Chapter 12 #2
He led her through the house and as she stepped back into the sunlight, she had to shield her eyes so she could see the beautiful garden stretching out before her. Because the canal houses were tall and narrow, squidged in together, the gardens too were long and slender.
‘Wow,’ she breathed, taking in the beautiful space.
Rosie glanced behind to see Max watching her, an intoxicating smile on his face.
She cleared her throat. That he’d brought her to this beautiful garden because of her love of plants made her cells tingle.
The garden that lay before her was surrounded by a gable wall that ran down to another building.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing at the classical-style building with blue-painted alcoves and bright ornamental statues.
‘That’s the coach house. This is the only museum to still have the canal house, garden and coach house all together. That’s why it’s worth visiting. You can really see how people used to live. And a pupil of Rembrandt’s lived here.’
‘Is that why you like it?’ she asked.
He nodded.
‘I’d have thought you’d like something more contemporary given the abstracty stuff you paint.’
‘Abstract,’ he corrected, but this time he was smiling slightly. ‘You cannot be Dutch and not love Rembrandt. He was a genius. I wish I had half his skill.’
‘I’m sure you do.’ He looked up and Rosie realised it might have seemed like she thought him less talented. ‘I mean, I’m sure you have just as much skill as he does. I didn’t mean that—’ She shrugged apologetically. ‘I loved your painting when I saw it.’
‘Let’s walk down,’ he said, gesturing to the garden and Rosie cursed her stupidity. A mask had come down on Max’s face again and the carefree version she’d enjoyed moments before had disappeared. She’d have to bring it back.
The formal garden was beautifully symmetrical with a circle of small, neat hedges brimming with pale pink roses.
In the centre was a sundial on a small plinth, its gold rings reflecting the sun.
All around were shrubs and plants blooming in the summer sunshine.
Tall, leafy trees towered overhead, creating welcome shade.
Whoever looked after the garden did a wonderful job: every path was clear with not a leaf out of place on the topiarised hedges.
‘This is amazing.’ Rosie leaned down to smell one of the roses. ‘Gruss an Aachen roses,’ she said. ‘Gorgeous.’
‘Do you know the name of all plants and flowers?’ Max asked.
‘Not all, no. Some. I’ve learned them from when I was tiny. My mum... she was a botanist, and I was always fascinated by her books. She’d show me pictures and tell me the names. For some reason they stuck with me when things like maths equations and literary quotes never did.’
She could smell the damp mud from where they’d been watered, and it filled her with joy.
She caught Max watching her again from the corner of his eye, though he turned away quickly when she looked at him.
After a short time, when Rosie had just finished walking around the garden for the third time, he said: ‘So are you ready to move on?’
‘You’ve got somewhere else in mind?’
‘Of course. Come on.’
He led the way out, and as she caught up with him, he placed his hand gently on her lower back to guide her forwards.
She could barely feel the weight of it and couldn’t decide if he was trying not to touch her on purpose, but then his warmth spread through the fabric of her vest top and heat radiated across her skin.
Outside, she took her helmet and, after checking she was ready, Max led the way through the streets to their next stop.
Her cycling was getting better and Rosie found herself smiling and enjoying the ride.
This was why Amsterdam was known to be one of the happiest cities in the world.
Cycling to work kept you fit and was enjoyable.
The culture of the place was a strange mix of vibrant energy, but also relaxation and respite.
The people were friendly and accepting and it just felt like home.
Max pulled up and before he’d even dismounted, he turned to her, smiling.
‘You look very pleased with yourself,’ she said as she climbed off her bike and secured it to a rack.
‘I am.’ He gestured to the building they were here to see, and Rosie finally read the sign. She’d been so busy concentrating on not falling off her bike or hitting a pedestrian, she hadn’t noticed it before.
‘ Hortus ?’ Rosie read and then realisation dawned as some of the words her mum had taught her came to the fore. ‘The garden.’
‘Welcome to Hortus Botanicus, Amsterdam.’
‘A botanical garden?’ she asked excitedly, springing a little.
Max’s grin widened again, lighting his eyes. ‘Come on.’
He insisted on paying their entrance fee despite Rosie’s protestations.
‘Then how about I buy dinner?’ She had wondered if he’d immediately revert to his grumpy, closed-in ways, but to her surprise he agreed.
‘Okay. But maybe we can get something on the way home and eat at the boat. I don’t want to leave Zoon for too long.’
‘Sure. That makes sense.’ She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from grinning. Max was definitely beginning to warm up to her, but was he as interested in her as she was in him? Hope that he was lightened her steps.
The next hour passed so quickly Rosie couldn’t believe there was still so much to see.
They’d barely been around half the botanical gardens, and she knew this would be a place she’d be spending more and more time.
Even Max seemed to enjoy himself as Rosie pointed out interesting things about the plants she recognised.
He even teased her when there were some she didn’t know.
As they returned their bikes with moments to spare before the shop closed, she thanked Max for a wonderful day.
‘It’s been amazing.’
‘There’s still a lot more to see. Amsterdam is the best city in the world.’
‘Maybe you can take me?’ She held his gaze, and he chewed his lower lip.
‘Yes... maybe. Now, we should grab some food and head back. Zoon will need his dinner and some fresh air.’
They stopped in some of his favourite shops and gathered enough for a light supper: delicious bread, meats and cheeses and some traditional appeltaart – Dutch apple cake– for dessert.
