Chapter 7 #2
She couldn’t answer. He’d summed up exactly what she was asking for and though it sounded cold and selfish (especially given he was already cross she’d taken the pitch he’d been after, even though he already had this one and shops as well), she was just desperately trying to make her first day a success.
If today was a failure, what would that mean for the rest of her future here?
She couldn’t help but feel as though what happened today would set the tone for the rest of her time here.
She didn’t want this to end as all her other crappy jobs had.
She didn’t want to prove Melody right and let her mum’s memory down.
Rosie cleared her throat and drew herself up taller.
‘I just– I just really need some help. I know you’ve no reason to help me but we’re both people and—’ He scoffed, and her eyes shot up to his face.
All the embarrassment she’d felt fled, to be replaced with anger.
She’d politely reached out and he’d actually laughed in her face.
‘There’s no need to be so rude, you know. You could have said—’
‘What? Should I have made up a lie as to why I won’t help you? What’s the point in that?’
She tried to calm herself, but her body was buzzing with adrenalin. The fight-or-flight response was kicking in and she’d always been one to fight rather than fly. ‘I just thought as we’re both florists—’
‘That we should stick together? This is a business. I’m running a business.’
The way he stressed the I’m annoyed her even more. She was running a business too, or at least trying to, and though today hadn’t gotten off to a very good start, she was going to do her best to make it work. She didn’t have any other option.
‘And you stole my pitch!’ he finished, jabbing a finger at her.
Rosie glowered at him. ‘Well, thank you for your time, Mr...’ He didn’t answer. ‘Fine. Thank you for your time, Mr Miserable. I’ll remember not to bother you again.’ She spun on her heel and walked away. Emma was waiting for her when she returned to her stall.
‘I could have told you that was what would happen,’ she said sympathetically, if also a little unhelpfully.
‘I thought I had to try.’
‘I understand. It’s not you, though. He’s a horrible man. No one likes him. And you gave as good as you got, which is pretty impressive actually.’
‘You think so?’
‘Definitely.’
Rosie thought about trying some of the other stalls again, but it was already opening time, and people were beginning to flood into the market.
Locals and tourists were swarming everywhere, examining the flowers, taking videos and photos.
There was no time. She had no option to but open with what she had.
‘I’m so sorry, Rosie,’ Emma said. ‘But I have to go.’
‘Yes, of course. Thank you for being there for me. I really appreciate it.’
Emma placed a kiss on her cheek. ‘Come and find me later, okay?’
She hurried away to where customers were lining up outside her stall, searching for the vendor to pay for the goods already piled in their arms.
How Rosie wished that was her, but everyone was walking past her stall frowning in dismay at the state of it compared to the other beautiful, colourful works of art.
Rosie quickly got to work displaying the flowers she’d had delivered: a strange assortment of the potted herbs she’d requested and anemones, irises, lilies and chrysanthemums, none of which really went that well together according to the rules of floristry.
Feeling dejected, she did her best to display them as decoratively as she could and put on her apron, tying it tightly around her waist. Her stall looked like it was filled with everyone’s cast-offs.
With a cheery smile and a quick tighten of her headscarf, she stepped in front of her stall, smiling at the customers and hoping her jolly ‘good morning’s might tempt them in.
The day could only get better from here, right?
It didn’t.
The few customers who entered her stall went away again without buying, or even touching, anything and all the time she was aware of Finn, whose staff did all the work while he stood out front welcoming his customers like long-lost members of his family.
He was laughing at her. And that wasn’t just her being paranoid.
Several times she caught him speaking to people, pointing in her direction and then laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach.
The tears Rosie had been fighting all morning threatened to spring from her eyes again, but she took a deep breath and stared at the sun shining radiantly in the sky, willing them to disappear. Why did some people have to be cruel?
She hoped against hope that the afternoon would get better.
In her opinion, it couldn’t get much worse.
As she couldn’t afford to close for lunch, Rosie worked through, her stomach rumbling, but she ignored it and continued her attempts to tempt people into her shop.
At one point, she found herself actually beckoning people inside, but all that did was make them scoot past in a strange kind of waddle or out-and-out run.
The real question then became could she st and this humiliation much longer?
Her positive attitude waned but the steely backbone her mum had blessed her with straightened inside her.
Perhaps if she cut her prices or offered three for two on the plants, she might make some sales.
It was worth a try and she had the rest of the afternoon to get through.
As the day neared its end, and all the other stalls were packed with last-minute shoppers, hers remained empty. Feeling utterly defeated, Rosie made the decision to close up and head home.
The day had been an absolute disaster from start to finish.
First the boat flooding the other day and now this.
She couldn’t help but feel that if this was a sign of things to come, moving to Amsterdam might not have been the best idea she’d ever had.
It might actually be the worst. And instead of making something of herself, she was in danger of damaging her financial and career prospects to a point she’d never recover from.
Emma had asked her to call by, but Rosie couldn’t face talking to anyone right now.
She felt completely humiliated, stupid beyond measure and so worried she felt physically sick.
All she wanted was to hide under her duvet and pretend the day had never happened and after a quick stop for a bottle of wine (possibly two), that was exactly what she intended to do.