“Ja, ja. Who put him in jail?”
“His Italian Fascist friends, who were tired of seeing their army lose all the time.”
“O God-o-god-o-god, what friends!”
“That’s right, Ma. Hitler must be furious. Boy, this is good news!”
Sure, it was. Very good news when it happened.
So was the fact that six weeks later the English had landed in southern Italy. Still, what difference did it make? N-o-n-e! Even Mussolini was out of jail again.
It was fall, fall 1943. I followed a few leaves on their trip down. How long would it take for the trees to become bare? A month? Two months? It would be interesting to see. Maybe I should make some notes. I went to the commode to get pencil and paper. I listed all the trees. Then I entered the loss of the first two leaves.
Soon it became too cold to stay in the back room. “I’ll move you girls,” Johan said.
I stood up. Would we be back here next summer? That wasn’t possible, was it? I wiped my face on my sleeve. Sini had better not see me. It would make her look even sadder.
I knew exactly where I was going to hang the calendar in our winter room: right there where I had left the thumbtack. I put my chair back by the stove.
Dini Hannink came to tell us that Miss Kleinhoonte was going to visit us. “She called Father and said that she would be here on Friday.”
“Eh, who is she, girls?” Opoe asked.
“Mother, don’t you remember? She’s the high school teacher from Winterswijk they’ve told us about.”
“A high school teacher? Coming here? God-o-god-o-god, what’s next!”
Dientje’s face was getting blotchy. “We’ve never had such fancy company. Is she coming on the bus?”
“No, on the bike, so she won’t be noticed.”
“How long will she stay?” Dientje asked. “Not that it makes any difference, or anything. I only have to know if she’s going to be eating dinner here.”
“What’s the matter with you, Dientje? Somebody’s coming on the bike all the way from Winterswijk and you’re asking if she’ll eat here.”
“Well,” Dini said, “I’ll leave you, so you can talk some more about it.”
“Dientje, what are you going to fix for dinner when she’s here,” Opoe asked. “Shall we kill that chicken?”
“Which one.”
“The one that’s forever laying her eggs in odd places.”
“I’ll ask Johan.”
They both left, busily talking about the visit. Halfway down the stairs Dientje turned around. “Friday, she said?”
“Yes.”
“That gives us a few days to get used to the idea.” She sighed with relief. “Me, I’ve never even been to a high school.”
Would Miss Kleinhoonte eat up here with us? What if we had the chicken? Would we all take it in our hands? From the same dish? No, Miss Kleinhoonte, you take that piece if you want to. I only touched it once. That would show her that I still had good table manners.
“What time is she going to come on Friday?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Dini didn’t say.” Sini looked dismayed. “Well, probably not till eleven or so.”
“Sini, I’m so excited.”
“How do you think I feel? You never had her for a teacher. I did.”
Just one more day. And the weather didn’t look bad either. A couple of times a day Sini and I went to the windows in the back room to check on the sky.
At nine o’clock on Friday morning, I started to clean. Obviously I didn’t have to do exercises today. I whistled. It was fun to dust. I should do it more often. Carefully I moved a cloth-covered finger over the wooden parts of the chairs. No wonder Sini asked me to dust. She knew I’d do a good job.
“D’you think I look all right?” Dientje walked in. Her face looked flushed.
“Dientje, you look beautiful. Can you walk in them?” I asked, pointing at her shoes.
“You didn’t know I had such city things, did you? Yes, but I’m going to take them off when she’s up here with you. Now, I think I’ll bring you coffee and cookies when she first comes. Does that sound all right?”
“Sounds great, Dientje.” She beamed with pleasure.
I picked a piece of lint off my dress. I looked pretty, too.
The door to the stairs opened. “Would you follow me, Miss Kleinhoonte. They’re upstairs.” Dientje sounded nervous.
Miss Kleinhoonte was just as frail as I remembered her. She hugged us. Sini’s face was bright red. Mine probably was, too.
