The advantage of a well-stocked flower stall is that you have a lot of choice. The downside is that other people also have a lot of choice, especially if they are people of shaky disposition. And then the flower girl was all alone. Her colleague had corona, she stated, ‘at least that’s what she says. She must be on the beach.’ That’s what we got from that corona: an ideal excuse.
The neat old lady before me, meanwhile, couldn’t choose. She hesitated for a long time between gladioli and hydrangeas, played aloud with the thought of sunflowers, thought they were too ‘ordinary’ and finally (I was now frantically looking at my empty wrist for lack of watch) decided: Lisianthus had to the creature, the purple one, yes, she would have preferred pink, but they weren’t there, although she had expected them in a ‘normally well-stocked shop’. (Reproachful look at the flower girl).
As the girl hurriedly packed the flowers, a telephone rang in the old lady’s purse. Tring, tring, tring… ‘Oh my gosh,’ cried the old lady, but that didn’t help: the bag, fitted with two complicated twist closures, had to open. Tring, tring … once that hurdle was cleared, a large household clipping emerged from which she laboriously fished out a phone in a snap-locked leather case. Tring, tring … the push button struggled for a while, but then her parchment index finger finally gave the redeeming swipe across the screen. Tri…
‘With Mrs Verhoeven. Is it you, Joosje? (…) Yes.(…) Yes.(…) No, you’re not disturbing, that is, I’m standing here at the flower stall. You know, the big one, on the corner of the… yeah, that one. Well, that one has also had better days, but listen, Joosje, I’ll call you back later. I still have to pay here, and behind me is someone who seems to be in a terrible hurry.’ (Reproachful look at me).
‘Yes. No. You wonder what some people … well, so I’ll call you back later. I can tell you that I don’t have such good news. About Hilda, yes. (…) No, it’s not that bad now, but still, very sad. (…) Yes, exactly. But I’ll call you back later, because the walls here have ears, shall we say’. (Reproachful look at me). ‘Yes. That’s a shame… yes. But in the end. See you later, Joosje!’
She lowered the phone with a theatrical gesture. She looked at me pinnacledly, and said, “Don’t you really have anything better to do?”