“Good morning,” I called out breezily to Simone as I walked into the practice. Simone looked up from her computer behind the reception desk and smiled. “Good morning.”
I entered the small administration office, rubbing my hands together. It had unexpectedly frozen last night and I’d forgotten to wear gloves on my bike. My hands were red raw from the cold.
“Best wishes for the new year,” I said, when Simone got up from her chair and gave me a hug.
“To you as well,” she responded good-humouredly and sat down on her chair. “Ready to get back to work?”
“Yes, I’m right as rain again,” I quipped. The past few weeks had done me good. I’d extended my time off by an extra week so that I didn’t have to work over the Christmas holidays, which thankfully I’d survived and were now behind me. Hans didn’t mind manning the practice at this time of year, and it was generally quieter than normal, making it a piece of cake for him.
“Wonderful,” Simone responded, focusing on her work again.
I thought back to our last interaction a few weeks ago and was overcome by a feeling of shame. The poor girl had only started working here recently and had already been barked at by her boss. “Simone,” I said in a muffled voice, as I didn’t want any patients in the waiting room to overhear our conversation. “I’d like to offer an apology for the way I acted last time I was here. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, it was very unkind and unprofessional.”
She looked at me with a friendly expression that made me feel even more guilty. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now. I can imagine sometimes it all becomes too much,” she reasoned.
I solemnly pledged not to let it happen again.
We were interrupted by an elderly patient who came up to the counter. “Excuse me, how much longer do I need to wait? I have an appointment with Doctor Nolten and have been waiting for nearly half an hour.” Hans usually took on the early consultations and was apparently running late.
Simone glanced at her computer. “You had an appointment at ten to eight. That was only fifteen minutes ago, sir,” she said. “You’ll have to be patient with us, I’m afraid. Please have a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.” Her firm attitude pleased me.
I stealthily glanced at the waiting room, which was packed with people.
“I need to hurry up before we rile any more patients,” I said and winked at Simone.
She gave me a thumbs up.
I entered my office, switched on the lights, turned on the radiator, and started up my computer. My schedule was fully booked with consultations for the next few hours, followed by three home visits in the area.
By the end of the morning, Hans and went out for lunch so that we could catch up, which deviated from our usual routine of eating at the practice. Hans was the kind of person who had never been at the forefront of my life, but nevertheless formed a stable pillar in my existence, something I was in dire need of at the moment.
“Are you feeling better?” Hans asked as he ambled beside me, towards a Turkish sandwich cafe nearby, where they had a large range of lunch options. The air had the humid expectation of a shower, but it wasn’t raining for the time being.
“I guess so,” I responded. I still didn’t feel quite like myself, but certainly small steps had been made. Perhaps I’d never completely feel like the old Jennifer again, but that was okay.
“It’s actually quite nice to get out,” Hans said as we entered the cafe. “We should do this more often.”
I ordered a sandwich and a bottle of still water, and then chose a spot by the window. We were surrounded by a mixture of business people out for lunch, and locals from the community.
The place was plainly furnished with plastic tables and chairs that resembled garden furniture, but the owner’s friendliness was genuine and endless, and the sandwiches excellent.
“So how have you been doing?” Hans asked, looking up at me with his pale green eyes. I noticed his messy, black hair was showing streaks of grey at his temples. The well-worn blue cable jumper, which looked like it had been knitted by his mother years ago, was hanging loosely around his waist.
“I’m okay,” I answered.
He quietly chewed his sandwich and looked at me expectantly.
I felt somewhat uncomfortable with the silence, which was probably a deliberate tactic on his part to make me speak. I caved. “It felt good to be working this morning. I have the impression that I can behave again,” I tried to joke.
Hans smiled graciously. “Good. Have you been able to relax a bit and spend some quality time with Tim?”
I thought back on the two night-time visits to Mason & McGant and snooping through the Van Santen file, and wondered if in all honesty I could call this relaxing. “Mwah, just a tad,” I said and suddenly found I couldn’t look him in the eye.
He seemed to accept my answer, which left me with a feeling of guilt. We’d known each other for so long that it felt wrong I was keeping him at arm’s length.
“Care for a refill?” he asked, holding the bottle of water over my cup, which was still half full.
