Chapter 12
After breakfast, I return to my cabin under strict instructions from Princess to ‘not mess about’ and meet on the platform for our day in Bruges.
For someone who is a few decades older than me, she has a surprising amount of energy.
Will I be able to keep up with her for another full day of sightseeing?
Surely at some point she will slow down.
Still, I’m delighted to have found a travel buddy so early on.
It stops me ruminating about Miles and the fact he’s still uncontactable.
He’s a ghost, which fits with his backstory of being dead and all.
I hurry to my cabin and don a few more layers for the frosty air outside and rush to meet Princess at the designated spot on the platform.
‘Oh, darling, there you are! How are your ankles?’
‘My ankles?’
‘Must you repeat everything?’
I grin. ‘Sorry, it’s just a bit of an odd question. As far as I’m aware my ankles are… fine.’
‘Great! If you’re amenable I’ve sorted a plan for us, a horse-drawn carriage ride through the cobblestoned streets of Bruges, including a stop at Rozenhoedkaai, the picturesque quay on the Dijver Canal, with medieval architecture as a stunning backdrop.’
‘Wow, that sounds great. I read up about the history of Bruges last night actually.’ Rozenhoedkaai translates to the Quay of the Rosary, a place where rosaries were once sold but now is more famous because of its instagrammable allure. ‘How does this relate to my ankles though?’
‘Well.’ She waggles a brow. ‘After that we can check out the Grote markt, the Christmas market in the main square, and then… have a swish around the ice-skating rink! What do you say, are your ankles up to a bit of dancing on ice?’
‘I’m not sure I can dance on ice but I’ll give it a red-hot go.’
‘I’d also like to visit the belfry in the town square. You can climb to the top for a panoramic view of the city.’
‘Great. Although maybe we should leave the ice skating for last in case I do break an ankle.’
‘Good plan.’ She blows out her lips. ‘Let’s go.’
The horse-drawn carriage ride is a delight as our mare trots slowly around the charming cobblestoned streets and hidden laneways of Bruges while we sip on a glass of jenever, a juniper berry drink, the Dutch version of gin with a botanical fragrance.
It warms me up on the inside as I take small sips under the cover of a fluffy blanket, all generously provided by our coachman.
We take photos at every remarkable stop. Princess hams it up for the coachman, who doubles as a photographer and has a lot of knowledge about camera angles and how to crop other tourists out of the shot.
Our coachman delivers us back to the market square and points out the belfry.
Yikes, I have to crane my neck to view all eighty-three metres of it as it dominates the city skyline.
And no doubt that means there’s a lot of steps.
He gives us directions to other Christmas events taking place as part of Bruges Winter Glow festival, including the pop-up floating ice skating rink situated by the Lake of Love.
We thank him and give the horse a pat on the nose. Princess tips the man profusely. All I see is a wad of euros, which makes my paltry addition seem rather stingy, but I’m not Miss Moneybags so it can’t be helped.
‘Wasn’t he lovely?’ Princess muses, linking her arm through mine as we wander Market Square, which is decorated to the hilt in festive flair.
Wooden pop-up chalets circle the cobblestones and are doing a bustling trade, selling all sorts of festive fare like glühwein, spiced mulled wine, and roasted chestnuts.
I turn in a circle to view the buildings that border the square.
They’re as pretty and colourful as a town from a storybook.
There are chocolate shops everywhere we look.
‘This city has oodles of charm, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, somehow it’s cute and quaint despite the size,’ Princess says. ‘Let’s get in line for a ticket for the belfry.’
While we queue, I glance at all the festive foodie options on offer, from Belgian waffles layered with whipped cream and chocolate sauce to speculoos, a spiced shortbread, traditionally served at Christmas.
And have you even been to Belgium if you haven’t delighted in a cone of thick-cut doubled fried frites smothered in garlic mayonnaise? It’s the stuff of dreams.
‘Let’s work up our appetite,’ I say to Princess, wishing I was hungry.
Princess nods. ‘I’m keen for a big stein of Belgian beer, it would be rude not to.’
‘Beer, waffles, frites.’
‘And Belgian chocolate.’
‘Mulled wine.’
‘Ha, we better do these steps twice over.’
The belfry stands before us, as if reaching for the heavens. ‘I did a little reading about the history of it.’
Princess folds her arms against the cold wind that whips through the square. ‘And?’
‘It was built in the thirteenth century and is a UNESCO world heritage site. There are forty-seven carillon bells. I hope we get to hear them ring. Oh… and it’s only three hundred and sixty-six steps to the top.’
