Pijpelijntjes

("Lines from De Pijp"), suggested translation from his bio in Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacob_Israël_de_Haan

To my dear

A. Aletrino

(pre-winter 1904)

Arnold Aletrino, who this book was dedicated to, can be seen as the Magnus Hirschfeld of the Netherlands. He was a member of the Tachtigers, a group of young and revolutionary Dutch authors, who like the French Decadents, despised the pious poetry and prose of the mid-nineteenth century Dutch Victorian writers.

when however, he found himself portrayed, be it as a fictitious person named Sam, in this novel, he was deeply shocked, and tried to stop publication and when that did not succeed, he bought up most of the prints to prevent a scandal from arising.

read up on him at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arnold_Aletrino

1 house search

There's a time of coming and there's a time of going. And our time to go was here: The Bottle came to tell us himself. We'd just had eaten. Bread, some cheese, washy tea and it rained. Our lace over curtains were in the laundry. Just the roller blinds hung hard and square-white in front of the window and the watery white sunlight haunted us heavily or was suddenly gone, lurid.

Sam was reclining in his lazy chair with his hands around his head and legs stretched, eyes closed. He looked saddish, as I observed him. It rained steadily.

Then the Bottle entered real quite, on her old slippers .

'Good morning, gentlemen'

'Hello madam,'

'Is master Sam not well?'

She was clearing the table, plates went to the bread basket and the butterboat on the plates.

Loudly she rattled the silence to pieces moving everything onto her apron . . . and then, resolutely:

'Yes gentlemen, I 'd better tell you straight, right now: but things have to change . . .

You will have to find other lodgings . . . I'm going to move ' . . .

' Well miss . . . so sudden, in the middle of the month ? '

' Middle of the month . . . Well, what difference does that make? This, as you well know is a week-dwelling. . . . I'm going this monday'

' Yes, but ma'm, we rented by the month.' . . .

'Ohw Joop, don't talk back to her . . . She's not going to move any more than we are. But she obviously can get a better price so we have to move on. Very nice, indeed.'

'No ma'am, there master Sam is right: it's not very decent, I must say.'

Decent, nice, who's talking about that, everybody is looking for bargains, you as well as I. I'm decamping this entire household, moving to a condo.'

'Well, then get the fuck out of this room first, I say.'

'Anyways, I can see, master Sam has one of his moods . . . but remember, I did tell.'

Sam had dropped back in his reclining chair, or was he ever even out of it. The rain tone had changed to rustling. The wind rattled the window frame, and chased the fat drops along the glass. I watched it. The street had rained empty. Underneath a breadcart a dog sheltered with wet bushes of hair on his back. The breadboy stayed under a porch.

'Say, Sam a great mess, having to move, while we were just getting settled here.'

'We're not moving; we quitely stay put.' . . .

'Come on, don't make a fuzz. . . if she wants to dump us, we'll have to move. I'll look for someplace else.' . . .

'I be fuckin damned, to go out today in this rain . . . Pleeze, not above a horses stable again ! '

'No . . . Well, then I'll be going out right away.'

'Yeah, that's fine. I have a headache anyway, I'm going to sleep.' . . .

'Is that so? And that makes it fine to let me get soaking wet?'

'Always better than both of us . . .don't go . . . let me quitely do my devil's work. This situation will land on its feet, eventually.'

page 9

'Well bye . . .'

Right outside the front door, the wind howled and it came from straight in front. Right, now let's get out of the Van Ostadestraat first . . . Nothing there anywayz. Then first to the Govert-Flinckstraat, always lots cheaper than the 'Jan Steen' or the 'van Wou'.

Now pay attention. . . a room with a double alcove or one with a side space and a single recess . . . And no velvet chairs or breakfast included, Jees, . . . when is this rain gonna stop ? Our Sam, He's a piece of work, indeed.

Govert Flinck narrow and grey. For rent signs all over the place . . . Small bedroom, sorry, but that's no good! Furnished rooms. Could check them out, if only to be out of the rain for a while . . .

Just one doorbell; that's not funny! Having to ring twice, 3 to 5 times, notices fot the other floors. Well its only one storey anywayz, so let's give it a single ring then.

'Who there? ' Could you step out of the portico, so I can see?

Ma'am I would like to see your room.

The lady looks down on the wet tophat and then at the soaking pants.

'They're already gone' . . .

'Well, the sign is still out here.'

'In that case, could I see the others?'

'That's for the other rooms; I rent out more than one, you know.'

Window slams closed, not in the most friendly manner, more the fuck-you gesture, instead of the wait, untill I'm down to open the door.

10

So, on we go. The rain has gotten worse . . .

A tiny bedroom for rent. . . available to decent lodgers ? let's take shelter and check it out . . .

There's a lot more to say about lodgers than about rooms. Just have a go. Ring three times for a change. Third floor, one straight staircase, and one with a twist. All pitch-dark.

'Who there, who there ? '

'I'm here about the rooms' . . .

Silence, my cape and hat sag and drip heavily. In my head there's a dry sense of tiredness. Grey houses opposite, twinkle in my burning eyes. The staircase beckons above, uninvitingly. The rain pitches up another notch.

'Do come up', mother asks.

Thank you, ma'am.

At the top of the stairs, hanging down curiously over the railing, intent on scruitinizing what is coming up from the dark, is a pudgy lady with a pale roundish face. Wet eyes, puffy cheeks.

,Good day sir,.

'And a good day to you ma'am'. Yur doughter said it was allright to come up.

Mother is inside , skirls puffycheeks; prey do go ahead.'

Mum indeed is sitting there, thin with thin dark grey hair.

'Do sit, sir . . Jansie, will you take sir's cape? And please don't drip all over the place. You can sit right here, sir. I'm a bit deaf. Hang it out wide, Jansie, while we have our chat. So there will not be false creases in it when it dries. You do excuse me, getting on with my chores?

Mother is mending stockings. A dark slimy green thingy stretches around a cup without ear, a large hole in the hardcrusty sole, all on top of a short dress with eery gray feet with black toenails sticking out.

You're here to check out the rooms? Deaf questions the old lady while her words are cadencing with the darning needle.

11

'Yes ma'am, . . . for my friend and me.'

'Oh, that way : Two single men ! That could just come in handy. You understand, as a widow with a single girl we can't have just anybody about the floor.' . . .

Puffycheeks poff futher towards max, blushing, while weteyes looks attentively at the heater.

'You see, they're not really rooms as such, we only have this here room and the bedroom of me and my daughter, and, eh, well, there's also a cole hole. But in the attick we've separated a delightful little space. .. cozy wallpaper . . .'

The stove was burning, radiating warmth around the space . . . from afar the deaf old rattlevoice ploughs on. . . Am tired and sleepy, my wet attire is damping heavily.

. . .'a little painting . . . you can imagine, and Jansie could just as easy show you.

The lazy warmth looms, in my burnt-tired eyes things blurr heavily. . .

The old lady is done mending the socks and quickly shoves the dirty grey feet in the sockhole.

'you'll be like one of my children about the house' . . .

Outside the rain clatters teazingly across the damp windowpanes . . .

'Yes ma'am, I would love to give it some further thought, I also have to deliberate with my friend, you see.

'Don't you want to see the room first ? ' . . .

'I'm afraid it will be too small for the two of us. It's fine with me, but see, my friend is a student.

'mum, please don't take in any students, within a day our reputation will be all over the street'

'Are you a student as well, sir?' drivels the old one, while she bends her back to pull off the other sock and stretches it across the cup, Hetr wrinkly face all questions up to me.

'Jansie, do look around the stove to see if the coal is burnt up.'

'Me? no ma'am ' . . .

12

'Well Jans, Now you see for yourslf !'

'Anyway, you'll be hearing from me, if you'd be so kind to' . . .

'your coat, sir ?' . . .

'If you please' . . .

'Jansdie, don't let him slide it along the walls, it'll ruin the entire corridor' . . .

Outside again, in all weathers, on with it. It's eleven thirty already . . . Schools are opening their doors; boys noising with coats and capes pulled up above their necks. Wind blowing up their unseasonally short breeches . . . a few others splashplaying in a gutter in muddy citywater. And right beside the school: another 'rooms for rent', second floor, decent house, a butter and cheeseshop in the basement. Nothing at street level. Better ring . . .

'jeahh, who there? ' . . .

'it's about the rooms, madam,'

'a burst of guffaw . . . from another room another minor smirk. Four gigling girls hanging across the landing railing tinkling over each other . . .

'oh, Juliette . . . a sir, about the rooms . . . Odette, ça te va à toi... mais non, mais non.’

I'm lit from behind by the light above the door.

'Do come up, sir, oh, but no . . . the rooms have already been rented out.'

Still sanding below the stairs, understanding, the wind jacking at the door and my coat.

And another delicate voice, and onother and one more . . .

'Don't you want to check out the rooms? Day or night ! But Joliette, c'est pour toi Odette’ ....

Back on the street. Rain and jerky wind. On and on. Even the for-rent signs dripping . . . a lodger of good character wanted.

13

. . .Here vacancies for decent lodger' bedroom available . . . furnished spaces' Nr. 254 second floor . . . under a veggyshop, ring 3 times . . . That looks interesting. Better check it out at once.

A lady, an elderly man, two kids, smell of piss.

'That's my dad . . . Dad, a gentleman about the rooms. Do follow me, sir.

It's behind here. A large room and decent light. Double alcove.

'Is it only for yourself, sir?'

'No, ma'm for a friend and myself. but one room with an alcove would suit just fine.'

'What do you think? Look at it: a pretty nice view from here on the gardens of the 'Jan Steen' . .

'The room is really nice, but you see, I still have to confer with my friend, who also may want to ckeck for himself' . . .

'Well, sir, I cannot wait for that; I'm already talking with other candidates, who will come around tomorrow with a decisive answer'. . .

'You know what: in that case I'll take it here and now. If you can tell me the neighbours are a bit allright?'

'Oh them folks are really nice. . . But by the way, sir, you are aware of the deposit?

'Yes, obviously, how much is that?'

'Four guilders sir.'

'Four? Thats quite a lot!'

'What can I say? The rent is fifteen for one and eighteen for two. One week in advance always. So four is even less than a week.'

'Pay, another nine farthing left.

'Allright then, I'll tak down the sign . . . g'day mister . . . when will you be moving in?'

14

'I think monday, but maybe saturday . . . so count on saturday, that's better, as the place is empty anyway. . .

Have a nice day, madam.' . . .

'Bye sir.'

Home quickly; it's already past midday. Let's get an ounce of sausage first.

Fast relief, hurry home through the persisting rain. Cape across my arm, so heavy and my coat soaked.

Sam was laying on the ground, on his back, on a pair of pillows, his eyes dreamy vague.

'Hi' . . .

'Hey, back so soon?

'So soon? I'm fuckin' soaking.'

'still raining that bad?'

'Sure is, did you sleep?'

'Yes . . . dozing, more like it. Now you say, I can hear it still rains. Did you succeed?'

'Yes, I did. Beautiful room with a double alcove, say, and eighteen quid, not bad, hey?'

'No, that's fine. When are we moving?'

'I was thinking saturday. . . say, Sam, me working my ass off, I deserve a kiss.'

'Oh no you don't . . . you can steal one whenever you feel like it.'

And across the brown face of Sam I bent. With a feathery chestbend he moved up and punched me in the eyes, so it flashed white, yellow-white across my face.

'There . . . there,'

'Jesus Christ, say !'

15

II MOVING.

de Flesch had started packing, but Sam said, they were not going to move after all, and that this whole packing sharade was nothing but a reminder and notice that she was really serious. Fridaymorning, when she came dusting, she started about it again: 'If you're going ahead with it, then do it on saturday instead of monday. As then the carriers would come around and that will surely be a terrible racket, and even more so if you guys also have carriers.

Well, then those of yours will have to come on sunday or mondaymorning, say, Joop, we're no-way thinking of going earlier as monday.'

'Anywayz, if you really think that I'm just saying? Say, mister Driesse, do you believe, I would make jokes about moving home? '

'Well Sam, let's just settle this . . . Misses Bont, leave it to me, you'll see, It will all gently land on its feet. Be a bit accommodating Sam, please.'

'Settle? That's the whole point: you all do as you please, whatever.'

16

We deliberated further in the evening. Sam was very calm. He'd quitly worked on all afternoon and we had tea together in the solf yellow intimacy of the light bulb, in the room that really got to us now, and turned us mellow, and quitly discussing with hardly any raising of voices. . .

'say Sam' . . .

'Yes boy, what's up . . . a kiss? another one? you silly boy? ' . . .

'I just love you so terribly, Sam, you may never ever leave, always make us stay together' . . .

'Sure, you crying again? . . . Switch the lamp on and also the one at the desk, this twilight is making me so depressed inside. . . So, what's it now, my boy?'

'Have you thought of the payment for the carriers tomorrow? That surely will be another few bop.'

'You got anything left?'

'No I don't. . . I have payed the last change to that other lady and an ounce of meat. I only have 34 cents left.'

'That's insane . . . I also have zilch left. Bob Helmers came around and I borrowed him thirteen bop, until monday.' . . .

'Jees, say, what now ?'

'Don't you have anthing left to pawn?'

'Nothing but that tiny gold ring from Transvaal, you know, the one that Nellie took'.

'Oh that? Let's get it to the Gerard Dou Straat then.'

'But it still rains. couldn't we do that tomorrow morning?'

17

No that'll be too late, come on.'

The rain was still streaming along the glas, and if Sam had been on the street, he would surely be so angry that he would hit me. Piteous.

'No, let's go' . . .

Not a soul on the street, white lights fluctuating in the wind, moving their rays through the dark puddles of water.

'What do you think it will fetch?'

'a thaler, at best. Or maybe thirty-five pence, it all depends.'

'Dear, listen up, what I'll do: Let's calculate, you may get two fifty on that little ring, and I have those fitfteen pence, and you got seven. If we then redeem my clock, which is down for two fifty as well, and then pawn it back again at Marnixstraat, where we most likely will get three guilders,' . . .

'but it's raining so bad, if we just leave it, I'm soo cold. We'll get by, eventually.'

'No, let's not do that. Those ten pence, are easily earned. It's not that far! And the rain, well rain, that's not too bad, if I go along, is it?'

That subtle flattery made me all giddy inside, and his voice caressing me.

'Alright, let's do it, before I change my mind.'

We got one seventy five on the ring and Sam suddenly gaining confidence and courage now he'd redeemed something, demanded his clock back.

When, marching along the rainy Pijp, and then across the dark Stadhouderskade.

Against the backdrop of heavy rainclouds, the yellow of the citycenter, pale-gold, but for the wet and black. The Kade had blown empty, and even more black, where no tram ran to light it up.

18

'Sam,

'Yes boy,' . . .

'Say, it's a stretch, not ?

He clenched my coldrained hand tightly in his, as he always held them in his pockets. Close together we walked on, bent forward against the wind.

The Leidseplein, crazy, laughter, lights. Busy tingling of glowlights and the white sockets and calm pale-blue deadsmile of the archlights, dangling high above in the wind.

People hurrying along from the dark square corners into the light, while others searched for the darkness.

On the square Sam let go of my hands, as the street we quickly crossed the open space on to the streetgap between the white American Hotel and the StadsSchouwburg. The Marnixstraat was even darker, with some yellow, silent after the noisy square, bald trees, dripping or bending in the dark wind. My coat hung heavily on my shoulders, giving me the feeling of going someplace, but without a clue of where.

Until we arrived, finally.

'How much do we place on top of the price?'

'three guilders'

'three for hat piece of shit? Thirty five pence' . . .

'No, three at least. That'w what I got last time as well.'

'Last time is not now . . . yes or no?'

19

Yes allright then, hand it to me' . . .

Again more rattlerain, lashing down, relentless. But now with the wind from behind. And then the prospect of returning that same route.

I felt sooo streetsick, with more walking and not knowing where. The slimey thickening of your palate and the heavy pressing of a hat on your head, that had soaked though on the inside. . .

'Did you know tat Marnistraat was so far away?'

'Yes, didn't you? You've passed it often enough.'

Leidseplein again, awkward light, with the hatefully grinning bulbs.

Joop, boy, that's too bad, are you angry at me for that?'

'No, silly me, all that way for nothing. Now we still don't have enough . . .

No worries. . . when we get home you'll need to go straight to bed. Then I'll move on to Siep Reesink, he's bound to have some dough' . . .

'Yes, pleez, I'm just too tired'

'Come on, walk closer to me, so much nicer, not? . . . you want me to spend the night with you?'

'No, ratger not. . . then I won't have a moment of sleep' . . .

'Say Joop, You wan to hear a good joke? This morning at the poli-clinic, a woman with t.b.c. , and she refused to get undressed, because I was present. I had to leave the room first. And professor Pel got furious . . . She thought I was a negro' . . .

'Jesus Christ' . . .

Cuddled up close I walked along with Sam and felt the walkmovements of his body. Warm intimacy, that really made me feel better. we, two seperate identities, in the streaming rain, cold, but that didn't boher me anymore.

We were almost home, lightheaded and agreeable.

20

Sam lit the main lamp, as I dropped off the rain muddled mess and comforted myself cozily in my lazy chair.

'Go to bed . . . Joop, I now have to go to Siep, otherwise he'll have left for the PAN.'

