by Nick Garlick
“Really?” Mr. Mesman asked, as if there couldn’t possibly be any doubt about the price he’d offered. “How much were you expecting?”
“Two hundred guilders,” Flip said.
Mr. Mesman stared down at him in silence. Then he smiled a smile that wasn’t friendly at all. “But you said your mother bought it secondhand,” he said. “And when you buy something secondhand, the price drops.”
Flip could see the Mesman Boys out of the corner of his eye, smirking at him.
“But she hardly used it!” he protested. “And the person before her had it less than a month.”
Mr. Mesman shook his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “If it was secondhand when your mother bought it, that makes it thirdhand now. You don’t expect me to pay two hundred guilders for something that’s thirdhand, do you? Why do you think nobody else bought it? All those people who stopped to look at it and then walked away? They were thinking exactly the same thing.”
Flip started to say they weren’t because they’d told him their reasons, but Mr. Mesman cut him off.
“I’m offering you a good price for what this record player is worth today, here on this island. After you’ve been out in the sun for almost three hours and nobody’s shown the slightest interest in buying it. If you try selling it again tomorrow, I won’t be so generous as I am now. And that’s a promise.”
Flip knew what was happening was wrong. But he didn’t know how to convince Mr. Mesman. And he had to find a way to keep Storm. Keeping Storm was more important than anything else.
“I’ll take the money,” he said with a sinking heart as the three brothers looked admiringly at their clever father.
Flip left the hotel and stood on the steps with the money in one hand, the cardboard sign in the other, and an empty suitcase at his feet. From feeling ridiculous and stupid just a few minutes before, he now felt angry and humiliated.
“And that,” he heard Mr. Mesman say to his sons inside, “is how you buy something for the price you want to pay. Not what the other person wants. Go on the attack and stay on the attack. Don’t give them the chance to think straight. Do you idiots understand? Were you paying attention for once?”
Flip walked slowly home. When he got there, Aunt Elly was sitting outside in the afternoon sunshine with Renske. They were drinking glasses of lemonade.
“Ah, there you are!” Aunt Elly said. “We were wondering where you’d got to.” Then she saw the look on his face. “What on earth’s happened?”
Flip didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. He’d been such a fool.
“Have you stolen something?” she asked.
Flip shook his head.
“Have you murdered someone?”
“No!” Flip said. “Of course not!”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Aunt Elly said. “At least we know we’re not living with a thief or a murderer. We won’t have to lock our doors at night.”
Renske giggled, which made Flip smile. Just a little. So he told Aunt Elly what had happened. When he was finished, she looked deep into his eyes.
“You sold the record player so Storm could stay here?” she asked.
Flip nodded. “I know I was keeping it for Mom, but I couldn’t let Storm go! Not now! Not after everything that’s happened. And I thought Mom would understand, because she likes horses too.”
“Yes,” Aunt Elly said. “I’m sure she would.”
“But it’s no good now,” Flip said, feeling miserable, “because I didn’t get enough money. I was hoping I’d make so much Storm could stay here for years and years! And then you’d never have to worry about feeding him again. He could stay here for the rest of his life.”
Aunt Elly leaned forward and took his hand in hers. “Fool me once, shame on you,” she said. “Fool me twice, shame on me. Do you know what that means?”
Flip shook his head.
“It means,” Aunt Elly said, “that if someone makes a fool of you once, it’s not your fault. It’s theirs, because they did it on purpose. But,” and she held up a finger, “if they do it again, then it is your fault for not learning your lesson and stopping them. Now, this Mr. Mesman got your record player off you for less than it’s worth. That wasn’t your fault. You were being honest. He wasn’t. He made you look like a fool in front of his sons and he cheated you. The only person who’s done something wrong today is him, and I don’t want you blaming yourself for a second for anything he did! Is that quite clear?”
Flip nodded.
“Good!” Aunt Elly said. She stood up, took off her apron, and tidied her hair. “Then off we go.”
