Annelies полностью

“But certainly that’s no reason to say yes if you’re not sure. Because your mother makes jokes.”

“Maybe not,” Bep says dubiously. “But where exactly is the long line of suitors for me to choose from?” She locks her gaze onto Anne’s. There is a certain small terror in her whisper. “Maybe Maurits will be my only chance.”

Anne blinks. “Only chance?” She doesn’t understand. “Only chance for what?”

“For a husband, Anne. A family. For happiness,” Bep says, and then her eyes go bright with tears. A breath catches in her throat, and Anne can only step forward and embrace her like a sister, gripping her tightly, trying to absorb the shiver of Bep’s sobs. “Bep, Bep,” she murmurs. “Don’t tear yourself to pieces. You will make the right decision when the time comes. Have faith in God that you will. Have faith in yourself.”

Bep swallows her sobs, nodding, and Anne allows her to slip from Anne’s embrace.

“Yes,” Bep agrees. “Yes, of course you’re right. When the time comes,” she says, fumbling for the handkerchief in the pocket of her shift, “I’m sure I’ll know.”

A voice comes from the corridor. “Anne?” Margot steps into the kitchen threshold and then stops as abruptly as if she’s bumped into a wall. “Oh. Excuse me.”

“That’s all right,” Bep replies quickly, clearing her throat of its thickness, hiding away her handkerchief. “Anne was just showing me how your mother taught you to brew coffee. Quite informative.” She forces a smile.

Margot observes the scene for a moment, then says, “Anne, we should be going. It’s almost time to help Mummy with supper.”

“But it’s still early—” Anne starts to protest, till Bep cuts her off.

“No, no,” Bep insists, sniffing. “You go, Anne. I was so late back from lunch, I have plenty of work I need to catch up with.”

For an instant Anne considers arguing the point, but then instead she reaches over and plants a loud kiss on Bep’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon,” she tells Bep, who flashes her a sharply grateful smile as the percolator steams, a smile that vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Outside, Margot wants to know, “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” Anne replies with faux innocence. She does a quick survey of the street, a habit now, just to be sure that there’re no fascist types ready to initiate hostilities over the yellow star sewn to her climbing jacket.

“You know exactly what. Why was Bep upset?”

“Just a personal matter,” says Anne as blithely as possible. She always savors any opportunity to have one up on Margot. “I really can’t say anything more.”

On the walk home, though, she cannot help but wonder about something. The truth is that she has never drawn the same line as Bep has just done with such rock-hard assurance: husband, family, happiness. Of course, she assumes that regardless of what she might have had to say on the subject to fluster Mummy, she will have all those things someday. But even if she doesn’t, even if she forgoes the first two, the third has always floated freely, independently, in her mind. She will fall in love, doubtless. Of course she will. The war will end—how can it last forever? Eventually the English will arrive and the mof will be kicked back to his dirty little abode across the border. Jews will be free again, to be simply themselves, and she will find the one out there somewhere whose heart beats as hers, that much she assumes. But happiness? She has never planned on happiness coming from marriage or motherhood, but from something else. From something special inside. Mummy said that in Hebrew her name means “Favored by God,” and she believes it. She believes that God is keeping a unique secret for her; keeping it hidden from everyone including herself, until the time is ripe for her to discover it. The essence of Annelies Marie Frank.

One afternoon after classes, Anne enters the front office of her father’s firm and finds another girl occupying Bep’s desk, lounging on the telephone with a lazy voice, but when the girl spots Anne, she quickly cuts the call short.

“Hello,” says Anne with polite curiosity as she sets down her book satchel and hangs her jacket on the coat tree.

“Hello,” the girl answers with a not-unpleasant expression. “I guess you’re one of the daughters. I know there’s one younger and one older, so you must be the younger.”

“I must be,” Anne says. “My name is Anne.”

“I’m Nelli. One of Bep’s sisters.”

“Ah,” says Anne. And she sees it now. The resemblance. This girl looks to be a few years Bep’s junior but has the same high forehead and the same rounded chin. The same pinkish, bow-shaped lips and fluffy waves in her hair. But her eyes are different. They are larger, bolder, hungrier. Searching through her handbag, she produces a packet of French cigarettes and leans her head to the side as she ignites the tip with a bullet lighter.

“I don’t think Bep likes people to smoke at her desk,” Anne informs her.