'At this time, still?'

'Yes, that one is always at work untill around ten o'clock, as if you dodn't know that.'

'Sure, I was just saying.'

'Silly boy . . . prey, go to bed.'

'only if you will linger on a bit and sit with me?'

'Yes, sure, but go on, or you'll be far too tired tomorrow'

In the warmed up bed, I was already on my backside, the lamp turned away and a dark shadowlightplay bounced off the things, that contoured vaguely. On the chair was my white shawl . . .

I looked at it and got scared.

'Sam could you please move the shawl away from there . . . yeah, there . . . . yes, that's better. . . .

Say, Sam, am I really other than the others ?'

'Yes you are . . . Let's not talk about that now . . . do you love me ? '

'I'm not saying that, you know I will not.'

'Just like I love you? . . .

'Starting the old questionaire again . . . but I will not answer . . . It's always the same with you.'

'Please, just this once, just one more time . . . Just as I tell you?'

"No . . . You know I never repeat things like that. So, once and for all . . .

21

You positively love me and sometimes you like me to sleep with you, but I only do coz I love you . . .

otherwise . . . I allow what you want, but will never ask for it. You very well know that ' . . .

'Yes' . . .

'And you see, you sometimes love other boys as well, and I would never permit that from anybody else' . . .

'No. . . only me' . . .

'Yes . . . I will one day get myself married, really officialy, with an official license.

'Oh no you don't . . . Then it must be over between us?'

'Fuck, are you getting serious? No? Then I'm on my way' . . .

The yellow lamp-shining faded out and the humid-wet darkness engulfed the entire space around . . .

'Sam'. . .

'Yes' . . .

'Bye' . . .

'Bye. . . don't stay awake, you hear; when I'm out with Sam, it's bound to get late, you're aware of that' . . .

The door closed. And in the straight-on rain noise his footsteps faded . . . until they were lost and the downy darkness was all that remained . . . sound of silence.

Wide awake in the churned up choking warm bed and listening. But no sound, just the swishing rain, but that was no sound to listen to, because it was similar to silence, tight and sounding soundless. And again I listened, to make out anything, but nothing there, until my eyes peered sharply focussed from the staring listeneing to the emptyness of rainrumble. Sharply white, sparkling, it hurt in my head, while there was nothing. My eyes hurt . . . my eyes clamming lame . . . in dark silence, something moving . . . black in black . . . warm black . . . sitting on my chest . . . again moving a touch . . . again . . . until the entire deep waving night silece was moving . . . invisibly, but velvety-soft nestling-soft. In my mouth it tasted woe-sweet . . . and I could not move.

22

A heavy black fear had descended on me . . . untill I suddenly had to jump out of bed, all the way, with my sleepywarm feet on the sharplychilled tarp floorcovering. That broke the black spell . . . in my ears something was bubbling up, like a black mudbubble breaks out. Heard the rain, a dog barking. Nicely freshcalm I stood there in front of the tossed up blankets. An agreeable sensation tingled through my spine and along my abdomen. No longer feeling like going back in, I layed down backwards on the rug, to look at the black room, not-feeling, not-thinking, not-sleeping, not tired, from time to time hearing the clock strike, like : one thirty. And then, just before two Sam returned home.

'Hi Sam . . . good day' . . .

'What day . . . where have you beeen ? . . . I'm laying' . . .

'But not in bed? What's this supposed to mean ?'

'I'm on the floor, quite nice, you know . . . I couldn't sleep anyway and the bed got too warm.'

Sam lit his room lantern. Finely squirting its yellow ray through the drabby darkness.

'You should return to bed anyway' . . .

'You go, I don't feel like sleeping anymore. I'm just fine here, and when I'm sleepy again, I'll return to bed.'

'Sam come sleep with me.'

'Something different again, just after you refused, when I asked . . . are you going silly again today?'

No, just the opposite . . . come on, I'm already floored . . . say, I'm pulling off my underwear . . . Come on now?'

Yes, in a minte, you silly boy of a man' . . .

'No probs, as you told yourself, I'm allowed to do whatever I want.'

23

'Sure, you are, but I just rather not now.'

'Oohh, come on' . . .

In his arms I was, trembling lightly, very close to him and a pink tingling ran just beneath my warm skin . . .

'Sam, we're not doing anything bad, are we? . . . I only love you.'

'Sure, nothing the matter . . . you're a very nice sample of manhood, eh boyhood' . . .

'Sam, are you truely as ugly as people say you are?'

'Oh dear, you're even uglier than that!' . . .

'And still I love you, horribly much.'

Then all of a sudden, not knowing why, I started to cry, raw-sobbing-shuddering against him . . .

'What is it now?'

'Nothing, I don't know . . . I'm just sooo tired . . . soo terribly week' . . .

I climbed across him, out of bed again.

'What are we doing now?'

'I'm getting dressed again, I'm all cold.'

'Joop, what is to become of you. You're such a handsome bloke, but these emotions are spoiling it all. Now you'll be completely upset again all of tomorrow.'

'Maybe not, . . . let's just sleep.'

Sad, with an intense deep feeling of sorrow around me, we both fell asleep. A cock crowed and crowed continuously and shrill, red, piercing right through the dark rainnoise.

24

III Stray Day

When I woke up, the twilight shone of doubt, of the after-autumnmorning peered in the room, but the alcove was still dark, deeper black. Sam sat on my bed.

'Jopie, come on, wake up' . . .

'Did you call?'

'Yes, we're on our way, remember what time it is?'

'No . . . early still, I presume . . . have the porters arrived? Is it still raining as bad?'

'Oh please, It's pooring! Don't you hear it? Come out quickly, it's past nive thirty, I left you there as long as possible, but now you have to get going . . . Everything has already been packed.'

'Yes . . . coming.'

In the lumberroom we stood, having a quick bite of breakfast. The rain was even more violent than the day before, but the light was brighter white, as opposed to the dingydark that we had all week, the tall houses stood freshly washed in the rainy sunlight, but without the sun.

'Look here Sam, what a funny white light, just as if the entire business has been washed clean . . . crazy hey, that with this light it can also rain.'

25

'Yes, if only it would stop raining . . . say, there we have our porters . . .you still want to go to the Bottle

'Well, yes, let's say farewell to her . . . it's not that she's been absolutely horrible to us . . . I'll call here . . . miss Bont' . . .

'Yes sir' . . .

'Well, Master Sam and myself, we're on our way. Is there anything we owe you?'

'No, master Sam has payed everything.'

'OK, so we're off then . . . goodbye madam' . . .

'Goodbye genrtemen, I do hope youre new home will be decent.'

Quickly we moved off the street, a airy white joy in our souls, even if it still rained heavily, without knowing why we felt so happy. The carriers ahead of us with the cart, a huge felklow and a tiny lad next to him, scraggy.

Along the Sarphatipark we rolled, laying drippybrown in the waterwhite thin sun.

'What a jolly rain, hey?'

'Yes, that's quite different from yesterday, the entire scene looks different today, I've slept deliciously, did you rise earlier?'

'Depends, around eight, I'd say, but I left you in bed.'

'You'll see, what a deliciously fine room it is, and such a delight of an alcove, you can now easily hand in our notice with madam Kater . . .you've now been with me for such a long time . . . how long?'

'Let's see . . . four months, about. But let me hold on to that room. . . . You never know . . . and de Kater cannot afford to do without the rent.'

'It's wasted money, nevertheless.'

De Govert Flink; But now normally gray, snarly chilly, where the white rain light did not shine the slightest ray, oppresively narrow.

26

'What number was it again, sir?'

'two hundred fifty four, second floor.'

They halted for a moment and sat down on the wet cartsaddle, queerleaning against the container. the awning shone rainwet with litlle puddles, wherever an indentation presented itself.

';well allright, Dries, let';s get a move-on. . . number three hundred fifty four, that's another twenty houses'

Our white rainsunlight joy dinged to gey in the narrow housing street, leaving us resigned.

'That's it, we're there, that has been quite a hefty cargo . . . sirs.'

The small one is back on the carsaddle, afraid it would otherwise run off, and the tall one, looking under the wet cover for his ropes and messy toolbox. But I rang. No sound. A long wait, then another ringing, furiously smashing up the rainy-noise-silence. . . No answer.

Sam looking up . . .

'Jees Joop, the house is empty.'

'Enpty, you're mad.'

'Wel, look for yourself.'

Taking a fe steps back from the nouse, my head bending over backards, I dod watch for myself. . . It was indeed empty. Weirdly the curtainless wiindows gaped . . . Not a soul in sight.

'Well, I’ll be darned! . . .This I do not get. . . . It was number two hundred fifty four, not ? . . . Do check.'

'Sure is. . . I understand all too well, those people have done a runner with the four bop.'

The carriers remained impassible on the cart, spitting out their brown chewing tobacco.

'this is just sooo beyond me. I'll have another ring one storey up.'

From the window on the third floor, white grey camisole, traipsy hair.

27

'What the fuck is that ringracket ?'

'Madam, we're supposed to be here at the second floor' . . .

'Well why not ring there?'

'There's nobody in there; we hired the backroom with the alcove, and now she ran off with our four guilders deposit.' . . .

'Jees, now did she really? With your deposit., well well, you just should not let her get away with that, you hear! Run along to the Ferdinand Bol . . . What a dirty bitch! Running off with a petty deposit.

From acrosss the street another 2nd floor window was opened by a lady and at the basement and shoemender appeared, wrinkley, crooked, deaf-like.

Whose yelling and halllering from the window . . . I see you screaming all the while, what's it about?'

'That maggot from the ground floor ras run off with four guilders from these gentlemen here.'

'Well, I say, the one with the child? With the bulged back, shall I say?'

'you can safely call her a cricket.'

The lady on the second floor gestures in amazement, deaf anyway, she moves back in, not any the wiser about what the fuzz is about. The cart getting more soaked as are the carriers. The troup of people surrounding them stilkl enlarging, gesturing an uestioning about what to d . . . The misses from 2 hight tells. Police.

'You're not allowed to park here.'

"You have an idea where we should be instead?'

"How should I know, I've got nothing to do with that, but you will have to move along.'

The people crowd around us ever closer, crazy b;lack from the rain . . . with umbrellas up, dripping their dirt onto others, nd then another row is started about that. Two boys start a fight and the rain intensifies.

'Run along people, people: move . . . and porters, you have to drive on with that cart.'

28

'We don't have to do shit, we've been employed by these gentlemen, sirs . . . do we move ?'

And Sam , decidedly all of a sudden.

'Yes you move up a bit, back to de Van Ostadestraat'

And so the plumbblack cart pushes the human mess aside, and on they go, dripping back to de van Ostadestraat.

'Are you going back?'

'Yes, back to the Bottle, who I'm sure is not planning at moving at all, we'll drop our things quickly, so we can see about how we go from here. Maybe we can stay there after all.'

The carriers remain calm and whistle a tune, think it's all rathr drole, and only consider how they can charge for the return freight and turn it into another half day hire.

In front of the window of what was our room we see the Bottle, hanging lace curtains.

'You see; what did I tell you, there's another one coming'

'That's not what I thought of her.'

"Well I did.'

The Bottle, composed behavior, comes down her ladder, backwards into the room, looking how her drapery falls down. Open the door, she did not.

"Well how do you like her? Is that why we settled with her?'

The carriers had returned to their cart seats, spitting more brown goo, and quitly let themselves rain even wetter.

'Miss Bont . . . Miss Bont.' The window slid open.

'Gosh, is that you again Sam? And you as well master Driesse? What a rain, hey?'

'Yes, we come around to shelter once more'

'Shelter with me? Why is that? Did you not hire elsewhere?'

'Yes, but please Ms. Bont, do open up, we're soaking wet here, we've come to return to your place . . .

as obviously, . . you are not moving anywayz, that much we can see, not, Sam?'

29

'No, indeed, I'm not moving. Just when I saw you off, the postman brought me a letter, informing me that the other consession was off the table.'

'Well, than we can just as well move back in here with you'

'No, because, I just happen to meet another gentleman, who was looking for lodging, and I already offered him' . . .

'You would almost believe her, don't you think, Joop?'

'Well, then you will not believe me. . . What do I care what you believe.'

'Well Sam, it is not impossible, and miss de Bont, why would she lie?' . . .

'Hear, hear, you can say that again.'

'If another person has rented the place, we cannot return here, that's obvious, but we could stillpark our stuff here, for the time being?'

Window slides shut; the Bottle gone.

'You'll see, we will be allowed to store our stuff with her.'

But the door remained shut. Totally at ease the porters stayed put at their cart. Chewing tobacco in the intenified rain. Two schools close by, were running out and loud laughing boyvoices noised around the street. It was eleven thirty. Us looking rather silly in front of a closed door, de Bottle casually going on with her business through the curtains.

Then Sam made a decision.

'We must get our stuf under a roof today, Joop, there's no other way about it, we will have to keep moving about until we've found a place.' . . .

'Yes . . . and I'm dead tired already'

'Come on now, it will turn out right . . . say men, what do we owe you?'

'You want to settle the bill? Don't we have to carry on?'

'No, just tell us what we owe.'

The two confered in silence with twitching eyes, the tiny red one said it:

'Well, sirs, we;ve been running about in the rain for quite a few hours, we were thinking of a thaler each.

30

'That's fine, I'll give you guys a guilder extra, but then you must allow us to keep the cart until tonight'

'The cart only? We never allowed that'

'Wel there's a fitst time for everything, we surely will not go out on the town with it'

The two carriers, were off, and we remained abandoned in the gloomy raindawn, embarrased and deserted.

'Ahead with it, then'

And Sam pushed the cart, that creaked from its position.

'We'll take turns, we'll first try our luck at de Jan van der Heijde . . . and when I ride, you can make enquiries, and when you ride, I'll do it.'

Out de Van Ostadestraat, and on to de Ruysdaelkade.

'Shall I take over the pushing?'

'No, you keep a lookout . . . see something?'

'Yes, stand still for a minute . . . I'm moving in.'

a Misses, languishing, skinny, two puffy blkeak children, a stuffy lideroom.

'Yes, you see, I'd rather have a lady than two gentlemen on it . . .when woukld you care to accept?'

'If possible, tonight.'

'No sirs, that won't be possible . . . taking people just from the street, not me . . . You do have a room at the moment?'

'Oh, sure madam.'

'Well then you'll have to give notice there and then move, no, sir, I stand all alone in this. I very much want to rent the space, but not like this' . . .

We joggled on through the rain until half three, it never dried up, Sam pushing the cart.

31

Emptyheaded by then and white of hunger we stopped for food, a cheese sandwich and warm coffee at De Volksbond. First Sam went in, while I remained at the cart, to prevent it being heaved. Then I went in and Sam stayed outside and finally we both moved out in the rain again, pushing on, but nowhere finding a roof for us.

Half five. The streaming rain had stopped and turned into a foggy drizzle. The lanterns were lit already and the shopwindows reflected yellowish. I'm sooo tired, I can't take it any more and start sobbing out loud in the middle of the street with severe bouts of pain . . .

'Come on Joop, don't be silly. You look like you're twelve instead of twenty two. . .

We now are going over de Centuurbaan and then across that bit of the Willebrordusstraat until de Amsteldijk . . . perhaps we'll find something there' . . .

Firmed up and composed again we pushed together, looking around at places ffor hire.

Nothing. Until at de St Willebrordusstraat . . . there. . . something . . . furnished rooms for rent, at nr. 29 . . .

'Jees, say Sam, over there is another,' and all cheered up: You'll see, that one's for us, shall I ring or will you?'

'You go ahead'

A little girl, bleak with black shadow lines around her face . . .a blue cap and a cape.

'Is your mum in, little girl?'

'My mum is dead . . . I'll get my aunt for you . . . aunty . . .aunt . . . here's two sirs for you.'

'Just prey them into the corridor, I'll be down in just a second.'

Luckily we were dry there. Aunty came down, tiny woman, dark with already greyish hair and a touch skew-eyed at one side.

32

Do go on to your evening school Toos . . . goodday sirs, excuse me for leaving you waiting. What can I do for you?'

'I'd like to see the rooms, if you please.'

'Oh sir, for sure . . . it's a backroom with an alcove . . .but if you rather, you can also have the front room.'

'Let's see then.'

We moved along to the back, from the downstairs depth of the souterrain little dog barks pinched up, overthundered by the bass of a larger one.

'Silence Hec . . . Quite Sis . . . Anne, do hold on to those beasts . . .those are our dogs sir, but they will not be any trouble; they never come up here.'

'Oh, but I'm fond of dogs as a matter of fact' . . .

The room was large and airy-spacious.

'How much is it?'

'Eighteen gulders for the both of you, that's it.'

'Do you need any sort of deposit?'

"I kindly leave that to your discretion.'

'Well, I can give you a week in advance.'

'And when would you like to move in?'

'As soon as possible'

'Immediately?'

'Yes, ma'am, you may find that odd, but when we were calling our landlady this morning, we only found a note, that she was off to live with her lodger, leaving us do deal with the debts . . .

'Oh dear, that's just horrible!'

'So you see, then we were homeless all of a sudden' . . .

and happy to find a roof over our heads, I called out at the door:

'Sam, I've hired here; do come up with our mess.

33

IV Sewer.

