Speechless, I look to Klaas, who stares back at me, his face contorted in horror.
People appear in the doorway. Lit up by the flames, they form an indistinguishable mass. They shout for water and try to smother the flames with hastily removed articles of clothing. Two women slap at the smouldering flames on my jerkin and skirt and get me outside, where a crowd is forming. Windows and doors are thrown open, there’s shouting coming from all around. A fire that gets out of hand can destroy the whole town, so within minutes everyone is on the streets. Several chains form between the pottery and the canal, where buckets of water are drawn and passed from person to person along the line.
I lend a hand. I’m not in any pain, the flames didn’t get through the thick layers of clothing. I sweat to save my business and don’t stop even once to look inside, where Jacob’s body is burning to ash.
47
Klaas is locked in a dungeon and subjected to interrogation, but thankfully he doesn’t stay locked up for long. After two days, he’s released. The magistrates show clemency because, when all is said and done, he did prevent Delft from being razed to the ground. And there were enough witnesses to attest to the fact that I was being threatened. Isaac’s testimony, that I had suspected an employee of stealing, but had no proof, coupled with my repeated assertions that this employee was Jacob put the matter to rest, although I suspect the saving of the city carried more weight in the end.
Even The Lotus Flower came out of the whole thing well. There was a great deal of damage, but the workshop was saved by the quick action of my neighbours. After the restoration work, which costs me a lot of money, we got back to work as quickly as possible.
Now I have an excellent master potter in Christiaan, and Klaas has replaced Jacob.
The stain Jacob’s blood left on the floor fades over the weeks that follow. The way he died makes me shudder, but I don’t dwell on it. Every time I see the mark, it hits me afresh that he’s gone from my life, that there’s no longer anyone who knows my secret. I’m free. It seems I’ve built up some credit with God after all.
September and October rush by and we’re stuck inside for days as the rain beats against the window panes. On one of those wet, windy days, painting apprentice, Hendrik, is sitting doodling on one of the misfires. I walk past him with a medicine jar that needs painting, glance over his shoulder and stop walking. Next to the vague lines testing the thickness of the paint is a row of little windmills with their sails in various positions.
‘That’s lovely,’ I say. ‘Give me that pot for a second.’
Hendrik hands me his work, surprised at my interest. I walk over to Christiaan with it. He’s busy in the workshop with the vats of tin glaze and is giving instructions to a new employee. I wait until he’s finished and hold up the pot.
‘Windmills?’ He raises his eyebrows.
‘It looks good, doesn’t it?’
‘I don’t know. People want oriental designs.’
‘And we’re going to keep making them. But perhaps the customers would like these too. Windmills and other Dutch images. City panoramas, for example.’
Christiaan scrutinises the pot. ‘I suppose we could do the walls and gate towers of different cities. Each city could have its own pottery.’
I give him a big smile and go back to the studio to talk the idea over with Frans.
‘I don’t know.’ His face clouds with doubt. ‘We’re so busy as it is. Where’s the demand for this?’
‘If we don’t try, we’ll never know. Make a couple of drawings of the gates of Amsterdam, then I’ll do a couple of the Delft ones.’
He shrugs. ‘You’re the boss.’
Frans is right, we are too busy to be setting up a new line of earthenware. But I don’t see why we should let that stop us. I believe that it can be a success, with just as much certainty as when I suggested to Evert that we make oriental pottery ourselves.
As the autumn goes on, I’m working harder than ever. With my fat belly, I can barely do much more than sit, so I make the best use of my time. Frans and I sketch various designs and, once we’re satisfied, we produce stencils and move on to painting real pieces. We start with windmills and ice-skaters, which immediately sell well. Then we bring out our city panoramas of Delft and Amsterdam. The demand for them exceeds even my expectations. Our Dutch Porcelain becomes so popular we broaden our range to include views of more cities, polder landscapes and ships.
