Chapter 29
F or the next few days, apart from exchanging polite greetings and some run-of-the-mill enquiries from Max about the festival, he and Rosie barely spoke, even when they saw each other on their boats.
Whereas before they would have sat together talking, her teasing him about being grumpy, the air felt too charged with things unsaid and chances never taken, and so each retreated to their respective galleys whenever they had the chance.
Then late one afternoon, just as she was packing up for the day, Max turned up at the flower market, a gleam in his eye and excitement in his voice.
‘I’ve been speaking to Jeroen at the gallery, and we came up with a plan.’
‘What sort of plan?’ This level of excitement from Max was unprecedented and infectious, and she found herself almost giggling as she spoke.
‘I’m going to paint a special piece for the festival and Jeroen’s going to sell it in the gallery.’
‘But you’ve already donated two paintings! I can’t ask you to give up any more of your time– and profits– to this.’
‘I wasn’t asking your permission, Rosie.’ His voice was stern but not unkind, back to the grumpy Max she’d known before.
‘All right, grouchy,’ she replied with a laugh.
‘I’d like to do this and so would Jeroen.’
‘That would be amazing. I can’t wait to tell the others.’
Max grinned as Noah and Emma arrived, carrying what looked like a huge sack. ‘The banner’s here,’ he declared excitedly.
Max helped them to place it on the floor and together they unwrapped it from the carry case and unfurled it.
‘I can’t wait to see what it looks like,’ Emma added.
It was enormous, long enough to go across an entire street and Fenna’s daughter had outdone herself with the design once again. Beautifully illustrated flowers flanked the central text and seeing the words ‘Floating Flower Festival’ in the centre, the event she had created, made Rosie’s heart jump.
‘Oh, Fenna,’ Rosie said as she stood by her side. ‘It’s beautiful. The flowers are so bright and pretty. The text is so friendly and welcoming. Please tell your daughter thank you from all of us.’
‘I agree,’ Finn added, joining them. ‘She’s done an amazing job.’
The whole market were gathering round to have a look and all were murmuring their agreement. Fenna puffed with pride and Rosie gave her a hug.
‘Now we just need to get it up. Has anyone got any ladders?’
Somehow, a few people did and to Rosie’s surprise, Max was one of the first to say, ‘Let me help.’
‘Are you sure you have time?’ Rosie asked.
Max checked his watch. ‘I have an appointment but not till later. Let me do this for you.’
Those final words sent a thrill down her spine, and she smiled. ‘Come on then, let’s get this beauty up and in place.’
They’d already decided it would be hung at the entrance to the Bloemenmarkt and Finn’s assistant had sorted all the permissions they needed. Whoever this person was, Rosie had already decided to buy them a thank-you gift. They’d been invaluable.
Max and Noah wrestled with the banner, urged on by the crowd, following their instructions for moving it up and down, left and right, until it was in the perfect place.
With the ends secured, they climbed down, and everyone stood back to admire it.
A round of applause broke out and as it faded and everyone went back about their business, Max’s arm circled around Rosie’s shoulders.
She wanted to reach out for him too and leaned into the strength and warmth of his body.
She didn’t dare look up, worried that if she did, she might fall even harder for him.
After a few moments of silent admiration, Max let her go.
‘We should go out and celebrate,’ he said. ‘And there’s so much of the city you still haven’t seen. I know of at least four more places you should visit, and these aren’t tourist spots, so we don’t need to worry about bashing into backpacks and being hit by water bottles.’
‘You know, tourists aren’t the only ones who wear backpacks and carry water bottles.’
‘Maybe not, but they do have massive ones that they swing around and knock into things. And when they all get together you can barely move down the street without being pushed about.’
‘Sometimes you really do sound like you’re a hundred years old.’
‘Do you want to come or not?’
As things were back to how they’d been when she’d first arrived, she couldn’t resist. She loved teasing. ‘Okay, you can show me another of your secret Amsterdam hideouts. Do I get any clues as to where we’re going this time?’
‘No. That would defeat the object. Come on.’ He stepped outside of her shop and waited for her to close up.
As the late afternoon merged into early evening, the sky ablaze with colour, the city hummed with an energy she’d grown to love.
The sun was dipping as it began its lazy d escent.
The canal lapped gently at the bridges and the air tasted of cinnamon and Dutch apple cake.
Max led them to a nearby bike shop and rented two bikes.
Rosie mounted and followed him through the city, far more confident and proficient than she had been the first time.
They cycled for about fifteen minutes before Max pulled off the road and came to a stop.
Rosie followed, her eyes immediately finding what they were here to see.
‘It’s a windmill!’ she exclaimed, a giant smile reaching over her face. ‘Wow! I’ve never seen one in real life before.’
