Chapter 20
R osie ate her breakfast whilst staring out of the window at Max’s boat.
There was no sign of life and though she knew he needed space, she wanted to see him– she needed to see him.
She needed to know he was all right, or that, even if he didn’t feel it right now, he would be in time.
This was just a blip. A hiccup. If he kept trying, one of the chances would work out, she just knew it.
Fed up of this limbo and gathering her courage, she threw the remains of her toast down, unable to stomach another bite, and grabbed her keys.
With a firm knock on Max’s door, she waited for him to answer.
Zoon barked and she heard rustling within.
He was definitely in there. The blind that covered the galley door was pulled to one side and Max’s scowling face with hair ruffled from sleep, grimaced at her. Reluctantly, he opened the door.
‘What is it, Rosie?’
‘I wanted to see if you were okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ He went to close the door again, but she put her hand on it, pushing it back.
‘You’re not fine.’
‘Then why did you ask?’
She could smell the faint tang of alcohol on his breath. He must have continued drinking after they’d parted. Drowning his sorrows. She didn’t blame him, but he couldn’t go on like this. ‘Max,’ she said gently, ‘please.’
He threw a hand through his hair. ‘Please what?’
‘Let me in.’
Though she only wanted entry to his houseboat, it was clear she meant more.
He was shutting her out. They both knew it and their eyes locked.
His were bloodshot, marked underneath with the same bruised blue he’d painted on the canvas.
He wavered as if he wanted to, but something held him back. ‘I need to go back to sleep.’
‘You need to talk about this.’
‘There’s nothing to say.’
‘Max, I know you—’
‘You don’t know me at all!’ His words felt like a physical blow and she rocked backwards onto her heels. ‘We met a month ago. That’s all.’
He swallowed and looked at the floor. She knew the pain his words had caused had flashed across her face– that the pain was still there. She certainly felt it stabbing at her heart and winced. Her heart was bruised and for once she was lost for words.
‘I’m sorry, Rosie. I—’ His voice softened. ‘Have a good day, Rosie.’
The door closed before she could stop it and she stumbled back in frustration and sadness.
She knew Max was hurting but that was no reason to treat her this way.
Yes, they had only met a month ago, but that didn’t mean anything.
She did know him, just as he knew her. With the door shut, he’d made his intentions clear.
Perhaps he just needed a little more time.
There was nothing more she could do. She needed to get to work. Stopping on the way for coffee, Rosie headed straight to Emma’s deli.
‘It didn’t go well, then?’ Emma asked, after gratefully accepting the cup.
‘You could say that.’ After explaining how the evening had panned out and their interaction that morning, Emma clicked her tongue. ‘I know he’s upset but he shouldn’t take it out on you.’
‘I know. I don’t think he means to and at some point I’ll tell him so.
He’s just hurting. It took a lot for him to put himself out there like that and despite his demeanour, his confidence was pretty low to start with.
’ She took a sip, enjoying the hit of caffeine, the bittersweet liquid coating her tongue. ‘What do I do?’
‘You’re asking me?’ Emma let out a sarcastic laugh. ‘I can’t even flirt with a guy who likes me. I’m not the best person to give advice.’
‘Noah still staying away?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve definitely frightened him off for good.’
‘We know he’s super shy. Maybe he just needs to gather his courage. Or maybe he’s just been busy.’
Emma cocked her head. ‘Let me believe that. It might make me less embarrassed.’
‘You know once,’ Rosie began, ‘I was trying to flirt with this guy and I thought I was on fire, making him laugh and stuff, and I noticed he kept only catching my eye briefly. I thought he was being coy so I ramped up the flirting only to catch my reflection in a mirror and see my skirt was tucked in my tights– at the front! Everyone could see my knickers!’
Emma burst out laughing.
‘So we’ve all got embarrassing flirting stories,’ Rosie told her.
‘That’s actually made me feel better,’ Emma said, cupping her drink.
‘Good.’ Rosie checked her watch. ‘I better go. Bas has just gone by with my delivery and I need to get started on arrangements for the gallery opening.’
‘I know it’s hard, but try and look at the positives,’ Emma said. ‘This could be a great way to build a name for yourself.’
She was right. Rosie’s natural positivity was struggling to shine through at the moment, but there were some things to be grateful for.
One day she hoped to have a shop in Amsterdam, just as Finn had, and this event would take her one tiny step closer to that dream.
Her mum would be proud of her. At the reminder that she’d only just let those final walls down to let Max in, her bruised heart ached even more.
Maybe she should have kept those walls firmly in place.
As he’d said that morning, they hadn’t known each other very long.
Maybe she’d been too hasty in letting him under her skin.
But her feelings had been stronger for him than for anyone she’d ever met.
With a sigh, she banished thoughts of Max from her brain and began work.
In between a steady flow of customers, Rosie researched places in Amsterdam that might serve as her inspiration and made some preliminary sketches.
Her profits were growing at the small flower stall and with the event money too, she could actually begin to think of herself as a businesswoman and not just an ex-waitress-cum-barista-cum-office-temp who was playing at being a florist. That legitimacy gave her a sense of pride that not even Max’s comments could dent.
As her equilibrium returned to something nearer normal, she determined to call in on Max again before the end of the day and see if having had some time to get over his initial disappointment had helped him gain some perspective.
He might not welcome her arrival, but she wasn’t about to give up on the relationship they were beginning to explore, or his career as an artist. She believed in him; he just needed to as well.
But as Rosie approached the Forget-Me-Knot , her plans were scuppered when she found Piet waiting on the pavement next to the houseboat.
He was pacing backwards and forwards in agitation, a piece of paper in his hand.
Rosie wondered what could be wrong. She’d paid her rent on time and hadn’t been making too much noise.
