Chapter 11 #2
‘You’re right,’ he replied, handing it back.
‘People have been talking about them?’ She couldn’t conceal the hope and pride in her voice.
‘No, I mean that this doesn’t look very professional. Make sure you take them down at the end of each day or I’ll report you for littering.’
Finn turned on his heel and walked back inside his shop, leaving Rosie speechless.
Her cheeks burned but she refused to be browbeaten by a man who was the same colour as her dad’s garden fence.
He was just jealous she’d thought of doing something he hadn’t.
Rosie continued on her way to Fenna’s, regaining her smile and eager for another great day to begin.
Everything was going well, until the time for the first talk came.
The usual, albeit small, crowd that she’d had almost every day was nowhere to be seen.
She stepped out to the front of her tiny pitch, looking around.
Her own small poster was still visible, but she relied on the one at Fenna’s as it was nearer the main thoroughfare to drive traffic to her.
She quickly ran around to see it wasn’t there.
Damn it . The income from the flowers and herbs people bought after her talks was proving not just helpful but also necessary. What could have happened?
Then she saw it: a huge crowd gathering at Finn’s stall as he stood on a small, sturdy box, holding forth and gesticulating as he spoke.
Anger began to rise inside her, heating her further on this already warm day.
Beads of sweat began to form on the back of her neck and her hands grew clammy. He wasn’t! He couldn’t have, could he?
As his words began to pierce her ears she listened intently. He was speaking Dutch, and she quickly grabbed her phone from her bag, recording what he was saying and reading the translation. According to the screen, he was saying:
‘The common tulip, known as tulipa in Latin, grown extensively here in the Netherlands, has been used for many years to treat several conditions. The petals can be used to relieve inflammation and burning from bee stings, rashes and bites, and other parts of the plant have been known to treat headaches and migraines.’
Rosie’s mouth fell open, and she could feel her eyes widening with shock. That two-faced, idea-stealing, mahogany-coloured cheater! The talks were her idea! She’d started them first! How could he do this? Surely there was some law against stealing people’s ideas like this.
In that second, Rosie nearly marched over to Finn and interrupted him, but what could she say?
Not only was he speaking in Dutch, and she only knew English, but deep down Rosie knew that giving talks on plants wasn’t exactly a new idea.
She was pretty sure he hadn’t bothered doing it until she had, but that didn’t mean she could stop him.
Silently seething, she watched as more and more people gathered to hear Finn speak.
He was better at it than her, more confident and charismatic.
Rosie had a habit of stuttering, even when she’d tried to plan what she was going to say.
And of course, she couldn’t speak Dutch, which meant she was relying on people knowing at least some English.
Her muscles taut with anger, she trudged back to her tiny pitch, feeling tears welling in her eyes.
‘Rosie,’ Fenna said, rushing up to her. ‘I’m so sorry! I just noticed what he’s doing. It isn’t fair.’
‘No, it’s not, but there isn’t much I can do about it, is there?’ She slumped onto the stool, taking the opportunity to sit down as her tiny pitch was completely empty of customers.
‘There isn’t really, I’m afraid. But that doesn’t make it okay. I’m so sorry. It’s an underhanded trick. Just please know, no one else in the market would behave like that. The rest of us have more integrity than him.’
‘I don’t understand why he hates me so much. Is it because I’m English?’
Fenna shook her head, her eyes widening. ‘No! Not at all. His husband is English. He likes English people. Well, as much as he likes anyone.’
‘Just not me then,’ she said, attempting a smile but knowing it looked sad and dismal.
Perhaps she should have spoken to him and asked him to withdraw his request for the pitch rather than going to Grietje, but even if she had, she knew what the answer would have been.
She thought about explaining to him how much this meant to her, telling him about her mum.
But she couldn’t bear to be so open just to have him laugh or scoff at her, which was exactly what he’d do.
‘I guess I’ll have to find another way of bringing in the crowds. ’
‘I heard from Grietje that your mother was a botanist,’ Fenna said.
‘That’s right.’
‘Is there some knowledge she passed on to you that you can share?’
‘That’s what I was doing, talking about herbs and not just flowers but Finn’s stolen that idea now.’
‘Hopefully it will help you think of something else. You must have knowledge that Finn doesn’t.’
‘Does he make his own arrangements?’ Rosie asked as the idea that had started earlier began to form more solidly in her mind.
‘I don’t think so. I’ve never seen him make one, but then he has so many staff they tend to do that for him. Why? What are you thinking?’