‘Three hundred and sixty-six! How can that be?’ Her eyes flash with surprise which is swiftly replaced by a more cunning expression.
‘If I run out of steam, I’ll pretend to faint right into the arms of the first handsome stranger that comes our way and he can carry me to safety.
Let him know that the only way to bring me back to life is with glühwein and chocolate.
Kissing is verboten obviously, or he’ll most likely die. ’
My eyebrows shoot up.
‘Because of the curse, darling.’
‘Right. I’m sure if we take it slow, you’ll be fine.’ Princess doesn’t do anything by half measures, so I sense her fainting performance will be of Oscar-winning proportions. She’s got a one-track mind, that’s for sure.
Princess tunes the rest of my fun facts out and is accessing the queue for handsome men. Under her breath she mumbles: ‘No, definitely not. Maybe. Has potential. Yes, a big yes. No. No. Holy guacamole, yes.’
When she turns back to me, her eyes glitter with mischief but there’s no time to figure out why as it’s our turn at the ticket booth. Princess grabs my hand and pulls me ahead of people ambling upwards at a slower pace, you know, sensibly. She practically thunders up the stairs.
‘What’s the rush, Princess? At this rate you’ll burn out your quads!’ Or whatever muscle is needed to climb so many stairs.
‘Save your breath, Aubrey, and pump those legs!’
What. A minute ago, she was lamenting there were three hundred and sixty-six steps; now she’s trying to break the land-speed record for her ascent.
And honestly, the woman can move. It must be her lithe frame that makes her so bloody fast and nimble.
I’m regretting the big breakfast I ate, sure it’s the culprit for my sluggish pace.
It couldn’t be my lack of fitness. So what if the only exercise I get is running for plane connections or reading romantasy novels – those epic tomes are heavy, I’ll have you know, and are responsible for my biceps that have the tiniest amount of definition from so many late nights reading.
Princess blithely ignores protesters as she pushes past, like she’s a thief running from police.
Unfortunately, as I’m behind her, I cop the death stares and cries of ‘You’re pushing in!
’ Ah, travel etiquette; it seems Princess doesn’t give a hoot about how long these people lined up before us.
If they don’t climb at her rate, they get pushed out of the way.
Must be a rich person thing. Move or be moved.
I blush and fumble and apologise in that usual British way.
‘Don’t apologise!’ she cries. ‘It’s not your fault they move like slugs!’
How to win friends and influence people. ‘Well, it’s just that it’s not polite…’
She comes to a sudden stop and I smack hard into the back of her, which duly sends her sprawling. Oh God. I’m going to have a real death on my hands this time!
‘ARGH!’ she screams with so much gusto it gives me pause.
Wait. Is that…? The puzzle pieces click into place as Princess latches like a koala onto the back of Jasper.
Honestly, the way she’s clinched onto him is enough to make me burst out laughing, but we’re supposed to be in the throes of a terrible stumble so I rein it in.
With Jasper’s height and her tiny frame, it really does look like a koala latched onto a tree.
Jasper turns and she turns with him. Both their faces are now directed at me.
Princess winks over his shoulder but doesn’t let go.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks, trying to turn again, but the mad woman does not give up her position.
Princess pops her head up. Really, she’s impossible. ‘I just need a minute.’
I shake my head. ‘We might need a doctor to surgically remove her from you. She’s locked in, claws and all.’
Princess glares at me.
Jasper laughs. ‘I wasn’t quite sure what hit me.’
‘Aubrey was rushing me up the stairs as if my very life depended on it! My vision went blurry and for a moment I felt very lightheaded.’
‘Is that so?’ Jasper grins.
‘Hmm, I remember it rather differently,’ I say. ‘Perhaps it’s that hit on the head you suffered earlier.’
‘But I didn’t suffer a hit to the head earlier.’
‘Well, the day is but young.’
Her eyes go wide.
‘Would you like me to help you the rest of the way?’ Jasper, ever the gentlemen, asks, as if she’s a doddering old lady when she is anything but. I may just have found the only other human on earth that could give my sister Rox a run for her money.
‘Actually, I need glühwein, as a matter of urgency. For my blood sugar. Perhaps you can accompany Aubrey the rest of the way as she’s in need of a strong, capable man…’ Wait, that wasn’t the plan! She leaps from his back, like a sprite.
‘I am n?—’
‘…to listen to her many facts about Bruges. Swallowed a guidebook, that one.’ She jerks a thumb in my direction. Oh, she really is the limit!