross and Paul and Gemma and their partners and their kids, and something for Brian.’
Lil nodded. ‘I just bought a variety of souvenirs and a few things for myself. Cassie, when you go out to spend time with this man you’ve only just met, can you post my card to Herman? I’m going to write it now.’
Cassie thought she heard a note of irritation in her mother’s voice, but she decided to ignore it. ‘Of course, Lil.’
There was a pause, then Lil said, ‘Where are you eating out tonight with Piet or Paul or whatever he’s called? You could have invited him to the Zingende Appel and I could have met him, checked that he was suitable for my girl.’
Cassie pressed her lips together to prevent a smile. ‘Piet’s cooking dinner – I’m going to his place.’
‘Oh, isn’t that a bit risky, Cassie?’ Maggie opened her eyes wide. ‘He might be dangerous.’
Cassie was incredulous, but Lil shook her head. ‘Maggie has a point, love.’
‘It’ll be fine…’
‘Well, you hardly know this man – he could be anybody.’ Lil paused from writing her postcard, pen in the air.
‘More to the point, will you be safe?’ Maggie fretted. ‘‘He might be a sex maniac, like the politician in Lil’s book…’
‘I should be so lucky,’ Cassie joked and immediately regretted it, noticing Lil’s anxious expression. She sighed. ‘He’s just a nice man who likes the same sort of music that I do. He’s fine.’
Lil frowned, staring at the postcard on which she had written ‘Dear Herman’. ‘Cassie, do you remember going to that rock concert when you were about seventeen, to see a band with a boy with a ridiculous name?’
‘The Obliterated with Biff Baker from my Philosophy class at school. I thought he was lovely until he kissed me. He was the sloppiest kisser I ever met – he dribbled all over me. It put me right off,’ Cassie remembered, smiling.
‘You didn’t get home until two in the morning.’
‘We were sitting in his car for an hour discussing Aquinas’ five arguments about the existence of God.’
‘I sat up for half the night waiting for you to come in – I was worried to death about you. Then you came home with a love bite on your neck.’
Cassie wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, I got that during the band’s encore.’
Lil scratched her soft white hair. ‘What ever happened to him, Biff Baker?’
‘He married a vicar’s daughter and became a social worker.’ Cassie went over to Lil and hugged her. ‘And I turned out all right, didn’t I?’
Lil squeezed her daughter affectionately, her eyes shining. ‘The best daughter anyone could have had.’
‘No grandchildren, though,’ Maggie grunted.
Lil’s eyes flashed. ‘I have my Cassie. I don’t need anyone else.’ She was suddenly anxious. ‘So, what about this Pete Corny Son?’
‘Piet Cornelissen, Lil, and it’s just dinner.’
‘He might seduce you in his den…’ Maggie’s eyes were round.
Cassie shook her head: Maggie had been reading too many of Lil’s books. ‘No, I’ve got to be home by midnight, or I’ll turn into a pumpkin. Isn’t that right? That’s what you used to say to me when I was a teenager…’
‘You do what you want – you’re all grown up now,’ Lil murmured, then she gazed up from the postcard and beamed. ‘You just have a lovely time, Cass. We’re on holiday. That’s what we’re here for, to enjoy ourselves.’
‘Why would she turn into a pumpkin?’ Maggie asked. ‘Do you mean like Cinderella’s coach?’
‘Like me,’ Lil muttered. ‘I stayed out late once with a handsome soldier and that turned me into a pumpkin. I just grew and grew.’ She winked at Cassie. ‘But at least I got you…’
It was fifteen minutes to five as Cassie stepped onto the landing, calling goodbye to Lil and Maggie and closing the door crisply. Her hair was freshly washed and wrapped in a pink scarf; she was wearing a long floral dress and smelled of jasmine. She was ready for her date. She paused as the sudden noise of a door opening further down the corridor caught her attention, and she watched as a man emerged from the room occupied by Sue, Denise and Emily. A muscular woman with auburn hair, wearing a long T-shirt that came to her thighs, rushed out and embraced him passionately. Cassie held her breath, watching the couple kiss. Denise hugged Ken for the final time before he checked the timepiece on his wrist hurriedly and rushed upstairs to his garret room.
Cassie descended the narrow flight of steps to the front entrance. As she stood in the doorway, she encountered Sue on her way in, who seemed excessively delighted to see her.
‘Cassie, I’ve just had the most wonderful time at the beauty salon. Do you like my nails? The colour’s called Peach Passion.’
Cassie glanced at her outstretched hands with immaculate nails. ‘Lovely.’
‘Are you going somewhere? Did I hear that you have a date? Is it a local man, from Amsterdam?’
‘Piet. He’s a musician. I’m having dinner with him.’
Sue caught her breath. ‘You don’t waste any time, do you, my dear?’
‘Pardon?’ Cassie frowned.
‘Oh, you know.’ Sue waved her flawless hands. ‘Amsterdam. It’s a perfect place for an amour. I mean, I know that’s a French word, but when you’re away from home, a little fling might be just what the doctor ordered, don’t you think?’
