“Tim, get off that at once! Mummy said no climbing on the frame,” I yelled, but he wasn’t listening to me, as usual. I’d had little energy to discipline him over recent months. I wasn’t sure whether he was acting out because he missed his father, which made it harder to be firm with him.
Ever since Sandra’s funeral, I’d promised myself not to brood about the circumstances regarding Oliver’s death anymore. Dwelling on it wouldn’t get me anywhere – Oliver was no longer here and sadly would never return to this earth. I’d resolved to start a new chapter. I tried to blank out the note I’d received so unexpectedly through the post and instead, focused on Tim and my work. So far this approach was working out quite well.
I walked towards Tim in a don’t-mess-with-mummy way and directed him back to the blue, plastic sandpit, which contained enough toys to keep him entertained for a while. To my relief, he accepted my authority, which made me resolve to be strict more often. I walked back to the sun-drenched bench where I had a good view of Tim, and sat down. The first crocuses were poking through the ground, which was still cold and hard from winter, suggesting spring had started earlier than usual this year.
A man of a similar age to me on the adjacent bench gave a friendly smile. “Children,” he said knowingly.
I shrugged my shoulders in a gesture common to all parents and mustered up a faint smile in return. Then I leaned back and tilted my head towards the sun, closing my eyes and feeling the delightful rays warm up my face – I could do with a bit more colour on my cheeks after the long winter, I thought to myself.
“What’s your son’s name?” the man asked, eager to strike up a conversation.
I opened my eyes and replied curtly. “Tim.” I had little interest in small talk.
He nodded. “I’ve got a three-year old,” he carried on. “A girl. Toddlers are wonderful, but they have a mind of their own,” he chuckled.
I made a half-hearted attempt to see which child in the playground he was referring to, but then decided that I wasn’t bothered and merely nodded.
He didn’t take the hint. “She’s not here, actually. Bella goes to her mother from Tuesday to Saturday afternoon. We’re divorced,” he added, shrugging apologetically.
I stared at him in astonishment. Why was he sharing all of this with me? I glanced at Tim who was building a sandcastle with a bucket and a spade.
The man continued his story. “We split up just six months ago. It’s hard, you know. Really tough. You think it’ll last forever, but it transpired that I was the only one who’d made that assumption.”
I moaned internally and muttered something incomprehensible. What did this guy want from me?
He needed little encouragement to carry on expressing his melancholy. “I’m only off work on Wednesday afternoons, so I hardly have time to come to the playground. That’s why I sometimes sit here at the weekends, just by myself, and reminisce about the times when all three of us came here together.”
Holy cow – was this man for real? He wouldn’t stop blabbering on about his life. “Right,” I responded politely, and then immediately closed my eyes, hoping he would end his lengthy monologue. As far as I was concerned, this conversation was over.
The man wasn’t in the slightest bit thrown off though. “You must think I’m being pathetic.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his muscular thighs, hands clasped together, and grinned. To my annoyance, it was an attractive, boyish smile. “Alright, I admit, I can be a sentimental fool,” he said disarmingly.
I rolled my eyes when he wasn’t looking. “Oh no, not at all,” I said, gritting my teeth. Why couldn’t this man just leave me alone? I considered taking Tim home early, but the fear of a tantrum made me decide otherwise.
“So what about you? Happily married, I presume?”
The ball was in my court now. I raised my chin. “Not quite. I’m a widow.” Perversely enough, it felt satisfying to be able to take advantage of my unusual status. Surely that would silence the man. He was visibly shocked. “How … How awful. I’m truly sorry for your loss.” My message had obviously taken him by surprise, as it always did when I informed people. “I had no idea that …” His voice trailed off. Just when I thought he was going to remain quiet, he asked me an unexpected question. “Do you mind if I sit next to you?”
He didn’t even have the courtesy to wait for an answer but stood up and lowered himself next to me, whereupon I jumped up and moved to the far end of the bench. This wasn’t part of my plan, I thought, while my heart started pounding wildly.
As he chatted about how sorry he was for me, I noticed the wrinkles surrounding his intense brown eyes, that revealed themselves every time he smiled. A five-o’clock shadow gave him an edgy, dishevelled flair that enhanced his strong features. His gaze was attentive and formed a refreshing contrast to the way most people looked at me with pity when they heard my sorrowful life event.
