The Chameleons
29. Elfriede’s best friend
Elfriede looked out at the rapidly darkening sky. A few flecks of snow just outside the window flickered in the light.
“It’s a beautiful view from here, don’t you think Elfriede?”
Her oldest friend sat back in her old, leather armchair, rocking gently and twiddling the beads of her bracelets.
“Valentine, there is nothing beautiful about this view. What do you see? Just more stacks of boxes just like this one; boxes that people have to live in. Look, down there. It’s supposed to be a park in which people can sit in the summer and talk to each other and enjoy the sunshine; a green place between the flats. All you see are a few scrubby trees that can’t flourish because they’re in shadow and litter, tons of litter and the grass disappeared long ago.”
Valentine came to join her at the window.
“Yes but look at the sky. I can sit in my chair and watch the clouds go by. There’s so much sky in this country and it’s always different.”
“Don’t you feel trapped here? Do you feel safe? I worry about you here Valentine. There are so many bad people ready to take advantage of a weak old lady. There are so many break-ins, so many drugs.”
Valentine raised her ample eyebrows at her friend.
“Elfriede Christiaanse, how can you say that? You live out amongst those people. You live in the city, in the streets and you worry about me?”
“Nothing will happen to me. You know that. You know I’ve got protection.”
“Pouf! Protection! I know you’re lucky! But one day, I reckon I’ll be coming into Amsterdam to identify your stone-cold body lying on a slab!”
“I don’t want to argue with you again over this Valentine. You know I won’t change and I suppose I know you won’t either.”
“Too right girl. I’m too old to change and anyway I’m happy in my little ‘box’ as you call it. I feel safe here, near my friends and I’ve got the telephone if I need help.”
Elfriede shook her head. She did worry. Valentine wasn’t on her list. She wasn’t sure if she could help her if she had an emergency. She looked at the older woman and smiled. It was New Year’s Eve and Valentine had dressed up for the occasion. She was a large woman but Elfriede thought she looked so elegant in her white dress with all the lace trimmings. It was perfectly complemented by the white bandana wrapped tightly around her head so that only a few wisps of silver grey hair showed through. She was wearing her best jewellery, mostly gold and Elfriede thought she looked like an angel.
“Look at the lights coming on Elfriede. Aren’t they pretty? Everybody makes their home so colourful at this time of year.”
Thanks to advanced glaucoma, Valentine couldn’t see many details but was able to register all the colours and sparkles of light.
“Yes, dearie, they are pretty.”
Elfriede looked at a window opposite, where clearly a man and woman were arguing furiously. When the man raised his hand, Elfriede turned away.
“So where’s that rum you promised me?”
“Aren’t we waiting for Laetitia?’
“We could wait until Hell freezes over. You know what Laetitia’s timekeeping is like.”
“I’ll get the food out then, meanwhile, there’s the rum. Pour yourself some.”
With the use of her walking stick, Valentine walked slowly to the kitchen area.
“ I can’t wait for the fireworks. I love the fireworks on New Year’s Eve. You can see them so well from here.”
Elfriede poured herself a small rum into a gold-rimmed glass and went to help her pick up the plates with the napkins carefully arranged over the top, looking at the old lady fondly.
This time of year held few good memories for Elfriede. When George and Anton had died in that awful car crash, Valentine had taken her and her other son Albert into her home and looked after them until the immediate pain subsided. Elfriede however, couldn’t recover mentally from the tragedy and later when she became too difficult to handle, was transferred to a psychiatric clinic for six months. It was Valentine, who visited every day and sat and held her hand as she wept uncontrollably, or screamed in frustration, or just sang to herself to calm the demons within. After Elfriede had regained control of her emotions and had been released, Valentine took her back in but try as she did, she was powerless to stop her abandoning her responsibilities, her own flat and taking to the streets. Albert had stayed with Valentine until he too got married and moved away to the south of Holland, unable to bear the embarrassment and pain of watching his mother descend so inevitably into destitution. Elfriede had never forgotten what Valentine had done however and swore to help the old lady as much as she could, albeit from the point of view of a homeless woman helping someone who was actually comfortably placed. Elfriede had never forgiven herself for having omitted Valentine from her list, it was a mistake; a human error and it was something she felt sure she would live to regret.