Morning. In front of the working window I sat, where the bald branches of the empty pear tree, stretched and arched dripping black in the slightest gust of wind. But at least it had stopped raining, just the tree afterdripping, The crooked autumnsun, without shine, strayed a ray in the chickenshed.

The cock crowed. A delightful sound of contentment shockshouldered through me. We now were about a few weeks with miss Meks and it had been a satisfying serene time. I had not slept with Sam anymore. We worked and lived, as if the wak white suffering had never happened.

Sam lay backwards on the old blackleather canapé, with his hands under his head and his eyes closed, as he prefered it. What a terribly sillyfunny face, round and brownish, and with that fine black pointless moustachiothingy, actually some sort of a negroface, of sorts. All the time I kept staring at him, with this continuous rosy feeling of doing sweet nothings inside of me, which became more tender with each of my grizzled words.

'Sam' . . .

'Silly Joop' . . .

34

'I love you'

'I say, it's goingb wrong again; you have that same softness in your face and voice too.'

'We just never had it so good, here'

'Yes it's fun, much better than at de Bottle. . . but do keep working quitely' . . .

Across my books I bent down again, but the autumn sounds from outside I sensed intensely and softly. . . On the window sill the falling treedrops tickled.

And I stayed motionless . . .said nothing afraid to lose the silvery gray mood.Across the outhouses of the Hoedenmakersstraat the sky spoke of fall. . . a fine trembling underneath my skin.

'Sam'

He was asleep and then, soo vulnerably happy and craving to keep it that way, I laid my head down on my arms and tried very clearly to observe the room with the two of us and the pleasure of being that ourselves, even nicer to taste that. And profound and deep I peered into myself, pysicalkly feeling my eyes stare, seeing the two of us as a separate entity.

Until Sam finished this off and cut through my wishful thinking.

'I'm splitting, and will be back about four o'clock.'

'And you're leaving me here all alone all day?'

'Yes indeed, bye' . . .

Saddened I peered into the garden: it was nothing but the ordinary colorless fall hassle and the silent beauty of just now was lost, it had turned into another garden, with other houses. My fine mood, through which the light of yhings hit my eyes in a completely different fresh way, was wasted away, differing everything.

Miss Meks entered the garden, with her rake, making violent rake movements to pile up the leaves that curled up wet and brown and clung to the rake teeths . . . she shook 'm off hitting the rainy treetrunk, that in turn dripped its gratitude, rustling.

35

Attentively I looked at her, happy, to see her bustling movement in the otherwise orderly garden. She looked at me nd noodded. I nodded back, and wanted to chat some, now I was alone.

High open I slid the window and sat myself on the sill. The smell of rain aired into the room, bluehumid.

'Good morning, sir.'

'howdi, miss Meks.'

'Master Sam not in? What a stech sir."

'I don't smell anything.'

'You don't smell this? Miss Koppé, Master Driessen doesn't smell a thing.'

Miss Koppé from the second floor, her husband a pro-wrestler, also teaching boxing, small female, bitchy.

'Well, but I sure do: ir smells horribly. Why don't they repair that sewer?'

'Third floor comes into action. Occupied by a Française, who gets maintained by a jewish gentleman from the stock exchang, slender, elegant, always wearing very whitecolored hats, not speaking Dutch, and understanding it even less.

'There we have Madam as well . . . Isn't it a crying shame, the way that woman is going about things.'

'Dear oh dear, it may be bearable at your place, but here in the basement the turds are floating about. Plaise yourself lucky you have no gentlemen callers.'

'But why are you not going around then?'

'Me? Woman! . . . I indeed come around there any more. when the rent is due, I always have Toosie bring it around.'

Four Fifty, not?

'Four Fifty, nay, five guilders each week . . . what is that French Madam meddling all of a sudden; it's not of her concern, not?' . . .

Bleak silkence, fell over the conversation. But then the words colored up:

36

'Does Master Driessen prove satisfactory?'

'Oh, sure, master is siting on the window sill just now . . . we were having a chat.'

The faint white the talk grayed up, until miss Koppé suddenly exclaims highly reddened:

'Well if only she would come and smell waot a puke-stench it is around here . . .

can you not call her to come around?'

'No Toos is not here and our Anne does not feel lik it either.

'Well call her from here then, you've got a fine voice that easily reaches there . . . Fuck what a stench' . . .

Poignantly sharp, brightred, in the early afternoon the voice of Meks pierces:

'Misses Bramer' . . . Sudden, and imidately halting so the silence takes over.

'She's not home, surely' . . .

'Not at home? She just got in and went up . . . She just does not wan to hear.'

'No kidding; in that case she'll have to respect my call . . . Miss Bramer . . . Miss BRAAAmer . . .

landlady' . . .

No reply. The concierge dwelling next to us remains silent in the moistdrying wihte sun.

'She just does not hear, surely.'

'oh, she'll hear from me . . . such a scoundrel. I'm ashamed for my gentlemen, that I have to holler and scream, and what does it get me?'

Across behind us at de Hoedenmakersstraat a scruffle, womens heads, the coallady, the tramguard, . . .

'What's at hand?'

'three fingers pink and thumb.'

'Do you know what's going on, miss Ellemers?'

'The sewer is clogged across the street in de Willebrordusstraat . . . Where those two new gentlemen have moved in.'

37

'Well, does that justify making such a racket? I really thought there was a fire.'

'The landlady does not seem to be intent on repairing it. . . . You can get into all kinds of trouble with sewage . . .at my sister's' . . .

The conversation narrows about the sisters plumbing, ours smells like . . . in the lightblue humid sky the stench bubbles up intensely.

And the violently red shrieks of miss Meks get a repeat . . .I lose the window, which dulls the shrill sounds.

'Don't you hear, madam asswipe. . . the sewer stinks . . . the gutters run over. . . don't you hear? . . . We're drowning in the stench of your turds here . . . but I'll get it fixed, from your rent pennies . . . you hear madam?'

The houses across the street in attentive hush await anoyed response, but from the concirge place, not a sound.

But the crycuriosity weakens

'it won't get you anywhere . . . You only cause a scandal.'

Most sign off, only the French Madam of the third floor still hangs fromm her window. Then just bleak emptyness, cold and white contrasting the red-hot exitement of just now, and strangely lonely, silly-small, all alone she stood in the garden with only silent houses surrounding.

And then, weakly angry against the Francaise:

'Silly cow, what business is it of you . . . you nasty, mean mentainee <!--kept lady--> . . .

The drabby stench continues to bubble through the lightblue sky.

Afternoon. Sam had not returned yet and moodlessly I continued my work . . . longing for some movement in the relentless shoving around of the hours. The garden trimmed and tingeless as the sun moved towards evening grey.

38

From the souterrain hatch miss Merks pops up and miss Lepelaar, who resides on the other side of the house. Sharp and skinny, bitchy woman, always angry and ready for engage into any argument that may arise. The Meksen woman, modestly smaller, an enamelled pan with chickenseed in her hands. Miss Lepelaar sneezes.

'He still has not recovered?'

'No, nothing yet, he's just sitting there all day at the back of his cage, and if I feed the chickens, he looks like it's none of his business.'

'Then he might die.'

'Well, I hope not . . . I'll take him inside one more time . . . Master Driesse, have you seen how grouchy our hen is holding up, like the lame chicken of late, do cummhereb my Pietsie, cumma my little mutt. . .

you can jump off your window with the steps.'

'In front of the chickenshed we stood, the chickens, domesticated, came scrabbling nearer, hearing te sound of seeds in the pan. The cock, melncholically-sinister, nestled away in the darkest recess did not move.

' Oh Gush, what a waste, such a beautiful cock' . . .

'Well, he's not dead yet. I'll take him inside with me, and set him down near the warmth of the stove. That often does them a world of good, like the limb chicken te other day . . . ahh, cum ere, my little darling . . come to the misses.'

The cock remained where it was, not moving.

'You'll have to grip her'

'Yes, I know. . .'

A pityous joke of a cock crow, and then the sick beast huddled up against madam Meks.

'Poor beast'

Ans so we started to move back inside, as it was cold in the little garden, miss Meks ahead, carefully feeting her way ocross the rotting treadplank, that lay across the puddle in front of the chickenshed.

39

Ocross the fence our concierge lady appeared. And friendly-sweet:

Hi madam Meks . . . Something the matter with your cock?'

'Yes, he's been shambing for quite some ime now. His crow is ash-whitish and he does nothing all day but sit there huddled up.'

'Well . . . and what can you do about it?'

'I will settle her down in a basket beind the furnace. . . Maybe he'll pull himself together that way.'

'Yes, could be . . . but is it me or is there an awful smell around here?'

I was blown away at the calm comosed sweetness of the talk, but miss Meks did as if nothing had happened and seemed not in the least surprised:

'The sewer is out of order again . . . They obviously did not repair it properly, you'll have to have them look it over again.'

'Yes, if only I'd known I would have taken caare of it . . . if you would want to even tonight.'

'Oh, that's quite allright, the sooner we're rid of this stench, the better.'

"I will take care of it . . . but what I wanted to say . . . can I have Picky over another time?'

'Oh yes, by all means . . You know our concierge's Puckie, don't you?'

I know Puck, dark brown scoundrel beast with the nice loud bark.

'I had planned on going out tonight, to my niece at de Jacob Catskade, and then he's always so troublesome, and with you he's always such a good boy. Yesterday we also went out; my husband's sister was married twelve and a half years' . . .

'Jees, I didn't even know thar, congratulations.'

'Thank you, well we took Pucky with us over there, but I can't tell you how awkward he behaved.'

'Oh but do bring him around, just as easy, . . .he's never any problem when he's with me.' . . .

The sick cock gurgled.

40

'Thank you kindly, it got to be pretty late as well . . . as you know . . . a glass of wine . . . a sandwich, they can make a serious do, and if you consider it's just for a short while . . .bur such a nuisance our Puckie was, the house was too small and now tonight, if we'd bring him along to de Catskade.'

'Well, don't worry: just bring him around, by all means.'

'Well to return to my niece . . . I mean tom my sister's, we came home around half past two and my husband was nicely boozed up. But luckily he slept it off this morning, until half past eleven.'

'Well, and were you able to sleep after all that ado?'

'Oh sure, when I sleep I sleep; and I won't hear a thing, even if they'd kill my neighbours.'

'Ah. . . well, please don't frgetr about that sever, I don't want to make a fuzz, but the stench is horrificv.'

'I will sent my husband about it'

'Well, aieu, I'm off inside. You will surely have a cup of coffee with me, master Driesse?'

In the brown cellar-room we sat, outside it was still greyish, here the dark grey brown fethered on the kitchen utensils. The white tin, lightshade shone with a sigle light spot. I stared at it. untill the brown of the room faded to black in front of my eyes and I turned them away with a sudden prickly pain.

A sadness suddenly boiled over in me, that Sam had left me alone all of this sad autumn afternoon and turned my mellow talkative mood into sad and hopeless brown.

It's obviously just about that Puck, that she's so sweet to you now. . . She must have heard you loud and clear this afternoon. '

'It's easy to see, but I did not say a thing, because I planned to skip this week's rent . . . here you are sir, your coffee, and when you need more sugar, just say . . . I have to refill my goldylocks.

41

a Greyish silence loomed in the room, the corners all ossifying teb brown black evening. The sick cock gurgled piteously.

'How silent you are master Driesse . . . anything the matter?'

'Mastr Driesse is not happy, because mister Sam is not around . . . not sir? . . .

'I'll just light your lamp, so we can see what we are saying'

Slowly broadly widening the light spread across the room and clashed yellowish up and down against the sidewalls.

'There you go' . . .

Ans so, livened up, we drank our coffee in the colored lamplight. I stayed downstairs to eat some bread and we partied on tripe and stayed on to chatter about the days events.

Until the concierge brought around her Puckie and then left and until the sewer guys came and set off on their dark smellwork, lit by rosy torches.

It was late when I moved upstairs and saddened looked out onto the spooky garden.

Deep in the night Sam returned home.

42

V When Sam wa away.

Sam was not here; for fourteen days he lived at the room of miss Kater, where he kept his books and preparations. He always kept that room for when we were not able to stay together. Because sometimes it was impossible, when my desire and longing for him was too intense, and we parted our ways, instea of doing what Sam did not want. Or when anger rose against me all at once, that he handled my nasty and beat me up, afther which hed left, until we both had quieted down and piecefully resumed our together ousehold for months on end, without anything out of the ordinairy happening.

But last time it had been really bad, suddenly one night it roared up in Sam, whileI was busy writing and he was quitely on the canapé, he pinched me. Short and venomous.

'Come on, stop it.'

I thought,he would laugh or say something, as I looked at him, but he just stood there being serious and saying nothing. Then suddenly he pinched me again, in my upper left arm, and I had to rub it with my other hand, that's how much it hurt.

'Please, Sam, don't do that . . . You're hurting me . . . Seriuously.'

His voice ws deep and serious.

43

'Yes I will.'

And attentively he hurt me all over with a tight joyless pleasure to just hurt another.

And yelling I did not want to, but tears swelled up and pained heavily from my eyes . . .

When al of a sudden he said:

'Joop, cm'ere.'

He was stronger than me and my attitude just dropped willingless in front of him.

'Joop' . . .

Right in front of me he stood, his eyes scintillating darkly, then he made for the room door and turned the key. Brightwhite a blow flashed through the black silence. The entire room seemed to get serious now . . . things tight, with a grey wooly dizzyness in my head. One blow on my cheek, bloodred. Deeply sick, and crying I fell on the floor in front of the canapé. I just felt Sma hitting me, not remembering that it stopped and I remained painpanting on the floor.

When I woke up I was on my bed and Sam was sitting beside my head.

'Hi Jopie' . . .

'Hi Sam, is it over now ?'

'Not yet . . .it's toned down, but I'm not feeling allright yet by a long shot . . . Did I hurt you, boy?'

'No, it was not that bad for us, we're a couple, right? a weird couple.'

'Yes you can say that again, I have the feeling I'd better go live on my own for a while, don't you agree that would be best?'. . .

'I dunno . . . when do you want to leave?'

'Right away . . .I have the keys of miss Kater's' . . .

'But what time is it now?

'Half three.'

'But you cannot just leave in the middle of the night, you could just as well stay until sunrise?'

'No, I'm going right now, that's safer.'

'Then I will bring you.'

44

I rose quickly, the light was on and outside the night was dark and the black houses across silhouetted gloomy. I stood in front of the window and looked at them. Without a sould we glipped out of the house. The street dark and quite, just resounding the footseps of one lonely man. Close together we walked on, not speaking.

'Goodbye Jopie . . . bye boy . . . I'll write you often, look, the mailbox is close by. . . and when you're better I'll be back soon.'

'Yes . . .yes, you mustn't stay away for too long'

Then we parted. Sam staring after me. And suddenly my teardrowned voice broke in my throat.

'Sam . . .Bye Sam'

The echo sounded silly on the nightly streer and my own voice frightened me; if somebody would have heard. But everything silent.

And then the uptight, painstretching lonelyness, autumn days sadly drawing to winter, but I didn't notice that much. Stayd home whole days and worked. Madam Meks had asked.

'Is master Sam not here?'

'No, he was called out around half past two last night to attend a patient at the hospital, and this morning I got a letter, that he was going out with him and didn't know yet for how long.'

Sam wrote often. Very short notey things. And so did I. Every time another intense moment of pain arose, I quickly scribbled one of those and also got such short letters from him. 'Hi Jopie' or 'I'm doing fine' nothing more. With one delivery I sometimes got four or six of those, and miss Meks would bring them in, odd, that so many letters arrived with the same handwriting.

'strange, sir, a whopping for at a time, must be from your girl'

45

Forteen days Sam was gone and I had not left the house.

With the four o'clock mail miss Meks brought four more letters from Sam. And the fun joke had become a soothing habit of her:

'Four letters, from your girl, sir. I quickly opened them. They were:

'Hi boy' 'I'm doing fine' 'will be back soon' 'are you hurting?'

'You think master Sam will stay away for much longer?'

'No, I don't think that. Maybe another week, or so . . .'

'Wel then I think it's time we had a talk, if that's convenient with you.'

Her voice wobbling around her words, she trembled and her face whitened.

'Oh, please do, and take a chair.'

'Yes . . . that's good.'

She sat down between my windowtable and the bookshelves, with the quickly fading light just touching her up. And then she started, monotonous voice:

'I would not have told you, if you'd have left or Master Sam, but now you're staying, I'm obliged to. You see, if you're going t hear it later from others, it will be even worse. Anyway . . . you may have thought at some time, that I was married, as Alex always cals me mother, but I'm not . . . you see Alex actually is a misfortune, so to say. His mother was a bit loose, and then she walked into this guy . . . and she kept on sayiny: "I'll drown myself, and the boy with it". I understand, that I had to take in the boy with me. His mother later on married a tramguard and they did ythen officially recognise the kid, and he also stayed with them, but now for a few years already he's staying with me again.

Imagine his father, you see, it is not really his father,

46

just only for the law, and he one day just kicked him out on the street, and then our An saw him wljing with these awful holes in his stockings, you understand, that's when he returned back with us' . . .

