Annelies полностью

By the time Anne makes it back belowstairs in the front of the building, it’s too late. Whoever the people were in Pim’s office, they have made their exit. She can hear Kleiman’s voice warning them to mind the steepness of the steps as they descend to the street. She thinks of trying to follow them, but before she can do so, Pim pokes his head out of the private office. “Anne. I want to speak to you, please,” he announces darkly.

•   •   •

The private office was always considered very plush. The padded upholstery. The velvet drapes. The warm oak paneling. The well-polished desk and the brass fixtures. This was the spot where they would gather in hiding to listen to the BBC or Radio Oranje after the workers below had gone home. But now there is a forlorn quality to it. The brass has begun to tarnish. The furnishings show their many nicks and scratches. The heavy drapes are dull with dust, and years of plumbing failures have stained the wallpaper.

“I cannot conceive of what made you feel justified in indulging in such an outburst.”

“Who were those men?”

“Anne, I’ve told you. It’s a private matter.”

“There’s nothing private about who betrayed us, Pim.”

“Betrayed us?”

“Why is the BNV investigating Bep?”

“Anne,” says her father patiently as if naming a silly, irrational thing.

“They were interrogating her. She told me. Both her and Miep.”

“Anne,” he says again. “Those gentlemen are not BNV, and they were not interrogating anybody. You’re letting your imagination run away with you. There were simply certain matters that needed to be cleared up. Certain questions that needed to be asked.”

“Asked by whom? If you say those men are not BNV, then who are they?”

“Enough, daughter,” Pim says firmly, his voice going ragged around the edges. “Please, enough. I’ve already told you everything you need to know.”

“You’ve told me nothing,” Anne protests.

“Untrue. I’ve told you it’s none of your concern and that you should leave it be.”

“Bep is very upset,” Anne says.

“She had a difficult interview,” Pim is willing to admit.

“Is she going to be dismissed?”

Pim huffs with an exhausted air. “No one is being dismissed. Bep is still a valued employee and a good friend to whom you and I both owe a great debt.” At this point her father leans forward, hands clasping on his blotter. “So please, meisje,” he says, adopting a sturdy calm, as he used to when he was soothing her agitations during a bombing raid. “Enough. I don’t wish to argue any longer. I understand that you’re confused. I understand that you’re anxious. It’s a very anxious world,” he agrees. “But you must trust me to do what’s best. For all of us.”

•   •   •

Trust. Anne writes the word on the page. What an odd little word that has become to her. Anne should “trust” in Pim. She should “trust” in God. But how can she possibly?

Margot has appeared in her Kazetnik’s rags, her face shrunk down to the bone by starvation and disease.

“What?” Anne demands to know. She is up in the Achterhuis, bundled in an old sweater, sitting with her notebook, her back pressed against the wall in the spot where her desk once stood. Margot’s eyes are greasy with death in the light from the bare windows.

Have you really sunk so low that you could believe that a woman who risked her life for us could be a criminal? Bep? Bep of all people? You can’t actually believe for a minute that she could have betrayed us, can you? That’s lunacy.

“Maybe. Maybe it isn’t,” Anne replies dryly, flexing her writing hand. “Under the right circumstances, who is not capable of anything? Didn’t the camps teach you that much, Margot?”

Margot answers her with a blunt glare. Are you talking about Bep now or yourself?

Anne glares back. “I’m guilty, yes. Is that what you want to hear me say? I’m guilty of the crime of surviving. That wretched sin. Bep must be able to see that. And who can blame her, really?” Anne wonders. Closing the notebook in her lap, she stares at nothing. “I want to trust Bep. Of course I do. But perhaps in a way it’s easier to believe that she could have betrayed us rather than simply believe she’s rejected me. That she can see that I am ruined and wants to put plenty of distance between us.”

Anne speaks this aloud, but when she looks back at Margot, her sister is nothing more than dust motes drifting through the prying daylight.