The list. It had become her life’s work, her raison d’être. Without it she felt sure she’d be dead and buried by now and there wasn’t a day went by without her recalling the circumstances that had led to its formation.
During her more lucid moments in the clinic, Elfriede had tried to summon the Wintis, or Anana himself to explain why her husband and son had had to die. She even tried praying to the Christian God to see if he had answers but nothing happened. She felt spiritually abandoned, neglected and completely alone. She felt herself sliding into madness and cursed the ancient spirits for lying to her. She had been promised destiny and spiritual powers and although her time in Amsterdam had dulled the memories of those promises, she had always felt that there had been some special purpose for her. Now, she felt she had nothing. She barely remembered Albert and her friends and didn’t recognise Valentine, who appeared every day to offer her comfort. It was New Year’s Eve in 1986, when she decided to kill herself and end her misery.
She could hear other patients and nursing staff celebrating down the hall and she pretended to be asleep, so that she would be left alone. She made her way to the toilet at the end of the ward and slipped the knife she had secreted from the dining hall, out from under her skirt. As she sat on the toilet seat and stared at the white tiles on the walls and the door in front of her on which someone had scratched, ‘God is shit!’ she felt the time was right. There was nothing more to live for and nobody would care; time to get rid of one more useless human being. She managed to slide the blade across the veins of her left wrist without crying out and watched for a second as the blood bubbled to the surface and began trickling onto the floor. Half laughing, half crying, she took the knife to the other wrist…
“Elfriede Urmi. This we can’t allow. Your time and your task are not completed.”
She felt cold water pouring over her wounds but when she looked down, all she could see was the blood gushing out of her arm. She looked up to see the Watra Wenu standing above her. Filled with rage, she lashed out with her arms against the vision but the blood just spattered over the door.
“You betrayed me. You took away everything I loved. You let him die. You couldn’t even take him peacefully; you had to mangle his body and that of my son. You had to put them through agonies before they died. Why? Why?”
“You know Elfriede…” the voice had become conciliatory and calming, “…everything in the universe has a purpose. You learned that as a child. Your purpose is to serve us, to fulfil your destiny, to perform tasks of great importance.”
“I can’t accept that. Why do innocent people have to suffer because of me? Why? For what reason, for what great purpose? I’ve seen no sign of having to do anything. My life has been normal. I have no powers. I’ve been given no special task.”
“Your tasks are soon to begin. You will find you have power when you need it. You will know what to do without realising. Your life so far has been a preparation for what is to come.”
“So, my husband and son dying, that’s preparation for something I’m supposed to do?”
“In a way, yes. Tragedy strengthens the Kra.”
“In that case, I reject your tasks, your destiny, utterly, completely! I will not be a servant for gods who can be so cruel, so heartless. I’ll cheat you of your plans. I’ll die and I don’t care what happens to my spirit in the after-life.”
The Watra Wenu looked concerned and before she knew it, other Wintis appeared. As if with one voice, they exerted pressure on her.
“You will not die Elfriede Urmi and you will do what you’re destined to do. You cannot prevent it. Your task is to attempt defeat evil in many manifestations. You will suffer much more than you already have but you must fulfil your destiny. Many souls must be saved, many lifetimes protected. You will be a puppet master, controlling the strings of living puppets. You will need all your knowledge and the power we give you because the dangers will always be there. There will be those who oppose you; those who will try to destroy your work; destroy those in your care. When your tasks are done, you will rejoin your husband and your son and exist in bliss through eternity but until then, you must carry out your duties.”
Elfriede was frightened, more than she had ever been but she made a decision, hardened her heart and resolved to resist.
“I will not!”
As her lifeblood fell to the floor of the tiny enclosed room, the Wintis made one final effort to convince her.
