The Ring Across the Edge

A pale grey cloth covered Dorus’s worktable. He had smoothed it flat, leaving only the crease down the middle. On the other side of the room stood boxes with names Vera did not recognise. Dorus had closed the door to the hallway. Only the small upper window was open; a brake squealed briefly outside.

‘Here,’ he said.

He indicated the chair by the window to Anouk. She did not sit down immediately. The small archive box was still on a second table, next to a folded cutting guide. Dorus lifted it with both hands and placed it on the cloth. The lid had a small dent. He turned the box so that Anouk could reach the opening.

It was half past three. Milan had taken over the bar at three o'clock, and Vera had told him she would be back before seven. After that, his regular Friday shift began. As she was leaving, he had pointed out a cup to her that was still on the coffee machine. It turned out to be her own tea. She had put it in the kitchen and left it there.

Anouk placed her list of contents next to the box. Dorus pointed his finger at the top line.

‘So this is what I meant. My working prints.’

He took off the lid. On top lay an envelope with his handwriting; underneath, a stack of loose prints between protective sheets. Anouk asked if he wanted to lay them out himself. He took the envelope out, placed it at the edge of the cloth, and picked up the first sheet.

Vera recognised the edge of the staff room. The image showed someone with a bucket, half outside the frame. The loose print was bigger than the little proofs in Anouk’s folder. By the window she could make out a dark mark within the photograph: the shadow of an open cupboard door.

‘That is the first one,’ said Anouk.

Dorus looked at her list. He placed a second one next to it. Then a third. Vera pushed her phone further away to make room; she had only put it on the table to keep track of the time.

Dorus laid out the twelve working prints in the order on Anouk’s list. One made her pause. She hadn't seen the back yet and asked Dorus to turn the print over, keeping it supported. A small number was written in pencil next to the corner.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That one.’

She marked the line. Dorus watched her do it.

‘I tried three different prints of that one,’ he said. ‘For that light strip. Otherwise you couldn’t make out the bucket.’

Anouk looked at the image again. ‘I see that.’

That got him talking. He explained where the light had fallen in the room, which detail he had wanted to keep from disappearing into shadow. Vera didn't understand every word he used. She could see, however, that he kept pointing to exactly the same corner, without touching the paper.

When the twelve lay on the table, he took the papers out of the box. An old selection list, a copy of the later assignment, and a few notes. Anouk looked at her name on the copying order. She left her own copy in the folder; she already knew the agreement was the same.

Beneath the papers were mounting boards.

He slowly lifted the first one out. On the back was a large number. Dorus held it at an angle for a moment so as not to bump into the stack of loose prints. Vera saw the foot of a door, a plank, and the small gap they had looked at earlier.

Anouk did not look at her. ‘Can that go here?’

He placed the mounted print on the cleared support. He slid the next one next to it, not on top of it. Vera pulled her chair back a little so as not to touch the table with her knee.

She couldn’t yet see how many were beneath the first two. Her mind ran ahead of her eyes. She made herself look at the next one before arriving at a number.

On the third mounted print, she saw the brown arc. Not just in the photo. The ring crossed the edge of the photograph and continued onto the old board, thinning before reappearing beyond the image. Vera thought of the shot on Sanne’s screen and the new board on which that continuous ring was missing.

‘Wait a minute,’ she said.

Dorus rested his hand on the edge. He looked at her.

‘Anouk,’ said Vera. ‘That’s the one with the ring.’

Anouk leaned closer without touching it. She followed the curve with her eyes. Then she looked at Dorus.

‘I want to see the back.’

He turned the mounted print over. Number eleven. Not a large new number on a clean surface, but the old number with a crooked short dash underneath. Anouk took her phone out of her bag and opened the comparison images Sanne had shared with her.

‘Those were taken when the prints arrived,’ she said.

‘I understood that.’

‘I want to put them next to it.’

Dorus shrugged his shoulders. He folded an empty protective sheet in half so he could place it next to the stack. Anouk enlarged the image on her screen. There was the same break in the stain at the bottom corner, where the board’s colour varied slightly.

‘It’s the same one,’ she said.

Vera looked from the screen to the actual mounted print. The old piece itself, here on the table. In De Werf, there was another copy of the same image.

‘Those are the good prints,’ said Dorus. ‘You were after those, weren’t you?’

Anouk left the screen on. ‘I want to see them all first.’

Seven came out of the box. Nine to fifteen. Dorus placed the last one on a clear piece of cloth and pushed the envelope aside. Anouk checked the fronts, then asked him to turn two of the prints over again.

