Leo picked out a cafe and we took a seat outside. It was a nice, sunny day and I was enjoying the feel of sunshine on my skin. It was no Lisbon, but it was warmer than London.
The waiter came over almost as soon as we’d taken our seats and handed us some menus.
“So, what should I try for my first proper Belgian meal?” I asked, eying the menu. It was in Dutch. Some of the items looked familiar, but most of them I had no clue as to what would come out if I ordered them.
“Let’s see. Well, moules-frites is one of our famous national dishes - it’s mussels with fries. Do you like seafood?”
I nodded. “Well, what better place to start than the national dish?”
“If you want something else there’s also waterzooi - it’s a famous Gent stew, or Stoverij which is Flemish Stew and another famous national dish. Stews and mussels. We’re a creative people.”
“I think I’ll go with the mussels for now, maybe a stew later!”
Leo ordered in Dutch when the waiter came back. I felt like a bit of an idiot when the waiter turned to me to ask me something and I just stared blankly at him before looking beseechingly at Leo.
Leo smiled kindly at me. “What beer would you like, he asked.”
“Oh. Oh! Um.” I grabbed the drinks menu that I’d so far ignored. There was a rather intimidating list of beers. The only one I recognised was Heineken. “I don’t know? What’s good?” I looked up again at Leo. He spoke again in Dutch, and the waiter nodded and retreated.
“What did you order for me?”
“A very nice Belgian beer, of course. I hope you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will. So, what have you got planned for us for the next few days, Mr Tour Guide?”
“Well, you can’t come to Belgium and not go to Bruges. So, tomorrow we will do that. It might be a bit less crowded if we go on a Friday instead of Saturday.”
I nodded, and took the beer from the waiter when he promptly returned.
“Cheers,” Leo said and held his bottle out. We clinked and I took a sip. It was very tasty. “Then I thought maybe Brussels or Antwerp on Saturday… and Blankenberge on Sunday, so you can play the promised piano.”
Ah, the piano. My fingers twitched at the mere mention.
“Your piano is in Blankenberge?” I asked with a laugh.
“Well… to be honest, it’s not my piano. Not strictly. It’s at my mother’s house.”
I blinked in surprise.
“You want to introduce me to your mother?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I just… it’s just…”
“We don’t have to tell her anything if you don’t want to,” Leo said hurriedly, almost choking on his beer. “You’ll just be my friend from Australia who is visiting. Okay?”
“Okay…” I looked down at my hands. “Sorry, that came out… weird…”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
I didn’t know how to feel about meeting Leo’s family already. Tom and I had been together for six months before he’d introduced me to his parents. Leo and I weren’t even officially a couple. Well, what the hell.
“So what’s on for the rest of the day?” I asked, trying to sound upbeat and distract Leo from my less than enthusiastic reaction.
Leo shrugged. “Relax? Enjoy this nice sunny day? We can have a look in the Gravensteen, but it probably won’t take too long to see everything.”
“What’s the Gravensteen?” I asked.
Leo jerked his head back the way we’d come. “The castle,” he said.
“Oh! Right! Yeah, that’d be cool.”
We chatted aimlessly over our beers and food. I could feel the alcohol in the beer seeping its tendrils through my blood, making me feel more relaxed and confident. I laughed at a story Leo told about his workmate, and marvelled that I was sitting here, in Belgium, with a handsome young man, and enjoying myself. I definitely would not have predicted this a few months ago. If I’d imagined anything a few months ago, Tom would have been the man sitting opposite me, telling me some story about the weird things his students say. I had to admit that Leo was a lot nicer to look at than Tom. I felt slightly guilty even thinking that, but it was true. He was also more pleasant to talk to. Leo actually seemed to listen to me, and was interested in what I had to say. I’d always half felt like Tom was just waiting for me to stop talking so that he could say whatever it was he wanted to say.
The castle beckoned after we finished our lunch. We walked side by side, back along the cobblestones. I looked around me, soaking up the atmosphere.