“George? Is that you?”
Her husband’s ethereal form appeared before her. She could just make out the image of her son just behind.
“Honey. Yes it’s me. I’m alright you know and Anton’s alright too. We’re happy here and so proud you have been chosen to do important work.”
There was something in his voice, something not quite right. It was most certainly George to look at and she was grateful for the opportunity to look at him closely once again but she had an overwhelming feeling that she was being used, manipulated and although it was hard to tear herself away from the temptation, she laughed, at first loudly and then hysterically.
As the nurses rushed her away on a stretcher, she was still laughing.
“You think you can use cheap tricks to force me to do what you want? I reject you! I reject you I say!”
The nurses, fearful that she might become violent, sedated her and she fell into troubled unconsciousness.
It was only after her recovery that she was able to rationalise the reappearance of the Wintis in her life. Not for a moment did she think it had been a dream or the results of drug-induced delusions. She knew it had been real enough and although she had refused them, it had scared her a little. She had thought long and hard about what they had wanted her to do and felt some guilt in having thwarted her own destiny, if that’s what it was. She couldn’t forgive them for allowing George to die, or herself for having failed to protect him and decided that she had done the right thing, whatever the consequences might be. A nagging voice at the back of her mind however, kept telling her that her refusal had somehow interfered in the fight against evil. She also realised that, despite her acquired sophistication, she was still a country girl from Surinam and that logic often clashed with superstition and she spent many weeks debating with herself what she truly believed. It was during this period of self-examination that she alienated her remaining son and her friends and neglected her responsibilities. It didn’t matter. She knew she had to win the battle with her doubts and discover what she truly wanted to do next with her life and then never waver from that path. No one could accuse her of having taken the easy way out. Living on the streets wasn’t easy, especially at first, while she was learning the rules of how to survive with nothing and amongst other people who had nothing. It was part of her plan that she should find her purpose by stripping away all the material things in life that had mattered to her. She found out that she actually needed very little to live and it left her unencumbered so that she could see the world for what it was. She found that she had the ability to weigh people up just by watching them and was never wrong. She was able to spot and avoid people who might do her harm as easily as she could spot those who would do her a kindness and she became a true observer of city life. Most importantly, she found she could see if people were in need. Material need was one thing, she wasn’t too worried about them but emotional need struck her as being important to deal with and gradually the seeds of a plan began to form in her mind. She decided to identify certain people who were having problems finding happiness and apply herself to helping them. She would need to make judgements as to who was deserving and who wasn’t but she felt she had that power and this way she might appease the Wintis. She even wondered if this had been their purpose all along but suspected they had had much grander designs for her. Either way, she made her decision and began the slow process of looking for people who needed help. It was confusing at first; so many people needed support and she realised that she was trying too hard. It wasn’t going to happen this way. She had to trust her instincts and slowly after some trial and error, she found that she knew from the minute she met someone that they were the one. Her first rule was that they should not be conscious of her involvement in the improvement of their lives and for that she needed a little trickery. Thus, it was during these first few years that she began to discover the powers that the Wintis had left latent within her. To invoke these powers, she needed to perform certain rituals and to do that, she needed a safe place where she wouldn’t be interrupted and that’s how she came to be reconciled with Valentine.
At about two minutes to twelve, Valentine’s bell went.
“That must be Laetitia. Where has she been?”
Valentine struggled out of her chair to answer the door.
“You make sure you look through the spy hole first,” warned Elfriede, “You never know.”
From the living room, she heard the door open but couldn’t hear Laetitia’s raucous laugh. She suddenly experienced a deep feeling of disquiet.
“Who is it Valentine?” she shouted.
Valentine came back into the room trembling.
“I – I thought it was Laetitia. It looked like Laetitia.”
Elfriede jumped to her feet.
“But it isn’t Laetitia.” Valentine slumped to the ground; her eyes wide open in fear and breathing heavily. A man stood in the doorway. Almost two metres tall, heavily built and with thick curly hair, he grinned at Elfriede, his nostrils flaring and his eyes fixing her in their glare.