I thanked him, after which he emptied the bottle into his own cup. It fell silent again, and I felt a knot forming in my stomach. The sandwich didn’t sit too well. Suddenly I wished we’d opted for lunch in our own practice, where I could have been comforted by familiar surroundings.
“Jennifer, you don’t have to confide in me,” Hans interrupted my thoughts. “It’s okay. Just know that I’ll always be there for you if …”
“I do want to confide in you,” I blurted. I inhaled deeply and let the air run out of my lungs with a lot of noise. I placed my sandwich on the recycled, brown cardboard plate in front of me. “I just don’t know where to start,” I said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Hans wasn’t up to speed on anything yet. Oliver’s affair, the red lace knickers found on his body, the puzzling suspicions regarding Mason & McGant. “I feel so confused.”
He gave me an encouraging nod.
“My thoughts are mixed up all the time. There seems to be little improvement, even though it’s been a few months now.” I shook my head. “I’d expected to get some sort of structure back in my mind. Am I making any sense?”
Hans nodded and swallowed his chunk of bread. “Sure, but perhaps you’re demanding too much of yourself, so soon after Oliver’s death. I think it’s quite normal for you to be completely lost in the first year when a loved one has died,” he said compassionately. “The ground has been swept away from beneath your feet. All the more because his death was unexpected. The love of your life, the father of your child, is suddenly gone,” Hans summed up aptly.
I looked past him, outside to where a tram trundled past and felt tears welling up.
“Sadness is a very strong emotion,” came Hans’ voice.
“It’s not just sadness,” I said softly. “If only it were. At least I’d know how to feel. But my feelings entail so much more. I’m angry and harbour resentment towards Oliver. I’ve been blatantly lied to.”
Hans looked at me puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
I turned my head away. Entrusting my friends with the details about Sandra had been pretty easy as I’d always shared the ups and downs with them. Here in this work setting, however, it felt like failure to admit that my marriage wasn’t what it had seemed to the outside world, even though I considered Hans a friend. I glanced around and lowered my voice, “I found out Oliver was having an affair just before his death.”
Hans’ expression didn’t change, he just laid his hand on my arm and patted it. “How awful.”
“The liaison allegedly wasn’t a big deal. That is, according to his mistress. I met her.” I made a silly face. “You must be thinking, why on earth did I go and find her?”
He said nothing but raised his eyebrows.
I continued my story without waiting for an answer and explained what Sandra had told me. Hans listened intently to everything I said.
“I wonder if our whole relationship was built on sand. It feels like the ultimate betrayal – seeing someone on the side and then sneaking off forever, leaving me stranded and without the ability to confront him,” I said as if he’d run away instead of died. But it was the best way to describe how I was feeling.
Hans nodded.
I clenched my fists as I spoke. “It’s only now that I realise how furious I am with him,” I said in a raised voice. “He had no right to be messing around with another woman, while I’m left facing the reality of raising our son on my own.”
My voice broke with emotion and I felt tears welling up. From the corner of my eye I noticed the people at the table next to us had paused their conversation for a moment and were gaping at me.
“Oh dear,” Hans breathed with an air of awkwardness.
I was mortified and quickly wiped away the tears. “I’m okay. Really,” I added, though I wasn’t particularly convincing. “To be frank, times are tough – I feel like I’m spinning plates. I hardly have a moment’s rest, now that I’m doing everything on my own. I don’t sleep well and during the day there’s either work or Tim to attend to. I’ve become a couch potato in the evening due to exhaustion. There’s hardly any time left for me.”
He nodded. “I don’t want to justify Oliver’s behaviour. He arguably made poor choices and what he did was wrong. But every relationship has its blips. From what I just heard, the affair didn’t mean anything. There isn’t a doubt in my mind, he would have eventually come to his senses and realised what he was doing was wrong, and would have ended the relationship. It’s very unfortunate he didn’t get the chance. I wouldn’t draw any firm conclusions about your marriage as a whole.”
I pressed my knuckles against my teeth trying to hold back the tears and only managed to mumble something incoherently.
“You might not expect it, but Nathalie and I also had a rough time in the past.”
I was nonplussed – I couldn’t ever picture Hans having an extramarital sweetheart. The thought of my colleague, with his sizeable belly and the silly outfits dating from a previous decade, chasing ladies, made me laugh out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Hans asked in surprise.