Her grey voice dozed softly and a mellow silece surrounded us in the now fully dork room, and I remained silent. Then the Meks sadwoman's voice again:

'but that's not the point . . . I just wanted to let you know about Anne and Toosie, it's so much better you hear it from me than from strangers' . . .

You see, Toos and An, are no relatives of mine at all. They're kids of a girlfriend of mine. There also is a third one, called Stientje, but she is in Groningen at a deaf and dumb institute, so she won't be any bother to you. . . well, Toos, as you may have observed, she's always so pale. Has it from her mother, who died of consumption. You see, I was with her as I was her best friend, and when she died, she took my hands and said: "Ketoo, will you take care of my kids?" "Honest to god", I said, and then she was dead at that very moment. Soo dead. Well, now you know yourself, if I'm not always good with the children, yes or ne . . . and what I did for Stientje, cannot be described in words. She was in St. Michielsgestel institution, with the nuns, but then I heard, she was having it awful there, so I went over to take her up and away from there. Anywayz, at that time their father was still at home . . . he's in jail now.'

Her voice feebleweakened in the dark room . But when a stray ray lit it, het face palewhitened and trembled.

'You see, I have to tell you before others will . . .and now the missu from the second floor said, sh was going to tell you and that he was sure you'd react by leaving . . .but I would so much rather have you stay, he has been there, but that does not mean you are a fully furnished blackguard.

47

He's been a post delivery man for twelve years and never have there been any complaints or agro . . . and then, all of a sudden, he does something stupid by pocketing a mail-check, that was not for him. Well you see, then the shit hit the fan. He'd don it in August and in November it came out. Jees, when I remember my head hurts . . . I was waiting for him with the supper, when Toos storms in . . . o, aunt, aunty, dad is being taken away by two men . . . Jees, how that frightened me . . . well, I won't bother you with all the details, you have other things to be bothered with . . . but I just wanted to ask you not to be so upset as to want to leave and master Sam neither.'

'Nay, miss Meks, I wouldn't dream of it. What business is it of ours anyway?' . . .

'Not even if he returns home come July?'

'Hell no. . . you also don't ask us about the misschief we could have been up to? For all I care master Sam and myself could also have a jail history'

'Well, sir, don't make jokes like that, it's not that funny; not fun at all!'

'I'm not making fun of you, honest, but it just could be,'

'No, you would never be so careless . .. you should know, what we've been through . . . that day, the day you came here t o hire the room, we were left with our last nineteen cents and our Alex without a job, that's why I took you in without hesitation. anyway, I'm so happy we have you guys here again. At least now we can pay our rent. . . You want another cuppa? I got really good coffee in the filterjug.

'Yes please madam . . will you come over here to have the coffee with An . . . Toos is not around, not? I'll make sme light.'

'Yes, that wuld be nice, so, then let me just call An for the coffee . . .but no, I can ring her . . . well now, just one moment' . . .

The doorbel tinkled, coppery aftersound.

'Sir, there's another letter for you, with the porter.'

48

It was Sam's. I recognised the lightblue pointy letters straight away. It said:

'Joop, will you come around tonight at nine in de Pan?'

I sigh of relief I immediately uttered because of it and immediately envisioned how we'd be sitting there in the light salon, with us separated in a light-dark shadowcorner softly re-discussing, as we always did. And now it had not been for ages, but suddenly I remembered and felt all of that again. What had been and I couldn't control myself of anticipation, in that lamplight room with miss Meks having coffee with us. But it was only five o'clock.

'Miss Meks . . . I just have to respond to this letter immediately, don't wait with the coffee for me'

'All of a sudden? Not one moment for a cup with us?'

'No, really, I'm very sorry, but have to run.'

The weather had cleared up greatly. a bright lightwhite wind and the streets were dry. Now let's be reasonable. . . around nine at the Pan, that means past nine, because Sam will have to be there first . . . otherwise it could go wrong. . . and no lingering in the city or walking about a long way into nowhere. Somewhere, that's better otherwise I could not compose myself until then. . . Where? . . .

Halfweg, Zaandam, that would just be a distance to make it back home at nine. Well, Halfweg it'll have to be; that's a nice straight road. . .

On de Stadhouderskade the street was broken up for the tram, a row of red twinkling lights around it, but further on the Kade was dark.

And straight on, to the right at Leidseplein and than onto Nassaukade, piecefully in the winterlight. The Raamgate clock hit six.

Quitly it kept resounding in my head what Meks had told me . . .

49

Such a decent person, to take care of other's children, who would feel for something like that? Anyway, a good kid too that Toos . . . and soon back with Sam . . . say it again, softly: 'Sam, sam, Malle malle ** Sammy'

That evening I walked all the way to Halfweg and back.

It was just past nive when I entered De Pan.

In our usual twilight cornr Sam was sitting, his hands in front of his eyes, darkening the top of his head more than his chin.

'Hi . . Hi . . .hello' . . .

'Hi Jopie, how nice and fresh you look! Did you walk a stretch?'

'Well, not a little stretch, actually; nice and cold outside' . . .

But my bright blue outside mood withered straight away in that bright lit salon .

. . .'Feeling alright ?'

'Yes'

A silent sadness greyclouded around us again and our voices muted softly against each other.

'You're coming home now, yes?'

'Yes, tonight I will be coming with you . . . did you have a miserable time?'

'Yes, but I did write you often, and I liked that a lot. . . shall we leave here?'

'No, let's stay . . . I don't feel like, like going home' . . .

The languid light evening dawdled its hours, re remained together in the greyness similar to our moods.

'Let's be on our way, then' . . .

'Yes' . . .

At home it all got better, the ordinairy things around us, making us stronger.

**

Mal or malle meaning silly or crazy. Quoted from the landmark song from notorious queer singer songwriter, actor Ramses Shaffy "Sammy, loop niet zo gebogen"

50

We left he main lamp switched off, and the small light standing silvery white on its shiny pedestal tremblelit shadowy.

'Sam, say, did you hear about wat miss Meks has told me'. . .

And when I was done:

'She's ripe for Meerenberg.'

51

IV Death of the white thief.

Plainly similar the days feathered on, in the continuous tight tension of eveyday work, emotionless. We were in mid winter now; it rained less and the clear light of a bright sky stretched far more prominent over things.

Sam was quetly working on is M.D. exams and I did my Latin duties. We were working all day now t home, only late afternoons, when the daylight started to fade into evening, we walked a stretch up the street, along de Amstel, got home not before it got deep-dark and then worked on through until night. It alk felt really ordinairy, we piecefully loved each other, clmly, without passionate desire. Sam stayed sedate and good, without any of the fierce cruelty of deliberate premeditated pinching or beating.

Until the unrest returned of Hector, the white dog. Bald and skinny he was with always that unsatiable hunger emptyness in his weak belly. His beak pale warm-red inside, he always kept it stretched open when someone came too clse for comfort. a Bad dog. But miss Meks loved the mutt, because she rescued him from the canal when he'd only just been born and now she kepthim as a symbol of her passionate love of animals. And proud she was, that he only agreed to come out if she went too and then walked right behind her with his beak in her hand.

52

And Sam just hated him. Indifferent at first, but it slowly grew into a solid fullblown stiff hatred, that he uttered in all kinds of pernickety detail,m Sam uttered with the detailed attention of a well serious person.

Like when he wet to get black pudding, and fed it to Sis and Mimie, attentively, his face tightly beown and unflinching. And the hungry white thief kept jumping around, with short yanks at his chain, his hot-bright beak open and barking ludly.

We laughed about it, that Sam hated and teased that dog so much. But one day he lold me: "Joop, don;t laugh about it" and then I realised and felt that it was the sickening all over again:

'Miss Meks, it's obviously your own choice, but I would appreciate it very much if you could get rid of the whiute thief.'

'Well yes, if I can find a good home for him, I will, but you know, that's easier said than done; he's surely not Mister Adorable.

'You could just throw him out on the street, without himn having a home.'

'What do you mean? Out on the streets? You'd see, how fast he would be back in here, no, if I can find him a decent home, he can leave, but until then, no way. . . Are you that troubled by him ?'

'No, not me, but master Sam can't stand him and you cannot imagine how lousy it gets him. He could just get sick f the beast.

'Now, I say . . .'

Actually, that's pssible, when he does get cross with the dog, he can mope about it for months.' . . .

'All about such a sweet klittle dog, who evidently is in te souterrain most of the time anyway.' . . .

But, let's not discuss it any further. when master Sam starts, we can always see what to do.

53

Weeks after that it remained calm. Sam went and came and went, and did not mind the white thief any longer.

Until one day. Miss Meks was ustairs for a moment and Sm walked from the downstair into the garden. It was going towards evening and the house was quite. When suddenly we heard sharp crampy barks, that ebbed away and then suddenly came up again, short and smothered.

I jumped down he dark stairwell, into the cellar space. On the ground lay the white animal, violently shaking, a light grey spot in the brown darkness, and Sm on top of him. Jamming the weak abdomen between his legs, and his ribs twitched between his hard knees. The whute beast was no lnger making a noise, just short bursts of breath, while Sam's legs forced it into itself.

'God . . . Sam, what on earth are yu doing? Have you gone insane?'

'He has to die'

'Let him go, what nonsense is this ?'

Miss Meks had come down with the light, that shone reddish on Sam and the dog. . . .

'But master Sam . . o, mister Driesse, my entire dog is being killed . . . do stop it' . . .

Sam was still on top of the completely flattened beast, with one hand smothering his snout and with the other hitting and piunching . . . here and there. . .

'Miss Meks, do be careful, when Hec won't bite when he is released, then I can take care of master Sam.'

With a hard tug I pulled him backwards away from the dog, that moved lame and panting onto his basket. Meanwhile Sam got sick.

'You see, miss Meks, I told you, you have to get rid of the animal, please.'

'Yes, my god, if only I knew where t, but I seriously have not a clue.'

'Whell, then have him terminated. I'll pay for it.'

'No, that I could never allow. You cannot give nor take away that animal's life, that's what I say.'

54

It got quite again for another few weeks. Sam mending and working and forgetting about the white thief, who was left for days on end attatched to the chain. Until ne night . . .

We were suppsed to go out with a friend of Sam's from earlier days, who had returned to Amsteredam, and we would make a long walk onto the IJpolder and we were waiting for his arrival. A bell rung, just one little pull.

'Quite now, let';s have a listen if that is Herrie' . . .

Miss Meks opened up, her white scarf on.

'Goodday madam, are you interested in fresh eggs?'

We laughed and looked at each other.

'Sam hi!' . . .

'Hi Jopie' . . .

'Do you still love me? . . . let me lay down with you.'

Backwards I let my head drop onto Sam's lap.

'That Herrie, just never on time hey?'

'No. . . let him stay away for another bit, for all I care, what about you?'

'I could not care either, we're just having it so good, there's miss Meks; what could it be?'

'Good day gentlemen' . . .

'Hi miss Meks, anything the matter?'

'Yes, I got news for master Sam, I just sold Hec' . . .

'Well, so we're finally rid of him . . .good, hey Sam, that's great news.'

'I really couldn't care less what happens withthe dog. It's none of my business.'

'No, but, that just great, it may not be mr sam's affairs, but who insisted that much on

doing this? Anyway, I'm rather happy myself to be rid of him, nt withstanding.'

'Will he have a good home?'

55

'I think so . . . I sold him for a thaler to a farmer.'

'well, that's good fortune.'

'Please, I can always do with that money better than such a deadwringer, and if I add another sixty two cents I can redeem that standing clck of mine. Imagine, that was the man who came with the eggs and than he heard Hector bark.'

"Well, he said, that's not a small one'

'No I said, he's rather tall.'

'Anyway, then the farmer said, if it's not a pulling-do, I'm interested in taking him off your hands, and now I've sold him. I'm happy to be rid of him, and so you must be, hey Mister Sam?

"What difference does it make to me? He could have stayed for all I care'

'Yes, easy talk now. Tonight the farmer comes to fetch him.

With Herry Deutz we made a delicious walk all the way into the plder and then we brought him back to the train. Latedark we returned hme. Sam quit, just dropped on the canapé. I worked some and itbwas an ordinairy moodless night.

'Sam' . ..

He layed staring backwards, the lamplight finely splintering around his round brown face, bland, emotionless.

'I'm off, are you staying at hme?'

"Shall I go along?

'No, rather not. I only go for a walkabout.'

When he was gone I could nt work anymore and just had to think about him. Whay could be the problem now? It was something almost every day nowadays and never something good. Anywhow, back to work . .. A ring, what could that be? . . .

'Toos, can you peek out the window for me?' . . .

56

Yes, aunt. . . aunt it's master Sam.'

'Master Sam?'

'He needs to talk to you.'

I'm coming'

'Jees, what's it now? What kind of antics had h mustered up this time, to cme around ringing the bell, well let's see then' . . .

'God Sam, what's up?

'Don't you interfere miss Meks, I'm here to fetchn Hec.'

'Fetch Hec? Are you kidding me?'

'Yes, you sold him to a farmer, and that farmer in turn sold him to me and now I'm here to fetch him.'

"All good and well, and you can say so, but I could never hand him over to you when I sold him to another person.'

'De Gooijer'. . . .

From the dark cornerhuses next to us an elderly little man loomed up.

'Hiallo madam, hallo sir;

'De Gooijer,miss Meks here does not believe that you passed the dog over to me' . . .

'Yes madam, so I did'

'But what in heaven's name you want with him then, masster Sam?'

Then I realised it was a premeditated deal with that farmer, and that Sam wanted to get rid of the dog that way and I grasped what he intended to do with it.

'Sam, don't be so silly, please, use some sense' . . .

Stay out of it . . . Miss Meks, Hec will be drowned.'

'Drowned?'

'Drfowned.'

The four of us stood in fromnt of the door, miss Meks crying, a felt a bleak spell of nausea well u in me.

'Sam, you're mad . . . this is just insane!'

57

I realise that . . .for months I have suppressed it and now it's time he dies... at de Kalf he will be put in a bag of stones . . . De Gooijer has everything he needs with him, do fetch him now, miss Meks?'

I've sold him, and I don't want to start a fight about this, but it remains a dirty mean low-down. I'll get him.' . . .

Loud barking blares from the basement. He sounds happy, that he's been walked outside. Wildly enthusiast and happy he barks and jumps from the stairwell.

'There . . . youn have it your way.'

De Gooyer, attatch his muzzle.

A bark, a throtling cry, and done.

'That's it and now the walking leash.'

'You'll have to work out for yourself how you intend to get him to walk along . ..He never wants to walk with anybody else' . . .

'Oh no ? Just you wait and see.'

On the street the white one stands dead still and refuses to move another foot, his legs spread wide in resistance. . . his bony back bent backwards.

'You see, he does not want to be on a rope.'

But the noose smothered his fine white throat and the beast just stood there in fear.

--------------------

57

Across his ankles a smackstripe of the dogwhip crashed . . . moaning he fell down.

Behind the doorwindow miss Meks and myself looked at the scene.

But suddenly, paralized and numbed the white stood up, and meekly followed the leashpull.

'He is following master Sam, sure enough, maybe he's not serious'

'Oh yes he is'

Through the lanternlight circle they passed on into the darkness . . . Older farmer bent over. Sam squarly straight up,m the white one behind them on the rope. Around the corner of the street they went, onto de Amsteldijk. And we went back in.

58

VII People for tea and it's not for girls.

Sam had to go to Utrect for two days and sunday afternoon when it grew darker hge leftr me alone. After the death of the white thief there was a sharp twist and a sharp separating from our former suffering. A really good period seemed to have arrived. And it was now drawing close to spring again, so we got more intimate after the sinister winter.

In the dusking room I stood staring at the darkening light in front of me, and the room's corners thickened the darkness further. The alarm sucked drearily slow at the time and fastsharp the metal wallclock tingled through that. I listened and tried to separate the two sounds, until my ears hurt and a tight sissroar pierced through my head, vibrating behind my eyes.

There was a knock. The light tingle halted with a shock and faded.

'Come in . . . is that you miss Meks?'

'Yes it's me. I wanted to ask if maybe tonight you feel like a cup of tea with us.'

'I don't know . . . I have a slight hedache today . . . could you please turn up the light for me?'

'Yes, sure, where are the matches?' . . .

59

My eyes wanted to stare, each time looking at a defined lightsource . . . no, not going for tea with miss Meks, not now . . . that way it would all get s brutal and busy once again . . .

The lamplight twitchedd a bit . . . Miss Meks drew the curtains closed, with a loud noiserattle. . . .

'Gosh, that way he could have done something out of the ordinairy . . .well, how about it? You ar coming around for a while, not?'

'Are there many people coming?'

"Gosh no!, not at all . . . let me count . . . no you count, I'll call the names . . . The landlady with her husband and niece from de Van Wouw, and the aunt and children of miss Lepelaar, well and then you, if you come, and then us, of course. Anna and Alex and Toosie. But you see, she is not allowed to stay up all that long, she gets one cup and then must be on her way.'

'Yes, in that case it's fine, I will join you for a cup then.'

'Oh, that's delightful . . . and if you like I would love to do it in your room . . If you have no objctions, that is. . . . It's so much more spacious here that in front.'

'No, go right ahead, clean up the mess a bit . . . as long as you don't muddle up master Sam's belongings.

Then, walking quite a stretch through the city, I felt weak and white pale and did not want to go further out of the center, where it would be black and light yellow.

