Ninety-Five Euros

Otto’s address was on the back of Vera’s shopping list. She had copied it from her phone before leaving. Below the house number she had written milk and underlined it twice. She folded it so that Anouk wouldn’t have to read her stock list.

‘I’ve got it on my phone too,’ said Anouk.

‘Good. We can go twice, then.’

They walked from the bus stop through a street where almost every front door had the same letterbox. At one house, a brass slot had been screwed over the old one. Anouk kept her bag close. She had brought no boxes, only the papers she wanted with her today. At the café, Vera had asked if she wanted Bente’s list as well. Anouk had already printed that out herself.

Otto opened the door before they had to ring a second time. He was shorter than Vera had expected and was wearing a jumper with a loose thread at his wrist. He looked at their shoes.

‘The path is dirty. You can just keep them on.’

In the hallway, two small mats lay one behind the other, as if he hadn’t been able to decide which one would hold back the water. Vera wiped her feet on both of them. He led them past the kitchen to a room with a work table under the window. Three empty jars stood on the windowsill. One of them had a lid labelled ‘pickles’.

Apart from a flat folder and a grey envelope, the table was clear. Otto moved a chair out of the way and asked whether the light was all right for looking at the photographs. Anouk said the light was fine. She placed her own bag on the floor, not on the table.

‘I might as well say straight away that I paid for this,’ he said.

‘I know that,’ said Anouk.

‘Not somewhere on the street. At Bente’s. With a receipt.’

He took the paper out of the envelope and laid it down in front of her. Six strips, six contact sheets. Ninety-five euros. After that, in smaller print, was a description of work at the station. Vera recognised the numbers Bente had shown her the day before. One corner of the paper was dirty from being folded back so often. Otto smoothed the corner, which sprang up again.

‘These are the ones,’ he said.

Anouk looked at him first. ‘May I look at them one by one?’

‘That’s what they’re here for.’

He opened the folder. The contact sheets were separate from the sleeved strips. Each sheet contained six small images. Otto slid the first one into the clean space between them, with a mat underneath. Anouk leaned forward. Vera remained seated at the far end; from there, she mainly saw the white borders and the dark rows. She could wait until someone wanted to show her something before moving closer.

‘That’s my handwriting,’ said Anouk.

She pointed without touching the image. Otto looked at the short pencil line next to the number.

‘Bente said that too. That there were notes on the back.’

Anouk placed her hand flat on her knee. ‘Did she say who it came from?’

‘From a collection of Dorus’s. Old station photographs. He wasn’t doing anything with it anymore.’

He looked from her to Vera. ‘That last bit might have been my own assumption.’

Vera let the wording pass without turning it into a statement for him to sign. She asked whether he still had the sale notice. He had kept a printout with the receipt. He took it out of the same envelope. It did not state that Anouk had given permission. Nor did it state that Otto had inquired about it.

‘Why these six?’ asked Vera.

He seemed surprised by the question. Then he turned one of the contact sheets towards her. In the images, baskets were being taken off a cart. In the background, a door stood open. You could barely see faces; hands disappeared behind the rim of a basket and reappeared on the other side in the next image.

‘It’s always the big locomotives people keep pictures of,’ he said. ‘Somewhere beside them there’s a man who had a job to get on with too.’

He looked for the image in the bottom row. ‘Someone has already put the empty cart away here. But that last basket is still there. So you have to go back after all.’

Anouk watched. For the first time since they arrived, her shoulders relaxed a little. Vera saw the change around her mouth.

‘He didn’t want me to photograph him while he was lifting,’ she said. ‘So I waited until he put the basket down.’

‘That’s why his hands are empty.’

‘Yes.’

Otto nodded as if he had been thinking about that for quite some time. What had drawn him to the photograph had nothing to do with Dorus’s name. When they rang the bell, Vera had pictured him chiefly as a man determined to keep what he had. Now she noticed the faint pencil mark he used to find that little frame again.

They looked at the other sheets. Seventeen to twenty-two. Otto laid the corresponding strips next to them, in the sleeves. Anouk counted and checked the numbers, then took a sheet again because she had skipped one line. There were six. Otto said that he had only bought these; the description on his receipt mentioned the same group.

‘I didn’t have them scanned,’ he said. ‘I was planning to.’

Anouk looked up. ‘Do you still want that?’

He shrugged. ‘Then I can keep looking.’

How easy it would have been to call that a reasonable solution. Files for him, strips for Anouk. Nobody losing anything. She looked at the six sheets. But it wasn’t her work, or an afternoon of her life, caught in those small images.

‘I don’t want to leave a whole copy of this part behind,’ said Anouk. ‘I don’t know yet which images I want to reuse. And I want my stuff back first.’

Otto let his hands hang between his knees. The loose thread on his sleeve hung almost on the floor.

‘I didn’t simply ask for these. I paid for them.’

‘That’s not what I’m saying.’

‘But if I hand this over, I’ll have nothing.’

‘You should get your money back.’

‘From you?’

‘No.’