Quentin and Angelika follow our example. We don’t tread on each other’s toes. The demand is such that our companies can barely meet it. We pass on commissions to each other and borrow workers as and when we need them.
Spurred on by our success, one pottery after another opens up, often in vacant breweries. Fifty years ago, Delft’s beer industry was still flourishing, serving ocean-going ships, but when many cities began brewing their own ship’s beer, most of the Delft companies shut down. Now the empty buildings, kitted out with workshops and ovens, are turning out to be exceptionally well-suited for setting up potteries.
By the beginning of December, there are fifteen up and running, almost all of them on The Gheer. They are located next to each other in a neat row, the shops on the street side, the workshops behind. Thick clouds of smoke rise over the roofs and there’s an all-pervading smell that never goes away. The city has found a new occupation.
On December the fifteenth, I give birth to a little girl and name her Eva. The birth is without complications. In the weeks that follow, the stream of visitors and presents, even from customers, doesn’t stop. It’s hard without Evert, even though Angelika and Quentin give me a lot of support.
Every time I look at Eva’s face, at her fine, dark curls and those heavenly little hands and feet, I feel overwhelmed by an unprecedented feeling of happiness. Life hasn’t always been easy for me, but finally even I’ve got a great deal to be grateful for.
One cold winter day, I’m walking across the poultry market with Angelika. I’ve left Eva with Hilly. As we’re wandering among the stalls, I catch a fragment of conversation. The words ‘ship returning’ and ‘Delfshaven’ float over to me and I whip round with a start.
‘What is it?’ asks Angelika.
‘Didn’t you hear that?’
She shakes her head.
I walk back to the cluster of people standing chatting next to the butter stall. ‘Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing a little of your conversation. Has one of the VOC ships returned?’
The people stop talking and look at me. One of the men nods.
‘From the East, with a hold full of spices. The cargo is piled in enormous bales on the quayside. But the crew didn’t fare so well.’
‘Fewer than half of them are left,’ says the woman standing next to him. ‘Apparently, the voyage out was terrible, with storms, sickness and too little drinking water. They had to muster new men in the East to even get home.’
‘Which ship is it?’ I look from one to another anxiously.
‘The Delft,’ says the man.
From that moment on, I don’t know a moment’s peace. Fewer than half! Would Matthias still be alive? My feelings for him are locked up somewhere deep inside; it’s as if we were never entirely separated. I’m sure I would have sensed it, if he had died. And so I wait, restless but hopeful.
Large, ocean-going vessels can’t get all the way to Delft so they lay anchor at Delfshaven, where the cargo is transferred to smaller boats and brought into town. Even though it’s freezing cold, I make sure I’m out on the streets and in the city harbour as much as possible to keep up with the news. The first crew members return to Delft and I ask after Matthias. To my relief, I hear that he has survived the journey. But no one knows where he went after he came ashore.
It’s a sombre winter day, with heavy clouds that put an end to the working day earlier than usual. Everyone has gone home, apart from the stokers, and I’m tidying up in the office when someone arrives in the doorway. I know it’s him before I’ve even turned around. I feel
his presence.
I turn and there he is, almost unrecognisable with a tanned face, shoulder-length hair and a beard. Only his eyes are still the same: that unmistakable, bright blue gaze. And the way he looks at me with a kind of hunger makes the repressed desire in me flare up all over again.
We close the gap between us and I feel his arms around me. His grip is strong, a briny smell rises from his clothes.
‘I’ve dreamed of this moment so often,’ he says quietly. ‘I was so afraid you’d be gone, disappeared without a trace, but you’re here.’
He strokes my hair, my back, and then he grabs me around the waist and holds me slightly away from him. His eyes take in every detail of my face. Next he bows his head to mine and a second later our lips meet. A wild wave of desire rushes over me. I clamp my arms around him and kiss him with abandon. I can hardly believe that he’s back, that I can see him and touch him. We just keep kissing, touching, smiling and kissing again. Until I hear Eva crying. The sound is coming from close by and Hilly appears in my peripheral vision with Eva in her arms.