De Utrechtsestraat. There the gellow light brightened with shopwindowbulbs, bleak-overblued by arch lights. Now keep a left, then you can see straight into the fces of the people., that's much nicer than watching all tjhose backs, walking as fast as they could, as if they're in a hurry. . . Jees, what a jolly and nice kid is coming up there . . . Funny leg movement and how well he fits into his clothes and what delightful shiny agreeable eyes . . . passed already.

No, don't let him slip out of sight so easily; have another look around.

Behind the boy, I quickly walked back and looked at him once again, trembling for a second.

60

I felt myself getting bleak and dizzy.

Then I forced myself stringently onto de Utrechtse Dwarsstraat . ..a stretch along de Reguliersgracjt and sadly alone I returned into the lightc ity-in-the-city.

Just after eight I sarched for my key, on our doorstep, but didn't find it, so I rang.

Toos opened upand hello-sirred me in softly as was her habit. My mood was disisively tired.

'Are they all there?'

'Yes sir . . . the landlady is singing.'

When I opened the door I was welcome by the warn sushing in the room, but when they saw it was me, they all cried out, that they'd kept a seat for me, over there behind the stove.

Next to Anna, the husband of the landlady hinted and they all laughed about it, roughjolly. But the landlady turned all blushy red and stopped in the middle with a sudden endtwitch and a strange questioning in her eyes.

-Oh it's you, master Driesse? I did not hear you come in.'

'But prey do continue the song, you know how I adore music.'

'Yes, do sing the entire verse all over, iss Meks called ouyt, mister Driesse is a real uthority.'

nd then they all exclaimed: 'Yes miss Bramer, you should do an encore' and 'miss Bramer do let us hear, please don't let us down' and then the landlady sang .

Standing grand in the middle of the table and the lamplight flooding yellowish across her red face . . .

'Allright then.'

Heavily shocking with her glaring shriekvoice she started, looking straight-staring into the distance not to be distracted. Intensely we all listened:

61

'Why is one walking arm inn arm

in the moonlight.

Why beats my heart so warm,

free of sorrow and pain? . . .

And faster-melodious, lighter-moving het voiuce refrainied the end bit:

And yesthat's al caused by love,

Such a sweet thing

That's the refrein of the song,

of the song that I sing.'

And they all sung along with the end lines. wordless humming first and then softly singjoking, with thgat eery feling of not having all the lines right, but at the end stanza getting to loosen up in joke, with just miss Meks gently heaving, because she felt it improper for me, but still couldn't help herself, forgetting she was a few weeks behind on her rent.

When it was finished, applause, handclapping, footstamping, and miss Meks, who felt it was finished when it ws indeed finished, pooring another cup of tea, but it was not finished yet because there was an ncore couplet.

A solidly sonorous landladylike voice:

'Your applause, dear public,

is a great honour for me,

Coz, ladies I cannot refuse,

and gents even less,

And yes, all that because of love.'

. . .so we all jolled along, bleask Toos as well, who remained seated with her trembing glimmerred spots on her cheeks. The solid sound of the house mistres still echoed, but a dampening warm silece now clouded around our hotheads, that were shiny-yellow-lit . . . by lamplight, that shone roughly warm-red and tellow allaround the entire room.

'Yes, I've urned up all the lights, so much cozier,

62

miss Meks softer-whispering with Lepelaar and the landlady: "Can you get your head around that? Master Dresse and mr Sam are always sitting here with a separate light with a green cp' . . .

'That's best for your eyes, you know that we bth have very bad eyesight.'The full room drowsed sweetly around and over me, it ws better here after all. Better than being alone in a room with drk green writing light, and the soft intimacy embraced us as if smiling.

'Master Driesse is laughing, he';s thinking about his girl . . . jes, yes . . . now don't deny' . . .

'Toosie, it's your bed time sterned miss Meks, who was worried that it might turn wrong.

An, do run up with her, just to make sure' . . .

The convrsation intimized again. en drowsily I looked into the lamp.

'Well, well, now do sit down beside me and tell me honestly, what you thought of my performance just now.'

Itb was the house mistres, intense and red.

'Oh, very good . . .you must have quite some experience?'

'Yes . . you see, I'm always asked and if you can please the people, well, you just can't refuse, can you? . . . I'm glad I have this opportunity for a more intimate conversation with you' . . .

And in the yellow intimacy of the makeshift tearom she talked civilizedly about music and the People's Concert.

But one conversation towered above all others and made everybdy quiten down and listen attentively all around.

It was niecy, whose niece name I never got to know/ She started it. Niecy was nothing less than absolutely in devotion of our Lordy, and had nothing else in her vocabulary thgan his teachings. Spitefully sharp she had remained silent in our Lord-less company, her one arid hand at her chin, and a pointy elbow resting on her lap. When she had tried to chat up the husband of the landlady,

63

he had plainly told her: ''all vicars are assholes." And niecy remained silend once again. . .

Meanwhile the aunt of the children talked with miss Meks about setting up a business in ironing and washing . . . if you only worked with your own folks, miss Meks ironing and An doing the washing and Toos for the commissions, it could be done easily, and the children were as good as their own folk anyway, and miss Meks nagged along, because it was just half ten and you could not come around credibly with the sandwiches before ten or half elevenses.

I had drifted out of the warmyellow intimacy of the landlady and gotten quitly intimate with the lady of the house and relaxed and unintimidated listened to the clapexclamations of the landlady's husband, who laughingly told one dirty jke after the other, and shook jolly exclaining: 'yes, that's a god one . . . was it good or not? Just a toch to raunchy . . . And softly I heaved along. a pleasant calm now rested around the room, only distorbed suden-sharply by the shriekvoice of niecy, which just as suddenly was force into an interruption. And I could no longer determine the plain blanket of talks.

Then one shrieky cry popped up . . . it was miss Lepelaat: 'How can you say that, niecie?' And the shriekquestion caused amazement and pulled others into the conversation, Just as intended.

The children's aunt watched drowsily . . . miss Meks, who sas joking about with the landlady, looked serious. She felt it her duty as host. It was quiet for a moment tension filled silence. And when that was at its most intense, miss Lepelaar declared:

'Just imagine, now niecy is bound to say, that all written words are sinful, and the holy scritures then? . . . say, how about the scriptures then?'

Niecie remained silent.

64

'No, lriumphed Lepelaar, if I know my religion, than I do want to know it well, but just as well, when niecie had everything to say about religion and then even some more' . . .

'We have a dog's religion. the flesh is better than the bones; Meks joked soothingly.

But Niecy fell out in scorn.

'You even make fun of the holy basics of religion, thse are the lord jesus words that got him crucified'. . .

'Yes, it's not a matter to joke aout, miss Meks, said Lepelaar, who did not like her affairs to be ridiculed.

'God woman. who's mocking? I'm just saying, leave your religion at the churchdoor.' . . .

'Am I imagining thgings, that niecie wanted to strike off six crosswordpuzzles in a row, that wayb you can strike off everything from the letter to Paul up to the predestination' . . .

'I'm not striking off anything, we were not talking aboutn that' prickfingered nipping niecie. 'We were discussing the souls of the heathens, who never knew the words of the lord jusus and his crucifiction, and I say, what will remain of your faith, when such creatures are allowed into the heavens . . and as miss Lepelaar does noit believe, then I suggest she needs to go around to revered Deelman to hear.'

'All vicars are wattles, lectured the landlady's husband 'I know them'.

But the scorn of niecy intensified, in this care having more of a point than against miss Lepelaar:

'You dare to say a lot miter Bramer . . I have courage . . . Do you know reverand Deelman? Is he a wattle? Now, is he? . .

Wrathful and redhot she lists all local vicars asking if they are as well, and then even fiercer: you dare to say a lot mister Bramer'

'cmon niecie, calm down a bit, the Meksenwoman sussed, not wanting her teaparty infuriated.

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'mister Bramer does not mean it all that serious . . . and we just had it . . .

'Yes, I 'm the one to keep quit, when my local vicar is being mocked'. . .

'Niecie, that was not what it was about, bossed Meks, we were talking abut the souls of heathen, who don;t know the first bit about jusis crisis and his cross, thst he will ot be equalled at heaven's eternal justice with a christian, who breaks bread of the soul, and if miss Lepelaar knows all that better, she just has to move forward' . . .

Miss Lepelaar did not give in yet.

'Yes, knowing, knowing, we don't kknow sjit, as it;s written, the wisdom of the children has been reveiled, but is hidden to us, I'm sure hiecie also knows that' . . .

She did.

'Well then, triumphed Lepelaar, 'If niecie knows as well, than I dont grasp how anybody can talk that way'. . .

'Hear hear,' niecie nipped.

Then the bored landlady. She was just sitting there, cunting for nthing, whike niecie and Lepelaar had the floor. So she got hold of tjhe attention, and soaking up the gist of the arguments she started:

'Yes, I'd rather not talk abut such matters f faith, coz nine out of ten times it ends in a row and we never go to church anyway.' . . .

'Shame on you' snapped Niecie.

But her of Bramer sweeted:

'I would not know how to find the time for it . . . with all these houses and other affairs to attend to.'

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Niecie kept quit; she had no real estate.

'We do our faith for urselves . . . t be honest, but to get back to where I started, if you talk about an authoroty in religious matters, than you should talk to my husband's cousin Teun.

You surely must remember him, miss Mek . . . did you not once live on the same staircase?' . . .

Miss Meks had indeed.

'Well, that's a guy of well into his forties and he still believes in Adam and Eve and that gd created them in his image.'

'What about it?'

'You should let me finish, niecie, learn that from me', poch landlady returned.

'but my nephew Teun wh still believes in Adam and Eve as first people . . . well, then I obviously told him, that means nothing, if a man and a woman get to know each other and become one flesh and blood, that something that niecie also is supposed to know.

She did.

'At first he would not believe that at all, but I asked him what else those fig leaves were for, and the tree of good and evil, well, niecie, you gather, he did not have much to say to that, so, niecie, I only want to say that I don't understand how you can still; . . .

'Niecie kept quiet.

'Come An, lets set the table, miss Meks ended the discussion, think about the serviette for master Driesse and the landlady.'

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VIII The German Lady.

Who had the small sideroom at the end of the corridor, with just one window, as opposed to our two. Wh never got asked for tea and against whom pale Toos kept a jking brutality laded with filthy innuendo.

She was skinny and yellw, always ran around in a summerjacquet, and a wildly feathered hat. That was the German lady.

'Yes,' miss Meks spoke upwards to their window from the garden, 'I came across that German woman ever so crazy. If you care to keep the window open for a bit longer I can tell you, while the smoke can blow away from your room'.

We were bth on the windowsill, windows wide open, because the heater had been blowing smokebecause the exhaust pipe had come off . . . and the sun was already warming up some. Across the separating fence leaned concierge-lady listening in.

'Wel u can grasp, when you rent rooms, you cannot always de too fussy about the people you ger. No . . . say for yourself. Anywayz, a week or so before you two gentlemen came, the s small room became vacant . . . and I placed a sign: 'bedroom for rent' and already on the3 second day a gentleman came around to check it out, and rather liked it, and, you'll have to grant me, it is indeed quite a nice little room, well, he hired it, so to speak,

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'only', he said 'It's for my sister, and she will not be any trouble to you, even less than a gentleman, because she's outdoors most of the days with her pursuits. But,' he said, 'what I need to tell you, she has been staying in Germany for quite a long time, and now she has unlearnt quite a bit of her Dutch.' 'Well, I told him, no trouble. And then she came around the same afternoon. . . and I must confess, I just didn't like her the least. Not that she gave me goosebumps, or so, but I immediately told our An: 'that lady, she has someting in her eyes, that I dn't like, she looks kind of mad.'

Absolutely, it came true, you see, at first we hardly noticed anything with her, the came and she went, without saying Booh or Bah. But then, one day, miss Koppé told me:'who do you have on the small room?' Well, then I told her the whole story.'

'Aaah', she said, 'how did that brother of her look then? And I told her, quite long and blond.' And there suddenly miss Koppé roars with laughter, as if it was a miracle. 'What's it, woman?' I uttered . . .'well madam, they've been pulling your leg, as I suspected. But I wanted to be sure first: that is surely not her brother, that is the man she lived with' . . .

You se, when you give notice to that person, she will not be going, and willjust do as if she's deaf and she did not want to leave him, so that's why the man tried to find here a better place t get rid of her. Imagine, I surely don't like it either, She brings the entire hous in disrepute. Miss Koppé has seen her at three at night dancing with a red lamp burning in the window. and at Paul Kaiser she wanted to haggle about the breadprice, who does such a thing?'

'Yes, when you need the rent, you sure can get some weird lodgers about the place. I for one would not at all be pleased with someone like that.

Housemisses has houses, so miss Meks, who rents out rooms replied kindly:

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'It's not easy to always get the rooms occupied in a decent fashion, . . . See, if you rent out entire houses, then you don't have to deal with the master of the place, but with lodgers in rooms, you do. You'll always have to keep up appearances. '

'Or rent out yourself with the room', pricked nextdoor's housemisses, but the Meks calmly replied:

'Anyway, I rather rent out rooms, than being a housekeeper, because then you're completely somebody elses dirty asswipe.

Miss Bramer had been housekeeper herself, so she did not know what to say to that, but:

'Well, to each his own, said the farmer and he ate figs.' And that is what she said, turning red of anger. a Row was dangling in the air, but m,iss Meks was not finished yet with her story and the housemisses did not want to argue with the two gentlemen present.

'But you're not at the end' miss Meks continued, 'She'll have to leave, I already told Toos she can no longer do commissions for her. You don't go shopping for a crazy woman, you just don't, and she smokes and quids as well.

'You don't say' housemisses wondered.

'Well, then you don't belive me . . . I never come across the floor of my lodgers and neither do our children, master Sam and master Driese can attest to that, but she here is a crazy wioman' . . .

Into the cellar stairwell miss Meks dived away, and from the stairwell so popped up again . . .

'Well, what did I tell you? She triumphed. It wàs tobacco, chewing and smoking tobacco.'

'No, she'll have to leave, I already had her move from the backroom to the souterrain and now she'll have to vacate there too. . . I will not keep her; when she goes out she sticks her wet finger in the air to feel which way the wind blows, and as the wind blows , so does her hart' . . .

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Miss Bramer agonised.

'She cam home recently with all her shopping in her umbrella . . .which was thát far open.'

Miss Bramer goshed.

'Well and then there's that nasty beast of hers . . . now I ask you, am I kind to animals or not? But that white mongrel has already bitten me twice. And for that she could spare eleven guilders of her poverty, and then he was picked up last week as well for not being muzzled. Eleven guilders and almost a summons as well, because she hit Palmer the detective official with her umbrella. Well I ask yu, who wears a parasol these days?' . . .

And a fortnight on the German lady was still there, playing deaf when miss Meks gave her notice, paying the rent exactly on time. She now even was a week ahead.

But miss Koppé had seen ar about again. She had been dancing with the red light at her window last night; you could se the shadow of her movements on the opposite walls . . .

bbut this time she'll have to get lost. Not a minute longer I will keep her here' . . .

'But why don't yu shove her out on the steet, then?'

'Yes, you're a fine one to say that, master Sam. She's strong and all. Strong as a horse and if you point as much as a finger to her, she has you by the throat or that white mongrel of hers will jump you.'

'Then give her official notice'

'She doesn't care about that, just does as if she can't understand Dutch, whenever you tell her something that doesn't please her. . . I was just about to ask if you could be so kind to give her notice, as you can speak German, and then she wil not be able to feign iliteracy and will have her congé.

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And so Sam went down, all of us quitly stepping behind him Sam entered, we took cover in the darkness, listening.

We heard Sam talking wih her, distinguished, in correct German with a bargaining soft tone and emotionless even, that miss Meks needed the space, so she had to move out before monday next. . .

'What was it all, that master Sam said?'

'Quite now, let's listen . . . he does it reallyt well.'

'I can't make it out.'

In the brown darkness we all stood heads bent down, behind the thin door of the cellarroom.

Sam was silent now and so was the Germn lady, and then Sam again:

'You have nothing to say, madam?'

'No'

'Then leave, shit!'

The door flung open and Sam stormed out, the white fox barking, and from the inside the German locked the door.

'Now that does it . . . did you hear that? No, she said.'

'You see, cheeky as well, she is. What is a woman to do? I even owe her a thaler, so I cannot just throw her belongings out on the street, you see' . . .

'No you can't'

'Than she can even throw us a spectacle . . . no, you'll have to go to her yourself and you actually don't know what you can force her with. She's not in pension with me, she makes her own bed, empties her bedpan herself, with permission, and Toos has not been doing her shopping for a while now. . . I really don't know how to get rid of her without a scandal.

The three of us stood in the upper corridr, that was fast getting dark, but not as dark as the glomy souterrain, wher Foxy was barking still.

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I felt so awkward then, that we needed three of us to get a silly German woman, who could not find any other home, out on the street.

In deep thought sam stood, lightless eyes, sadly, while his voice dulled:

'If you give me two eggs, I will get rid of her for you.'

'Oh no, master Sam.'

'Yes indeed, will you do it or not?'

'Yes, if I can be sure that you'll get it done without causing a scandal, than it would be different, but yt cannot be done that easy.'

