37. Gerrit’s ambition

Gerrit got back to his apartment very late, very tired and very irritated. The flight had been a nightmare. He’d just dozed off, his long legs stretched out comfortably in the exit seat he’d been lucky enough to get, when a flight attendant shook him on the shoulder and asked him if he wouldn’t mind changing places with a lady from further back who was feeling unwell. He’d considered refusing but succumbed to the emotional pressure and found himself crammed like a sardine into a window seat with a screaming baby in the seat ahead. The baby had hardly been reassured by turbulence and increased its volume until Gerrit suggested that the father take it for a walk up the aisle. This had only been a temporary respite however and he almost got into an argument with his neighbour who was trying to tell him how sweet babies were at that age. Thus he arrived back at Schiphol having had no sleep, his nerves ragged and his legs feeling as though they’d been telescoped into his upper body. Customs hadn’t helped by insisting on inspecting his luggage, which took another twenty minutes and was deliberately extended when Gerrit’s frustration got the better of him. Drunken teenagers on the train and rain when he got to Central Station compounded his misery and he almost cried when he climbed the stairs to his flat.
He put his case down and hunted for his key, when he heard steps behind him.
‘Oh God!’ he thought, ‘No, not now.’
Too late, he heard Roy’s voice,
“Hi there Gerrit, been away?”
He got the key in the lock and half turned around.
“Oh hi Roy. No, I’ve just got the case and the bag out of the shed.”
He put his hand hurriedly over the Miami airport ticket and tried to pick up the case as if it was empty and then threw it inside the door; followed by the bundle of post he had in his other hand.
“Actually, I was just about to go to bed, I’ll speak to you tomorrow okay?”
Roy looked a little puzzled but wasn’t going to press matters; he wasn’t in any mood to talk anyway.
“Okay, sleep well. Bye.”
“Bye Roy.”
Gerrit closed the door behind him and heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t know whether he’d got away with it but at that particular moment he didn’t care. First, he’d have a shower then the heaven of his own bed. He spent most of the next day in the same place before deciding to cut short his holiday and return to work; after all, there was no point in sitting around twiddling his thumbs.
The alarm had gone off at seven and he instantly regretted his decision, even considering ringing in ill but he’d decided that the quicker he could get back into a routine, the quicker his life would get back to normal. By coming back early from Florida, he’d saved himself a few days holiday and he’d started dreaming in the tram, of where he would go later in the year. One thing was for sure, no more older women; life was complicated enough!
Dealing with insurance claims wasn’t the most interesting job in the world but he felt comfortable with it. He was able enough to handle most problems without reference to his superiors and for that, he gradually built up a reputation for reliability. He was also becoming a bit of a veteran in the office, as staff turnover was high and people quickly found reasons to move on. The principle reason for this was the company’s branch manageress, Nelleke Knol, who very few people got to call Nellie. She was a tiny woman with an Indonesian father and a Dutch mother, who had learned at a very early age that size did matter and that she was the wrong size. Her parents had told her that in order to succeed in the land of the tallest people in the world, she would have to work twice as hard and be twice as ruthless as her competitors. She had applied this advice first at school and then when she’d got her first job as PA to the head of a consultancy firm, where she had first persuaded him to get rid of those she regarded as dead weights and then been given the responsibility of employing people who would do the work they were paid to do. As a result, the profits soared and Nellie’s reputation spread throughout the clubs where managers met and deals were done. It was no surprise to anyone when she was headhunted and came to work for Gerrit’s company on a much-increased salary and with ultimate responsibility for hiring and firing. Gerrit had kept his head down and kept out of trouble as he watched a succession of people, mainly young women, come and go. It didn’t take much; a couple of late mornings, late conclusion of accounts and files, that sort of thing and then came the appointment in Miss Knol’s office and they were gone. She didn’t socialise with the staff, didn’t join in with staff parties or celebrations and was generally despised and feared, though rarely publicly. Nobody knew who might drop a word in Nellie’s ear and so people kept their opinions to themselves, which was precisely her intention.
