20 DECEMBER, AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS
We arrive in Amsterdam the next morning. There’s something very relaxing about the way the train trundles slowly as we sleep to the next location and we wake to a new city – it’s such an effortless way to travel, to unpack once and enjoy the ride. It’s much like cruising where all the heavy lifting is done for travellers, leaving the day open for activities.
I glance at the clock and debate whether to ring for breakfast or go and find Princess and see what her plans are for the day when really all I want to do is stay put. Having spoken to Freya last night, that worry about Miles still lingers. I’m not sure I can be upbeat this morning, put on my happy face for the other passengers.
There’s a knock at the door and I spring out of bed to throw on a dressing gown. Thankfully, Sabrina managed to switch the gowns so there’s no embroidery announcing my newlywed status.
‘Morning,’ she says when I open the door. ‘I hope I’m not intruding but you weren’t in the dining carriage with the others, so I wanted to check-in and see if you’d prefer breakfast in bed?’
In the compact hallway the couple from the cabin next door are in the middle of a long noisy kiss. Seriously? They couldn’t do that behind closed doors? I grab Sabrina’s hand and pull her into my cabin. ‘Those two, are… wow.’
‘Noisy?’
‘Last night, very. I’m guessing they’re in the’ – I swallow a lump in my throat – ‘honeymoon stage of their relationship and can’t keep their hands off each other.’
Sabrina rolls her eyes. ‘Sickening, isn’t it? The way everyone on board is so in love.’ I’m sure she’s only sympathising because she’s under the impression that I’m a grieving widow, and right now, I’ll take any sympathy I can get.
‘Don’t listen to me, I’m just a bitter, rejected, dejected, erm, sad sack who wants to wallow in misery when I’m on the world’s most beautiful luxurious train.’ Talk about wasting the opportunity of a lifetime! Hiding out in my cabin, waiting for the rest of the passengers to leave so I can ugly cry, possibly howl, and not have any witnesses. It’s going to get messy. I can feel it bubbling away inside me, that gamut of emotions I’ve mostly been avoiding.
‘Ah,’ Sabrina says. ‘This is to be expected after suffering a loss the way you have.’
‘That’s the thing, though. He’s not dead! He’s a horrible little man!’
Sabrina knits her fingers and her brow. I get the feeling she’s about to impart some wisdom. ‘You’re in the anger stage of grief. And before you go to protest…’ She holds up a hand as I go to do just that. ‘Let me reassure you, this stage is necessary. It’s OK to be angry at his sudden death. It’s OK to hate him just a little bit – I mean, there are plenty of visual and audio warnings about minding the gap, so it’s understandable you’re peeved. Grief changes shape with time. One day you love the guy, the next you hate him. I’m not clinically trained of course, but I’d say these are all healthy responses to what you’re going through.’
Oh God, here we are again. I’m too heartsore to argue further. ‘Yeah. Today I just feel the heaviness of it all. As if it’s only just caught up with me.’ It’s hard to nail down how I feel. I go from being sympathetic that he panicked to furious he can’t communicate.
‘That makes sense. You did seem rather chipper that first day – most likely wearing a mask, as we women so often do. The whole nothing-to-see-here thing.’
Well, she’s right in a way. ‘I don’t feel like exploring today, and then I feel guilty about it, like I’m wasting the opportunity to visit Amsterdam.’
‘You can always see it another time. Plenty of passengers miss stops along the way. It’s the best time to soak up the activities onboard when there’s fewer people about. I’d suggest a self-care day. Just say the word and I’ll bring a tray of assorted cakes and treats for you. You could watch some Christmas movies? Have popcorn and hot cocoa. If you did feel like getting out in Amsterdam, there are certain cafés that offer certain substances, all perfectly legal here, that just might help you escape your head for a bit? A chocolate brownie with a twist, let’s just say.’ She waggles her brow.
I laugh at the thought of eating an Amsterdam brownie and wandering around in an even bigger daze. ‘Thank you, Sabrina. I like the sound of watching Christmas movies and eating sugary treats.’ If I turn up the volume on the TV that will help muffle my wailing. ‘Wait, I don’t have a TV in here.’
‘You have everything in here, it’s just hidden. Allow me to show you.’ Sabrina is all brisk efficiency as she goes to the bed and crouches down. ‘There’s a latch here, you just pull it up and the bed moves to a sitting angle.’
There’s a mechanical whirr as the bed transforms into a giant seat. ‘That’s amazing. I’ll stay in this cabin for the rest of my natural-born life.’
‘There’s more.’ She grins and presses a button that releases a white screen. ‘It’s top of the range, and there’s mood lighting when you’re ready to watch. With this remote you can scroll through a range of lighting options and also flick through all the movies on offer.’
‘Wow.’
‘Pretty cool, right? I’ll be back with some tempting morsels.’
‘That’s my day sorted.’ I flop on the bed lounge and pull the rug over my lap.
I decide that it’s fine to have lazy day and if I spend the day crying along to Christmas movies it might just be the release I need. I need to fall apart so I can put myself back together again. Stronger, this time.
* * *
After an epic Christmas movie marathon watching all my favourites likeLove Actually(Harry, what were you thinking!) andThe Holiday(oh, how I love you, Kate Winslet) the tears fell unabashedly. I feel slightly better, if not a little puffy. I get to thinking about love and how we often make it hard for ourselves, when really, it should come much easier. It does for some, and then there are others, like me, who are decidedly unlucky.
Why? I mull it over, considering my new friends in the Unlucky in Love Travel Club, and deduce it can only mean we just haven’t crossed paths with our soulmate yet – that’s the only logical explanation. Jasper’s ruggedly handsome face pops into my mind’s eye, making me reflect on the guy. Yes, he’s unequivocally handsome, but as I’ve got to know him better, he’s so much more than just the sum of his looks. Still, I’m not here to walk into yet another mistake.
Speaking of mistakes, there’s Princess, sabotaging her own love life when it’s so obvious she yearns for a plus one. In the quiet of the afternoon, I do a little research on curses just out of morbid curiosity, nothing else. I stumble on a website of an albularyo and feel a bit like Rox must do when she does her dark web deep dives.
14