That answer came quickly. Anouk looked at the receipt, not at Vera. She hadn’t asked if Vera could advance the money. Otto waited and tucked the thread back a little.

‘Bente knows we’re here,’ said Vera. ‘Yesterday she said she wanted to talk about the settlement once it was clear what you still had. That is clear now.’

Had Bente actually said she would refund him? Not yet, Vera admitted. Over the past few weeks she had supplied the missing halves of too many arrangements simply because they seemed to follow. She couldn’t dress this one up.

Anouk picked up her phone. ‘Shall I call her? Then the three of us can talk it through.’

Otto nodded. She asked whether he minded her putting the call on speaker. He slid the receipt a little towards the middle.

Bente didn't answer immediately. Anouk left a short message. Then it was quiet in the room. Outside, someone was pushing a wheelie bin over the paving joints. The sound stopped, started again, and ended with the slam of a lid.

‘Coffee?’ asked Otto.

Anouk looked at the table.

‘In the kitchen,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to make a mess here either.’

They followed him. The cups were in a cupboard with a door that swung open too wide. Otto held it back with his hip while he picked out cups. On the counter lay a slice of bread next to a closed pack of cheese. He placed a plate over it, changed his mind, and put it in the bread bin.

Vera took her coffee without sugar. Otto asked whether she ran the café by the old bridge. She said yes.

‘Then I’ve been there. With the door that slams shut.’

‘It still slams shut.’

‘You can do something about that.’

‘Yes.’

They smiled briefly. Vera didn’t feel like laying out her entire list of repairs for him. He pointed to a chair and stood against the counter himself. Anouk kept her phone on the table, screen up. When it vibrated, she put her cup down.

Bente asked what had been found. Anouk mentioned the six strips and the six sheets with the numbers. Otto corrected one digit that she pronounced too quickly. Bente asked him to confirm the sales date and the price.

‘Ninety-five. That’s on your receipt too,’ he said.

‘I know that. I just want us to be talking about the same thing.’

Yes, Bente could refund the ninety-five. They would have to arrange a handover; she couldn’t do it now, over the phone. She had the money available. She wanted to receive all six strips and contact sheets back and record the return against the sale. Her arrangements with Dorus were separate.

Otto asked why he had to wait for that. Bente said that he didn't have to wait for Dorus's payment. That was her business. He looked at Anouk, who held her hands around her cup.

‘Then there’s still my question about a picture,’ he said.

Anouk thought for a moment. Vera couldn't tell from her face whether she was searching for an answer or a photograph. Finally, she asked which one he meant. He described the basket that had been left behind.

‘I don't want to copy that as a complete series,’ she said. ‘I can make one ordinary print. One image, which I choose. And we agree that it’s for you, not for passing on.’

He asked if he could see what the image would be before handing everything over. She said she would show him a proposal. It could also be one of the other work photos; she didn't want to decide on the entire selection right now in his kitchen. Bente suggested having the agreed print ready for the handover once they had come to an agreement.

‘So no folder with everything,’ said Otto.

‘No,’ said Anouk.

He looked at his coffee cup. ‘One print and the money back. Then all six back. If we write that down clearly.’

Anouk went over it once more. He would be returning all six strips and all six contact sheets, not keeping the negatives and giving back copies. The print was separate. Otto said he understood. Bente asked them to confirm the agreement in a message. He wanted a copy for himself as well. They checked his email address together; there was no dot in the place where Vera had automatically put one.

After coffee, they went back to the study. Otto put the sheets back in the same order. Anouk watched. She took nothing with her except a photo of the receipt for which he had given permission. The strips remained in their sleeves with him until the joint appointment. With the last sheet, Otto briefly held his hand over the closed folder.

‘I’ll be sorry to part with them.’

Anouk looked at the cabinet next to him, where albums with narrow spines stood behind the glass.

‘I believe that.’

He let go of the folder and led them to the door.

Outside, Vera put her shopping list back into her coat. There were still two lines under milk. They needed to catch the bus arriving in twelve minutes; Anouk wanted to go home to email the appointment. Vera could get back to the café before lunch. She hadn’t needed anyone to cover these hours, but the shopping was still waiting.

At the stop, Anouk let her read the text. The amount, the six strips, the six contact sheets, one work print to be agreed with her. Bente would return the money to Otto. Her own name appeared only among the people present today.

‘Does anything need to be added?’ asked Anouk.

‘Who’s arranging the date.’

Anouk typed that in. Then she sent it to both of them. The bus rounded the corner while the confirmation was still on the screen. Vera beckoned the driver and got on behind her. Anouk sat by the window and placed her bag on her lap. Vera stood for a moment until a shopping bag had been taken from the next seat.

In the café, Yasmin was busy wiping down the chopping board. She pointed the cloth at the note by the till.

‘Milk,’ she said.

‘I know.’

Vera took the paper out of her pocket. Yasmin looked at the address on the back and turned it back. She said the supplier was coming tomorrow, but that they didn't have enough for tonight. Vera kept her coat on. She placed her own copy of the appointment in the business folder and went to the shop on the corner.