We each sat on a side of Miss Kleinhoonte, listening. An NSB-er had moved into our house, she said. And did we know that Rachel had left Winterswijk just in time?
“No.”
“Well, a few hours after she left, the Germans came to your house to take her away.”
Why hadn’t Rachel come to the Hanninks’? we asked.
“Reverend Zwaal knew of a place where she’d be all by herself, and I think she decided it would be safer for all of you.”
We said nothing for a while. I bent toward the stove. Saliva was gathering between my front teeth. “Annie,” Sini warned.
Nervously I licked my lips. That was just in time. Another second and I would have let go.
“I brought you some textbooks for fifth grade.”
I nodded. Fifth grade? That’s what I was in now?
Uncertainly Dientje walked in, holding the cookie jar. “Here, Miss Kleinhoonte, I baked them myself.”
“Thank you. I can see that you’re taking very good care of the girls.”
“We’re glad we’ve got them,” Dientje answered. “That sounds funny, doesn’t it? Because, you know, if there wasn’t a war, they wouldn’t be here. I’m sure they can’t wait to go back to Winterswijk. But we like the girls. We really do. We don’t like the war, of course.” Dientje stopped. She seemed confused. “And here the old mother’s crazy about them. That little one can’t do any wrong in her eyes. Except for that one time.”
“What was that?” Miss Kleinhoonte asked.
Dientje told her about Opoe’s cap. I fidgeted on the chair. Did she have to? I sighed with relief when she left.
What now? I had to stand up? Why?
“You know, Sini,” Miss Kleinhoonte said, “Annie’s very small for her age. I don’t think she has grown at all. Do you make her exercise?”
“Oh, yes, every day. But she’s always resisting me.”
“Annie, Annie.”
Even my ears felt red. Why did Sini have to tell on me? She could’ve just said yes. No, she had to put me on the spot. Wasn’t I ever allowed to have a good time?
Ah, there was Opoe with our dinner.
“How does she like it here?” Opoe asked us.
“Very much,” Miss Kleinhoonte answered.
“She should eat. She’s had a hard day. On the bike. Fui-fui.”
“I certainly will. It smells delicious. Where did you get chicken?”
“We’ve got ’em ourselves.”
“Of course. You know, Sini and Annie told me your age. I can’t believe that you’re seventy-one.”
“Almost seventy-two.” For the first time Opoe looked at Miss Kleinhoonte. “And I feel every year of it. I’ve got aches and pains all over. How old are you exactly?”
“Just a few years younger.”
“Boy, o boy, you don’t look it, with those light clothes. The only thing is you shouldn’t be so thin. That’s not good for you. You’ll be too weak when you get sick.”
We were eating silently. The only sound was that of our forks on the plates. My face was getting warm again. Shouldn’t we be talking? Why wasn’t Miss Kleinhoonte saying something? I looked at her. She was busy chewing a piece of chicken. I hadn’t noticed her eat before.
What a funny way she had of chewing! I couldn’t take my eyes off her face. It made her look like a rabbit. Stop staring. What if she sees you? I felt a giggle come up. I swallowed desperately. The last thing I wanted to do was laugh. I turned my head
away. Thank God, she had started to talk to Sini. But there, she took another bite. What a way to chew. I bit the insides of my cheeks. Don’t laugh. No. No. But just like a rabbit.
Was that me, giggling? Yes. Stop Annie, or something awful’s going to happen. Can’t you stop? I giggled louder and louder. Hysterically. And I wasn’t even having fun. What was the matter with me?
“Annie, what are you doing?” Sini asked nervously.
What did she mean, what was I doing? Giggling, of course. She couldn’t want me to tell her why? Because the guest reminded me of a rabbit? I no longer giggled. I laughed. Sini glared at me. She got up and pointed a finger at me.
“Leave her,” Miss Kleinhoonte said.
“No, I won’t either. Annie, leave the table. Hurry up.”
