Chapter 18
D e Pijp was rapidly turning into one of Rosie’s favourite areas of Amsterdam.
Café tables were already full of early-morning tourists, vans unloaded trays of goods to restaurants and those on their way to work called in at the gorgeous bakeries to grab an early-morning treat.
There were so many art galleries and artisan shops she could have stayed there all day, but instead she made her way to the gallery.
Max explained it was named Opstand , which meant revolt, after the Eighty Years’ War that had resulted in the forming of the Dutch Republic.
She’d called ahead and the owner was happy to meet her there at nine o’clock.
It meant opening a little later at the flower market, but she’d texted Bas and told him to leave her flower delivery, which she could only do now she was confident Finn wouldn’t sabotage them.
Rosie approached the modern-looking building.
It had a wide glass window at the front through which she could see canvases of modern art, some similar to Max’s– all slashes of paint– others clearly inspired by Andy Warhol or Lichtenstein.
She knocked on the glass door and a young man in a blazer and drainpipe trousers that stopped at his ankles, with an enormous quiff and black eyeliner, let her in.
‘You must be Rosie,’ he said, as he beckoned her up the steps into the gallery. ‘I’m Jeroen.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you. Max said you wanted some floral displays for the gallery opening.’
‘That’s right. He said you were bold and bright and that’s just what we’re looking for.’
Good job she’d worn a bright pink T-shirt and had a yellow headscarf tied over her head.
As she looked around the space she could see that was definitely a theme.
Though the walls were white, all the pieces were colourful and bold.
Even if they were painted in paler colours, something about their execution was vibrant and new.
‘What sort of thing did you have in mind?’ Rosie asked, taking out her phone to make some notes.
He led her through the gallery, motioning to the spaces she was to fill and describing what he’d like. ‘Max mentioned you doing something inspired by the different places in Amsterdam. I have to say, I love that idea.’
‘They’re not replicas,’ she said quickly. ‘I feel I should make that clear. They’re more... abstract.’ She went on to describe the arrangements she’d made so far based on the places Max had taken her.
‘That sounds perfect. As you can see, we’re a modern gallery. We love our classical artists, but there’s also a vibrant new art scene and I plan to be the go-to gallery for work of that kind.’
‘You’re ambitious, like me. Do you want to see some samples and I’ll send you a quote?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘I know most of the florists here in Amsterdam and they’re all very traditional. I don’t want tulips. They’re a definite no. I want exactly what you’re describing. The opening is in two weeks. Is that all right?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She was buzzing at the opportunity.
It would mean an initial outlay from her, which would make her finances even tighter, but she just had to hang in there until the gallery paid up and then she’d have a small profit to put towards boat repairs or expanding her business.
‘Thank you so much. I’m so excited to get to work. ’
‘When are you seeing Max next?’
She felt her cheeks colour. ‘Probably tonight– we’re neighbours,’ she added, unsure as to why. It wasn’t really a secret that they were sort of together. At least, she didn’t think it was. ‘He’ll be so pleased. He—’
‘Can you tell him that I’m sorry but we won’t be stocking his paintings? Not this time anyway.’
‘W– what?’ Her stomach hardened as a heavy feeling of dread suddenly formed, reaching up into her throat so she couldn’t swallow.
‘I love them,’ Jeroen said, holding his hands up in defence. ‘But unfortunately, the rest of the team weren’t convinced they’d sell and as you can see, we already have someone similar.’ He gestured to a piece she’d spotted through the window.
‘Butshouldn’t you tell him? It’s not really my place to—’
‘I won’t be able to call him till tomorrow. I’m busy all day and he needs to know soon. I had hoped to have better news for him, especially after all he’s been through.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her throat tightened and she forced herself to take slow, even breaths.
‘Did he not say? Typical Max.’ Jeroen tutted. ‘I probably shouldn’t say. If he hasn’t told you, he—’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You can’t expect me to deliver bad news to him without knowing more.’
‘Actually, I can.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I am employing you, after all.’
‘To make flower displays. I’m not your PA.’ She raised her chin. No matter how much she wanted and needed the opportunity, she wasn’t about to let this guy off the hook. ‘And you can keep your job, thanks. I’ll be just fine without it.’
A smile raised the corner of Jeroen’s mouth.
‘He told me you were feisty. All right then, I’ll tell you.
After Johanna– you know about her?’ Rosie nodded.
‘After she left him he went to pieces, couldn’t paint, couldn’t teach.
She destroyed him. All because she wanted him to have more money so they could go out to restaurants and take expensive vacations.
She liked the idea of an artist and an artist’s soul but she didn’t like the reality of that life, which is that it’s hard.
He didn’t take it well and in response, she made it personal, told him he wasn’t good enough.
That he wasn’t getting exhibitions because he wasn’t as good as the newer upcoming artists.
She destroyed his confidence. He’s only just getting back on his feet, been in touch with the art school again. ’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘The art world is a small place, especially in a city like Amsterdam. Everyone knows everyone else.’
Perhaps that explained some of his reserve too. If all his friends and acquaintances knew his business, she could easily see him withdrawing from the world. Relying only on himself.’
Jeroen continued. ‘All of that after his mother was so controlling... I hate to do this to him, but it isn’t my choice.’
‘So why should I tell him all that? I’m sorry, but this feels like your job, not mine.’
‘I know this isn’t regular,’ Jeroen said, smoothing the hair on the back of his head.
‘No, it’s not.’
‘But you care about him, don’t you?’ She felt herself blush again. ‘I can tell he cares about you from the way he spoke. I hadn’t seen him like that in a long time. Trust me, he’ll take it better if you explain all this. If I tell him, he’ll see it as the end of his career again.’
‘Can’t you convince them to stock his work?’
Jeroen shook his head. ‘I would if I could, but if Max found out he wasn’t selected on his own merits, he’d be livid. The way he spoke about you, about how you just get on with things, he’ll take it better and it won’t damage him as much.’
Though she didn’t like this one bit, a part of her agreed.
Jeroen might deliver the news in a businesslike fashion but she could imagine the fallout.
It had taken a lot for Max to break out of his creative slump and this could send him straight back down that dark hole he’d described if it wasn’t handled well.
‘I don’t like this at all,’ she said, making deliberate eye contact with Jeroen. ‘It still doesn’t feel right, but I’ll do it.’
‘Thank you.’ Jeroen visibly relaxed. ‘But do let him know we want him to try again. We’ll have a number of exhibitions coming up and just because it wasn’t right this time, doesn’t mean it won’t be next time. Now, I have to go. You’ve got my number if you need me for anything.’
He showed her to the door, closed it behind him and disappeared into the depths of the gallery. Rosie was left standing on the steps, dumbstruck. Whilst she was pleased she’d got the job, how the hell was she going to tell Max he hadn’t?