“Where?” Flip and Renske asked simultaneously.
“To the hotel,” Aunt Elly said. “To get the rest of the money Flip should have been paid.”
And without another word, she strode off to the village.
MR. MESMAN WAS standing behind the reception desk, talking to two hotel guests, when Aunt Elly walked in. He frowned when he saw her, then frowned even harder when he saw Flip and Renske at her back.
“I want to talk to you,” Aunt Elly said without raising her voice. “I’ll let you finish your business with these two gentlemen, then I shall expect your full attention. Is that clear?”
Mr. Mesman was so surprised, all he could do was nod. Aunt Elly took the children and stood off to one side. When the guests left, she walked up to the desk.
“And what can I do for—” Mr. Mesman began.
“I’d like the rest of the money you should have paid Flip for his record player,” Aunt Elly said, still speaking softly. “I’d like it now, I’d like it in cash, and I won’t leave until I get it.”
Mr. Mesman tried a smile. “Your nephew sold me his record player. If there’s a problem with the price he got, perhaps he should talk to me about it.”
“No,” Aunt Elly said. “He’s not going to do that because you’d only bully and bamboozle him all over again and send him out of here with even less than you paid him the first time. You’re going to talk to me instead.”
Mr. Mesman’s smile vanished. “The boy,” he said, “was selling a thirdhand record player. I gave him a good price for something thirdhand.”
“Rubbish,” Aunt Elly said. “That record player is in excellent condition and the only person who would call it thirdhand is either a cheat or blind. Are you blind, Mr. Mesman?”
“No,” Mr. Mesman said through gritted teeth. “I am not.”
“Then you’re a cheat and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“How dare you!” he hissed. “I resent that!”
“Of course you resent it,” Aunt Elly said. “Cheats always resent the truth. But you’re still going to talk to me. And you’re still going to pay Flip what you should have the first time.”
“I’m not prepared to offer one cent more!”
“You most certainly are,” Aunt Elly said, “because I’m not leaving until you do. That’s the second time I’ve said this. Do I have to say it a third time?”
Passing hotel guests could hear the conversation and were casting curious glances at the group at reception. A few lingered to hear what was going on.
Mr. Mesman smiled at them. “Perhaps,” he suggested to Aunt Elly, “we could talk in the office?”
“We can settle the matter quite satisfactorily out here,” she said.
Mr. Mesman glanced at the guests out of the corner of his eye, then raised his right hand in frustration. “I’ll pay an extra twenty guilders,” he said.
Aunt Elly reached out and slapped his hand lightly. He stared at her as though she’d just stepped out of a spaceship.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I thought you were doing the handclap,” she replied.
He looked even more puzzled.
“The handclap,” she explained, “is the way we country people trade at the market. The seller starts by stating a price. If the buyer doesn’t agree, he slaps the seller’s hand. So the seller makes a new offer and s
laps the buyer’s hand. This goes on until they reach a price they agree on. Then they shake hands. You know, if you are going to live on Mossum, Mr. Mesman, you really should learn your neighbors’ customs.”
“I can’t afford to waste time with all that nonsense,” he fumed. “I’ll give you one hundred and fifty. In total!”
Aunt Elly slapped his hand again. “Two hundred.”
More people were now peering in through the hotel’s front door to see what was going on. Mr. Mesman saw them too. “One hundred and seventy-five,” he said.
Another handclap from Aunt Elly. “Two hundred,” she repeated.
Mr. Mesman glared at her and breathed in through his nose. It took him a long, long time. Then he breathed out. That took him even longer. Aunt Elly stared back at him without moving a muscle. The crowd outside the doors had grown even larger.
“All right!” the hotel owner snapped, tugging out his wallet and counting the extra notes onto the desk. He handed them to Aunt Elly, who gave them to Flip.
“I don’t suppose there’ll be a handshake,” she said, “but don’t forget to say thank you, Flip.”
“Thank you,” Flip said.
