Annelies полностью

“There are plenty of things I do that Bep doesn’t like,” Nelli says. “Just ask her. I’m sure she can give you a list.”

Anne looks around. All the desks are empty. “Where is everybody?”

“In the office down the hall,” Nelli replies without interest, and blows smoke. And then she says, “So it’s true. You’re Jewish.”

Anne feels her spine stiffen as she becomes acutely aware of the star attached to her blouse. “Yes,” she answers calmly. “Why do you bring that up?”

Another shrug from Nelli. “No reason. Only that you’re prettier than I expected. You could really pass, I think.”

Pass? “For what?”

“For Dutch,” says Nelli.

At that moment the office door opens and in steps Margot in a hurry. “Sorry I’m late,” she announces, removing her coat. Anne glares at the star sewn to Margot’s jumper, too, but Nelli now looks uninterested. “I agreed to tutor some of the younger pupils in French after classes. Where is everyone?”

“In Papa’s office, apparently. Margot, this is Nelli, Bep’s sister.”

Only now does Margot seem to notice the girl. “Oh. Hello. I’m Margot.”

“So I heard,” Nelli replies, expelling smoke. “How nice to meet you.”

“You know Bep doesn’t like people smoking at her desk,” Margot points out.

“Hmm.” Nelli nods. “I think I read that in the newspapers.”

Margot blinks, confused. “You what?”

But before Nelli says anything more, there’s some noise down the hall as the door to the private office opens and voices tumble out. Bep is the first one to return to the front office. Immediately her expression purses into a frown. “Nelli! What are you doing? Put that out, please,” she demands.

Nelli huffs sourly but does as she’s commanded, crushing out the cigarette in the saucer of a teacup.

“Don’t make a mess,” Bep scolds. “Take that cup and saucer into the kitchen and clean them, please. What are you up to anyway? You should be working. Have you finished with those invoices I asked you to file? No. I see you haven’t. I suppose, as usual, I must watch every move you make.”

“A pity you haven’t anything better to do,” Nelli tells her sister as she begins to page listlessly through the stack of unfiled invoices.

“Well, if you want to get paid for your work here, then I suggest that you find something better to do than loafing with a cigarette. We have an image to uphold in the front office.” Bep is gathering folders from the filing cabinet, and she slams a drawer shut as if to punctuate her sentence. Only now does she glance over at Anne and Margot. “So you’ve met my sister?”

“Yes,” says Anne blankly.

Bep nods and cradles the file folders. “Miep has left some work on Mr. Kugler’s desk for you two with a note.” And then to Nelli she pleads, “I beg you not to make me regret bringing you in,” before she marches back toward Pim’s private office, her flat heels clomping on the wooden floorboards.

“She’s not very large, but she still sounds like an ox in shoes when she walks, doesn’t she?” says Nelli.

Anne is offended. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Especially about your own sister.”

Nelli only shrugs. “You’re right,” she says wryly. “You’re right. I must be a terrible person.”

“Anne, let’s not dawdle,” Margot intercedes, setting her school satchel down beside Anne’s. “I want to be able to finish the work Miep left for us before we go home.”

Anne blinks away from Nelli. “Well, you’re the one who was late.”

“And you’re the one who likes to dawdle,” Margot counters, heading under the arch toward Kugler’s side of the office.

Nelli expels a breath. “Aren’t big sisters simply an impossible pain in the rump?” she wonders aloud.

Anne can’t disagree with this. But she finds that she doesn’t want to agree with Nelli either. “Excuse me,” she says formally, and follows Margot.

•   •   •

“I don’t like her,” Anne announces.

“Who?”

“That girl Nelli.” They are in the kitchen at home, scraping carrots for supper.

“She’s Bep’s sister,” Margot says.

“So?” Anne frowns.

“So make allowances. Why don’t you like her anyway?”

“Why? You heard her. She says awful things about Bep,” Anne complains with some vehemence.

Margot only shrugs. “You say awful things about me.”

“I do not! And even if I do, I would never say them in front of strangers.”

“I am so comforted by that, Anne,” Margot replies, as if there were a sharp tack on her tongue.

Anne is exasperated. “You and I are different,” she protests. “Anyway, that has nothing to do with anything. I just don’t like her. I don’t have to have a reason—I have instincts about people.” A pot cover rattles on the stove as water comes to a rolling boil. “Mother, the potatoes are boiling,” Anne calls out dutifully.

Their mother comes bustling into the kitchen in her starched linen apron, already in the midst of admonishing Anne. “Well, turn down the fire, then, if they’re boiling, silly thing.”

Anne ignores this. “Margot already did it,” she replies, and scrapes another carrot.

Their mother raises the lid on the pot. “Did you put the salt in, Margot?”