Journey to the Centre of Myself (6 page)

My room looks over the River Spree, and I can see a long row of shops and cafes and an Irish bar. It looks random amongst its sophisticated neighbours, with its garish green decor. It would appear the snow has stopped for the present time.

I make myself a coffee from the tray provided, strip down to my undies and dive under the duvet. It is divine. This is the best bed I have occupied in my whole life. It sounds cliche, but I imagine this is how lying on a cloud would be. I eat the packet of shortbread biscuits from the tray, grab my new pen and journal and record my journey so far. It takes a while and I both smile and shake my head at what has occurred to date. Who’d have thought a mini break could prove so complicated?

Journal discarded, I lie back against the pillows and let the thoughts I have kept at bay invade. I’m safe here now. I can let it all free. Reaching into my bag, I withdraw my mobile phone. I switch it on and scroll through to see several missed calls and texts from Adrian. A sigh escapes my mouth, but I send a reply: ‘I have arrived. Right now I’m where I want to be. Please don’t text or ring again because I won’t reply. I’ll be home when I’m ready.’ A few minutes later I get a reply, ‘Okay. Only because I want to show you I’m listening. I love you.’

I throw my phone back in my bag. Yes, I know he loves me, but what is love without trust? I’ve been treated like a butterfly in a net over the past seven years. My only crime is mourning my daughter.

I take a photo out of my bag. My beautiful Genevieve at three months old. The last photo
before meningitis took her from our world. It's wrinkled and bent and I try to smooth it out with my fingers. Eventually, I find I’m wiping away a tear that has dripped onto it.

We’d tried for a baby for so long. We investigated our infertility and were told there was nothing wrong with either of us, we needed to be patient. Five long years we waited, and then I found out I was pregnant. I had the easiest pregnancy. It was like I was born to be a mother, and when she arrived my life was complete. Adrian was besotted with the creature that could curl him around her tiny little fingers. We had three months of utter bliss until the night we entered her room and found her with a raging fever, in severe pain and distraught. We rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late, bacterial meningitis and heaven had laid claim to our daughter.

I turn my head into the pillows and let it out; the pain and heart-wrenching agony that has never left me. For once, no-one comes in and tries to make it okay. The release is immense and when I stop, I’m consumed by exhaustion. I slip further under the pillows and sleep, more free and rested than I’ve been in a long time.

Later, I wake and look at the alarm clock on my side; it’s just turned five-thirty. My eyes feel swollen, but being empty stomached from a lack of food makes me imagine an overall sense of being purged and cleansed. I head to the bathroom, splash my face with cold water and tie my hair back. It’s time to see a little of what’s around me.

I wrap up in my coat, with hat, scarf and gloves and head out of the hotel. I carry on walking down Friedrichstrasse, passing a shopping complex full of designer wear. There’s a display of expensive classic and sports cars in the window, as if it’s natural to call in from the street and buy a Porsche. After a few minutes, I come to the most astonishing chocolate shop.

Set in a six-story building based on Charlottenstrasse, the windows are filled with miniature replicas of all the sights in Berlin. I walk in and stare at the Brandenburg gate. The aroma from the shop is intense, but the richness for me comes from the sight of so much chocolate. Down one entire wall is a glass covered counter that houses two hundred different handcrafted pralines in multiple flavours, and forty chocolate tortes. I study the tortes with the attention of a quality control expert. I stare at one, in particular, it’s like a sculpture. An oval chocolate shape sits in front of a triangle of chocolate with a rectangular piece placed through holes in the shapes. The whole structure sits atop a cylinder of the silkiest dark chocolate. The description reads ‘Crunchy Nougat on light and dark sponge cake with an Amarena cherry and wafer-thin Amacado Plantagen Schokolade.’ I have to have one. At six euros, I declare it a bargain for such a piece of art and within a minute it’s wrapped and mine. A quick scan of a leaflet about the history of the shop reveals it’s the world’s largest chocolate house. I’ll call back for more chocolate before I leave Berlin, but for now, I take my torte and leave.