Mr. Mesman ignored him. “I wonder,” he said to Aunt Elly, “why you let the boy stand there and fight his battles for him. What kind of lesson is that?”
“A better one than making your sons stand in a line to watch while you cheat someone,” Aunt Elly replied. She took Renske’s hand and turned to go.
“You won’t be here long, you know,” Mr. Mesman called after her. “I’ll have your farm. One way or another, I’ll have it. And when I do, there won’t be any stupid handclapping, I can promise you that!”
Aunt Elly ignored him and led the children outside.
“What did he mean by that?” Flip asked. “About the farm?”
For a moment, Aunt Elly’s cheerfulness seemed to desert her. She looked tired. Then she pulled herself together and smiled.
“Well,” she said, “if you were to buy us all an ice cream, I might be persuaded to tell you all about it. I think a rich man like you could afford three ice creams, don’t you?”
Flip went into the shop and bought three ice creams. Then they sat down on the bench in front of the church to eat them.
And Aunt Elly told him what Mr. Mesman had meant.
“MR. MESMAN,” AUNT ELLY said, “wants to build a new hotel.”
“He’s already got a hotel,” Flip said.
“I know he has,” Aunt Elly said. “But he wants to build a new one.”
“Where?” Flip asked.
“On our farm.”
Flip couldn’t believe his ears. “But that’s your home!”
“Oh, that’s not going to stop Mr. Mesman,” Aunt Elly said. “He’s got big plans. He wants to buy our farm, knock it down, and put up a brand-new luxury hotel, twice as big as the one he has now. And then he wants the rest of our land to build a huge park and playground for the guests, one that goes all the way down to the beach. That way they’ll be able to walk straight from the hotel to the sea.”
Flip thought about that for a moment. “But he can’t build anything if you don’t sell the farm to him,” he said.
“He can’t. You’re right. But we may have to sell,” Aunt Elly said. “The world’s changing. Farms on the Wadden Islands are disappearing because people on the mainland can do things much more cheaply than we can. You used to be able to get by just dealing with your neighbors. But not anymore. Now there’s cars and trucks and roads everywhere and everything’s moving so much faster. You can trade with anyone anywhere in the country now. Small farmers like your uncle can’t keep up. They can’t earn enough money to keep up.”
“Why doesn’t Uncle Andries do something else?”
“Because he’s a farmer. That’s what he loves to do. His family’s lived on Mossum for more than a hundred years.”
“But if you don’t have enough money, wouldn’t it be better to do something else?” Flip said.
Aunt Elly was quiet for a while. “You like Storm, don’t you?” she said at last.
“Yes,” Flip said.
“If he went away, you wouldn’t be happy, would you?”
“No.”
“So when you found out he might have to go,” she went on, “you did everything you could to keep him. You didn’t just say, Oh well, I haven’t got enough money, so I’ll let him pop off and live somewhere else, did you?”
“I couldn’t do that!” Flip said. “Not to Storm!”
“That’s the way your uncle feels about the farm,” Aunt Elly said. “He’s not going to give it up just because he doesn’t have a lot of money. He’s going to do everything he can to keep it. Just the way you did everything you could to keep Storm. The only trouble is, if anything bad ever happens and we suddenly need to pay a big bill, we won’t be able to. That’s what Mr. Mesman meant. He’s hoping that one day, someday, your uncle’s going to need more money than he’s got. He’s hoping your uncle will be forced to sell the farm, and then he’ll jump in and snap it up before anyone else can make an offer.”
“That’s not fair!” Flip exclaimed.
“I know it’s not,” Aunt Elly said. “If things were fair, Mr. Mesman would look after the hotel he already owns. Or spend some money to help fix this church tower behind us. That big gap at the top’s only going to get bigger, you know, and one day there’ll be an accident. But Mr. Mesman isn’t interested in the church. Or the island. All he wants to do is build his big new hotel and make a lot of money from it.”
