Chapter 2 #3
‘All right,’ she replied, a little too harshly, but his patronising tone was beginning to irk her and she could feel the tension rising again through her body.
He glared at her. So much for the charm offensive.
She had to get this back on track and find some way of getting the information she needed.
If she could speak to the other person on the list, she might be able to convince them to let her have the pitch.
‘Sorry,’ she added. ‘It’s just that I– I really need to get a pitch at the flower market.
I’ve moved all the way from England to make this dream come true and I can’t give up at the first problem.
’ Her voice suddenly filled with disappointment.
This had been a lot harder than she’d anticipated and maybe it was naivety, or plain stupidity.
‘You probably didn’t need to know all that, did you? ’
For some reason, he seemed to take pity on her and a small smile crept onto his face.
‘Listen, I can’t give out names and addresses, but I can tell you that the other person on the list already has a stall at the market.
If you go and ask around there, someone will be able to tell you the name of the owner.
’ Rosie’s mouth fell open. ‘And,’ he continued, ‘if the current vendor recommended someone to take over their pitch, we would take that into account when assigning the plot, especially if the other person already had a business and you were looking to start one. We encourage diversity in Amsterdam, and especially within our small businesses.’
So whoever wanted the flower market pitch already had a business.
That made her feel less guilty about trying to swipe the spot from them.
And from the sounds of the pitch, maybe it was so small it wouldn’t make that much difference to them, but it would make a whole lot of difference to her.
Her new life was hinging on this. ‘So the pitch hasn’t definitely been given to anyone yet? ’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘It hasn’t been confirmed yet.’
‘Then can I ask where the pitch is in the flower market?’
‘Just look for the smallest one.’
‘Thank you. You’ve been really helpful.’
Smiling once more, Rosie made her way back to the flower market.
When she came across the pitch, which was easy to find as it was absolutely as tiny as advertised, the owner had already boxed up most of their stock and there were only a few tubs of flowers in the space.
It really was minuscule, and she wondered if the man at the council was right and that it wasn’t even worth it.
Would she be able to make a profit from here?
But then she straightened her shoulders and told herself not to be so dismal.
It was a start, and she didn’t have any other ideas at the moment, apart from maybe some talks.
All she needed was a base of operations.
She approached the woman she assumed to be the owner.
‘Hello, do you have a moment please?’ The woman stopped packing her boxes. ‘I understand you’re moving on from this pitch?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I wondered if there was any way I could convince you to let me have it.’
Her eyes widened in shock but her tone was kind. ‘I think there’s a waiting list.’
‘Yes, but the man at the Marktbureau said there was only one name on the list and that if I could convince you, or the previous pitch owner if that’s not you, to recommend me for the lot, as the other person already has a business, they’d take that into account, and it would greatly increase my chances. ’
The woman, who had curly grey hair, looked around and though Rosie followed her gaze, she didn’t see which vendor her eyes fell on.
She suddenly crossed her arms over her chest, an inquisitive look creasing her features.
‘If I’m going to annoy a fellow vendor here, I need to know why I should give it to you? ’
‘Well because I—’ She remembered Emma’s words of advice and though she’d meant them for the council man, they couldn’t hurt here. ‘I won’t just be selling flowers. My mum was a botanist and I’ll be giving talks on different flowers and plants too.’
‘A botanist?’ She cocked her head. ‘That’s impressive.’
‘She wasn’t famous, but she loved all flowers and plants. Even the ones we think are weeds. She always said every weed has a purpose, even if we haven’t found it yet.’
‘She sounds like a very clever woman.’
A slight sting pierced the back of her nose. Grief was on the way. She pushed it back enough to speak. ‘She was.’
‘Was?’
‘She, umm... she died. It was a long time ago.’ Rosie lifted her head and stopped toying with her hands. She braced herself for the look of sympathy these words normally garnered but they didn’t come.
The woman studied her a moment and Rosie plastered on a smile to show she was fine. ‘All right,’ she declared a second later. ‘It’s yours.’
‘Really?’ She was enjoying the cultural differences already. The Dutch were far more to the point and she appreciated this woman moving the conversation away from such a sad subject. ‘But won’t the man at the council need to—’
‘He’ll still need to see your business plan, but I’m sure I can convince him.’
Rosie rolled onto her tiptoes, rocking with sheer joy. ‘Thank you so much. I’m Rosie, by the way.’ She leapt forwards and stuck out her hand.
‘The name suits you. I’m Grietje.’ Her grip was strong as she shook Rosie’s hand vigorously. ‘I’ll call Bram at the Marktbureau and tell him I want the pitch to go to you, provided you can supply everything he needs. I’ll be out of here by Friday and you can start from Saturday.’
‘That’s amazing! I– I don’t know what to say! Thank you!’ Unable to contain herself, she reached forward and hugged Grietje. The older woman hadn’t been expecting it from the ‘oomph’ sound that came out of her. ‘Thank you so much. I can’t tell you what this means to me.’
A second later, the older woman’s hand patted Rosie’s back and Rosie stepped away. ‘You’d better tell me your name and address. Bram will need it for the paperwork.’
Rosie grinned once more as she recited her details. She’d done it. She’d overcome two major hurdles already. She had somewhere nice to live and a stall at the flower market, as long as she got her ideas into an actual business plan and delivered it quickly.
Her new life was truly starting.