I gently push Matthias away. He looks round and then, bewildered, back at me.
Feeling a bit awkward, I walk over to Hilly and take my daughter from her.
‘Matthias, this is Eva.’
Slowly, what I’m trying to tell him seems to sink in.
‘Eva,’ he repeats.
‘My daughter.’ I pause for a second and then add, ‘And Evert’s.’
He stares at me, nonplussed. I have to swallow the lump in my throat before I can continue.
‘We got married last year.’
The change on Matthias’s face is complete. Passion has given way to dismay and now a tinge of anger also appears in his eyes. ‘You were supposed to wait for me.’
‘I never promised anything. Eighteen months is a long time, Matthias.’
‘And all those months I thought only of you, I was sorry I’d left and prayed to God you wouldn’t meet anyone else. And all the while you were busy getting married to my brother the second I was gone.’
‘That’s not fair, that’s not how it went.’
‘You married him, didn’t you? So that’s exactly how it went. You’ve even had his child.’ Then something seems to hit him. ‘Where is Evert, anyway?’
Another awkward silence falls. I avoid Matthias’s eyes and take a deep breath.
‘Sit down,’ I say.
48
I don’t know which is worse: Matthias’s anger that I married his brother, or his anguish about Evert’s death. The shock hits him hard. He doesn’t say anything, just stares into space with a hollow expression.
I reach out to comfort him. He shrinks away from my touch. He stalks out of the office and a moment later I see him walking away up The Gheer.
Devastated, I sink onto the edge of the desk.
I expect him to come back, but it keeps getting later and later and there’s no sign of him. I walk around with Eva, who can sense my disquiet and won’t go to sleep. Once she’s finally settled, I remain standing at the window for a long time.
Around midnight, I give up hope and go to bed. I lie on my side fretting. Where is he now? Will he come back tomorrow or will he leave Delft? Surely he has to understand I had no other choice, that life went on and I simply couldn’t wait for him?
I get up early, feed Eva, open the doors of the workshop and let the men in. Once Frans has arrived and everyone is getting down to work, I give Hilly her instructions for the day, kiss Eva and walk over to the market square. I reach the Mechelen Inn and go inside.
‘You’re in early.’ Digna comes over with a look of concern.
‘Has Matthias been in?’
‘Yes, of course. He stayed here last night – but he’s gone already.’
‘Did he say where he was going?’
‘No. He might be with Johannes. He asked for the address of his studio.’ She looks at me sympathetically. ‘The news you gave him wasn’t easy to hear. How did he take it?’
‘Badly.’ I walk out the door again.
I rush over to Voldersgracht at a trot. I push open the door to Johannes’s studio, full of hope. He’s giving instructions to an apprentice when I come in.
‘Catrin! Matthias just left.’ He comes over and leads me into the side room, out of the apprentices’ earshot.
‘How is he?’
‘He’s shocked and sad. Very sad.’
‘Was he angry?’
‘With you? No, he understood. He said he was the one who went away, that it’s only logical that you didn’t sit around waiting. Well, actually I said that, and he admitted that I was right. He said he wasn’t suited to committed relationships, he had nothing to offer you.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘To the harbour.’
I stare at Johannes and feel despair growing inside me. ‘After a year and a half, he’s finally back and he’s leaving again? Just like that?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Johannes puts his arm around me. ‘I’m most sorry that he’s come and thrown everything up in the air again, now that life is going a bit better for you. Let him go, Catrin. You deserve better.’
I flash him a small smile and leave. I set off in the direction of the harbour, running as fast as I can. I keep an eye out on the way, but I don’t spot Matthias anywhere. He’s nowhere to be seen in the harbour either. My eyes dart between the many boats that are moored or just leaving. Am I too late?
I enquire with all the sailors I encounter.
‘Van Nulandt? Yes, he was looking for a boat to Amsterdam,’ one says. ‘There’re enough of them headed there, so he must be on his way by now.’