'Without a scandal and that thaler you will not have to pay either, you'll see.'

'That's easy for yoyu to say;

'When I don';t succeed I'll give you three eggs in return.'

'Alright then, okay with me, in that case.'

Just as alays Sam was whistling in the room.

'Whe will be gone' . . .

'You're insane.'

'I know I am.' He whistled on, a calm soft caressing tune, which got me furious.

'What difference does that woman make to you? Just leave her be.'

'She will be gone, and now I know exactly how.'

Miss Meks brought the eggs and the pepper and salt set and Sam slowly ate from the cup, spning the last pieces of white. and Meks negotiated:

'How do you intend to go about it? Should we not get a bailiff?'

'Not at all, tomorrow you'll say to the German that she must be off and that there's a shop coming here, and you'll see; she'll be on her way . . . Joop. remember, that is how they got us out last time, or not?'

'Sam, you're insane, leave her be, what has she done to you?'

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'She's out of there . . . a mean dirty trick it is, miss Meks, you must just tell her that we all have to move . . . and you'll see, mister Joop, if somebody plays a dirty trick on you, like the Bottl did with us, you have to count your losses, but don't hesitate to play the same trick in return on somebody else, and you'll see: what goes around comes around. Then we've really settled things and are on equal footing again. And every time you take the mickey on somebdy else, so much the better for you!'

'You're talking nonsense, as if there's any profit in it for you!'

'But of course, the profit is in the gratification, get it?'

'Well, I just do not get it, what good is it to miss Meks, to put her out on the street, while she is one week in advance with her rent, and that gossip about the burning lamp, that's just rice pudding with lumps.

'Gossip? n your bed she'd leave you to burn.'

'And still it is a dirty low-down trick to just throw that poor girl on the street.'

'What is it to you? It almost looks like you'll have to join her on the street.'

'Dirty, mean, how can master Driesse say a thing like that? Mean is the way she, who's chewing black Porteriek brings us in disrepute.'

Then sam said the lady would have to be moving and that we all had to go before monday, but still she didn't budge, went out, came home with her fine white foxy beasty, did not move. Shrugged it all off het shoulders indifferently. Smking, chewing.

Miss Meks came up for advice.

'Well if you go packing bownstairs, just start off with some of the junk, and if she has not run off the day after tomorrowe at noon, then you call me.'

The German stayed put, not moving.

Then, two days later miss Meks came back up, furiously curious

.

'Now you see for yourself. She did not mve.'

'No, we'll begin; is she home?'

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'She just got out, but you can't be sure, sometimes she runs up and down a hundred times a day.'

'And de dog beast?'

'the white bitch is still in there'

'Come along with me then'

And serious, and tiresome, he went down the stairs.

In the darkness of the souterrain is turned into a wilde invasion of the small sleep kot. They went clearing out. Laughingly splattering water and buckets all over the place.

Miss Meks, with her overskirt tied away round the back in a thick knot and on kloggs. Sam with his trousellegs pulled up.

The white foxy trembled and whined, one pay angrily raised. But sam grabbed him malapertly by the neck skin, and with one blow yanked it into the toilet bowl. Dropping the lid over her and holding it down. In the plague-stench the animal squeeked piteously, quite smothering beeps out of fear and disgust.

triggering more mellow sensilility in Meks.

'h god, no, don't do that, please get her out f there.'

'No . . . no, is just fine in there, I will go and have a shit right on top in a minute.'

Just for a short while the relaxed and drank coffee, miss Meks, small, in front on the stairs, drank from her saucer, leaving her cup aside. Sam lay stretched out on the floor, sad and white. From the smelly john the dog yammered up, cramped and moaning.

And then it started all over. They flushed water in a fiercely violent rage to destroy everything. miss Meks cried laughingly with her skirt even higher up, pumping buckets full of water, and Sam just yanket them at randm around the little room, where gradually everything got soaked and the color plates on the wall hung torn and drippy.

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And then miss Germany returned home.

And Sam sneeringly mustered up his best German.

We're moving out madam, we're moving.'

And the Meks woman in silly courage joined in:

'We're moving, you shitmadam . . . moooving!

In the john the squalor dog whimpered.

The German woman turned and left.

Tired and weak after the insane uproar Sam lay on the canapé and his voice flattered me:

'hi Jopie,'

From downstairs we culd sill hear the dog squeel.

'Joop, I'm just tired; need some sleep, say, shall we leave the white bitch in there?'

'Ja . . . come on, be quite for a change.'

Quitly he lay there and cried.

a Quarter of an hour later the German was back. With two carriers. And they loaded her poorly posessions out through the waterywet mess.

In the john it had gotten quite, no more squeeling. And the German did not ask about her Foxy. She understood.

Behind the front door window sam and miss Meks looked on how the porters rurned around and drove the cart forward. German woman behind it. Off into the city.

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IX Maid and Sam

Miss Meks found it a great idea, miss Meks found it a superb idea. Now the gentemen had come around for a tea visit and them asking her to return the favor. She found it very attentive.

Because they both were sad and didn't know why and then Sam had told, that they should do the returnvisit tomorrownight, as a nice diversion. That is what we were talking about with miss Meks. Firstly who we should invite: the landlady obviously and her husband, and miss Lepelaar again and niecy, as they could surely enter into fierce debat. Then we would not have to worry about them as long as we would be kept out of it. And finally the two of us ourselves, that is, if the gentlemen had no objection to Toosie also cming alng. It's always that much easier when you have a serving waitres at hand, and als she could pass on messages and do some late shopping. So Toos would also be there, while miss Meks would take care of everything. We were the hosts, but she did the work. First with the tea and cookies, and then the grenadine and pies, and at the end a decorated sandwich or two. Busybodying miss Meks convinced: 'and then we clear the room and you should not be just out the door when the guests arrive, and then come in a long time after, because this time, shall I say, you are the hosts. But that really is the only thing you need to take care of'. . .

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Then they all listened and the landlady told: 'One atb a time my brother kicked them to death, all six of them, but the male rat, we had him first, so after that the only thing remaining was the mother.'

'Well' Hein said 'I'm not leaving now, until I also have that motherrat.' And then he softly started breaking up the floor, all the way, and all he found was rubble, papersnips and bones . . ., untill at last, there she was, such a monster, totally huddled together. But my brother, not born yesterday, he said: 'Wham, smack, and had her at once' . . .

Landlady stopped and the glory of our teaparty was at its pinnacle. the prime moment, that we would get back to later when we remembered this teanight with the two of us, we would surely get back to the old rat-moment. Silently attentive all faces sightened, just the landlady's husband, acted as-if he was paying attention, because he'd heard it all before.

'Yes', said miss Lepelaar, who did not grant any of the attention to flow to the landlady 'my husband has once struck dead a rat in a vat of Malta potatoes, yes' . . .

But landlady calmed on the talk and listen balance passing on the story:

'He held it by the neck like this' / / /

'Okay' he said 'now give me the axe,' and then he laidd it lkike that on the stone floor and chopped it off, just like that.'

Landlady stopped right there and oversaw her flock. Niecie had called out 'O' and miss Meks 'Oh dear,'

And after that they all started on ratmurder history in the family and miss Lepelaar continued about the rat in the barrel of Malto potatoes. Which ws overtrumped by landlady:

'We have kept all of them in an orange crate with some paper in between and sent it around the neighbourhood.'

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Arrention had gone, miss Lepelaar continued about the popatoebarrel with Niecy, who contunueeously kept eating sugarsweets and the landldy husband teased Anna with Adrian. But the animated rambling of the teachatter had come to a silence. Niecie thanked for another cuppa and the landlady told me in intimacy about niecie's sister, who had been working a window at de Nes and had died of you-know-what.

Then miss Meks decided that it was time for the grenadine and pies.

'An, can you clear out the teacups, and pass on the other stuff.'

And it busied and cheered up with cries of amazement from all sides, when the yellow brown grenadine bottles came to the table and the colorful platters with pies, two with meat and one tray with fish and niecie quickly overlooking to decide what she preferred. Behind the large tray with glasses the Meksenwoman sat and poored. She did not have to look twice to measure how much grenadine had to go in a glass, just up to the third ridge in the glas, and that is why she poored royally. Toos passed the glasses around and Anne filled up the water.

'Do taste this, miss Bramer, and if you want some water with it, the tap is close by.

'And if you need more grenadine in it, can we get that served with it as well? Joked the landlady husband.

'There's plenty of it in it, said miss Meks dignified, while she let the last drop slide down the side of her glas and placed the bottle next to it. 'An, do fill up these glasses and pass the pies around and let Tosie go to bed now.'

The pies made the rounds. The landlady took one with a delicately outstanding pinkie,

finger and thumb and a rabbit's snout of decency, a real tiny cream puff and niecy took another moscovisch with mocca.

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And the all ate, everybody with their typical mouth movements and niecie sucking the brown mocca piece by piece from her spoo, and then went on with the mosconic food, quickly muttering with her worked up mouth. And:

'Niecie, you're not supposed to do that, ever. First eating the mocca and then the pastry. That way it's much too dry, advised miss Lepelaar.

It was another delightful moment of joy and mis Meks beamed radiating over such a royal treat and the househusband said he was supposed to eat a bit more healthy by masters Sam and Driesse. And followed that up by picking a huyge crem scone from the fish tray and clumsily talked with his mouth full:

'To your health'. and he joked fter himself: 'the first one to get below the ground'.

And then they all started yelling, that they also wanted one of them pies, but landlady acted as if she never heard that, and talked intimately with me about her houses, and not being such a sweet tooth anyway.

The front door rang. Loud and clear it songed.

'But no, who could that be,' asked Meks, 'It's already past ten'

'Shall I have a look?'

'Oh noh, do sit down, and let me take care of it.'

It got quite in the roomm, and the talk was getting lazier, not pretending to pay attention, but with long carried silences, to still be able to hear something. At the door there was woman's chatter; undefined, but with the clear and piercing shart tone of miss Meks.

I woulkd ask sir, but there's company, and we're all sitting together, the gentlemen and us, but I do want to enquire; And then she did:

'Oh, master Sam, there's the lady of the Paul Kaiser shop, and she said that already for over an hour there's such a racket going on over her head.'

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"Shall I have a look? But why is she not fetching the busdoctor?'

At the door more of the animated women's chatter and the voice of Sam greyish across all that and then Sam re-entering:

'I'll go over there and have a look after all. It's probably nothing . . . Don't wait for me with the final course and the sandwiches, miss Meks.

Yes, he's becoming one fine doctor. miss Kramer laughed. They always have to go about at any time.'

And Sam went.

The redyellow partymood was dampened to greyish and vaguely voices murmered up and some words popped up. Nicie drowsing a little with her old mouth partly open, making fine snorting noises from her throat.

Silences now interruped the talking,and nobody even tried to bridge the gaps. A languid apathy. And miss Meks ittitatingly remarking that it now was getting really late, and time for sandwiches, but without Sam they couldn't start ans thus slowly the happy event faded into paleness.

So I decided:

'Let's just start with the food course, as master Sam had suggested.'

'No, let's just wait until half past ten and if sir hasn't arrived by then, we'll see.'

Enptied and apathic we sat down around the table again, the landhusband with his hand in his pocket playing between his legs, his fatpale eyes staring into the lamp/

Anybody for some more grenadine or another piece of piethen? No, not any more for you Niecie, yes girl, do take another pice, by all men. An, please top up hger glas.'

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But the blandly sad mood remained, until it sharply rung half past ten.

'Well, we better start now.'

Festively white the dish looked, rolls and cheese and salmon on separate dishes, and marinated harring of Fuente and pickled onions from Fuente as well.

Wide awake now they all sat closer by and ate. Thehouseladyhuisband had his upper leg stifly crossed his other one, his pale cheeks coloring sharpred while he was eating greedily.

Then, all of a sudden, hurried rattle of keys, and Sam was there again and everybody called out: "hah' and were all so relieved that he'd returned.

I looked at him, to see if it had been bad, but his face didn't betray anything. Just ordinairy plain and his voice also just as even as always:

'That's that! I think I'd best take my earlier place here'.

Trembling curiosiy lit from the eyes of the landlady, but she did not dare to ask, nor did the others. They ate for a while, and then cheekily looked sideways at Sam, who also ate. Until the landlady softly blurted: 'There wasn't any danger involved, not, master Sam?'

And he calmly and casual:

'She gave birth.'

Nobody ate another bite and the landlady blurted on:

'Who gave birth, then?'

'the girl of the misses at the second floorabove Paul Kaiser.'

'Oh, my dear, that black lass?'

'Yes, I believe she she was indeed black.'

'Well, well, that does amaze me, such a goodlooking lassie, she obviously wasn't married, was she, master SAm?'

'No, obviously not. . .she's only seventeen' Sam said calmly,

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precisely cutting his roll and then slowly eating, but I learnt, that something must have happened, that carried him over the emotions into more lucid emotionlessnes.

'Then it must have been a difficult delivery?' again asked by the landlady.

'Yes, quite, would you like to hear all the details? I'll gladly tell 'm'

He laid down his knife and fork and his voice continued flat and sad:

'When I arrived, I already heard her scream from afar. . . From the loo and I went up there. "What's the matter", I asked, but no answer whatever I asked and even yelled. But her screams continued, well, you can grasp, that started to bore me, and so I in a jilly I got the hook on the toiletdoor open with a kitchenknife and there she was that girl on the john . . . first I thought it was only her stomach or so, but then suddenly I saw there was a baby, already born, a boy, and he was still attached and the afterbirth also had not come out yet, anyway, I helped her with that' . . .

Evenly his voice heaved through the silence. Niecie fould it all just sinfull, and the landlady colored all red on hetr cheeks out of curiosity and her husband put his hands back in his pants and his eyes stared evenly and humid while Sam told on:

. . . but it was a tough lady, she cleared up all the mess herself and then went up to her attick room . . . Jees, when she fell down on the bed, she was a very pretty girl, pitchblack hair and those eyes . . . If there's anything you need,?'

I asked . . .'no', she said. I'd better stay in bed here. the misses and sir are out . . they will look weird, I was thinking that it would be a long time before the child was supposed to come'

'Well, you surely are still very young' I said in return.

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'Yes, seventeen' . . .'Can I maybe do something for you with the father?' I asked again.

'There's some sort of union, that takes care of that, would you want me to go around them? . . . Could you not get married, that would be so much better' . . .

'No', she said, 'don't bother, coz it will make no difference . . . it's from my brother.'

Violently shaking with amazement was his listeners reaction. Miss Meks looked at our An, it was more than she could take, and the landhusband just smiled in disbelief.

on top of the disturbing amazement another clear silence fell, in which the voice of the concirge sharpened out.

'No, that's priceless! And you surely told her in simple terms . . .you guys got it? How can such a girl not hold her head in shame?'

And Sam soothingfly:

'She spoke very calmly about it . . ."you see, we're just like twins. And I thought, I was not due for a long time. In August he did it, my mum and dad wern't home and he wanted it very badly. and he said that he wouldn't think any less of me and then I just let hm do his business. Later on he did it another time, and then I started to also like it a bit . . . how my mum will be amazed' . . .

'If only she said it that way . . . good lord, what acreature?' angryraged the concierge lady.

All around they say shaking and getting red of curiosity and disgust. Miss Lepelaar twinked her teary eyes.

'Wel, I find it all a jolly good joke', Sam finished his story. And if the girl has any sense about dying, than everything is healthy and her bother has been out on the cheap.

Disgusted the talk about shame went on, and

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landlady enquired attentively ifall the rest had been going as it's supposed to. The landlord was again fumbling inside his pants and moaning deeply from his throat, so that they all looked up and they compsed themselves with his noble and pure feelings and greedily looked at and listened to him.

And they only looked away in embarassment when he turned red. He stared away, his eyes sad and sombre.

'Sam, you're tired . . . let's walk around the block, that must be better; . . .

'Yes' . . .

And it turned into another crisscross chatter by everyone. That it was cold outside and it could kill you if you went from a warm room out in the cold all of a sudden. . .

On the dark nightstreet it was freshwindy with a touch of rain, making the streets shimmer.

Then Sam started cying about the girl and along de Amstel, they walked up silently together.

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X Chickenfun.

Miss Meks said, that sas not the way she would do it. That's not the way to sell a chicken. If you sold a chicken, than you only did it because there was a profit in it, but burchering one and then keeping half for yourself, was not done. And eating your only chicken yourself, that absolutely was inexcusable, and certainly not the limb one.

Housewoman was in calm conversation across the fence, that such a lame chicken could not really have a decent life and that it's only an act of charity, to help such a beast out of its misery. But miss Mebs stubbornly disagreed. the lame one never had any bother and didn't know any better, coz when it happened he only was a newborn chick,so young that you couldn't yet determine if it was a chick or a cock, and he didn't have a clue anyway.

Our window was open, because it was a nice breezy March day, so we could air our very sombre room and let the sun shine in. Ouside we heard chitterchatter of miss Meks and miss Bramer, and in the chickencage they made their usual gurgle sounds, while the cock crowed bossy, the lame one reked the ground. He had been stuck with thgat leg behind the coop door, when we was tiny. And we looked at him, seriously affected by the small events around us and because the sun shone.