On the pavement, I see the sign for the Gendarmenmarkt Christmas market. There are several other people strolling in that direction, so I follow them, noting the route I’m taking as I walk. The market is bustling. Entrance fee paid I step inside. It’s so busy there can’t be a millimetre between people. I’m nervous, both for myself and for the safe keeping of my torte as I’m bashed around. Shall I leave? I stand on my tiptoes and see little-domed shops selling, amongst other things, cheese sandwiches, a type of pizza, wood carvings and embroidery. A couple of stalls have Christmas decorations, but I pass these by. I decide to stay, interested in the different food and drink stalls. I pass a stall serving Gluewein, a mead-like drink. You can buy it and return the glass for a partial refund, or keep it. It has the name and year of the market and would be a fabulous souvenir. I purchase one and stand by an open fire, grateful for the warmth and both fascinated and almost hypnotised by the flame.

As I stand, something feels off, a little uncomfortable, and then I realise that I’m happy. This is something so alien and forbidden I expect it to be followed by a seismic shift back to darkness. I decide to risk it for once, allowing myself to embrace the pleasure and enjoy this amazing new place. What looks like a youth dance troupe comes onto a small stage and performs a Christmas-themed ballet dance. They are all dressed as little elves. It’s been a long time since I allowed myself to look at children, but I feel free here, and I’m mesmerised. I can’t stop smiling at the little stumbles, the mini-professionals, and the ones who try to catch their parents’ eyes with a proud gesture from both sides.

My stomach growls and I know I need to have a decent meal. On my way to the market, I spotted a cabin type structure with basic wooden tables, striped tablecloths and with a menu of only three meals. I go inside and they seat me at a small table in the main stream of traffic in and out of the restaurant, where I realise I’ll be prone to being jostled around again. However, it’s cosy and warm inside and has a great atmosphere. People are huddled and chatting. I order a coke and the duck.

They bring no extra glass, so I pour my coke into a wine glass on the table and take a drink. The bubbles hit the back of my nose. I can’t see any bathrooms, so, mindful of the fact I’ve just had a Gluwein, I vow to take my time with the coke. I catch the eye of an old guy standing next to the bar. He looks inebriated; he raises his glass towards me and smiles. I half smile back and look away, not wishing to encourage him. My duck leg arrives. The aroma of the accompanying plum sauce hits my nose and makes my mouth water. Accompanied by a potato dumpling and red cabbage, it looks and tastes delicious. I take only eight minutes to eat the lot, and I realise how hungry I was.

I summon a waiter and order apple strudel for dessert. As I await its arrival, the drunken old man comes up to the table, chattering away in German and putting his half drunk wine on the table.

‘I don’t speak German. I’m Bri-tish,’ I attempt to tell him, doing the usual embarrassing English thing of raising my voice, as if that will help me be understood.

He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it, brings forth another stream of German and leaves the bar. On his way out he turns in my direction. ‘Beautiful Engleesh lady,’ and blows me another kiss.

The waiter puts my apple strudel on the table. Bemused, I ask him to take away the half drunk wine.

‘You not want it?’

‘It’s not mine.’

‘Yes, it is. The man,’ he gestures outside, ‘he buy it for you.’

‘Oh, well I don’t drink,’ I lie. ‘So thank you, but please take it away.’

I’m touched by the old soaks gesture and glad I didn’t order myself any wine given the apparent Scrooge-like measures. I finish my meal with a warm feeling inside me, which doesn’t just come from the food.

Back at the hotel, I run myself a bath. There are two huge bathrobes, so I decide I’ll dry off on one and lounge in the other. The bath doesn’t take long to run and I immerse myself in a tub full of bubbles, courtesy of the mini products left by the sink. As the warmth soaks into my bones, I reflect on the day. Not only have I enjoyed my first day in Berlin, but I went out alone outside of work—and survived.

Wrapped in my dry towelling robe, I find the BBC news channel and open the mini bar. Next I select a Jack Daniels and pour it into a glass. Then I raise a toast to my successful day, drink up while watching the news and then its teeth brushed and back below the duvet. I imagine I’ll have difficulty sleeping after my afternoon nap, but before long I’m dozing, and I have the most blissful, uninterrupted and restful sleep in years.