It came as a bit of a shock to Gerrit then, when on his first morning back, he received a summons to a ‘meeting’ with Miss Knol at two thirty that afternoon. As far as he knew, he’d done nothing wrong but he couldn’t help but worry. Florida had been expensive and the last thing he needed was to lose his job. Work for him, was no more than a necessary means of earning enough money to live. He had tried a couple of times, as a junior to improve his status but his lack of ambition had seeped through in the interviews and he had been rejected. He wasn’t that bothered, working to live was far more important than living to work. As the morning wore on, he became more exhausted from the effects of the jet lag and more stressed out wondering if he was about to be sacked. When Leontine started asking him about Florida, his patience snapped.
“Do you lot have to know every single detail of my life? Can’t a person have some privacy?”
Leontine looked hurt, she’d grown rather fond of Gerrit. Like her, he was one of the few faces who seemed to stay around and she also found him very attractive although thought herself way out of his league, being overweight and she thought, dowdy.
“Sor-ry! Pardon me for breathing. Jet lag or something?”
Gerrit realised he’d taken it out on the wrong person.
“Yes…no, well partly. I’ve got an appointment with La Knol this afternoon and I’m a bit edgy.”
“You have? Me too. I wonder what it’s all about. If she gives me the sack, I’ll tell her a few things I’ve been storing up but why us? We’re Mr. and Mrs. Reliable in this place.”
“I know but maybe that’s it. We’re too reliable, not exciting go-getters like some. Maybe she wants to bring in fresh blood, you know, new energy, new dynamics, all that sort of crap.”
“Well, we’ll find out later. Coming for lunch?”
Leontine tried not to sound too hopeful.
“Okay. I could do with some good coffee to wake me up a bit. We can go to that little, new place across the road.”
Leontine excused herself to go to the ladies room and performed a make-up repair job in record time.
“Okay, I’m ready, let’s go.”
She smiled as provocatively as she knew how but Gerrit barely noticed; he was preoccupied with thoughts of recent setbacks and potential ones still to come.
Lunch hadn’t gone the way Leontine was hoping. She’d tried light conversation and office gossip; she’d tried more serious stuff, which she’d luckily picked up from the News the night before and she’d tried jokes but nothing had managed to shake Gerrit out of his lethargy. She decided she might as well not be there, yet still had faint hopes that she’d laid the basis for a closer relationship with him. She’d work on it over the next few weeks. After all, a girl got nothing by sitting back and waiting for it to arrive. Her best friend had told her that men appreciated a straight forward approach and didn’t want to do all the courting any more; it was up to girls to make the first moves. She’d also read it in a magazine at her hairdressers, so she figured that if Gerrit didn’t ask her out in the next week, she’d ask him. She had nothing to lose except a little pride and fat girls quickly learned that pride counted for little in this image-conscious world.
Gerrit’s headache had worsened considerably by the time it came for him to see Nelleke Knol. He couldn’t understand how Leontine could be so cheerful at lunch; as far as he knew, her job was quite important to her too. She had talked non-stop and Gerrit reasoned that that must have been a sign that she was nervous too. He knocked on the door and walked in.
Nellie was sitting behind her desk, on a raised chair in front of the large picture window overlooking the street. The light framed her head, presenting a sort of halo effect, which he was certain was deliberate. She didn’t get up, she didn’t even look up but waved her hand vaguely that he should sit down, while she finished her paperwork. Again, he knew enough of management techniques to realise that psychologically, she was belittling him before she started and tried to keep that in mind but found it difficult not to be intimidated.
“Ah, Gerrit.”
She looked up through her dark, heavy-rimmed glasses and straightening the shoulders in the power-suit, began talking. Objectively, Gerrit could see she was a parody of the archetypal businesswoman but felt his knees trembling at the same time.
“Nice time in Florida?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“I’m glad to see you came straight back into work; most people would have taken more time off.”
“Well, there were things to finish off, you know…”
“Yes, yes. Well let’s get down to business shall we? You’re probably wondering why you’re here?”
“Well, I was, yes.”