I got off the chair. Where should I go? It was cold in the other room. She wouldn’t want me to go in there. My face was burning. With a bent head I shuffled over to the corner by the door. I sat down with my back to them. I started to cry. What now? Don’t, please. I liked Miss Kleinhoonte, too. It wasn’t easy to sob and make no sound, stay perfectly still. I hurt all over.
“You’re sure you don’t want to sleep here?” Dientje asked Miss Kleinhoonte.
“No, thank you. I’m going back.”
“Forty miles a day is an awful lot at your age,” Opoe warned. “I don’t see how you can do it, being so thin. Can’t you at least stay for supper?”
“No, I have to leave.”
“I’ll pack up some food for you,” Opoe said.
“Good-bye Miss Kleinhoonte. Thank you for the books.” Hesitantly I stuck out my hand. Would she take it after the way I had behaved?
She kissed me. I was sorry I would never have her for a teacher.
Funny that having company should make you tired. So Mother was buried in the Jewish cemetery. That was near home. We should be happy that she died when she did, Miss Kleinhoonte had said. A week later the Germans came to the hospital to take all the Jewish patients away.
I felt I would cry again. Why had they done that? I dug my nails in my hands. No. What was the matter with me today? But why?
I climbed into bed. Dientje lifted her hand and pulled the light cord. At least nobody could see my face anymore. Just in case.…
It was almost the fifth of December, and Sini and I started to make up rhymes for everybody. Without them, it wouldn’t seem like Saint Nicholas Day. When it was Opoe’s turn to read hers out loud, she lifted the piece of paper solemnly, bringing it close to her eyes.
Boy, o boy, am I tired
But still I can’t go to sleep.
What can be the matter with me?
It must be that I’m getting old,
I’m sure that’s what it is.
Seventy-two less thirty-nine days,
That’s very, very, very, very old.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves, making a fool of an old woman?” But Opoe didn’t sound angry. “Fuifui, I haven’t laughed like this for years. Hendrik should hear.”
“Eh, Ma, don’t you think the girls are pretty fresh to tell you this?”
“Ja, ja, they are.” Opoe laughed. “Let’s have another drop of coffee. Dientje, that applecake you made isn’t bad. But why didn’t you put more apples in it? We’ve got ’em in the cellar getting soft and here you make an applecake with just one apple. But bad, it’s not.” Opoe took another bite.
A great deal of snow fell that month. It was so still outside that I could hear almost everything that went on. People walking by, their wooden shoes making crunchy noises. The little Groothuis boy. When his father came home from work, he pulled him on a sled. “Dad, run faster; you can do it.” A few seconds later the little boy laughed and laughed. He must have fallen backward in the snow.
I could pull him, and he wouldn’t have to wait till his father came home. All I’d have to do was to cross the street. Why couldn’t I? Slowly I got up. Crazy. Everything.
“D’you girls know that tomorrow you’ve been here a year? Eh?”
“Yes, Johan, we know.” How could we not know?
“How d’you like it here after a year?”
“Fine.” Stop it, Johan.
“That’s a girl!”
“Johan, do we stay up till midnight?”
“No, I can’t see staying up New Year’s Eve with no glass of beer. Boy, if the war’s over next year I’m going to drink enough for a couple of New Year’s Eves. How about you, wife?”
“Ah, Johan, I don’t drink. You know that.”
“Ja, ja,” Johan said, “I know you’re no fun. Hey, Sini, you’ve hardly said a word all evening, what’re you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” Sini answered, without looking up.
“Well, Happy New Year everybody,” Johan said. “Maybe 1944 will be better.”
Ja, ja, Happy New Year.
Again.
9
JOHAN walked into our room. “Hey, girls, somebody’s here to see you.”
To see us? Who?
“Come in,” he said, turning to a man behind him. “This, girls, is the man who has Rachel in his house. Yep, Reverend Slomp.”
Speechlessly we stared at him. What was he doing here?
Rachel wanted to come for a few days, he said. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to see us.
Dientje started to cry. “Johan, don’t let her. It’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t worry,” he answered. “I know.”
The Reverend Slomp said that Dientje was right, but Rachel wanted to come anyway.