I shook my head and looked down. I didn’t want to give him the feeling that I was making fun of him, although a good laugh did help me to release some of the tension. I took a bite of my sandwich. “I just didn’t see that coming. When?”
“Over eight years ago, before I knew you. We survived the hard days with Sofia and Marcus being young, but appeared to have lost each other somewhere in the process of changing nappies and nights of broken sleep. I was an absolute pest to live with at the time and we were this close to getting a divorce.”
“Blimey, I had no idea,” I said, but I could imagine. In our case, the many weeks of Tim’s crying when he was a baby had left considerable scars on our marriage.
He took a sip of water. “It was a long time ago. These things are easily forgotten with time. My point is that if Oliver hadn’t died, he’d have redeemed himself and your relationship would probably have survived. It would have been a mere stain on your marriage, which would have been smoothed over after a while.”
I pondered his words for a moment. “But then I might never have found out about the whole affair,” I said, outraged at the thought.
“Maybe he would have come clean. Maybe not.” He shrugged. “And maybe it doesn’t really matter that much. I didn’t see Oliver often, but on the few occasions I did run into him, I saw a man who really cared about his wife and child,” Hans said and smiled.
His comforting words helped. I wasn’t sure whether it was true what Hans was claiming, but I wanted to believe it. This heartfelt one-on-one with my colleague made me realise that I’d missed the talks Oliver and I used to have at the end of the day. A partner, a friend who was always there for you to discuss anything. Would I ever be able to find that again?
I slid my arm across the table and gave Hans an amicable pat on the shoulder. “Thank you. Nathalie is lucky to have you.”
“I know,” he said without a trace of sarcasm.
I smiled and finished up my sandwich.
“Listen,” Hans said suddenly. “In light of all of this, what would you think if you were to work one day less for the time being?”
His proposal caught me by surprise and before I could respond, Hans pressed on.
“Like you said, you hardly have any time for yourself. In the past you were able to do something fun over the weekend or in the evenings. Sports, or something,” he said, as if it was an activity he’d never choose himself. “Or meet up with a friend.”
“I’ve got my parents,” I sputtered. “They help me out quite a lot.”
“Happy to hear that, but if you were to have a full day each week to yourself, it’d give you a little room to breathe.”
I scratched my face. “Maybe you’re right. But how would we manage the practice?”
“Tom could probably pitch in. He’s already starting to become a lot more independent. If you’d be flexible about which day you’d take off, then we can probably make a schedule that suits all three of us.”
The thought of a weekly day off gave me a rush of energy. A wonderful feeling of lightness flowed through me as I began playing “what if” scenarios in my imagination. It’d be perfect to have a moment of no obligations and responsibilities. “Yes, of course, that shouldn’t be a problem at all. I’ll leave the arrangements at Tim’s day-care as they are, so that I really have that day to myself,” I said with a slight feeling of guilt, which I immediately shook off again. It was in Tim’s best interest that I looked after myself. After all, I was everything he had now, and I had to ensure that I remained well equipped to take good care of him.
“Alright then, that’s settled,” Hans said firmly, leaving no room for second thoughts on my part.
He glanced at his watch. “We ought to go, Jennifer. Duty calls.”
Was it that late again? I’d intended to inform Hans about the visits that Sandra and I’d paid to Mason & McGant and the findings we’d made, but there hadn’t been any opportunity. Sandra didn’t want anything to do with it anymore, that was clear, but I wasn’t ready to call it quits. I’d hit a dead end and I was in two minds as to how to proceed. To my regret, there was no time left to discuss the matter with Hans – the patients would be undoubtedly waiting for us back at the practice.
That evening, I curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and turned on one of my favourite Netflix series. I’d already finished the last season with Oliver, but had started watching it from scratch again. This time, however, I was struggling to stay focused. I’d tried to find closure with regards to Oliver’s sudden death and focus on the future, but I had such a strong suspicion that Oliver’s death was linked to some illicit practices at Mason & McGant, that I found it increasingly hard to let it go.
My stomach started growling. A glance at my watch told me that I’d normally have dinner around this time. Tim was staying with my parents tonight and so I had the house to myself. I paused the series and headed for the kitchen. I opened the fridge and had a look inside, but to my disappointment, there was little left at my disposal for a nutritious meal. I decided I’d order a pizza later on.