“Don’t look so worried. It’s not bad news. On the contrary, I think you’ll quite like what I have to say.”
Gerrit’s spirits lifted immediately. He wasn’t going to be sacked then.
During the next ten minutes, she outlined the company’s plans for the Amsterdam branches and to his astonishment, praised his work record and offered him promotion.
“It won’t be here though, it’ll be in Osdorp but you will have control of the day to day running of the office and of course appropriate travelling expenses and a salary increase. Do you think you’re up to it?”
“Oh…it’s a bit of a surprise but yes, absolutely!”
“There’s only one thing. There’s only the one promotion post and I do have another person in mind.”
His heart sank; here was the catch.
“The Board and I have decided to do it this way. Both of you will continue in your present positions for the next month and your performance will be both observed and evaluated during that time. The person who seems to us to have the right drive and ability will be offered the new post. Is that clear? Do you have any questions?”
Gerrit was beginning to have strong suspicions who the other candidate was.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Of course, if you don’t feel happy in any way with this arrangement, you’re perfectly at liberty to withdraw and continue in your present position.”
‘No way…’ thought Gerrit, ‘…that would be professional suicide. Anyway, what if Elfriede was right and new opportunities were there for the taking?’
“No, no, that sounds fine to me. I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
“That’s the spirit. Well, you’ll be hearing from us.”
She extended her hand and he shook it, taking it as a sign that the interview was over and left.
Back at his desk, he couldn’t concentrate as he mulled over the idea of promotion and more money. He could certainly do with it and was quite pleased that his steadiness had been recognised as a quality. Providing he was on top form over the next few weeks, he felt quite confident that he could land this job.
The door suddenly flew open and Leontine breezed in.
“Hey, how did it go?” he asked, smiling and feeling much more generous towards her now.
She fixed him with a glare, the one she practised at home for when her mother was nagging her and without a word, began clearing her desk of her papers, her stuffed toys and her photos in shell frames.
“What! Aren’t you speaking to me now?”
“I think it’s for the best don’t you? Ms Knol…Nellie, has given me permission to work in another room, at least for the next month, then I guess we won’t be seeing much of each other anyway.”
Her whole demeanour had changed and Gerrit realised he was now dealing with his rival. ‘Nellie huh!’ he thought, ‘Okay missie, you want it this way? War is declared.’
He put his head down, hoping he was treating her with the contempt she deserved and tried to read the report that was clearly upside down on his desk. With a snort of triumph, Leontine swept out of the room, leaving a lingering trail of recently applied perfume in her wake. Gerrit wrenched the window open to let in fresh air as his thoughts descended into childishness.




38. Mia’s ennui

Mia was bored. She’d suspected it was pointless going into the shop with the weather the way it was and it being so soon after New Year but then, she was bored at home too. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that she’d spent an obscene amount of money on a second-hand, de Sede settee a couple of days before and felt a subconscious need to earn it back as quickly as possible. She had been proud of herself though. Sitting late in the evening, over the last of too many glasses of wine and flipping through the ‘Items for Sale’ section of a style magazine, she’d come across this settee and she’d practically drooled into her glass. She’d wanted a de Sede for as long as she could remember but could never afford a new one. If this was in good condition, she was definitely interested, although the price was still far too high, however enticing it seemed under the influence of alcohol. Undeterred by the fact that it was already eleven o’clock, she’d picked up the phone and dialled the number.
The negotiations the next morning had been tough and, she had been on the point of giving up but then, walking around the back of the settee, she noticed the leather had come away along the seam at the bottom. This would be no problem; she knew an excellent little man in the Jordaan but it was a bargaining point. To her amazement, the owner, a rather elegant woman in her early sixties called Lucia, wearied of the haggling and dropped the price considerably. Apparently, she had wanted a quick sale all the time but had bristled at Mia’s hard bargaining and had decided to give her a fight. In the end it was all settled amicably and they sat chatting over a sherry.
“I’m a writer you know. You probably won’t have heard of me though, my subject is very specialised.”