‘I’m not really sure yet. I’ll need to work it through in my head.’
‘If I can help at all, let me know. I know lots of people in the market who hate Finn and would be happy to see him taken down a little. It’s like he wants to turn the entire market into a big Finn Meijer shop. He’s a megalomaniac. It’s a shame, though. He hasn’t always been like this.’
Was that a bit strong? Rosie wasn’t sure, but it was nice to know other people disliked him as much as she did.
When Finn finished and the crowd dispersed, Rosie tried to corral a few into a talk on marjoram, an underrated herb in her opinion, which could be turned into an essential oil and used to treat stomach cramps.
But as most had come s traight from Finn’s talk, no one was interested in sticking around for another.
Clearly, they’d stood still for long enough as Finn had talked on and on, enjoying the sound of his own voice and the captive audience.
Great, she was going to have to work twice as hard to sell these plants tomorrow, especially given the delivery she was planning.
The idea from earlier was seeding in her mind growing shoots and leaves, getting bigger.
If Finn’s particular skill set didn’t extend to flower arranging, which had been a key part of her course, she would try leaning into this tomorrow, implementing her idea of teaching people how to arrange flowers and some of the things to consider when choosing and making a display themselves. It was worth a shot.
The day’s takings were meagre and Rosie joined Emma at her shop, hoping her friend had had a better day. Emma had cleared most of her customers and was just serving the last one when Rosie arrived.
‘Sorry, I had a last-minute rush.’
‘Lucky you.’
Emma frowned. ‘I heard what happened. I’m sorry. I’ll just add everything up and then I’ll be ready.’
She peered at Noah’s stall. ‘You better be quick; he’s just closing up.’
Emma worked like the wind and was soon ready. They lingered in the shop and as soon as Noah exited, closing the metal grille behind him, Rosie and Emma followed suit. They chatted loudly about the day, but waited a second before following so he didn’t get suspicious.
‘So what does this woman look like?’ Rosie asked.
‘She’s gorgeous. Blonde, beautiful, tall. Wait—’ She grabbed Rosie’s arm, tugging her backwards as they exited the market. ‘There she is.’
Rosie followed Emma’s gaze. The woman was indeed beautiful with long blonde hair that shimmered in the evening sunlight.
‘She is pretty, but not as pretty as you,’ Rosie added quickly, wanting to show her support, and besides, it was true.
Emma was equally as pretty and vibrant too.
Her personality shone through her green eyes.
They kept them in sight as they walked behind them.
‘She must be a girlfriend, don’t you think?’ Emma asked.
‘Let’s not jump to conclusions.’
‘I’m such an idiot,’ Emma declared a little too loudly and Noah turned as her voice frightened some pigeons into flight. Rosie bundled Emma into a doorway.
‘Shh! He’ll see us.’
‘Oww!’ She rubbed her arm.
‘Sorry,’ Rosie replied, grimacing. ‘He was going to see us.’
‘I’ve never been a spy before. Not sure I’m cut out for it.’
‘Me neither. And we’re not spying, we’re fact-finding.’
Emma giggled as Noah and his friend stopped at the closest bar and grabbed a table. ‘What do we do now?’
‘We have a drink. Come on.’ Rosie chose a table away from them, but from where she could keep an eye on what they were doing.
‘Won’t he suspect?’
‘Why should he? Look . . .’ She pointed to her right where Fenna waved back. ‘Other stallholders are here. It’s natural to come here for a drink after work as it’s the closest bar.’
‘I wish I had a newspaper to hide behind,’ Emma said.
‘Do you ever read newspapers?’
‘No. Who does these days?’
‘Then that might look even more suspicious.’ Rosie nodded to the bar. ‘Come on, what will you have?’
‘White wine, please.’
‘Large?’
‘Definitely.’
Rosie tried to listen as she passed Noah on her way to the bar, but couldn’t hear anything. A few minutes later she returned to their table with two cold, delicious glasses of wine. ‘Here, get this down you. Did you hear anything while I was gone?’
Emma shook her head. ‘No, nothing. She rubbed his elbow though. That’s got to mean something, hasn’t it?’
‘Not necessarily.’ Rosie turned the conversation to the day’s events to distract her friend.
‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with that man,’ Emma replied, referring to Finn. ‘Why does he hate everyone? We’re all in it together. He really doesn’t need to be so aggressive. I know he was originally lined up to have your pitch but that doesn’t mean he can be so nasty.’