On the first one was the note about the door. The handwriting was small and slanted slightly to the right. On the other was handkar — handcart — followed by the strip number and Anouk’s initials. Vera had seen the short lines on Sanne’s intake photographs. She had looked at the little notes so often that she could almost hear someone saying them.

‘Those notes are mine,’ said Anouk.

‘On my board.’

She looked up. He was still standing on the other side of the table, with one loose print in his hand. When he noticed that he was holding it, he put it back between the protective sheets.

‘I paid for that board,’ he said. ‘And I made them.’

‘I paid for the entire commission.’

‘Not every minute that went into it.’

Vera looked at the rest of the room. Then back at the mounted print, with the small letters on the back.

Anouk did not turn off her phone. She asked him where he thought the seven prints now mixed in with the foundation’s set had come from. Dorus rubbed his thumb over a dry spot near his nail.

‘More people have been there.’

‘I know that. I’m asking about these seven here.’

‘Those are my working prints. I never said that I didn't have anything left at home.’

Vera thought of his message about the five returned boxes. Anouk closed the contents list and opened her own folder at his message. She turned the paper towards him.

He didn't read it aloud. His mouth moved at the beginning of the second line.

‘It’s not about that little box,’ he said. ‘It’s about the work that is still there.’

‘I’m concerned with what’s here too,’ said Anouk. ‘That’s why I want to compare them on Monday.’

She picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over the camera icon. Then she lowered it and asked if she could photograph the fronts and backs of these seven mounted prints. Only those seven. The photos would be used for the comparison with the foundation.

Dorus looked at the open door of a low cabinet. There were sheets of paper inside that didn't belong with their table. He closed the cabinet.

‘No photo of the whole room.’

‘No.’

‘And no other names lying here.’

‘These seven,’ said Anouk.

He nodded. Then he placed the first mounted print on the support himself, close to the window. Anouk asked him to move it a little to get rid of the reflection. The first shot wasn't good; a strip of light fell across half of it. She removed it and took it again. At her request, Vera held a blank sheet of paper beside the mounted print to shade the light, without leaning over the image.

Once she had the front, Dorus turned the print over. Anouk photographed the back, checked her screen, and moved on to the next one. At number eleven, she asked for a little more distance so that the entire ring was in the frame. He moved the support. For a while they spoke only to arrange the prints or adjust the light.

Vera found the silence more tiring than the conversation. Outside, she heard a bicycle bell, twice. She saw the third loose print still lying next to Dorus's hand, the canteen image with the bucket. It was good work. What was wrong here did not make the work any less good. She would have preferred to see a simpler room, containing only bad work and a man who matched it perfectly.

When they were finished, Anouk scrolled through all fourteen photographs. She showed Dorus that there was no image of the room among them. He didn’t count them, but watched as she moved from one to the next. The last back was sharp enough to read the note.

‘These are going to Sanne?’ he asked.

‘For Monday. For the comparison. Not for the website.’

‘Good.’

Anouk put her phone away and asked him to put the seven back with the other contents. She wanted them to be complete for the agreed handover. Today’s arrangement was to look at the contents, not to take the box away.

He slid the protective sheets back in between. Vera watched as he placed the twelve loose prints and the papers on top. His copy of the assignment still showed the same amount. The box closed without him having to press down on the lid.

At the door, Dorus said that he would like to hear exactly what they would be comparing on Monday. Anouk replied that she would send him an overview of the items they had already discussed. A separate appointment would have to be made after that for a settlement.

Vera put on her coat. Her right arm got stuck in the lining for a moment. She took it out and tried again. Meanwhile, Dorus held the front door open. He didn't look impatient. That didn't make it any easier to say goodbye to him.

Anouk only slowed down when she reached the corner. She held her bag with both hands.

‘Seven,’ she said.

Vera nodded.

‘I didn’t know,’ said Anouk. ‘I thought maybe two. Three. Something he still had to finish.’

It was hard to fit the knowledge of those exact seven into the ordinary business of leaving. Vera unlocked her bike and walked on with it. Anouk sent Sanne a message that the comparison could go ahead on Monday. The agreed photos would be sent separately, she added. Sanne replied that she would keep the table clear for the morning.

They said goodbye at the bus stop. Vera rode to the café and returned well before seven. Milan had placed an empty crate next to the back door. He asked if he could have it picked up with the next delivery. Vera said yes and wrote it on the delivery list.

‘And your tea?’ he asked.

The cup was still where she had put it. She picked it up and poured out the cold contents. Then she asked how the afternoon had been. He talked about a customer who had bought a ticket to a city where he didn't want to be at all. Vera kept listening while she emptied the sink. The photos on Anouk's phone would still be there on Monday.