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But miss Meks started again, if you won't eat your own chicken, than you should also not sell them, coz then somebody else would eat them, and if they were eaten anyway, than it better be me to eat.

And curtly she wondered, if it would be alright to sell half of the lame one for twelve dimes, so miss Meks could keep the other half. But the Meks woman was still opposing. Just eating chicken all of a sudden, that's no good, and if the lame one came out of its shed, zhe would at least require a thaler for it, less would not do, coz he was worth it and more. Houselade counterclaimed a thaler was way to much at this time of year. and that she would always prefere a whole chicken instead of a part. If only she and her husband had an idea about where o leave the animal with the two of them and that a bowl of chicken broth would not hurt miss Meks either. and Toos also, forth that matter. She was looking awfully paeaky of late .

But miss Meks was not behind on her rent ans so she said well and resolute, that the lame one was not going to leave its cot for less than a thaler, and that Tooks was not peaky at all and that she miss Meks did not need chicken anyway.

Than suddenly miss Bramer:

'we could always pass im to masters Sam and Driesse. Those gentlemen were the most likely to have any knowledge of it . . . You'll see, they would be thrilled. Master Sam is a gastronome, if ever I saw one.

I wouldn't mind, so that you know, but I will have none of it when my gentlemen are pulled a leg. . . Youhave to decide for yourself what you do, but I tell you, if you want to eat chicken than you pay for it, just as who-ever is living in the house.

'Are they home?'

'Yes, I think so'.

'Their window is open.'

'Well, they leave it open more often, master Sam may be having one of his headaches.'

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'Well, the I'll be around, do open up' . . .

Lightly amused we head their conversation, but now in our vulnerable sunny mood Sam said that we should act as if we knew nothing about it and that we felt to let the chicken go.

Miss Meks knocked with the knob in her hand, and entered immediately, when I called her in, while the housemaid wauted, smiling sweetly.

'Hi miss Meks . . . hé hello, miss Bramer.'

'Goodday master Sam, mastr Driesse . . . you may be wondering, what are those two up to, but we have a job for you'.

'a job, for us?'

'yes, m,iss Meks wants to sell her lame chicken to me.'

Angry brown miss Meks eyes lit up. the left eye squited for just a second, and trembled in anger.

'Me . . .woman where did you get that idea, don't tell me porkies.'

But Sam, being diplomatic:

'That's very wise of you mess Meks, and I'm sure master Sam agrees withme, Anyway, I'd love to buy the chicken, don't get me wrong, but miss Meks want us to pay a whopping full thaler for it.'

'a Thaler? Well, that does not sound like it's over the top? . . . I was not aware that miss Meks was tryiing to sell, just the other day I rold master Driesse: Joop, I said, if we could only buy that limb one, that would be worth another thaler or thirty five pence.'

'Oh but sirs', the Mekse quickly added in delight: 'for thirty five pence, you got it! and I will even roast it for you.'

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'That's a deal then' Sam calmy continued, 'Joop we'll be having soup and chicken tomorrow afternoon . . . half in the soup and the other half roasted.'

But housegirl angered:

'Yes but, those are no manners, master Sam is excused, he didn't know anything about this, but that's not fair. I had bought half the chicked already for a thaler, if master Sm would take the other halve, dhat was the deal.'

'There was no such deal, I only said that he wouldn't go for less than a thaler.'

'Those are no manners, miss Meks, what would you say, if I would rent out your house from under your ass to another and cashed the profit myself?'

Miss Meks understood.

'Yes, she sussed. 'there you have a point, and so has miss Bramer. I indeed already sold half the chicken to miss Bramer . . but if you'd like to buy the other halve?'

'oh, that's fine . . . half. That's seventeen and a half pence for each of us.'

'I bought it for a thaler, so half is only fifteen pence; our stingy housgirl uttered.

But Sam did not budge.

'a Thaler is too cheap, that's no price for such a chicken, you can get half for eightysenven and a half cents, and if you don;t like it, than we'll take the entire chicken . . .

I don't understand how you can fuss about twelve and a half cent,it's a chicken of a few guilders at the poulterer.

'Well, sure, why not a thaler, miss Kramer sneered, but decently she soursweetened: 'I don't die from twelve and a half cents less . . . you did a great deal, miss Meks, thirty five pence for such a chicken.'

'a Chicken of two guilders, Sam joked calmly, of which you now bought half and deal is seal, but rest assured, I'd still want it whole for two guilders as well.'

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Housegirl trembled in anger, but Sam reasoned on:

'When you cut it straight along its length, so we don't end up with just a fat arse and some bits, but honestly along the middle.'

'Oh, nut sure, if only my husband can get the hart and liver, he's so fond of those, then you can have its sytomach. . . .

'But how do we go about it, it must be plucked, butchered and roasted, and we have to roast first before we can split it.'

'I'm not butchering, miss Meks countered. 'I woulddn't have another moment's piece and quite to know I had butchered my own chicken, and plucking, don't want that either, but I'm allright with roasting.

'Well sure, you have a point' sneered miss housegirl 'no butchering or plucking, leave the dirty jobs to others.'

'No, now that's a good one,' miss Merks fell out. 'I would have had so much less agravation if I'd sold to smeone else, and if I do anything about this chicken, than it's only for master Sam, otherwise I'd pull out here and now.'

'Come on now, don't continue to quarrel' Sam spole piecefully towards her, Let's do it this way, I'll butcher, miss Bramer plucks, miss Meks cleans and fries. Tha's to good way and the only way.'

'Yes, allright then, the housegirl repeated , 'let's butcher her straight away, coz I'd rather have it plucked before nightfall. So miss Meks can roast it tomorrrow.'

The four of them stood in the garden in front of the shed.

'I might feel sorry as yet, miss Meks cmplained. If it wasn't for the money, I surely would never had agreed . . .Isn't is just a realk fine beast?'

Wild whirling in the chickenshed when Sam opened the door.

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and his hand went in to grab the white lame one and they all flew about towards the corners, leaving the now healed cock to crow and defend them.

'You will never get her that way . . you won't succeed,' giggled housemaidy. You'll have toget all the way in there, and then grab it with both hands.'

'Thank you . . .it's too smelly here, miss Meks, you call him now, he's used to your voice.'

'Crying shame to mis-use the animal's confidence,' but still she called out with one long and then five short shrieks. Until she came. Lulling the lame leg behind her. And quitely came tugging on to her upper arm he sat, his head against her chest and then cackling, just for a second.

'How will you do it, will you cut off his throat?' housegirl asked liptrembling and her cheks colored even redder.

'Turn his neck? Hot exitement crew up in her, that the chicken was about to be slaughtered, and she cried out: 'turn the neck, . . . turn the neck.'

Sam, angered:

'No, I will cut his nick with one solid notch, and then, we'll let him run out dry, so there will not be any blood in the meat. . . miss Bramer, will you hold him for a minit?'

'Me, . . . not for all the mnoney in the world . . . that's not a lady's work, let mister Driesse do it' . . .

Holdiing white chickenthing I trembled . . .kept wings and paws together in one hand and the thin meatfold in tw fingers of the other. Sam held herm head, plucking the dawnywhite neckfeathers, so the area of the cut came in sight, the neck vein pulsing. The housegirl watched greedily as did miss Meks.

Then sam did the cut, across the pinkish neckspace.

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It stained bloody, a short fearsob jolted from the opned throat. Sam threw the beast away from himself, into a corner. The cut hadn't been deep enough, because chickenbeast grasped at the wall and stayed quite for a while, momenta, and softly gurgling , broken neck limb on her chest feathers, slowly getting red of the dripping blood. . .

'Dear, how she must have suffered . . . you did it so clumsy . . he can remain alive for hours longer like that, miss Meks wailed.

'No pain at all, woman, joked housegirl, who fstill felt it ws funny 'his nerves have been severed, so he won't feel a thing. . . . What you, hey chickychicken? Do you feel anything? '. . .

She kicked the dripping beast with her feet. So she raised once again, and fluttered a little way on. The fine red blood sprayed, across the neckfeathers.

'Chicky, chuckey, hey' sobbed miss Meks.

Husgirl joked on:

'He can't hear you . . . his hearing has been cut off.'

Chicken sobcackled piteously. And then miss Meks fell out towards mousegirl: 'It's bad enough that such a stupid animal has to be killed, but you jking about it, that's the piuts!' Downright mean and vicious. Do me a favour, master Sam, and gut his neck one more time, please?'

Flashy light brightly shot from Sam's eyes, radiating steel blue cruelty:

'Yes, t's mean, his voice troubled in his throat, we'll take care of it.'

And bending down fast he grabbed the cnvulsing chickenthing and flung it in a sack.

He began beating it with wild vilent turns and bangs hitting the chickensack against teh wall between the gardens. For a second more wailing from the bag, but then, silence.

Totally disturbed and frightened the eyes of miss Meks looked at me, and then she screamcried.

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'Master Sam, what is this? . . . Do stop it' And housegirl kept on bursting with laughter. But Sam continued to hit the animal anry and hard rough, calmly vil, when he was always s calm and sweet.

He kung the bag from a fencenail and tore it open, the red neckcut gaping brom the bagbrown, and again sam hit the chicken against the fence.

Then suddenly the nail torn hrough the bag which now open and the chicken featherflapped ocross the fence into the garden of houselady.

There it lay, cramping his broken paws and the eyes open and half-closed, brownbroken.

We looked at it, in silence an the Sam blurted: 'Well Jesus, the bitch is still alive.'

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XI. The boy.

Het Rokin and the late rainy day, just a touch darker grey againt the evening. In the distance he heard the high Dam houses, greyraintinted and us two walking, Sam and me. The trams were filled to capacity that afternoon and run their bells as they speeed past us, quitely walking and with inner tranquility quitely discussing the things. Softly grey Sam's voice rained down:

'Intestinal tuberculosis . . . nothing can be done anymore, so sad, it was such a tasty boy, just turned twelve, he said. He already had begon to call me Sam, and now he died and is transferred to the cutting room.'

In silence we walked on. The rain had grown heavier and whipped our faces sternly.

From a sidestreet two boys bumped against us. And there it was again, sudden, struck by that one boy. Bright light, felt it hit within me, and along my spine it vibrated down to my legs, that nodding knees.

'Fuck off, snarled Sam angrily, who punched the other guy at the hips. He was wearing breeches and a short jacket, too narrow around the waste, looking silly down below.

Pale white languor blurred up n me and I was will-less,

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and could only lok at thge boy. Trembling desire. And when I'd seen him from behind, I just had to look at his face. That's why I quickly moved ahead along them. Just for a second I herd his voice, again slowing the walk speed down to be able t pickup the voice just a second longer. He was talking with the ther guy about cigars. Then I saw his face. It was nicely rainred and his eyes were dark brown with blueblack underneath. We'd passed ahead of the boys now, but in frnt f a shopwindow we halted and waited until I saw them pass by through the rainreflection and I waited to have another look. Just a short while later we lost them as they turned into an alley.

Acrss de Dam we walked in the rain, which was really pooring now. Sam talked softly about patients, about a girl of seventeen, but I only heard him from afar, vaguely, as if he wasn't there or he was talking to somebody else. But I did notice his raised voice when he asked: 'What are you thinkng of? Anything the matter? '

Mu ears suddenly heard clearer.

'No, not at all, why?'

And then de Nieuwendijk, sarrowly dark with hoses vaguely falling away. The people were wet and busy. Pain made me sadly long for the boy, as if I'd never desired or loved other boys, and yet , there had been so many, but just thinking about this one alone overlit all other thinking and my longing desire for him. Just all of a sudden.

In the diningroom we had our own regular space. Sam on a bench and me on a stool under the sharp shining of three lights. I looked at it and was thinking of the boy, as I couldn't eat. Sam continued chewing, soup, colliflower and meatloaf, because he was at Duval's.

'Anything the matter?'

'No nothing' . . .

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And later that night at home, we worked. But every time my thoughts drifted to the boy, and then I felt the pale sunless rainy afternoon and his redfreshblushig honest lusty disirability. Across me sat Sam, the light benevolently yellowing on his round face, with one hand supporting it. There and then, I just wanted to tell hi,m.

'Sam . . . Sam.'

'What's it, my boy. Anything the matter?'

His eyes shone good and brown and so i said: 'Moving alongf?'

'Depends, still have a smack to doi.'

He bent over his book as I did over mine. More lucid it dawned on me, what I wanted. Well being at de Rokin at exactly the sam time tomorrow and then wait, until he would appear. An then buy him a great room close to ours, where he would always be when I needed him. And then give him everything he wanted. And nobody would say anything about it. Even Sam had no comment.

The evening hours passed painfully. Sam sitting quitly and piecefully and so goodish, that it hindered me an I got angry at him. So I went up to bed, while he continued working in the motionless lamplight, into which I stared from the dark alcve, and I just saw his strangely round negroface.

And bored in the even tight sleeplesness I laid awake for hours loking for the nicest and sweetest flattering words I knew. Before my eyes cinematographed all the little scenes between us, as In envisioned them to be and in a thousand little scenes between us, as I thought it could be and in a thousand fast-changing movements I saw the boy. My eyes hurt, until I fell asleep.

The next day. The pale sunnying up of the sunless hours of rain and then darkening again. At three o'clock I got on the street, still wet without rain. Calmly I oversaw everything. It had to be.

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I would wait untill he came, even if it got real late and then for instance ask for directions and walk up with him. Then have a bite to eat, not at Duval and then abduct him.

De Reguliersstraat now. Brown and grey, trees dripping, even now the rain had stopped. a Nice clear grey rainlight, whitecleaning the houses. And then on to the busy inner city, all the way across t de Rokin. It was even brighter rhere than yesterday. At de Rokin I again could imagine the image of the boy that I saw the night before, which saddened me.

That's that, there was the alley they appeared from, so better stay here and walk up and down uo to the next alley, in which they'd disappeared.

Half past three, past it really; the clock had chimed when I walked along de Munt. Up and down I kept walking between the two alleys. Up and down. a Cadence in my legs and not thinking of anything else but the boy. For hours I walked. Evey now and then the palace clocks carillioned, but the hours in between remained black and empty. The weak afternoon light browned against the night, that downlit all over the city.

Sharp yellow the lightbulbs toned in the black night. Vibrating tiredness whizzed through my head and desperately I started to think. It started to rain again, which got me shivering wet. Chilly.

Maybe he wasn't coming, silly really if he would eventually, and even sillier to think he might be working there. But don't give up and go now. Walk on, long and longer, sad and tirering, steady on being tortured by rain.

The clock struck eight, as the rain rattled against houses, angrywet and lashing like the wind hitting his face. Factory workers appeared from the alley, just when I was close by. Now he would come.

Accompanied by two other guys he walked amids the men.

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They walked in the direction of de Damstraat, busy-taking. Obviously happy to be free after a long days work.

Happiness lighted up in me, now he was there again. Now, just keep following untill the men would go their ways and maybe the two other boys as well. And then ask directions and see what it would take to have him with me.

At Dam square the two boys were still with him. Together they turned onto the Damrak. There I did not dare to wait any longer and quickly passing them by I asked trembling of fear:

'Can you please tell me where is de Gravenstraat?'

They halted and I could clearly observe his eyes and suddenly tasted the pure loving, that sometimes stayed away for months and then returned. Now it was there in front of him, oh surely, just for him.

'Oh, you enter into this alley here and then the first main street, that's it.'

One of the two others said it and then nothing anymore. Strangely dizzy I looked at the one I wanted and had no clue of what to say next. Silly we stood in the middle of the street with the four of us and then I clearly felt it wasn;t working, not now, not this way.

And with a casial calm voice I aid:

'Oh, thank you, and walked into the alley, down Nieuwendijk and then onto Dam Square. Along the nightly deserted canals, avoiding the busy shoppingcenter, and upset I found my way home.

Sam was in. The light was on. Dead tired and miserable I fell down on the couch, my black cape, rained into heavy folds next to me. Silently Sam raised and bent over me, speaking soothing softly.

'Jopie, anything going on? . . .what's the matter? '

'No, nothing' . . .

'Yes , ther is something.'

'yes, yoy're right.' . . .

And then I told him, while we both were down on the canapé

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and cried for me, sobbing close together. Silent without speaking. And carefully Sam forced me:

'You'll have to let it go completely, you must.'

'Yes . . .'

'And let's go to bed. We might just as well, it's nearing ten.'

That night we piecefully slept together.

Gorgeous weather the next morning. When I woke up I saw the sunshine in the room. I got up and walked into the garden, where the raindrops had gone. The wind blew, a skirt, that was hangingat the other side, flutterflew along the wall. Sam was still asleep. It was half past seven and I left him to sleep. Laid down backwards on the canapé with my hands under my head. And again thought of the boy. Another challenge today, to remain firmer. And then I pondered again; what I should say and do.

'Will you go along this afternoon to Siep Broersma; there would be a couple of guys and he's asked if you came as well.'

Sam did not trust me, did not want to leave me alon and so I said:

'Yes that's fine.'

And so we worked on quitely all morning, and in between the work I detailed the entire plan more specificly, word for word of him and me, just talking to myself.

And now don't go there at eight, but earlier, like four, and then wait, because it was likely he'd come earlier than eight, but earlier than four was highly unlikely.

