Taken from: Chasing Sunflowers
Kate turned sharply. The tall man with the pony tail
and light blue eyes had somehow materialised at her elbow.
‘You are the woman with the young boy, I think? Or
perhaps I am mistaken?’ He raised his eyebrows in polite query.
‘Er, yes, no,’ she heard herself stammer. ‘At least,
I haven’t got my son with me.’
‘So I can see.’ The eyes glinted amusement. ‘You are
perhaps staying a long time in our city so you can come often to this museum?
You can come to know the artist well.’
‘I hope so.’ Kate surprised herself with the force of
her words. ‘I love these paintings,’
‘Of course.’ The man’s expression stated clearly that
anything less would be unreasonable.
He understood! Kate felt as though she had been given
a shot of adrenalin.
‘This work,’ he indicated the Glass of Absinthe, ‘this was painted in Paris. I expect the setting
is familiar to you. The light is green-grey. It’s a bit like London, perhaps?
The Sunflowers on the other hand...’
with a light touch he turned her towards them, ‘...you must go south to know
these. You cannot really understand these paintings until you see the zonnebloemen in the fields.’
She twisted back to face him. ‘You seem to know an
awful lot about it all.’
‘Sure.’ He smiled. ‘As I told your son, I’m a painter
but I also teach Van Gogh, here in the museum. We have a class starting next
week. Why don’t you join us?’
Kate frowned. ‘I’d love to but the language...’
He held up his hands to silence her. ‘That would be
no problem. You can start to learn Dutch and after the class we can take a
coffee and go over everything in English.’
‘But really..,’ Kate stammered, ‘I mean, that would
be great but...isn’t it a bit much to ask?’
‘Did you ask? I didn’t hear you. I thought I
offered.’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t understand. I am Dutch, I don’t say
things just to be polite.’
‘Thanks. I’ll think about it.’ She smiled,
doubtfully.

‘I believe that’s English for ‘no’. Pity.’ He gave
small shrug, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Kate felt their gaze like the
strokes of a brush on her cheeks, tinting them red.
‘Anyway, I must leave,’ he concluded. ‘Enjoy your visit.’
She took a sharp breath as if to reply although she
had no idea what she might have been about to say. It didn’t matter anyway
because he had gone and she was left standing, exposed, in the middle of the
gallery, her back hot where he had touched it. She shook herself and took
another look at the Sunflowers,
trying to imagine them in the fields of southern France.