“Oh really! Well, strangely enough, I run a second-hand bookshop. You never know, I may have you on my shelves. What sort of thing do you write about?”
The woman looked at her over her glasses and lifted the glass with a well-manicured and delicate hand. Her lips pursed and she smiled coyly.
“I wrote my memoirs, or rather the memoirs of my heroine, which were based on my life.”
“How interesting. What was it called?”
It was called, ‘Life between the sheets.’ I was a Madame my dear, a very high-class brothel owner. Are you shocked?”
“Not in the slightest. How fascinating!” exclaimed Mia, “Do tell me more.”
“Oh it’s an old story and I’m rather weary of telling it if you don’t mind but I’m sure I can find a copy of the book if you’re really interested.”
“I’d love to borrow it. I’d return it to you of course.”
“Well, you’d have to be a quick reader then. I leave for South Africa at the end of next week. I’m going to live with my daughter somewhere near Durban. Since my husband died and with the advance of old age, there’s nothing for me here in Amsterdam. I’m just a lonely old lady with a past but little present. Most of my friends have either died or moved on with their lives. Some of them don’t really want to know me anymore but that goes with the job I suppose. I could tell you a thing or two about certain so-called society matrons in Wassenaar or Aerdenhout.”
Mia’s eyebrows rose.
“But of course I won’t. I didn’t get to be where I am now by being indiscreet you know.”
”Oh, of course, I understand.”
”I doubt you do my dear, I doubt you do but there you go. I’ll fetch the book for you. You can keep it if you like, I have more copies and then I really have to get on. There’s so much still to do.”
Lucia got up and left the room, leaving Mia mulling over what she’d just learned. At that moment, it became clear to her that it was about time she did something with her life. She wasn’t at all sure what but she also wanted to be an old lady with an intriguing past and at the moment, she was approaching middle age with very little on her CV.
‘Time to do some serious thinking,’ she decided.

The arrival of the settee had been exciting at the time and she had placed it several times in several places before she was satisfied but she felt disturbingly guilty, selfish even and for once slightly unfulfilled by her purchase. Her Calvinist upbringing kept reminding her of all the other things she could have done with that amount of money but it was too late now and she was sure she would grow to love it in time.
The sense of dissatisfaction over the de Sede, partly explained her feelings of ennui as she sat in the shop but it was also the strange business with Marcel and Ben, which added to her restlessness.
Neither of them had rung since New Year’s Eve, which she decided was indicative of male immaturity but she was also quite relieved. She’d been angry at first and had felt somehow used but she didn’t want to file them away quite yet in the ex-lovers category because she had a suspicion that there was something to salvage in the way of friendship. At the same time, she couldn’t face emotional complications at this moment, so she decided not to be the first to pick up the phone either. Yet again she was faced with the fact that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t make any extra effort with people, men especially, preferring the refuge of her own company. If they didn’t come to her, she would almost always put it down to experience and move on. This time, however, she’d gone into new territory sexually and it had disturbed her how easy it had been. With the passage of time, she even admitted to herself that she had been quite turned on by the sight of two men together, even if she hadn’t really been the constant focus of their attention. Strange times but where were they leading her? The meeting with Lucia had also fuelled those nagging feelings of insecurity and she sat in the shop, blank-faced, trying to make sense of it all. None of the things that had happened to her recently had been, in themselves, particularly traumatic but they’d all raised questions in her mind and much as she tried, she couldn’t relax and resume the status quo. Maybe she was on the brink of one of those moments in life when you know everything’s going to change and maybe she needed to implement that change but how? Gradually, the seeds of an idea began forming in the back of her mind and she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her before. She could write a book also. Why not? After all, she had the time and the perfect setting, plus several useful contacts in the publishing world, should it turn out to be good enough. Men she didn’t need; well, not as permanent fixtures anyway and nobody enjoyed their own company more than Mia. She knew from friends and biographies she’d read what a lonely occupation writing could be but that appealed rather than discouraged. It was the ideal solution. It would give her a purpose in life and she could do it and run the shop as well. She tore a sheet of paper from a writing pad, picked up a pen and started to think.