Max seemed to be her only neighbour as she’d never seen hide nor hair of the people on the other side of her, and surely he hadn’t complained.
Anytime he had, he’d done so directly to her.
Her brain tried to replay memories of their first few meetings, just to make her feel even sadder, but she refused to pay attention to them.
‘Hi, Piet, everything okay?’
‘No. No, it’s not okay.’ The last time she’d spoken to him he’d gotten away from her as quickly as he could, so to see him lingering, shuffling his feet and avoiding eye contact made her more than a little wary.
‘Okay, well... do you want to come and have a cup of tea and tell me all about it.’
‘Yes. Yes, I think I better.’ He pushed a hand through his hair, sweat pricking his hairline, and followed her onto the deck of the Forget-Me-Knot . Piet crumpled into one of the small metal seats she’d put outside.
As she made tea, Rosie couldn’t stop her eyes drifting towards Max’s boat, but there was no one around and no sounds from inside.
She wondered where he was and what he was doing, hoping that his mood had lifted even a little.
She brought out the mugs of tea and placed them on the table. ‘Do you want sugar?’
‘No, thank you. Just milk.’
She sat opposite him. ‘So what’s wrong, Piet?’
He placed the piece of paper between them but it was all in Dutch.
She studied it, trying to understand some of the words but despite carrying on with her pitiful attempts at Duolingo, she couldn’t get to grips with any of it.
She pushed it back towards him. ‘I can’t read this, Piet. What does it say?’
‘It’s from the city council stating that the houseboat doesn’t meet residential codes. Renovations must be made or I have to evict you.’
‘What?’ Her hands were shaking so much she almost spilt tea all over her lap. ‘How– how do they know this? When did they come and inspect it?’
Piet dropped his eyes, looking suddenly sheepish. ‘I have to fill in some information each year and they might have come while you were at work. They don’t always need to look inside; they can tell a lot from the outside.’
The cheek of the man! He hadn’t bothered to let her know any of this was happening and then had allowed them to come and prowl around her home without letting her know. ‘So what are you going to do?’ she asked sternly.
‘Me?’ He seemed shocked by the question and anger began to rise in Rosie’s chest.
‘Yes, you. This is your boat. You rent it to me. As the landlord, you need to make the repairs.’
‘I can’t! I– I can’t afford to.’
Rosie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She stood up, aware of Zoon barking somewhere inside Max’s boat. ‘But you have to, Piet. I can’t afford to. I’m only just making enough to live on. I haven’t got the money for expensive boat repairs. And I wouldn’t even know where to start.’
He didn’t answer and Rosie knew that getting irate and shouting at him wasn’t going to help.
She sat down again, taking a deep, calming breath.
Perhaps the repairs wouldn’t be that bad.
If it was cosmetic stuff, she might be able to do much of it herself.
‘What exactly needs doing?’ she asked calmly.
He placed the piece of paper between them, pointing to a list of bullet points at the bottom and explaining the first one. ‘All the wood needs repainting with a protective waterproof film, epoxy, or marine spar varnish.’
‘Okay.’ She could do that, couldn’t she? How hard could it be to paint the deck and the outside of the galley? Max had even mentioned that needing doing before winter, so that wasn’t a big deal. ‘I can do that,’ she told Piet.
He scowled. ‘Even the bits that are underwater?’
‘They need doing too?’
He nodded. ‘Of course.’
Her heart sank. ‘What else?’
‘The engine needs servicing and the bilge pump needs replacing.’
She had no idea where the bilge pump even was, so that was definitely a job for an expert and probably a costly one.
‘The electrical and plumbing systems need checking and there should be safety equipment here.’ His cheeks coloured and again he avoided her eye.
‘Well you can pay for that,’ Rosie said coldly. ‘If I’m supposed to have safety equipment and I haven’t, that’s your job as landlord.’
‘Yes,’ he replied, in apologetic tones. ‘Yes, I will sort that out. You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just– I’ve been so busy with my family and the other units I run. I didn’t think this was going to happen until after you’d gone back.’
‘But I told you I wasn’t planning on going back.’ She sat back, her shoulders tense. ‘You didn’t believe me, did you?’
‘It seemed such an odd thing to do,’ he admitted.
Great. Brilliant. This was exactly what she needed right now.
‘I really am sorry, Rosie. I can help with some of the costs, but I can’t cover everything. I understand if you need to move.’
Move? Up until that moment the idea hadn’t occurred to her.
Her eyes moved to Max’s boat. Was that her only option?
The gallery opening was one small piece of business but she wasn’t making enough day to day to cover repairs and her living costs.
She couldn’t afford a higher rent. The Forget-Me-Knot had been blessedly cheap and now she knew why.
As she looked into the galley, she saw her bright-coloured cushions, the rug, the plants, the pictures on the shelves, and it was like something punched her hard and fast in the stomach.
She’d made it a home. Her home. The new-found connection to her mum, to the feelings of fulfilment she’d never had before, to the life she was making for herself were as tied to this slightly scruffy houseboat as they were to the city.
And now she was going to have to give it all up.
Having barely drunk his tea, Piet stood up. ‘I really am sorry. I know this is a shock.’ He left the piece of paper on the table and edged away, looking resolutely forwards as he continued down the street.
So that was it.
In the space of twenty-four hours her life had been completely upended. She searched again for signs of life on Max’s boat. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her it was going to be okay. To turn up with his box of tools and help her fix this like he had her leaky tap.
She wanted her family. Her dad’s kind words and her sister’s gentle encouragement.
She moved inside and began running sections of the paper through a translation app, hoping Piet had read it wrong.
But she knew he hadn’t, and when the app confirmed it, she couldn’t stop the tears misting her vision and rolling down her face.
What choice did she have but to move back home?
Her dream was over and it hadn’t even really begun.