Cassie pressed her lips together. She thought of Ken creeping guiltily from the room next door but decided it was better to say nothing.
‘You look nice, Cassie – you smell nice too.’ Sue waved her n
ewly painted fingers. ‘A girl has to look her best, especially when she wants to impress a man. And, you know, you might not be the only one around here who has a beau on her arm. I’ll see you tomorrow – and you must tell me all about the date with Piet.’
Sue tripped away; Cassie could hear her feet tapping on the wooden staircase as she ran back to her room. She crossed the road, negotiating a passing car, and suddenly felt sorry for Sue and Denise. Someone’s feelings would certainly be hurt.
Cassie recalled Sue’s deliriously optimistic voice a few minutes ago and Denise’s enthusiasm as she had clutched Ken in a final embrace outside her room. There was clearly something serious going on between Denise and Ken and between Ken and Sue. It would end badly. Someone was almost definitely going to suffer, Cassie decided sombrely. She recalled her own past, the two long-term relationships she’d had: how both Mo in Dakar and Jon in Guangzhou had loved her for a while and she had loved them back, then she had become restless. They had found her too independent, too headstrong and unwilling to commit. So she had moved on.
Cassie strolled along the busy street, her handbag over her shoulder, lost in thought. She wondered if Piet would be her type, creative like herself, a partnership of two similar people drawn together by their love of music. She pictured them writing songs, singing in harmony, and for a moment she imagined herself living in Amsterdam, performing at the Zwart Gat. Then she crossed the road and Jamie’s smile popped into the space in her thoughts, and she found herself smiling back.
23
Lil was still talking about the wonderful food as she left the restaurant with Maggie. They couldn’t agree: Lil said the buddha bowl she’d eaten with rice and beans and hummus had been delicious, Maggie replied that the sweet potato and quinoa burger had stuck between her teeth and the portions were too small. Lil suggested that they walk back to the hotel together and stop off in a supermarket so that Maggie could buy some crisps, and she cheered up. DJ, Jake, Emily and Pat had gone to a club. Both Pat and Emily had been on the phone through most of the meal, Pat chatting delightedly to Thilde and Emily frowning anxiously as she struggled to get a connection on her phone to Alex, her boyfriend.
Lil had noticed that both Sue and Denise had dressed impeccably, both smelling of strong fragrances as they sat across the table from her on either side of Ken, who wore a smart blazer, a turquoise cravat and a crisp shirt. Sue and Denise were both trying to persuade Ken to sample some of their delicious food, holding forks to his mouth, competing to tempt him with tasty morsels.
Tommy and Duncan had gone to a bar with Albert; the wholefood restaurant did not serve alcohol and Duncan had asked aloud what was the point of eating well if you couldn’t wet your whistle at the same time?
Ken, Sue and Denise had taken a stroll down the river, hoping to go on a short night cruise on the Amstel. Lil had asked to go with them – she was fascinated by the way both women were competing for Ken’s attention and wanted to find out who was winning – but Maggie had said that she was tired and she wanted to look at some of the gifts she’d bought, especially Brian’s, so Lil reluctantly accompanied her back to the hotel. She wished Cassie were there. There was so much she wanted to share: the mystery about Ken having two admirers, the anxiety about Emily as she gave up trying to contact her boyfriend, the romantic message she’d sent on a postcard to Herman earlier, but most of all she wanted to know how Cassie was getting along with her new man friend. Lil felt irrationally anxious. There was no reason why she should feel uncomfortable – she had never met Piet but she trusted her daughter’s wisdom perfectly – but she had worries, spiders wriggling beneath her skin.
Maggie’s voice was pulling her from her thoughts. ‘…and a T-shirt each for the girls and a couple of mugs with “I heart Amsterdam” on and a lovely windmill clock, a clog windchime and some chocolate…’
‘That’s nice.’ Lil grinned.
Maggie tucked an arm through hers, still chattering. ‘And I bought something really nice for Brian. I mean, it’s a bit naughty but this is the first time in all our married life we’ve been apart, except when I was in hospital having the kids, so I thought I’d get him something special… and it wasn’t cheap…’
They had turned a corner into a street with bright lights; loud music boomed from brightly lit shops and bars. Many windows were illuminated by soft, red glowing lamps. Lil saw a figure move in one of the windows. A woman stood up, wriggled and turned, then sat down again. Lil caught her breath. ‘Maggie, we’re in the middle of the red-light area.’
Maggie stopped and stared at her friend. ‘Oh, no – should we go back?’
‘Why ever would we do that?’
‘Someone might proposition us.’ Maggie was aghast with fear.
Lil laughed. ‘I’m eighty-two and you’re only a few years younger, Maggie. We’d have more chance of being propositioned if we paid the clients.’
Maggie was still horrified. ‘But what about Fifi Bagatelle, the madam in the bordello in Frolics in the House?’