She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into the sweet treat.
The pastry was flaky and topped with icing sugar, and the apple poking out of the sides smelled of delicious cinnamon. Her mouth was already watering.
Zoon greeted them enthusiastically as they approached the galley door, charging out, ignoring his owner and heading straight for Rosie. He almost knocked her over in his enthusiasm and responded when she commanded him to get down in her firmest voice.
‘Zoon, sit.’
Max stopped from unpacking the shopping. ‘That’s the most serious I’ve ever heard you be.’
‘Hey, just because I’m not all doom and gloom like you, doesn’t mean I’m not serious, or that I’m stupid.’
‘You think I’m doom and gloom?’ He seemed genuinely shocked that that was what she thought of him.
Her cheeks burned. ‘Maybe a little serious, sometimes.’
He walked out onto the deck carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine. He signalled to a chair, and she sat down. ‘I don’t think you’re stupid, by the way. Not at all.’
‘Good.’ She looked at him from under her eyelashes, giving him her most flirty look. The compliment filled her with joy.
‘How did you become a painter?’ she asked, eager to learn more about him.
‘I never wanted to do anything else. Even as a kid it was all I wanted, but it doesn’t pay very well, and some people find that hard to deal with.’
Was he talking about himself or someone else? Rosie decided not to press. He was so prickly he’d probably shut down and the evening would be ruined: an evening she didn’t want to end anytime soon.
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Have you always wanted to be a florist.’
‘Yes and no,’ she replied. Was she going to talk about her mum again?
Normally she tried not to. It brought up such pain and the grief could still catch her unawares even after all these years.
‘I’ve had so many jobs I don’t think I could name them all.
This is the only one that’s felt right for me.
My mum, she—’ She took a breath, feeling the familiar well of sorrow.
‘She died about twenty years ago, which sounds a long time, but it’s not really. ’
He looked up. ‘I’m so sorry.’ The gentleness of his voice was like a warm hug and his eyes were dulled with emotion.
‘I made the move to do something that made me happy, something with flowers like she did. Maybe it was to feel close to her.’ She briefly closed her eyes. ‘I’ve never said that out loud before.’
Max gave her a smile that could melt an iceberg, but didn’t speak. Somehow, she knew that it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, more that he was giving her space to continue.
‘She would have loved the flower market. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing deciding to work here. My sister’s always nervous of my spur-of-the-moment decisions. They don’t always work out.’
‘But this one has?’
‘I think so. If I can keep Finn off my back.’
‘Finn?’ She explained who he was. ‘Ah, I think I know who you mean. I know someone who owns a gallery next to one of his flower shops and they say he is a very difficult man. Very territorial.’
‘Territorial’s right. He’s got it in for me as he was hoping to get the pitch I got. I don’t know why he’s so bothered; it’s so tiny and it sounds like he’s doing absolutely fine without it.’
‘Some people just like to have all the toys.’
Zoon tapped her leg with his paw and rested his head on her knee. His doleful eyes were so wide and sad-looking he was like a cartoon character.
‘He wants to come up,’ Max said. ‘But you don’t have to let him.’
‘I don’t mind.’ She patted her lap, and the dog wagged his tail. After wiggling his back legs he then jumped up, turning on the spot before settling down like a cat. ‘He really is very sweet.’
‘So what will you do about Finn?’
‘I don’t know. I need something to set me apart from the rest.’
‘What about talks or a workshop?’
‘I tried talks but now Finn is doing the same thing. Workshops might work,’ she replied, the idea fizzing in her mind. ‘I don’t know what I’d do them on yet, but that’s definitely an idea.’ She made a note on her phone. ‘I think I’d like to do something that celebrates this city.’
‘But everyone will already sell our famous flowers and those awful, tiny windmills you see in souvenir shops.’
It was true: she’d seen plenty of them. Then suddenly the idea crystallised. ‘I think I know what I’m going to do.’
‘What?’
‘I’m going to make arrangements inspired by Amsterdam itself.
Its food, its culture, its places. I can promote the different attractions and places I visit.
I know what it’s like when you live somewhere– you take it for granted.
You don’t see it the same way a tourist does.
I’m going to turn being a tourist into my superpower and use it to show the locals how amazing their city is. ’
Max grinned, shaking his head a little.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. It’s just... it sounds like you have a plan.’
‘I do. And now, I’m hungry.’
To her surprise, he laughed as he stood and said, ‘I’ll make us some food.’
Rosie would have leapt to her feet too had it not been for the dog. ‘No, no, no. You paid for us to go into the botanical garden. I’ll make it– that’s if you don’t mind me going into your boat.’
For a second, something passed over his face. It wasn’t concern or annoyance, more like remembrance; a memory that he had to force down. ‘Not at all,’ he replied, signalling the way. ‘But I’ll come too. I need to feed Zoon.’
Over dinner they discussed life on the canals and things she needed to do before the summer was over to prepare the boat for winter.
That’s if she was still here then. She hoped desperately that she would be.
Her world was growing, widening as she embraced this new place and all it had to offer.
She wasn’t ready to let that go. Max didn’t tell her much about himself, only that his parents lived on the other side of the city.
He clearly didn’t have a girlfriend and valued his own space, his privacy.
She wondered when that privacy had become the walls he’d built around himself.
‘So where should I... or we, visit next?’ she asked as they finished their meal and cleared away their plates.
‘I know just the thing,’ he said with a mischievous grin on his face.