“You really live in a beautiful part of the world,” I said, gazing at the pretty, colourful buildings, and their reflections on the river. Small boats lined the shore, waiting for tourists.
“It’s nice,” Leo agreed. “But it must be beautiful where you live in Australia? I mean, it’s Australia. Come on!”
I laughed. “It’s not all golden beaches, kangaroos, and Uluru, you know! It’s definitely a beautiful place - well parts of it - but it’s different. It’s a bit hard to explain…” Australia was an ancient continent, but us Europeans had only been there for a bit over 200 years. How much we’d damaged and changed in such a short time…
We reached the castle, and I resisted the urge to take Leo’s hand. We entered through some thoroughly modern sliding glass doors that looked very out of place next to the old stonework.
A friendly looking older lady was sitting behind the counter. She looked at us expectantly. Leo said something to her in Dutch, and she responded. Times like this, I wished real life had subtitles.
“You’re under 26, aren’t you?” Leo turned to me and said in English. I nodded.
“Why?”
“Jongeren - youth price. You get in for only six euro instead of ten.”
“Sweet!”
We spent about an hour wandering around the castle, looking at the displays. I shuddered, looking at the torture devices. It was hard to imagine that people actually used those hideous devices against other people. My mind shied away from imagining what it would have been like to have been on the receiving end of that kind of torture. Or any kind of torture, really.
“Come.” Leo reached for my hand and led me upstairs.
“Wow.” I reached for my camera. The view was stunning from the top of the castle, with a 360 degree view of the surrounding city. Majestic church spires dominated the view, towering over the rest of the buildings. I leaned into Leo, glad he was there to share it with me. I couldn’t help but smile when he wrapped an arm around me. I felt content for the first time in a long time.
Chapter Eleven
In Bruges
I woke up and didn’t know where I was for a moment. The light was hitting me from the wrong angle, and the bed was much more comfortable than the one I was used to. I blinked and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Leo’s. I was at Leo’s. How could I forget? I’d had some unsettling dreams. I couldn’t remember them all, but Tom had featured heavily. I banished him from my mind (well, tried to) and stretched out under the soft blankets. I rolled over and glimpsed Leo on the floor. I rubbed my eyes again to clear them up. I wondered what I looked like, and whether or not I could manage to sneak into the bathroom without Leo seeing me.
He was sleeping peacefully on the floor, breathing slowly. I gazed at him for awhile, exploring him with a scrutiny I couldn’t really do when he was awake. Thankfully he didn’t snore. He looked extremely cute, and I had to resist the growing urge to reach out and touch him.
He’d been a gentleman last night, insisting that I sleep in his bed, and that he’d take the floor. I was slightly disappointed that he hadn’t slept with me, but he’d said he didn’t want to pressure me, and I didn’t push it.
I slid out the other side of the bed, and padded over to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I critically examined myself in the mirror. Yep, it was a good thing I’d woken up first. My hair was a lank mess, I’d managed to smudge my mascara all over myself so that I res
embled a panda, and there was dried drool on my chin. Gross. I rubbed it off, and jumped in the shower.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Leo was no longer in the pile of blankets on the floor. I could hear him pottering around in the kitchen. I quickly got dressed, made my face look somewhat respectable, and went out there, following the delectable smell wafting from that direction.
“Good morning.” He smiled down at me, a couple of eggs balanced in his hand.
“Morning,” I replied, trying to repress a yawn and failing. “Mmm, it smells good out here. What are you cooking?”
“French toast. Do you like it?”
“Do I like it? Are you kidding me?!” My mouth had already started to water.
“Well, good. It’s my specialty.”
“My specialty is vegemite on toast, so we’re lucky we’re at your house and not mine.”
Leo laughed and went back to preparing breakfast for us. “Would you like a coffee or tea? Or orange juice? Or milk? Or water?”
I grinned at his earnestness. “Coffee would be great,” I yawned again.
“Did you sleep all right? I hope my bed wasn’t too uncomfortable for you.”
“Are you kidding? It was awesome. My bed in London is horrible. I slept like a baby.”