“I thought he was an islander,” Flip said. “His sons call me city boy. I thought they’d always lived here.”
“Rubbish!” Aunt Elly said. “They’re city boys too. They’ve only been on Mossum four years. They came from Rotterdam.”
“Then why do they call me—”
“City boy? Because bullies will use any excuse to pick a fight. If you’d been born on Mossum, they’d call you a stupid islander.” She held up her hand. “And that’s the last breath I’m wasting on the Mesmans on a lovely afternoon like this. I’m not talking about them anymore. Now you know the story. That’s enough.”
The three of them fell silent and concentrated on eating their ice creams.
“I’ve always liked sitting on this bench,” Aunt Elly said after a while. “Did you know your father helped put it here?”
“My dad?” Flip said. He was almost too surprised to speak. He’d never seen his dad make anything in his entire life. As far as Flip knew, all he’d ever done was stay out at night and come back home with a new stack of stolen boxes.
“Him and your uncle. When they weren’t much older than you are now, they dug the holes and poured the concrete and set the legs in it. And then they painted it. I always think of your father when I sit here.”
“Is this where he met my mom?” Flip asked. “On Mossum?”
“Yes,” Aunt Elly said. “She came to work in the hotel for the summer. Then she went back to Amsterdam with your father.”
“Did you know her?” Flip asked.
“Oh, only a little.”
“What was she like?” he asked. “I mean, what was she like then?”
Aunt Elly considered the question. “Well,” she said, “she was very pretty. All the boys were in love with her. And she liked the island. She liked to go walking and riding on it. In fact, I think she would have stayed on Mossum if she hadn’t met your father. He was a handsome lad and all the girls were in love with him. Trouble was, he didn’t want to stay.”
“Why not?”
“It bored him.”
Bored? Flip thought, amazed at this news. How could anybody be bored on Mossum? How could you prefer a damp, poky little apartment in a noisy city when there was a whole island to explore? He finished his ice cream and folded up the wrapper. He looked at Aunt Elly.
“I keep forgetting my mom’s face,” he said.
He felt bad saying it, as if he were doing something wrong. But Au
nt Elly only smiled.
“Everyone does,” she said. “If you haven’t got a photo of someone and they aren’t there every day, it’s easy to forget what they look like. But it doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten them.”
Flip pulled the letter from his pocket. “I keep this, though. She wrote it to me before she left. It’s worth even more to me than the record player.”
He let Aunt Elly read it. When she had, she folded it up carefully and handed it back.
“You’re a good person, Flip,” she said. “And your mother would be very pleased about what you’ve done today. So will your uncle, when you tell him. In fact, I can’t wait to see the look on his face when you do.”
“It wasn’t just me,” Flip said. “You helped too.”
“It was your idea to sell the record player,” Aunt Elly said. “All I did was collect some outstanding cash. I hardly did a thing.”
They left the bench and started walking home. Renske took her mother’s hand and looked up at her with serious eyes.
“I’d have sold my record player too,” she said. “If I’d had one.”
Flip followed along happily behind them.
Bored? he thought. How could you be bored on Mossum?
FLIP WAITED UNTIL supper to give his uncle the money. He didn’t know how to do it, or what to say, so after he’d helped clear the dishes away, he just took the notes out of his pocket and placed them on the table.
“This is for Storm,” he said simply. “To pay for his food in the winter.”
Uncle Andries stared at the money. “Where did you get this?” he asked.
Flip told him what he’d done, and how Aunt Elly had helped him.
Uncle Andries stared at him. He pushed the notes around on the table with his fingertip, as though he wasn’t sure they were real. Then he looked at Flip. Then he looked at the money again. Then he stood up and walked out through the door into the farmyard without a word. He stayed away so long, Flip was convinced he’d done something wrong and he said so to his aunt.
“Not at all,” she said, without pausing in the washing up. “I’ve never seen him so happy. He’ll be back in a moment to shake your hand and he’ll be chattering away like a magpie. Just you wait and see.”