I grabbed my phone from the coffee table. Sandra had been crystal clear about no longer wanting to do me a good turn, yet I still wanted to make one final attempt to persuade her otherwise. She was the only one who, like me, believed that something shady was going on, moreover, she had something I needed.
An unfamiliar man answered my call, sounding deflated. “Hello.”
I was befuddled. Had I called the wrong number? “Er … It’s Jennifer,” I stammered. “Jennifer Smits. Who’s this? I was looking for Sandra.”
“You’re speaking to Sandra’s husband.”
“Right,” I said, feeling relieved. “Can I speak to her?”
I’d expected him to say something along the lines of ‘sure, just one sec’ or ‘she’ll be right there’. Instead he replied, “Sandra has passed away.”
I felt the wind knocked out of me. The nausea that had been bothering me so often lately, was suddenly present again, ever so fiercely.
I sank down on the sofa. “Passed away?” I croaked.
“She was involved in an accident three days ago on her bike.” He spoke without a trace of emotion. “She was hit by a tram.”
I gasped. This was unbelievable. Everybody living in Amsterdam knew you had to be careful with trams. Sandra didn’t seem like the type to be reckless. “What happened?” I whispered.
“The precise circumstances are still unknown. An investigation has been launched,” he stated, as if he was a police officer, but I knew that wasn’t the case and presumed his formal speech was due to a state of shock.
I started pacing up and down the living room. “Where did the accident take place?”
“In the Baarsjes neighbourhood, she was smashed by tram twelve.” The man named the exact street, which I knew to be a long and busy road, winding through the city. “It’s all so surreal,” he added, his voice sounding raspy.
“So surreal,” I repeated softly. What was Sandra doing in that less affluent neighbourhood? I’m sure she would have considered it to be ‘the wrong side of the track’. Although I wasn’t aware of her exact address, I knew that the location of the accident was a considerable distance from her own neighbourhood and even though the Baarsjes was now considered an up and coming area, I had the impression that Sandra preferred to remain in the more exclusive parts of the city.
‘I’m really sorry. I need to go,” the man apologised. “There’s so much that needs taking care of.”
“Of course,” I responded, feeling somewhat appalled at my own lack of sensitivity. I was bombarding that poor man with all these questions, while I of all people knew how much he had on his plate. “I’m truly sorry for your loss,” I added solemnly.
“Thank you.”
Something suddenly came to my mind. “Hold on. When is the memorial service going to be held?
“Tomorrow at eleven o’clock.” He gave the name of the crematorium. “I can’t quite comprehend that she’s never coming back,” he whispered.
“I know how you must feel. It’s gut-wrenching,” I said, and for a moment the devastated feeling of the first week after Oliver’s death washed over me again.
He didn’t seem to have heard me, or perhaps he didn’t want to go into it. “You’re more than welcome to attend. The more of Sandra’s friends and acquaintances show up, the better. How did you know my wife, by the way?”
It seemed out of the question to give an honest answer. There was no point in hurting that man any more than necessary. I knew exactly what it felt like to discover secrets after your spouse’s death – the intense feeling of loss and sorrow suddenly clouded by a mixture of anger and confusion. “I was a friend of Sandra’s,” I answered.
“I see.” He seemed satisfied with my answer. “Right then, I hope I’ll meet you tomorrow.”
I mumbled something in agreement, wished him all the best, and ended the conversation.
I leaned back and stared outside, where the slanting light of dusk came pouring through the windows. It was unfathomable – Sandra had been killed in an accident. How was this possible? I considered ringing up her husband again and offering my help as I knew he could certainly use it right now, but then decided it would be odd considering the situation. He presumably had plenty of friends and family to assist him.
I walked to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of Pinot Grigio. Lately, I appeared to have regained control of my drinking habits as I managed to spend the weekdays without any alcohol, but now I desperately needed a drop to calm my nerves.
I took a sip of the cool liquid and felt it burn in my empty stomach, sending a rush of heat through my body. I suddenly came to the realisation that without the access card from Sandra, I wouldn’t be able to gain entry to Mason & McGant and continue my search for answers. I immediately felt ashamed by my selfish thinking.
The sound of my phone ringing disrupted my thoughts.