‘Most tourists—’
‘Ignorant tourists,’ she added with a teasing smile as she removed her cycle helmet and clipped it to her bike.
He grinned. ‘Indeed. Most tourists think there aren’t any windmills in Amsterdam. This is the only one and it is the tallest in the Netherlands. What do you think?’
Rosie’s eyes flew over the structure. It was made of a stone body and dark, almost black wood forming an octagonal shape leading up to enormous blades.
Rosie let out a little squeal. Max’s eyes caught hers, full of affection, and she revelled in his gaze before forcing herself to speak. ‘It’s very impressive.’
‘And next to it is a microbrewery.’
‘Ah! Is that why you brought me here?’
‘No. Well, not entirely. Come on.’
She followed him towards the small brewery. ‘Is it illegal to drink and ride a bike?’
‘Yes, but we’re only having one drink, and we can always walk our bikes back,’ he replied with an impish grin.
‘It’s a shame we can’t go inside,’ Rosie said, pointing at the windmill.
‘I know. But at least we can sit in front of it and enjoy the view. I’ll get some drinks. You find a seat.’
Rosie rushed to grab a seat with a good view.
She wanted to study the amazing building before she had to go home.
And by home, she didn’t mean the houseboat, she meant England.
Though the houseboat and this city felt more like home than London.
She’d miss that sense of belonging if the flower festival didn’t work out.
She took some photos for her dad. He’d love to see this.
With the banner hung and posters around the city, surely some people would turn up?
And with Max’s work to sell too, that had to raise some funds.
She’d have to call in at the gallery and thank Jeroen, as a piece sold in a stately gallery was bound to attract more attention than one sold at the flower market.
‘So,’ she said when Max joined her. ‘How long do we have?’
He looked confused.
‘Till your appointment?’
‘Oh, that.’ He checked his watch. ‘Another couple of hours.’
‘That’s late,’ she replied, sipping the hoppy liquid and enjoying the slightly bitter taste.
‘It is. I’ve– I’ve got a new teaching job.’
‘You have?’ She couldn’t believe he hadn’t said anything before. Then again, they hadn’t exactly been speaking up until recently. ‘That’s wonderful! When did this happen?’
‘Not long ago. I meant what I said before, Rosie. You are an exceptional person. You make things happen. You take chances. You’re far braver than you give yourself credit for. You made me think I might be able to take some chances too.’
‘Oh.’
It was quite a set of compliments.
Their eyes met and Rosie’s stomach somersaulted.
She was already glowing from his kind words but longed to hear him say more.
To refer to the relationship they had begun and then abruptly halted.
With her future uncertain it was unlikely anything more would happen between them, but she needed to know how he felt.
She thought of all the times she’d just come out and asked a man how he felt, but now, sitting with Max in front of her, with the thought of his rejection forcing her chest to tighten and her heart to squeeze, she couldn’t.
She studied the amber liquid in her glass.
‘I spoke to the college I used to teach at,’ he continued. ‘And I’ve started teaching a night class to adults who want to explore painting. It’s only for beginners.’
‘But you’re enjoying it?’
‘I am. I love their enthusiasm and helping them on their journey to making it a true passion. As it should be.’
‘That’s brilliant. I’m really proud of you. Actually, I meant to say that I got some extra work from the gallery opening. Two people have already hired me to make some arrangements for parties they’re holding.’
‘That’s great, Rosie! That’ll help pay for the boat repairs.’
She shook her head. ‘Their events are after my deadline. If only they were before, it wouldn’t all be riding on the flower festival.’
‘Speaking of that... I was thinking... you’re going to be busy that day—’
‘Well, I hope I am.’
‘Why don’t I come and help? I can manage the stall if you need to go off and do anything and, hopefully, you’ll be so busy you need two people.’
She didn’t know what to say. She wanted him by her side while she faced the hardest day of her new career. So much was resting on its success and being near Max always felt... right.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not. I wouldn’t have offered if I did.’
‘Then thank you. That’d be great.’
They fell into an uneasy silence, words that she longed to say sitting heavily between them.
Max began to talk of the windmill, giving facts about its history, and Rosie listened as best she could, but all she could see was the man she loved sitting in front of her.
The man she was going to have to give up if this bonkers idea of organising a festival in three weeks didn’t come off.
That she’d used the word ‘love’ didn’t scare her because she did love him.
She knew that now. Even if he was grumpy and difficult, prone to looking on the dark side of things, she loved the man underneath that armour.
His kindness, his generosity, his passion and the intelligent, gentle soul underneath.
With their drinks finished, Max said, ‘We should probably head back.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, stretching out the kinks in her back. ‘I’m quite tired.’
But she was pretty sure she wouldn’t sleep at all as her life seemed to hang in the balance, and there was nothing she could do about it except wait.