He somehow seemed familiar and I remembered reading somewhere that if you feel like you’ve met someone before it means that you find them attractive. To my dismay, a fierce wave of desire passed through me and I felt completely overwhelmed by it.
“Was it sudden, or had he been sick for some time?” came the man’s voice.
I tried to focus my attention on his question. “He died as a result of a tragic accident. So it was all very sudden,” I said, gazing ahead. I considered giving more details as I knew my brief summary of events would presumably raise questions, but then decided to refrain. “He just had terrible luck.”
He ran a hand through his shiny, curly hair. “Blimey, that’s awful. When did this all happen?”
A cloud slid across the sun, sending a chill through me. I pulled my hands inside the sleeves of my jacket. “He died last year.” Something caught my attention and I jumped up. “Tim. Stop that! Don’t throw the sand.” I waited to see if he carried on, but my resolute response from earlier must have made an impact and shouting directions from a distance was sufficient to correct him. I sat down again.
“At work there was also a guy who died at a young age, leaving his wife and child behind. I guess I shouldn’t be complaining then, at least Bella still has her mother.”
A shiver went down my spine. “Where do you work?”
He directed his gaze towards me. “You probably wouldn’t know it. It’s an American law firm called Mason & McGant.”
I could feel the blood rushing to my head, making my temples throb. Had I just heard right? “You’re kidding,” I mumbled. “My husband worked there.”
It took a moment for him to comprehend what I’d said, but then I saw the bafflement in his eyes. “Was your husband Oliver? Oliver Smits?”
Was this a joke? Coincidences like this made me very nervous and suspicious. “That’s him,” I whispered and felt my mouth drop. “I can’t believe it.”
A look appeared in his eyes that I couldn’t quite read. “I met Oliver a few times during meetings.” The man was wearing fashionable heavy-framed glasses and pressed them onto his nose. “I didn’t know him well though. He worked in a different department to mine and started out as a paralegal, right? I joined Mason & McGant later than him, but directly as a lawyer. I did my years of paralegal work at a different firm.”
Suddenly the letters written with a black marker on the DVD appeared in front of my eyes again. Would this man also have been recorded on camera or did he beat the rap because he entered the firm with experience, rather than being a paralegal?
I shook my head, struggling to repress the image. “You look familiar to me – I must have seen you before at one of the firm’s parties.”
“Might well have.” He leaned back and rested an arm on top of the bench, opening out his chest towards me, and raised his eyebrows. “Although I highly doubt I would forget an attractive woman like you.”
To my horror, I started blushing as a result of his cheesy remark and averted my eyes. Jennifer, get a grip for crying out loud, I said to myself. I looked like a bloody schoolgirl.
I ignored his flirty comment. “Do you live nearby?”
He mentioned a neighbourhood where Oliver and I had once viewed several sought-after houses, but Oliver ultimately wanted to move to an area with more grandeur. “It’s about five minutes from the Vondelpark.”
“Nice neighbourhood,” I responded.
“Where do you and your son live?”
The sun reappeared from behind the clouds. “In the Valeriusstraat. It’s very close, in the Museum Quarter.”
He drew his breath in with a whistle. “Not bad.”
I smiled graciously.
Tim came up to me with a cup filled with sand and wanted me to have a bite of his pretend pastry. He spilled half of it over my trousers, but I was glad he was playing more appropriately now, so I kept quiet and played along with him.
He wobbled back to the sandpit with a bright smile on his face as I brushed the sand off my legs.
The man, who I now allowed myself to call attractive, held out his hand. “I’m Dan Bernstein, by the way.”
I enclosed his fingers with mine. “Jennifer. Jennifer Smits.”
He held on to my hand a second too long with an intense look in his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man’s deep voice stirred a wave of heat inside me. I lowered my eyes.
Dan let go of my hand, stood up and zipped his jacket. He handed me a business card with the all too familiar logo printed on it.
Daniel Bernstein, Lawyer.
“You seem a lovely woman, Jennifer. Give me a call if you ever feel like meeting up in the future.”
I looked up at him for a moment, while he was waiting for my response, my hand shielding my eyes from the sun. Was this the way people over thirty flirted? No beating about the bush, just say it like it is? It had been such a long time since I’d been single, I felt like an alien trying to adapt to a completely unfamiliar habitat.
“I’ll think about it,” was my diplomatic answer.
But I wouldn’t dream of it. My head was nowhere near dating.