A Table with Glasses of Water

Marten had booked a ground-floor meeting room in a shared office building. His email gave the address and specified a small group. Lena replied that Mieke Kraan would accompany her. He sent back only confirmation of the time.

Tom stopped at the entrance. Mieke was under the canopy, checking her phone. Lena got out cautiously, pulled her bag onto her shoulder and told him she would ring when they finished.

‘We won't sign anything,’ Mieke said as they walked together.

‘I wasn't planning to.’

‘I'm saying it now. Saves an argument about politeness later.’

The receptionist indicated a door behind a low plant. Marten approached with his hand extended, keeping it there until Lena was close enough. She shook it. His palm was dry. He glanced at her damaged bag, then Mieke.

‘I'm glad you could come.’

‘Lena has asked me to advise her,’ Mieke said.

‘I understand.’

He did not lock the door. Lena wondered whether she would later feel ashamed of noticing. A cleaner pushed a trolley along the corridor. Other people were in the building. There was a bottle of water on the table with three glasses. Marten filled them without being asked.

‘First, I want to say how much I regret what's happened.’

‘What do you mean?’ Lena asked.

‘The upset. The doubts about your work. That benefits no one.’

He sat, straightening a slim file before him. Lena left her bag beneath her chair.

‘An occupied home has been registered as empty,’ she said. ‘A report I didn't write has gone out under my name. That's more than upset.’

‘There appear to have been different streams of information.’

Mieke turned her notepad over. ‘We needn't agree on a neutral term first. We do need to know what you want to discuss.’

Marten drank some water. He had heard Lena had lost a commission, which he regretted. Self-employed people were vulnerable to confusion on projects involving many parties. There was scope to cover her costs and bring their collaboration to an orderly end.

‘Costs for what?’ Lena asked.

‘The additional work. Reviewing the files again. The time involved.’

‘Losing the client too?’

‘If it's reasonably substantiated, we can consider it.’

He passed them a sheet headed Proposed Settlement. Lena read the bottom first. Each party would declare that it had no further claim against the other. She would maintain confidentiality about its negotiation and contents. A paragraph above required her to acknowledge that her reporting had formed part of the basis for releasing the property for work.

‘So this is what you mean by settling it,’ she said.

‘A draft. Naturally the wording can be adjusted.’

‘Who wrote this paragraph?’

He looked at the sheet. ‘It's been looked at internally. I've brought it to discuss, not to force anything on you.’

‘You want me to confirm the property could be released on the strength of my report. Is my original included in the file now?’

‘The file contains several versions.’

‘Which was shown to the residents?’

‘That's handled by the housing association.’

Mieke noted the question. Lena lifted her glass, set it down and looked at Marten. He could put her precise words into a clause but could not say which text had been used to make Sofie's departure seem inevitable. That was a reason to stay, even if the form eventually left the table unsigned.

‘Will you state in writing which version this proposal relies on?’ she asked.

‘Take the draft and you can comment.’

‘I'm asking you.’

His hand hovered above the file, then he opened it and found an attachment. It bore the code of the export Lena had received on 18 May. No need to photograph it or snatch it away. It belonged to the proposal he was offering them. Mieke recorded the code and requested a complete copy, including attachments.

She drew the sheet closer. ‘Lena cannot acknowledge this text as her report. You know that is precisely what's disputed.’

‘She let the file go out in her name.’

‘A separate issue. She's discussing that failure with those concerned. It doesn't validate the contents.’

Lena looked at his fountain pen. Its cap lay beside the file, clip upwards. He was used to people eventually tiring of discussion and taking up a pen so they could get back to work.

‘Eva says she changed it at Niels's request,’ Lena said.

‘I can't vouch for everything individual contractors say afterwards.’

‘Niels worked on your project.’

‘He's employed by RietWonen.’

‘And you paid him.’

Marten laid his hands on the table. ‘We engaged services. Coordinating access, monitoring progress, liaising with residents. Nothing unusual on a project like this.’

‘A fee for each property vacated,’ Mieke said.

He looked at her notepad. She did not show it to him.

‘There were agreements. A performance-related payment isn't a crime.’

‘I didn't say it was. We're asking what counted as performance.’

Marten spoke of certainty about departures, key handovers and scheduling work. He used voluntarily twice. Lena asked how he checked a woman was leaving voluntarily when her power had been cut and an employee told her she would soon have to leave anyway.

‘I can't assess an individual resident's situation without the documents.’

‘You had them before you paid.’

‘We relied on the files supplied.’