“Can she?” Sini asked. “Please?”
I sat down on Johan’s lap. “I want to see her,” I coaxed.
Dientje warned Johan again. “What’ll people say, Johan, if they see her walk in here. It’s not the same as with Miss Kleinhoonte and the minister here. Rachel’s Jewish!”
“She’ll come at night,” the Reverend Slomp said, “when it’s dark.”
“Johan, it’s not right. What if there’s another search, then what? If the Germans catch us, Johan, that’s it.”
“If the girls want to see her so badly, Johan,” Opoe said.
I put my arms around his neck. Roughly Johan pushed me off his lap. “It’s the goddamnedest thing to have to say yes to,” he complained.
I looked at Sini. Guiltily we turned our heads away.
I remembered how neat Rachel was. Just plain dusting wouldn’t be good enough for her. I rubbed the chairs instead. Out of my way, Sini, I’m busy. Beautiful. Rachel would like it.
The night she was going to come, the wind was howling. It was real March weather. We all sat upstairs waiting for her. Johan was the first one to hear her knock against the window. Rachel! We ran downstairs. “How are you?” I didn’t pull away when she kissed me again and again.
“Dientje, put on some water for tea,” Opoe said.
Dientje looked dazed. Without waiting for her, Opoe filled the kettle.
“How long did it take you to get here?” Johan asked.
“About five hours.”
“Did you have any trouble?”
Well, she said, not trouble, but she did stop at someone’s house to ask where the Oostervelds lived. She explained where it had been.
“Goddammit,” Johan said angrily, “you shouldn’t have done that. He’s such a talker. Did he ask you anything?”
Anxiously we looked at Rachel. She shook her head. No.
“Well,” Johan said, “you’ll have to squeeze in the hiding place, too, in case there’s going to be trouble.”
Dientje sloshed tea over the table as she poured Rachel a cup. “How long are you staying?”
She was leaving tomorrow night after dark, Rachel answered in a subdued voice.
We went upstairs. Rachel hugged me. “It’s so nice to be with my little sister again.”
I’d better tell her tomorrow not to think of me as a little sister anymore. It could wait till tomorrow though.
When I peered over the edge of the b
ed, I could almost see two heads on the mattress, Sini and Rachel’s. Nice.
What was the matter with Rachel? She answered every question in only a couple of words. “Do you mind being by yourself?”
“I don’t.”
“Didn’t she have more to say than that? Was she angry? She didn’t seem to be, but why then? Was it because she was always by herself with nobody to talk to? But Sini and I didn’t always talk. Sometimes I had to start a fight with Sini, just to get her to speak to me. Then she’d say plenty. It was better than nothing, better than being alone.
I walked over to Rachel and sat on her lap. Almost twelve wasn’t that old.
Had we heard from Father lately? she asked. Yes. He was hungry all the time. The only thing he ever wrote about was food, what he used to eat and what he was planning to eat after the war.
Rachel laughed. That’s what he wrote to her, too, she said. It was nice to see her laugh again.
“Here’s water, girls.” Dientje put the bowl on the table. “I put in a little more. I figured there’s three of you. You need anything, Rachel?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay then.”
“Sini, is that all the water you ever get?” Rachel asked after Dientje left.
“On Saturday we get a pail instead of a bowl.”
“For the weekend, I take it. Well, well. Annie, do you want me to wash your face?”
“No,” I said indignantly. “What’s the matter with you?”
She looked hurt. I felt bad about it, but my goodness!
We stood around the bowl, passing the towel to each other. I was pale, Rachel complained. Maybe I should take codliver oil. And why did we look so sloppy? Look at what we were wearing! Wasn’t there an iron in the house?
How come Rachel had so much to say all of a sudden? Sullenly I walked away from her.
“Annie, come back. Now turn around again.”
She hadn’t been wrong, she said. Just what she thought, I didn’t walk right. Well, I knew that. What else?
Didn’t Sini make me exercise?
Yes, yes, she did, dammit. Had she only come to criticize us? What was that?