I answered the call and returned to the living room.
“Hi Lindsey,” I said and heard how flat I sounded.
She knew me all too well. “What’s the matter? I thought you were enjoying a relaxed evening without Tim.”
I took another sip of the wine and lowered myself onto the soft cushions of the couch. “I just received some rather disturbing news,” I responded. “Remember I recently went to Mason & McGant with that Sandra woman?”
How could she have forgotten? I’d shared it with her during our appointment on Boxing Day and she’d made no secrets of her concerns. “Of course I remember you trespassing. Twice, actually,” she said pointedly.
I ignored her reproach and told her what I’d just heard.
The sound of her voice changed. “Oh dear. What a horrible accident,” she said. “Hit by a tram you said? She’s had terrible luck, to put it harshly.”
“You can say that again,” I responded, gulping down more wine. “I still can’t believe it.” I wanted to share with Lindsey that I found it all very disturbing – first Oliver had died as a result of an accident and now Sandra. But I knew Lindsey’s opinion was that I should leave all this behind me and I therefore decided to keep my mouth shut.
“I hadn’t known her that long and the circumstances in which we met were far from ideal, that goes without saying, but she wasn’t that bad,” I said truthfully, feeling the wine slowly relax me.
“It’s awful,” Lindsey said, then changed the subject. “I thought you’d decided to let the matter rest. Why did you ring her up again?”
I swallowed audibly. “I wanted to ask if I could borrow her husband’s key card,” I reluctantly admitted. I was willing to go all out to gain access to Mason & McGant so that I could record the images on the DVDs with my phone and share them with the police.
She let out a loud sigh that turned into a grunt. “Jen, what in heaven’s name is going on? You really have to stop this quest. You ought to focus your attention on yourself, make a fresh start. I told you before that I think you’re reading too much into it, but if you really want to undertake anything, you should go directly to the police. Those people are trained for these things.”
“Yeah sure,” I responded, biting my tongue, but I didn’t feel much for her plan. Arguably she was right, but I wanted to leave no stone unturned to make sure I’d have sufficient, concrete evidence to convince the detectives. I got up and walked to the kitchen to pour myself a refill.
Lindsey carried on remonstrating. “This is starting to sound like a wild-goose chase, if you ask me. Of all things, you definitely shouldn’t break into Mason & McGant again. Imagine someone catches you this time. It would all blow up in your face.”
I uttered a yelp and cursed loudly. I looked at the bottom of my foot, and discovered a Duplo block attached to it. I removed it and angrily tossed it into the box it should have been stored in.
“What happened?” Lindsey asked, now sounding worried.
“Nothing,” I grumbled and yanked open the fridge. I still hadn’t taken the effort to find someone to fix the stiff door. I emptied the bottle of wine into my glass and saw that it was my last. Maybe it was for the best.
“Can you please promise me you you’ll let it go and try to move on?” Lindsey pressed on.
I winced and held the phone away from my ear.
“Do something fun and relaxing for yourself. Something positive. Something constructive,” I heard Lindsey babbling from a distance.
This sounded like a slogan coming straight from the advertising agency where Lindsey was a project manager, I thought, and frowned.
“Try to get it out of your system. Why don’t you go on one of those yoga retreats on Ibiza or whatever and ask your parents to watch Timmy?”
A sigh escaped my lips.
“Well?” she insisted.
I didn’t want to make any false promises, but there was something I had in mind. “Alright. I’ll plan something fun.” I told her about the agreement I’d made with Hans and that I’d have a full day off every week for the time being. “Maybe we can have lunch together?” I suggested, something I normally wouldn’t manage on workdays, since my practice was located too far from Lindsey’s office.
“I have a much better idea,” she chirped. “Why don’t we go out for drinks tonight? Let’s go out the old-fashioned way, go clubbing. We could head to Paradiso or better still, Jimmy Woo.”
I moaned internally at the thought of a night on the town and leaned my head back against the fridge door. I felt like taking a rain check, but acknowledged it would be good for me to get out, instead of being cooped up in the house in front of the television with a tub of chocolate ice cream, my mind wandering off again.
I opened my eyes. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” I said, perking up.
“It’s settled then,” Lindsey responded, before I could change my mind. “I’ll pick you up around nine.”