The voyage from Leiden to Delft can’t go slowly enough. My instincts say it’s all too good to be true, sobering reality is going to come bursting in any second. Until that happens I want to believe in a life of love and happiness, and I savor every moment of it. Even the spring is doing its part to make this a pleasant journey. The polder landscape between Leiden and Delft is a succession of dykes with willow trees, lush green meadows and sprawling farms and windmills. I stand on deck watching the clouds that flit across the sun, the blue that re-emerges in their wake. I feel the wind on my skin, the weight of Matthias’s arm around my shoulders and I sigh.
“What’s that sigh for?” Matthias asks with a smile.
“Nothing in particular, it’s just for the moment. It’s a sigh of contentment.”
He pulls me even closer.
“We do need to discuss something, though,” I say.
“And what’s that?”
“Well, how we’re going to do this. I mean, you live in Amsterdam and I’m moving to Delft. That’s going to be inconvenient.”
He doesn’t reply and stares off into the distance. I feel a vague sense of unease rising inside me.
“What are your plans?” I ask tentatively.
It takes a long time for him to answer, too long. And when he does answer it sounds like he’s doing it against his will. “I don’t have any plans. I take each day as it comes.”
I regard him silently for a moment. “Ye-es,” I say eventually, “but everyone has to make a decision or two now and again, surely?”
“Is that so? I’d rather not if I can avoid it. I prefer to drift along and see what happens.”
I have to let this information sink in. “And you mean you want to do things that way with us as well.”
“Do you think that’s a bad thing? Just waiting and seeing how it goes?”
If I start raising objections now, I’ll scare him off. And after all, there’s still the chance that one day . . .
“Catrin?”
I manage a reassuring smile. “No, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’ve been married once and I wasn’t all that taken with it.”
The relief is all over his face. He kisses me briskly. “I knew we were cut from the same cloth. We like adventure and change, new experiences.”
I say nothing. I love him and I love a regular life. But if that’s the way he wants it, I’ll happily play the game.
We head up the Vliet toward Delft. The sun is beginning to set and the trees and windmills cast long shadows into the canal. Matthias has to go even further, to Delfshaven, and we agree that he’ll come to find me tomorrow.
“By the time you reach Delft, it’ll be too late to go to my brother’s,” he says. “And you’re probably tired as well. Go to the Mechelen Inn on the market square—they know me there. Ask for Johannes or Digna and give them this note. It says they can put all the expenses on my slate.”
“Thank you. When will you get there?”
“At nightfall tomorrow, if I’ve taken care of all my business. Will you manage without me until then?” He taps me teasingly on the nose.
“Of course,” I say. “I’ve spent my whole life until now managing just fine without you.”
Even though it’s only for a day and a night, I don’t like saying goodbye. After a long embrace and an even longer kiss, I climb onto the dock at Noordeinde. With my bundle at my feet, I stand and wave to Matthias as the cargo ship continues on its way up the Vliet. It disappears from view as it rounds a bend and a feeling of intense loneliness washes over me. I sounded so tough when I said I could manage just fine without Matthias, and of course it was true, but I do feel a sudden absence at my side.
I take a deep breath, pick up my things and ask a passer-by how to get to the marketplace.
“Walk,” says the man with a grin, but he does point me in the right direction. “Go down Old Delft Street and take a left at New Street. Then you’re there.”
After a swift thank you, I head off. The working day is over and it’s busy on the streets. Maids and workers are heading home, farmers are leaving the city before the gates shut and shopkeepers are fastening the drop-down hatches they’ve been displaying their goods on. Delft isn’t all that much bigger than Alkmaar, and there are similarities, with all their little canals and houses with stepped gables. It gives me a pleasant sense of homecoming.
Most of the streets are in the shade by this time; the sun only shines on the buildings in a small corner of the market square.
My gaze sweeps over the stepped gables and stops at a building next to the church. The sign above the door depicts a beer barrel and a bed. To be certain, I ask a woman selling brooms whether it is the Mechelen Inn, and it is.
It’s busy inside, all the tables are taken. A young man is standing at the bar and I approach him. “I’m looking for Johannes.”
“That’s me,” he says, giving me a quizzical look.
“I’m Catrin Barentsdochter. Matthias van Nulandt recommended this inn to me.” I produce the rolled-up note.
Johannes reads it and when he looks up, he greets me with a smile this time. “Any friend of the Van Nulandt family is a friend of mine. Welcome, Catrin. You’ve had a long journey, you must be tired and hungry.” He turns to a woman with dark hair and a curious expression who is on her way over to us. “This is Catrin, a friend of Matthias van Nulandt. Catrin, this is my mother, Digna. Have we got anything tasty left for her, Ma?”
“Of course.” Digna nods politely. “The only thing is, you’ll have to share a table with some of the other guests. Johannes, see if there’s a seat free.”
Her son leads me to a long table where a number of ladies and gentlemen are having a meal. I notice the clientele seem wealthy. The inn is fancy, too; rather than bare boards it has a green tiled floor covered in sand to absorb spilled drinks. The taproom is large and long, it has several fireplaces and the walls are adorned with paintings of tavern scenes. This is no cheap place to sleep for the night. I feel out of place in my simple, rumpled clothes and sit quietly at the end of the table without venturing to speak to any of the other guests.
The food, white beans in plum syrup, is delicious. After a flagon of beer to wash it down, a wave of tiredness engulfs me. A maid takes me to my room—which I don’t have to share—and I fall asleep as soon as I lie down.