Chapter 7

Amber

I don’t know what time we all made it to bed, but I have déjà vu as I stumble down to the kitchen with a hangover. Only Will seems in a fit state to make coffee and toast. Alfie is chattering away, his hands banging on the table while Sam can’t stop yawning.

‘Now I know why I don’t drink anymore,’ she says.

‘It was a laugh, though, wasn’t it?’ I reply.

She grips her stomach. ‘It was, but I feel so ill. It was irresponsible of me to drink like that.’

‘Right, I’m off, sure you’re okay to get a taxi back?’ Olly kisses Sam on the cheek and then plants one on Alfie. ‘Daddy will see you later, big boy.’

‘That’s my name for Will,’ I say.

Sam and Olly laugh, but I notice Will doesn’t.

‘See you later, mate. Thanks for a great evening,’ Olly smacks Will on the shoulder.

‘Yeah, no worries, I’ll give you a ring sometime.’

‘Bye, trouble,’ he says to me and winks.

Will aims a sneer in my direction. ‘I’m going to grab a shower.’

‘Alright.’

When he’s out of the room, I turn to Sam. ‘Oh dear, I’m in trouble again.’

‘He’s got very serious of late, hasn’t he?’ she says.

‘Yup, he’s all grown up. Perhaps it’s time for me to grow up too?’

‘You’ve got to be ready, Amber, having kids is a huge undertaking, believe me.’

I sigh. ‘I wanted one more year. To do a bit of travelling before we went for it.’

‘Have you spoken to him about it?’

‘Nope. He’s all set. It’s like he can’t think past it now.’

‘Well, you ought to try, Amber, before it’s too late.’

We’re quiet while Sam feeds Alfie the rest of his toast and I feel sorry for myself.

‘What time do you have to be at work?’ she asks.

‘Nine.’

‘Gosh, I’d better let you get ready. It’s eight now.’

‘Don’t worry about it, I’m a temp. I’ll go in later, they’ll not mind. I’ll turn my phone on and email Jo that I’ll be late and to cover for me.’

‘Well, I’ll not be much longer now.’

‘It’s fine.’

Sam sucks on her bottom lip for a moment. ‘Can I ask you something? It’s personal.’

‘Fire away. I’m an open book, ask me anything you like.’

‘What exactly is the story with you and Olly? He said you had a huge crush on him and dated a few times.’

I smile. ‘I don’t remember it like that. Did you ever used to go clubbing when you were younger?’

She nods.

‘Well, I used to go with my mates. Drinks were cheap, and we used to get hammered and I always seemed to end up with Olly, snogging in a corner. We never went on a date. I always told myself I wouldn’t do it again, he wasn’t serious about me, but the next time I went out, there we’d be again. In the end, my friends found a different nightclub to go to, and we moved on. It was a shock a few years later when my new boyfriend introduced me to his best mate.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Well, of course, Olly was all “oh my God, it’s Amber”. Will’s never been able to get over the fact I had a “relationship” with his mate though I don’t see how you can term it like that. I know it still winds him up. He’s convinced I’ll get pissed and snog him again. As if friends would do that to each other.’

She sucks on her lip again. She’ll be causing a blister. ‘Well, surely after last night, Will and Olly will be clear on the slim chance of that occurring.’

I blush. ‘God, I must apologise to Olly. That was so rude.’

‘No.’ Sam sits up straighter. ‘Please don’t. It might do him some good. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.’

‘Are you two all right?’ I ask.

She hesitates, and then nods. ‘Yes, fine. He’s always been rather too cocky though and if last night brought him down a peg or two that’s a good thing.’

‘And will it?’

‘Doubt it. Though I’ve seen him checking his receding hairline in the mirror this morning.’

We laugh again.

‘Right,’ she says, ‘I’d better gather my things together and let you get to work.’

‘I’ll ring you a taxi.’