“I don’t know why people say ‘like a baby’ as if it’s a good thing. My nieces woke up every hour when they were babies. I don’t think my brother has had a full night’s sleep since they were born.”
“That’s true. I don’t know why we say it. It’s silly when you think about it. Slept like a teenager would probably be more apt.”
“You’re right.” Leo stopped stirring the egg mixture and went over to a fancy looking espresso machine.
“How do you like your coffee?”
“I don’t mind. Latte? Flat white?”
“I’ve heard of these mysterious flat whites. Please tell me, what is the difference between a flat white and a latte?”
I paused. I wasn’t exactly sure. “Less froth on a flat white?” I ventured.
“You don’t sound very confident.” Leo laughed again. I liked making him laugh, even if it was at my expense.
I shrugged. “I’m not to be honest. So I’m sure I’ll be impressed with whatever you can make me.”
“I should make a disclaimer. I normally just drink straight espresso, so I’m not the best at steaming milk. You’ll need to forgive me.”
“I’m sure it will be better than whatever I can manage!”
I’d once worked in a cafe. I’d only lasted a couple of shifts, but I think I’d managed to poison at least a handful of people with my undrinkable attempts at coffees before I’d been banned from touching the espresso machine.
Before long, Leo had me seated at the little kitchen table, a respectable attempt at a latte in my hand, and a steaming pile of french toast in front of me, complete with real Canadian maple syrup.
“This is wonderful, thank you,” I said before practically diving into the food. Leo joined me on the other side of the table, although he managed to restrain himself a bit better than I did. I forced myself to slow down and stop looking like a pig.
“Bruges today?” I asked around a mouthful of cinnamonny, eggy, buttery, mapley goodness.
Leo nodded and was actually polite enough to swallow before speaking, unlike yours truely.
“Yeah. It’s about a forty minute drive from here, so no rush.”
We finished up our breakfast, and despite Leo saying there was no rush, we were soon on our way.
“What’s this?” I said with a laugh, holding up a fluffy pink dinosaur that I found on the passenger seat of his car.
“My car guard,” Leo said with a straight face. “He protects it.”
I laughed again.
“It was a present from the twins. Apparently they picked it just for Uncle Leo.”
“How sweet.” I put the fluffy dinosaur up on the ledge.
The drive went by in a blur of green fields and cute little old villages and farmhouses. The obvious history of the place still awed me. I wondered what it would be like, growing up in the same place as your family had for generations upon generations. My family was a hodge-podge of immigrants and convicts, coming from all over Europe, with only one thing in common - they ended up in Australia at some point. Great-Auntie Helen had done the family history a few years ago. Mostly English, Scottish and Irish, but with a few Germans, Frenchmen, and Welshmen thrown in for good measure. No Belgians, as far as I knew, though. Even since they’d landed in Australia, most generations seemed to settle somewhere completely different to the previous generation.
We slowed down as we drove into another town.
“This is Bruges.”
“Oh…” I looked around. It was pretty, I supposed, but it didn’t really look all that different, and some of the buildings looked relatively new.
“The main part, the tourist part, is a bit of a walk that way,” Leo gestured over to the other side of a canal. “Parking is not good there though, so we’ll park here and walk, if that’s okay?”
I nodded and got out of the car. It was shady under the large, leafy tree. I walked over and peered into the canal. It was a bit murky.
Leo’s phone rang. I tried to eavesdrop on his conversation, mainly out of curiosity, but he was speaking Dutch and I was hopelessly lost. I was pretty sure I heard him say Australia though.
“My friend Nick is going to meet us for a little while. He lives here in Bruges,” Leo said to me after he hung up his phone.
“Oh, cool,” I said. He was introducing me to his friends. My heart leapt a little bit, before a case of nerves hit. What if he didn’t like me and told Leo I was a waste of time?
“Yeah. He’s an old school friend. I think you’ll like him. He’s very friendly. He loves Aussies.”
