Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,72

and see the figure of our downstairs neighbour through the tall window. He’s standing in a warm pool of light, rocking his baby daughter. We exchange waves before I let myself into the building and start up the stairs to our apartment.

I never get tired of thinking that phrase—our apartment. Jack and I have been living in Amsterdam for the last four months.

It’s been a hectic year. We started going out together as soon as we got back to England. It had to be a long-distance relationship for the first few months, as I had to see out my temp contract. However, those months had been wildly romantic, with most of our weekends spent in bed. Occasionally, we’d rolled out to see films and eat out, but the time apart meant we were largely too desperate for each other to get out of bed.

Our relationship had been greeted by his parents with cool bemusement at first. Mainly because they mistakenly got the idea he’d started dating Tom. When they found out it was me, the bemusement changed to dubious distaste and prompted Jack to raise his voice at them for the very first time. My expectations for his parents had always been low, but it bothered Jack. However, the continuing joy from my family at our relationship went some way to removing the sting.

We’d decided to take the whole thing slowly at first. Well, I did, which probably surprised everyone, but I didn’t want to rush it with Jack. He and our relationship were too precious to spoil with hasty actions. However, within a few months, he asked me to move in with him. We were just at the stage of talking that over when he revealed that he’d been offered a job in Amsterdam.

His firm is Dutch and had become involved in a new project involving the conservation of canal houses. Because Jack had expressed an interest, they’d offered him a two-year job with the Amsterdam office and a flat in the same house we’d had such a lovely view of on our last visit.

As soon as he told me about the offer, I knew Jack wanted to take it, but I’d been wary of leaving my own job and relying on him so soon in our relationship. I went backwards and forwards on the subject, and he listened patiently while I detailed my need to get a job in London and stand on my own. Then he showed me a picture of the apartment we’d be living in and told me that his boss’s wife ran an English school in Amsterdam where I could have a job.

Even then, he left the final decision to me. I knew he wanted me with him, but he would never put pressure on me. He told me solemnly that we had to do it together or not at all and he would be happy as long as I was with him. I fell even more in love with him at that moment looking at his earnest face and gentle smile.

Ironically, it was actually his parents who made up my mind for me. They were so patently horrified by the idea that I came around to it much more quickly than I might have done without them. In the end, the decision was easy. Jack and Amsterdam and pissing off Derek and Barbara. It was a dream come true. Within two months, we’d joyfully packed up and moved here. Now, I fill my days at a small school down the road. It’s formed from two canal houses and the rooms are high and narrow and the sunlight pours through the windows that offer me peeps of the canal while I listen to my class recite their tables. My colleagues are good fun, and Jack and I have made many friends drawn from both his work and mine. Most weekends, we’re at someone’s house or hanging out in one of the bars in the neighbourhood.

Our flat is high-ceilinged with rather suspicious plumbing. The radiators never work correctly, and we’ve had to invest in thick socks and flannel pyjama bottoms to avoid freezing this winter. The window in the bathroom never shuts properly, and the plumbing makes a banging noise whenever anyone has a bath, but it’s home. Our home. And on afternoons when we lie naked together in bed, and the canal water sends rippling shadows over the ceiling, I wonder how anyone could be happier than me.

I clatter up the stairs and let