I stay standing on the quayside for a long time, gazing out over the water. Finally, I turn and trudge home, filled with an emptiness that robs me of all energy and lust for life.
When I get home, he’s standing in the kitchen. Hilly is pouring him a glass of beer and he’s looking at Eva, who’s lying in her crib. One glance at my face is enough to send Hilly running from the room.
Flabbergasted, I lean against the doorpost. ‘I thought you’d gone.’
‘Without giving you the presents I brought you? Never.’ He gestures to the table, which is covered in strange things. I can hardly take them all in.
‘Did you love him?’ Matthias asks after a brief silence.
‘Yes, and I miss him. I wasn’t in love with Evert, but he was my best friend. I could count on him and he could count on me. Sometimes that’s enough for a marriage.’ I tell him about all that’s happened over the past eighteen months. The only part I leave out is Jacob; that has nothing to do with this. I relate everything as carefully as possible, the way Evert and I grew closer, our collaboration, my broken leg and how he supported me.
When I’ve finished, Matthias says, ‘I understand.’
‘Really?’
‘Catrin, I’ve had a lot of time to think on my travels. I realised I should have been more clear.’
‘About what?’
‘About my feelings for you. Maybe I needed this voyage to know what I wanted.’
‘And that is?’
I wait for the words I never thought I’d hear again, and at the same time ask myself whether I’ll believe them. Whether I’ll ever dare to rely on him.
Rather than saying those words, he gestures to all the objects on the table. He tells me what they all are: coral, amber, fossils, starfish and precious stones. They come from the Cape Verde Islands, the Southern Cape of Africa, Madagascar, Mozambique and Ceylon. Names that mean nothing to me, but that evoke mysterious worlds. Worlds where he was thinking of me, from whence he brought back little pieces. For me.
I listen to his stories, watch the life return to his eyes as he relives his journey.
‘It sounds amazing,’ I say at last. ‘It must have been a great adventure.’
‘A dangerous adventure, but it was fantastic.’
‘You love travelling, you need it.’
He hears the subtle change in
my voice, stands up and walks over to me. ‘I need you as well. While I was out there, I thought about you constantly, but now that I’m back …’
‘You want to go again.’
‘Not immediately. But one day … yes.’
‘Then you have to go. You’ll be unhappy if you stay on dry land.’
‘I’ll be unhappy without you, too.’ His eyes seek mine and hold my gaze.
A silence falls.
‘One thing doesn’t rule out the other,’ I say softly. ‘This time I would wait for you.’
Moved, he watches my face. ‘Really?’ He comes to stand in front of me and strokes my lip with his thumb.
‘I need to go away now,’ he murmurs. ‘Not for long, a couple of days. And then we’ll talk.’
I nod and he kisses me. Then he grabs his bag and leaves. I follow him out, wave after him as he goes up the road, and smile to myself because even though I know that he’ll often leave me, I also know that he’ll always come back.
GLOSSARY
Baller A worker in a pottery who rolls chunks of clay into balls ready for the potter to use on the wheel.
Batavia Capital of the Dutch East Indies on the island of Java. The city is now known as Jakarta, the capital of modern-day Indonesia.
Bontekoe Journaal A diary account of the voyage of the Nieuw Hoorn, an armed merchant ship, authored by the ship’s captain, Willem Bontekoe. After setting off for Batavia in 1618, the Nieuw Hoorn was shipwrecked near Sumatra and the surviving crew endured a perilous journey in lifeboats to Batavia.
Hindeloopen A town in North Holland known for its colourful decorated furniture. Hindeloopen pieces often have floral motifs similar to what you might expect to see on an old-fashioned gypsy caravan in the UK.
VOC The Dutch East India Company (Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie) was founded in 1603 to explore new territories in the Orient and establish trading routes for valuable commodities such as spices. The VOC was a company with shareholders and directors but also represented the Dutch government in negotiations and offered armed resistance to foreign powers.
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