“Well… I hope I can live up to the reputation?” I half-asked with a laugh. I didn’t think I really looked or acted like a stereotypical Aussie. I’d never wrestled a crocodile, and I didn’t speak like Steve Irwin, or say ‘mate’ or swear every other word. And I wasn’t tall, tanned or blonde.
Leo and I walked side by side, occasionally bumping into each other. I wasn’t sure if Leo was doing it on purpose or not, but I most definitely was. I craved his touch, but I was too chicken to take his hand. I hoped my casual, ‘accidental’ brushing against him would give him a hint, but it didn’t seem to be working.
We crossed a cute little old bridge, and I followed along as Leo led us along pretty cobblestoned streets. The streets were crowded, but when I mentioned it, Leo said, “it’s not as bad as it can get! Just wait until we reach Market Square.”
The narrow street opened up into a large, beautiful, bustling square. The buildings lining the square all looked positively medieval, and the area was dominated by an ancient church with a bell tower. I craned my neck to stare up at it. I adored all of the old buildings. The Belgian architecture was quite different to what I saw most days in London, and definitely different to back home in Australia. I loved it. While I missed home sometimes, a big part of me was jealous of the people who got to grow up and live in these beautiful places.
Flocks of tourists fluttered around the square. Dozens of languages drifted past. Leo lightly touched my arm, and I felt every atom of my skin on fire, as his fingers drifted down my bare arm to my hand. He glanced down at me, as if to make sure it was okay, touching me, holding my hand. It was more than okay. I smiled in return, and then, slightly self-consciously, I squeezed his hand. A grin lit up his face, and he started telling me all about the statue in the middle of the square, where a group of tourists in matching bright pink t-shirts were standing getting their photo taken. Apparently they were some Flemish nationalists from the 1300’s, who’d led a rather violent uprising against the French rulers. Their names, when Leo said them, went in one ear and out the other. They seemed to be a bit more respectable as national heroes than our good old Ned Kelly, though.
I pulled my camera
out, and like a good tourist, took a few shots of the surrounds. I pointed the lens at Leo, and he smiled almost abashedly.
“Why don’t I take one of you, instead?” he said, reaching for the camera. “You don’t just want photos of me.” How little he knew…
“Let’s get one together,” I said with a smile.
“Okay.”
He came and stood next to me, and my body tingled pleasantly where his touched mine. He draped his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close to him, and rested his chin on my head. I held the camera out and tried to get both us, and the tower behind us in the frame.
“Here, allow me to do it. I have longer arms.”
I glanced up at Leo with a grin and handed it over. I smiled at the camera, hoping that I didn’t look too manic.
We wandered around the town, choosing random little streets and alleyways. I took far too many photos. We ventured into a chocolatier. The rows upon rows of delicate little chocolates were irresistible. I had a hard time just picking a couple of little chocolates to buy. They all looked amazing and delectable, although I eventually randomly selected a few pralines and truffles - the lady who was serving me seemed to be loosing her patience at my indecisiveness. A few shops up, we stopped and marvelled at a sculpture of the square we’d been in earlier, made entirely from chocolate.
“I wonder how long it took them to make that!”
“I do not think that I have the patience to make something so delicate and detailed…” Leo murmured, admiring all the little chocolate tiles on one of the roofs.
“Me either,” I agreed. I was far too impatient. My brother, Lewis, could spend hours and days on a sketch. He’d sit there, hunched over his paper, barely moving apart from his pencil, and in the end would be a beautiful, realistic sketch of Grandma’s pet duck, or the dog, or a flock of birds, whatever it was that had taken his fancy… I wished I had both his talent and patience, but I had neither. As it was, I struggled to even finish blow drying my hair. I’d get bored of it and just stop, thinking it was at least a bit drier than when I’d started… I remembered talking about it with my brother once; he couldn’t understand how I could spend hours practicing the same piece of music on the piano. He’d flittered between instruments when he’d been younger. Piano, guitar, saxophone, drums, clarinet, violin, he’d given them all a go, but had never lasted for more than a few months, and never got past the basics. Jack of all musical trades, master of none.
Unexpected: A Backpacker Romance (The Backpacker Romances) Page 12
