Annelies полностью

Anne blinks. Stares down at the soup and then finishes it with steady strokes of her spoon. When she has sopped up the last traces of it with her bit of bread, she expels a breath. “So, Pim, who do you think betrayed us?” she asks, finally giving voice to the question that has been sparking about in her brain. Her tone is pointedly casual, but it’s a question designed to force the past into the present. Pim’s face goes blank. He rests his spoon on the edge of the bowl and enters a deep, momentary silence.

“I have no idea, Anne,” he says finally, and gives his head a single shake. “I really have no idea.” Only now does he meet her eyes, now that he has erected the wall of his response.

“You don’t think it was one of our warehousemen?”

“Possibly,” her father replies, now starting to stir his soup again with his spoon, signaling that he is finished with this topic.

“Mr. Kugler thinks it was the man who replaced Bep’s father as foreman.”

“He was troublesome, yes.” Pim nods without commitment. “Especially after he’d found the wallet Mr. van Pels had dropped in the storeroom. But we have no proof that he is the culprit.” He returns to his soup.

“Then what about the cleaning woman?”

Tapping the excess from his spoon against the rim of the bowl. “Who?”

“The cleaning woman told Bep that she knew there were Jews hiding in the building.”

“Anne,” says Miep.

“And how do you know about that?” her father inquires dubiously. “Did Bep tell you?”

“She told Miep,” Anne answers. “I overheard them in the kitchen.”

Miep frowns. “Anne, that was a private conversation.”

“A private conversation,” Anne repeats. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think there should be anything private about this, Miep. Not about this particular subject. Do you think that Bep was telling the truth?”

“Of course,” Miep replies, her voice stiffening. “You know that Bep would never fabricate. Not about something so serious. How could you even consider?”

“How should I know what to consider? She’s stopped talking to me.”

“Yes, well, she’s having a very difficult time,” Miep says in Bep’s defense. “Please, you shouldn’t take it personally.”

“No? Hmm,” Anne says. “That’s an interesting point of view. I live through three concentration camps, but I shouldn’t take anything personally.”

“Anne,” Pim jumps in, but Miep stops him.

“It’s fine, Otto,” Miep assures him.

Pim disagrees. “No, it’s not, Miep.”

“Thank you,” Miep says, “but honestly, you needn’t trouble yourself. It’s true that I have no idea how Anne feels. I have no idea how either of you feel. After what you’ve suffered, I can only imagine.”

“Only you can’t imagine,” Anne points out. “So what do you believe happened, Miep? Do you believe it was the cleaning woman who telephoned the Gestapo?”

“Enough,” Pim finally decides. “Enough, Anne. Just because a charwoman who occasionally ran a vacuum over the office carpet had suspicions that she voiced to Bep, that doesn’t mean she was guilty of a crime. People gossip. Unfortunate things happened. The building was burglarized, for heaven’s sake—how many times?”

“Three,” Miep reports.

“Three times. Also, we made mistakes. Plenty of them, I’m sure. Windows were left open when they should have been closed. The front door was left bolted when it should have been unbolted. Curtains were peeked through in the middle of the day,” he reminds her adamantly. “After two years I have no doubt that there were many people who harbored suspicions. But we don’t have a shred of proof to indict any single one of them.” Her father raises his spoon to his lips and slurps efficiently. Anne knows he is trying to close the discussion. In one way this doesn’t surprise her. Pim is an expert at closing down conflict. But in another way it shocks her. How can he be so complacent? His wife died. His daughter died. His friends died. How can he simply sit there and slurp his soup?

“Why don’t you want to know, Pim?” she whispers, her voice a thin knife blade.

“Anne,” Miep breaks in again, but Pim raises his hand. He swallows and stares sharply into the hollow air.

“It will do no one any good,” he says finally. “Vengeance? Reprisal?” His eyes lift to Anne’s. They are heavy and darkly magnetic. “They only cause pain, Annelies. More pain.”

“So the guilty deserve no punishment? The dead deserve no justice?” Anne asks. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying that I will not devote a single moment of the life I have remaining to retribution. And as for the dead? We live well, we love each other, and we keep them alive in our hearts. That is the justice they deserve, in my opinion.”

Anne stares.

Margot is standing behind Pim, wearing her glasses, ready for bed, her hair brushed, dressed in a white, freshly laundered nightgown, just as their father must remember her.