Lena's knee throbbed. She did not touch it. She did not want him to see how badly she wanted another chair.

‘I was with Sofie on 6 May. I wrote and told you. You know 31 March can't be right.’

‘I've read your message.’

‘And what did you do?’

‘Asked questions internally.’

‘Which questions?’

He looked at the sheet in front of Mieke. ‘I can't answer all that in this meeting.’

Anouk might have given the same answer. With her it concerned an investigation whose every detail Lena need not know. Marten had brought her here to close matters before answering her questions.

Mieke asked whether he would provide the original agreements on fees and file assessments for the independent review. He said they would of course supply information required by law. Lena heard the distance between the request and the undertaking.

‘We are working to put things right,’ he said. ‘For residents too. If Ms van Dijk gets in touch, we can discuss a separate arrangement.’

Lena kept her eyes on the glass. She did not have to say something just to keep the conversation comfortable.

‘Sofie chooses how contact takes place,’ Mieke said. ‘Her case won't be settled at this table without her consent.’

‘That's not what I'm proposing.’

‘You're introducing her into a settlement with Lena.’

Marten moved his chair back. A phone rang in the corridor. Someone answered, walking away as they spoke.

‘I'm trying to prevent further escalation. Bremstraat has affected everyone. A resident has died. We shouldn't imply every disagreement is connected.’

Lena looked up. ‘Who says this is a disagreement?’

‘I don't mean to minimise anything.’

‘You're still using his death to ask us to calm down.’

He turned the pen cap between finger and thumb. ‘I didn't know what happened that evening. I still don't.’

‘Then don't make his death a reason for me to withdraw my correction.’

Mieke put down her pen. ‘Let's keep the matters separate. Violence is for the police to investigate. The inaccurate files and pressure on residents exist alongside it. They needn't wait for a conclusion about Henk Roos.’

Lena breathed out, unaware until then that she had been holding her breath. She had been tempted to make Marten say he knew more, to keep questioning until he slipped. Mieke returned her to what they could actually discuss here.

‘I want my original report added to the file,’ she said. ‘With a visible correction. I want residents affected by false information contacted through an independent assessment. And I'll give my documents to those investigating.’

‘You're asking for steps we can't take alone.’

‘Then take the ones you can.’

He looked at the document. ‘Any compensation mustn't be made conditional on that. I can't write a blank cheque for a meeting like this.’

‘I haven't asked for a cheque.’

She thought of yesterday's refund leaving her account. She could use the money. The sum in the draft would ease the coming months. Precisely why she could not leave it beside a sentence making her responsible again for words she had not written.

‘Email me the proposal,’ she said. ‘I'll take it to my own adviser. I'm not signing here or withdrawing a correction.’

Marten regretted that she interpreted his willingness to talk that way. Mieke asked for written answers to the questions she would send. He gave no immediate undertaking. The meeting had missed its convenient ending; now it had to finish in an ordinary way.

Lena drank. For the first time since arriving she realised she was thirsty. She put the glass down and stood. Her knee twinged. Mieke waited to collect her coat until Lena's bag was securely on her shoulder.

In the corridor the receptionist passed with a pack of paper. He held the hall door for them. Lena thanked him. Under the canopy outside she felt how cool the air had become.

‘I still haven't had an answer,’ she said.

‘To which question?’

‘What he knew. When he paid for empty houses.’

‘He's confirmed a payment per vacated property, and that he received your message about 6 May. What lies behind that needs investigating. Pouring water gives you no reason to accept his account.’

Lena looked at her bag. ‘I nearly kept asking about Henk.’

‘I noticed.’

‘It wouldn't have got us anything.’

‘Perhaps an answer. Wanting one badly wouldn't make it reliable.’

Mieke took her bicycle from the rack. She had another appointment. Lena rang Tom; he would be a while. She sat on the low wall outside and told Anouk the meeting was over. She had not signed. There had been no incident.

Then she recorded Marten's words and the points she and Mieke had pursued. She did not write that he had admitted guilt. He had confirmed some arrangements and avoided other questions. That was what they had.

Tom arrived with water and a sandwich in a paper bag. The sandwich was his. He offered half, and she accepted.

‘All right?’

‘He wanted to pay to close it down.’

‘And?’

‘There was something in it I couldn't sign.’

He looked at her, chewing, then nodded. ‘You're better at that these days.’

‘I'm still too late.’

‘Yes,’ he said.

It hurt. They finished the sandwich without adding a consoling sentence. Then she put her notes among the copies that were still hers and let him drive her home.