After the busy coffee hour we relaxed a little. Me on the canapé at the cornerwindow and Sam on the floor with a few pillows. A yellow sunray played on the walljust as I looked up, and slowly slid omto the room corner and then onward into the alcove.

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When it was gone I said:

'Sam I'd rather not go to Siep after all.'

'no? Why not?'

'Don't feel like it, I want to go to Zaandam and visit Mary, the weather is great for a boat trip; will you go along?'

'Hell no, don't make a fuzz, I'm going to Siep and you will join me, that's what we agreed.'

'No, I'm not going to Siep, I'm off to Zaandam . . .please come along on the boat?'

'What time will you be back?'

'Well, we can still catch the boat of two PM, so I coulkd get back around six.'

'Allright then, I'll bring you, and then go to Siep's house with the card.

Pleasantly cross the city. Things were clearer now and Sam finally felt I would be safe. That is why he talked more lightharted about us and me. And we laughed together about city things around us.

We walked to the end of Rokin onto Kalverstraat. More determined I felt it might happen: In the middle of the citycrowd I's find the boy walking next to me, his legs moving faster and his black stockings tightly spanning his calves.

I didn't hear what Sam said any more, but the boy next to me I had saying all the things I wanted to hear of him. And then I was figuring how our living together would have to work out. If he still lived with his parents, he'd have to stay there. It couldn't be done any other way. But if he didn't . . . enfin, that would have to wait. He obviously had to have money, and he would no longer be allowed to work at a factory.

'Are you going on the old or on the new boat?'

'The old one, the other is pounding horribly at the stern.'

'Then go second class.'

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A pleasant jollyness raged in both of us as Sam brought me to the boas, about to leave.

On the windy frontdec I stayed watching the foaming waves in front of the bow.

Well done, Sam was gone, not thinking of my evil scheme. I would directly return on the other boat, that sailed at three. And then quitly wait untill he came. So I'd have another six or seven hours with the boy., who would have to stay the night with me and we could both check into a hotel. Just thinking of the boy exhausted me, so I could not stay in the wind. Quitlky I sat down in the lee of the boiler and again thought of him. It just had to go as planned this time, it was inevitable. I would bring a package and have him bring it back home. When we'd be walking alone I could tell him hoow much I loved him, and that he just had to become my life-buddy, and that I'd get him just everything he wanted. And he'd like that and would very much like to enter in such an agreement.

The boat moored and I immediately stepped on the return one, sailing at three. Quitly sitting at the boiler corner of this one and vaguely looking over the quay and harbour and the wide water of de IJ, I kept thinking about hims strongly, su much so, that I forefelt how it would be in the evening. I just closed my eyes and saw him deliciously desirable in my arms and felt the week bulge below his slender waist again. Eyes shut, I kept seeing him, and nothing else. First onto de Rokin, like that first day when I passed there with Sam, and then the second day when I saw him again, I refelt it all.

Against the clear afternoon sky I saw the memory of that first rainy day

Then fear started to poor up towards my throat, that he wouldn't come, that he'd already be gone. That I would arrive just a few seconds too late.

It made me so desperate, I could not remain seated and

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started to pace up and down the deck, slowky talking to myself, that he would not have just left.

In the distance the houses of Amsterdam towered up and the boat fast made its way there, but a nagging impatience made me sick. No, he would be gone, and I could not see him today. And still I had to; there was no other way.

Took the tram to Damsquare, again with the staming impatience, of him just gone, while I was on this tram.

So finally we got at Rokin. Don't run off now, Wait untill nine . . . longer.

Maybe he'd be sooner, and it all had been just a silly fear, that he'd be gone, like yesterday or the day before, voices kept sounding in my head od painful fear that he'd be gone, then changing their tune: with the comfort that he'd be there at eight exactly.

Until he just was not there at eight.

Stifly and sick to death I kept walking up and down between the two alleys and wild hopelesness cried through me. Nooh, he was not coming . . .

Then he was there. They walked up the two. Another guy than yesterday.

Freshly I revived at his sight, and my weery tiredness lifted like snow in the sun. And I wasked after them, for the sat time overseeing everything to its finest details. We were almost at de Dam, now I had to move in and ask and take himn along.

My voice dried up and scorched my throat. In my ears it sissed: It was time . Then the other guy said, and I heard it clearly: 'Jees Tom, what an ugly fart you let go'. . .

At a pace I ran home, dizzy through the city. And pressed close to Sam I told him of my misery.

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XII. Thugs day

First and third Tuesdays of each month miss Meks would go visit the crooks.

She got up early and Toos would think she went to Weesp.

Only tuesday afternoons she'd return. Our windows were open because it had started to be nicely sunny outside and in the garden as well. From there she talked up:

'I've been over there again. . . a nice mess.'

'Ahh, how was it ?'

'Well, as good as it could be, but it's better not to see too much of each other, I'm there behind bars and he's a long way away als behind more bares and some chicken fencing as well, and in between there's some sort of a guard walking u and down, hearing everything. So you see, saying everything, I wouldn't dare, because they will have you pay double for it.'

She remained silent. But with her long wait, you knew there was more coming.

I was on the windowsil and Sam lay behind me n the canapé.

'Is master Sam at home?'

'yes . . . what about it?'

'Oh well,it's of no consequence, really, I just wanted t ask smething, but you must not find it silly' . . . .

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'No' . . .

'And not inpertinent either' . . .

'No . . . just tell me what's on your mind, it can't be that bad.'

'Bree so wanted you or master Sam or both to come along for a change, whenever it's a visitr's day again. . . you see , for him it would be a serious diversion; it would so please him.' . . .

'Yes, I'm not sure if master Sam agrees . . .It's a very early rise.'

'Oh, but that shouldn't be a consideration: you're up very early more ften anyway . . .yes, the people of Heeren or Keizers gracht will never come around there, they will not burn their fingers, but the houselady, he already went anong once . . .so.'

'It's allright' Sam said 'We'll go'.

Tuesday half past six. We were never awake at that time and I enjoyed it being light already at that hour. As we already were seriously on our way to spring.

Nicely happy I turned over and snoozed on a bit, a sweet sense of caressing ringled about me, but miss Meks was calling and pleathreatened:

'come on then . . ., you lazy men . . . get a move on'.

I still remained laying downj, Sam also kept sleeping. What a different face he had from other people. . . But there was miss Meks again: 'If you still want to go along, you'll have to rise right now, so I can still bring you a cup of tea.'

We were up, strangely cold in the chilly golden sun. Looking at each other, as we stood there. And Sam:

'You go?'

'Yes . . don't you?'

'Yes'

'So why you ask?

'Just because . .'

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The chillight in the street, rainlike, although it didn't rain. Sam trembling:

'It's not easy out on the street'

'No, you can say that again, but it's still early; but what I wanted to say, will you please not say too much once we get there? . . . You have a tendency to blurt things out.'

'No . . .'

'And you also can't take about the fact of the crime itself, will you please remember that as they will immediately put a stop to you'

We silenced.

'I'm going there just about the thirtyest time . . .'

Nobody cared to comment. Sam payed for three tickets and miss Meks said: 'Oh my dear! You shouldn't have . . .'

The three of them sat in a no-smoking compartment , just outside the station's roof, where the light was brighter. Miss Meks unpacked: Well I thought I'd sake a few rolls with me for us all . . . . Do pick one, there's no margerine on it and the cheese is from Noack.

The gave instructions in a sedate mublechatter: 'Do please keep in mind not to talk about the case itself', she nagged again. 'Because that is not allowed . . .they can throw you out of the premises for that, you see, and that's not all . . .another twelve minits and we'll be moving.'

Sam was quitely chewing his bread, and we watched over the city, laying there in the early hours of the morning, wettish.'

But miss Meks opened the porter's window anyway: 'Do come here, miss Vos, we're sitting here.'

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The fourth, and elderly lady joined our company in the coupé, brown wrinkled. a Decayed yellow shawl was tied around her thin bodice, as he runpanted in.

"Gosh, is that running! . . . I might get a stroke any moment.'

Smallishly she delved down in a corner as I observed her.

The train slowly came in motion. Through the narrow stripe of sunlight, that lingered on the old lady's face.

'Hè.' winked miss Meks. 'That always hapens to me when te sun shines, and you ride along a fence.'

'Yes, agreed old woman, looking amazed at us.

'Those are our sirs,' miss Meks exlained. They live with me at the extra rooms, and now we're going to see De Bree.'

'ah, old lady sounded inquisitively: 'and the gentlemen are related?

'Oh no, silly woman, I already told you many times, they're strangers, but de Bree soo wanted to see them, so now we're heding there.'

'Ah, now I see, old woman sounded satisfied; nodded her head three times, while aI watched attentively.

We were silent; only the broken rattle of the train in our ears. But still a calm intimacy dropped down between us, united as we were all going there. And quitely familiar, our old woman informed us:

'Have you ever been there before?'

'No, never'

Sam looked out of the window to the meadowland, light green under the sun. For a second I watched too, but then old woman came around and asked:

'Are you the doctor?'

'No, that's my friend her, or at least he's studying to be one, not finished yet.'

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'I'm sure', she nodded.

'Well, they'll look up, when they see you, your kind of people don't get around there much . . .hey, I'm feeling so much better now I'm sitting dowmn . . this has never happened to me in the years that I've been going there. . . This morning I almost overslept' . . .

'Ahh?' . . .

'Yes, you see, I can't afford a wake-up man, and it already costs me all my savings, and now my neighbour always wakes me up, when he goes to work, but we had a row testerday, and now he said "you pimped out whore, with your rotten son in jail' well the I said:' you a dirty whore runner yourself, running after the white virgin girls . . . and so he left all quite on purpose this morning. . . but I'm alight sleeper, so even as I did not hear his door clap . . . anyway, I'm here now.' . . .

'Well, if you'd missed the train, they surely would have let you in a bit later,'

I babbled on to her. Miss Meks had drowsed off in the soft sun, Sam still looking out the window, said nothing .

'Oh no!', old lady went on, 'you have to be there on time or no entry . . . deary, the misses is asleep . . . well, she keeps worrying too much . . . yes, I know all about it. . . . Terrible.'

Her voice faded away softly, but returned with emphasis:

'let me tell you what happened to me . . hear . . . U may already know that you're not allowed to come there every tuesday, only the first and third of the month. . . but I did not know that back then, and you did not need to write an application, as you do now, and then I had miscounted my tuesdays, a person is not a selleryroot, you know, we can all make mistakes, so when I

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got there, I was sent back the way I came, what about that ?' . . .

Sweetly drowsing the old lady bleated on. Dizzied by the dull steamheat of the wooden kot, to which the sun also added warmth. Miss Misk remained asleep and Sm still looked out., strangely un-moved so I nagged on:

"You still have to go many times ?'

To which old lady promptly repied:

'After Haarlem still quite a while longer: my one son is in for five years, you see they never stay there for longer, and he hasn't done two years yet, so I'll have to return there many-a-time. . . .anyway, my husband has been at the same place. Not in the big round one, that had not been built back then. It's a serious expense for me every time, but you got to do for your children what you got to do. And if he had somethingto spare, he always did everything for me too' . . .

'Oh, you must have more children, surely?'

'Yes, I got four. . . . but it's hard : none of them came through in this world properly. . .Not that I had anything to do with it, nor my family, but on my husband's side, they all were up to no good' Mij husband himself neither, the times he's spent in there, god only knows, anyway, at least he died at homew, that's a solace.'

Her old weakened voice heaved up, without any movement, and she talked as if she'd tolt it many times before, and it had turned into a ranter normal story, as if not concerning herself. But I trembled hearing old clookmother, who so loved to tell about the thugsmess.

Halfweg wizzed past as we watched the little railwaystop and the few people waiting there, and from the other window Sam looked out, while miss Meks kept sleeping.

In the middle of open fields again, that we all knew, the old lady resumed:

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'As I said, my oldest boy is now sitting for five years in Haarlem, because he broke into a house. He said he didn't do it, but yu understand, they won't incarcerate you for five years for nothing . . . and my daoughter is held at Montfort, that's behind Utrecht, you may know that. We only go htere rarely at irregular times, because going that far twice a month, runst into too much' . . .

'You surely aren't in straitened circumstances either?'

'Straightened? . . . no!' she talked back, 'but I can make ends meet'. I get a thaler a month from the diacony and a thaler from charity and I live burden free and I have my reguklar houses, once a week or once a fortnight and I go dry-nursing evey now and then'. . . .

'One may hope, your son will not return there whenever he gets out.'

'No' madam nodded, 'that's just it, because it's notoriously bad in there. You cannot even bring along the tinyest snack, and what they get there, that doesn't account for anything either. . . no, then Meremberg is a lot better, there's another of my boys and a girl too' . . .

Hot fear pearled across my back for trhe fine brown woman, who was calmly telling her life's horrors in the sunlight.

'Yes, Piet has come away a lot better than Johan, who had stabbed somebody with a knife, and not jjust once. But his lawyer had gotten him through, first he had objections, because it's so hard for a mother, to have one of her own declared insane, but is was for his own good. . .he's in there now for about eight months, but there at least you're allowed to bring foor, like a fried fish or shrimps . . I go there every month on a sunday. U must think, for me it's also some sort of an outing.

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You're also allowed to make walks there . . .and the travel money is always payed by a misses. You see, my other daughter also is there, she got there just like that, without police involved, but she always was a bit muzzy.

'It must be quite for you then , , ,all alone at home?'

'Oh no!' She aired, 'I have very nice neighbours, and I have gotten used to it and all . . .

yes, I can't remember the days I had all my children at home, anyway, that's the ways of the world . . . young birds fly away from the nest.'

'Nothing sad in the lonely brown shrinking woman, just desperate terror about fear of crime. She just sat there calmly, her brown sunny mouth smiling ever so kindly. . .

The train rattleshook across the old station, violently swaying across the points., from rails to rails, until we got to another straight bit, towards the new station.

'Miss Meks, wake up . . .we're there.'

'Oh dear, already? ' miss Meks scared awake.

Sam looked up. Under the huge dark station roof the train rolled along; no more sun, just black brown shadows, suddenly. I opened the carriage door and we got off, first the old lady, then miss Meks. Heavy on my shoulder laid Sam's hand, I looked at him. He cried and said:

'Hi Jopie.'

The station square was sunnywhite and fresh after the brown confinement of the traincompartment. Miss Meks flung her winkle frock out to clear the crumbs and pointed out all the other criminal support to us. A nice gentleman, a pale girl. 'They travel first class. Now i ask you?' miss Meks cried out. Just as well they have no classes inside the prison gates. . . just imagine. They even take the tram here, as if you cannot walk that short distance.

'Do walk along,' sad Sam, 'I first have to attend to something.'

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They walked on, slowly, and then Sam to me:

'Are you going in there?

'Yes of course, you don't?'

'No, I'm not going in'

'Well I say, come on . . . don't make a fuzz . . . come.'

'No,n ot me . . . I can't . . .I just can't . .let's g t Zandvoort, the sun shines gorgeously . . . do come along."

"No I couldn't . . .let's just accompany miss Meks and then sunday, if the weather remains good, we go to Zandvoort.

'No . . I don't want to change plan now.'

Around the corner of the sunny square miss Meks and the old lady slowly proceeded, waiting for us to catch up and then walk on to meet the crooks.

With the electric we trammed to Zandvoort and enjoyed the freshwindy sunny day. Delicious.

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XIII. Weird funeral.

At five, when lighter greywhite started shimering through the nightblack Sam came home, softly closing the door, as not to wake me. Butb I'd stayed awake all hours he'd been gone and I'd looked outside how the darkness was slowly turning into day. And I'd been sed, thinking about the boy. It was like this:

Two months ago he'd arrived at the department of Sam, with an emergency certificate from Indie (then Dutch Indonesia). At first Sam had mnot payed any more attention to him than to all other hospital occupants. It was a strange case of a hartsarcoma and Sam had told about it. At first they did not suspect a sarcoma, so they'd done an operation to take the swelling out , but at the punction they'd realised it was malignent and now he was there, just waiting to die, Sam told. And they did not talk about it further.

Until ne night it came. One of those sharply noticable nucleus moments, that you later look back on. That is how the furniture stoon, that is how the light around us toned . .

'Say Joop, you know, the Inian boy with the hartsarcoma' . . .

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'Yes'

'Say, I've really come come to care so very dearly and fonly about him.'

'Well, well' . . .

'Yes, not at first, but gradually, and now I do'.

'How is he?'

'lousy, he's going to be gone. Say, he's only about nineteen years old or so, but you should see him, so funny brown,and than those blue eyes he's got, you know, those really greyless blue ones!'

'Well . . . you really seem to love him.'

'Yes, and he loves me too . . you see, he does not have any family here . . . we should go visit him together; I've lready told him about you . . .will you go along?'

'Yes. . . sure, . . . please.'

Biy was laying backwards looking to the white sunroom, as we came in, quitely. It was outside visitor's hours, in the middle of the room the silent greyold nurse, and four beds on each side.

'Hallo nurse.'

'Hallo gentlemen.'

'Hi Bobby-boy, here we are again.' Sam's fine voice caressed deeply in me and I saw the boy trembling as Sam went on:

'Well this is the Joop, I told you about. Joop, this is Bobbi . . . How do you find him?'

'Oh good.'