‘What about her?’
‘She had sex with lots of the men… and she was seventy…’
‘No, she didn’t – she ran a brothel. She just took the money.’
‘So – all these ladies in the windows. Who takes their money?’ Maggie gaped.
‘I’ve no idea.’ Lil stopped to admire a statuesque woman in a bikini, long dark hair over her shoulders. ‘These ladies are very beautiful.’
‘But look at this place, Lil – it’s so busy, and listen to all that loud music.’ Maggie hugged Lil’s arm. ‘I think we should go back to the hotel as quickly as we can.’
‘Let’s not go just yet.’ Lil’s eyes were bright with curiosity. ‘I’ve never been to a red-light district before. This could be really interesting.’
Cassie followed Piet onto his houseboat, moored at the side of the river. The outside was plain wood, with several hanging plants on the narrow deck. Downstairs, Cassie felt as if she were cocooned: the living room immediately felt cosy and warm, the walls were red, covered with bright paintings and mirrors with oak frames, and the floors were carpeted with richly coloured rugs. In the main cabin, a table was set for dinner, a low golden lantern hanging from the ceiling, and a stove with a small fire glowed in the corner.
‘This isn’t what I expected. It’s very cosy and bright.’ Cassie was impressed as Piet led her into a galley, the walls covered with mosaic tiles. Terracotta pots on shelves held a variety of culinary herbs: rosemary, parsley, coriander, thyme. A pan simmered on a small cooker and a bowl of salad, the tomatoes and leaves glossy with dressing, had been placed on the worktop next to a chilled bottle of white wine and two glasses.
Piet raised an eyebrow. ‘Can I show you round? After I have poured us a glass of Pinot Grigio?’
Cassie nodded, accepting the glass he offered her, and followed him through the living area up a small flight of stairs to a galleried room. The walls were painted white and guitars stood next to amplifiers. Shelves were lined with books and Cassie was immediately struck by how organised everything seemed. She smiled. ‘So – this is home? It seems very comfortable.’
‘I have lived here for seven years now.’ Piet waved an arm around, indicating his guitars. ‘I have all I need and I am happy. Shall we go back downstairs?’
Cassie sat at the table while Piet served the food, a steaming bowl of risotto and a colourful salad.
‘A simple risotto – mushrooms, peas, garlic, cream. I hope you will like it.’ He topped up her glass and sat down opposite.
Cassie gazed around the living room: more books, more guitars, all tidily arranged. A window looked out onto the Amstel. She made a mental note to gaze through it later as the lights of the city reflected against the water, streaks of colour writhing with the lilt of the boat; she decided it would be lovely. Piet read her thoughts. ‘After we have eaten, I hope we can take our drinks onto the deck and watch the city as it celebrates the night time.’
Cassie lifted a fork and bega
n to eat. The food was creamy and delicious. ‘This risotto is very good.’ She noticed Piet watching her, his fork in mid-air. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’
Piet smiled, a subtle movement of his lips. ‘I have ulterior motives.’
Cassie raised an eyebrow, remembering the warnings Lil and Maggie had given her earlier. Piet wasn’t exhibiting danger signs, certainly not yet, but she was alone on his houseboat, the river all around them. ‘Oh?’
‘I want us to write a song together after we have eaten dessert.’ He chewed slowly. ‘We can take instruments up onto the little deck, open a bottle of brandy and compose something wonderful.’
‘I’d like that.’ Cassie murmured.
‘Then perhaps we can talk about you and your music, your poems.’ Piet pushed his food away, half eaten. ‘And what it might take to persuade you to stay here in Amsterdam, at least for a time. Or maybe you might want to come back in the future and we could play some music together.’
‘Perhaps.’ Cassie reached for her wine. ‘Amsterdam is a very inviting city.’
Piet stood up, pushing his chair back, and moved around the table to stand behind Cassie, putting his hands lightly on her shoulders. ‘And you are a fascinating and talented woman,’ he muttered, his cheek against her hair. ‘I think we could be a wonderful partnership. It is good to share your company. There is so much we might share together, Cassie. What do you think?’
Cassie closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. It was very nice, the meal, the wine, the cosy houseboat, the prospect of composing interesting music with Piet on deck while gazing at the city lights dancing against the dark water of the river. But as for anything else beyond this moment where she sat at his table, feeling his breath against her neck, she had no idea at all what she wanted.
Lil dragged Maggie down the street, stopping to gaze at the beautiful women in the windows, bathed in red light. A particularly stunning woman, tall and slender with auburn hair, was surrounded by a purple light; in the window next to her, a small woman was sitting on a stool, dark hair piled on her head, wearing silky underwear, knitting. Around them, people walked past, many oblivious, pausing to go into shops and cafés, and Lil marvelled at how normal it all seemed, to be strolling past a parade of women dressed as if they were entering a beauty contest. But the women weren’t smiling; they seemed calm and composed as they stared out into the busy street, almost uninterested.