“Hallo, Elfriede Urmi. Finally we get to meet.”
Outside, the world seemed to explode. The light of the fireworks outside cast flickering shadows across the room and the flashes of colour illuminated his face.
It was a Wisi-man!
30. Dilemmas for Carolien
Carolien opened her eyes, nervously at first, not quite sure what to expect. Everything was quiet apart from birdsong in the distance and judging by the light, she guessed it was early morning but where was she? Lifting her head slowly because it hurt, she looked around the room. Whitewashed walls, sparsely furnished, a picture of a seascape hanging above her bed and a small bedside table, upon which was a card. Reaching over carefully, she realised that she was also attached to some sort of a drip and catching sight of herself in the glass of the shuttered windows, saw that her head was bandaged. Clearly some sort of hospital then! She read the card.
‘Be back in a short while. Gone to get you some fruit. Don’t worry. Love John.’
She lay back on the pillows and tried to piece together the events that had led her here but all she could remember was being at the carnival with John and Dwight and seeing Elfriede in a dream of some sort. Further than that, she had no idea what had happened. As she closed her eyes to try to ward off her headache, the door opened.
“Hi, are you awake?”
“Yes but I don’t remember much and I have an awful headache. What on earth happened to me?”
“Well, we think you fainted in all the heat and excitement and then you must have hit your head on the step of someone’s house. If it hadn’t have been for a big, strong carnival dancer, you could have been trampled in the crowd. I’ve never seen such strength. He was carrying you over the top of his head. It was really weird seeing you seemingly floating across the top of the crowd like that, really worrying as well. At least you’re safe now.”
He picked up her hand and stroked it gently.
“Well, I’m glad I don’t remember all that. How long have I been here then?”
“This is your second day.”
“Two days! We must have missed the boat!”
“Don’t worry, it’s all arranged. We’re flying to Caracas tomorrow and picking up the boat there. The doctor reckons you’ll be fine once the headache’s worn off and we’ve got ointment and tablets. Six stitches no less!”
Oil money had made Caracas into one of the busiest capitals on the continent, with impressive modern architecture in the centre and a sprawling mass of ranchos, slums, sheds and cardboard boxes littering the hills around, the product of uncontrolled mass migration to where it was perceived that money could be made. Carolien didn’t like it one bit and although the plight of the poor reminded her of her previous life in Amsterdam, she felt that at home, at least the people had a connection to each other if they wanted it. Here life was much harder and the amount of money in her bank balance was beginning to prey on her mind in the face of such deprivation. John took her to a restaurant to try to cheer her up but although they were advised to try the Venezuelan national dish of Pabellón Criollo, with its shredded beef, beans, cheese, fried plantain and rice, she only picked at the mountain of food in front of her. They even went to the Plaza Bolivar, with its historic cathedral but she shied away from going inside. She didn’t want to confront God on his own ground quite yet. Whether it was the incident in Trinidad, or the contrasts between rich and poor which were so evident everywhere they went, she found herself feeling miserable.
‘More likely a guilty conscience,’ she told herself.
John suggested that they take a trip to Angel Falls the next day, leaving them enough time to get back to resume their cruise and she readily agreed, being glad of the opportunity to get out of the bustling and disturbing city.
He had never asked her about money, or how she had come to be on a luxury cruise and in turn, she didn’t pry into his finances. He’d told her he had retired early because he’d been so successful in selling property to rich, Hong Kong Chinese in the Vancouver area and she assumed he was fairly wealthy as a result but had quickly learned from the other passengers, that those with real class weren’t ostentatious about their money. It gave her the opportunity to weave a past for herself that was based on truth but suggested that she’d inherited from her dead husband and John was far too well mannered to probe further. She did wonder, however, where this was all going and if there would come a time when her previous life would be subject to close scrutiny by this man. So far, they had enjoyed each other’s company and had kissed and hugged but it hadn’t gone further than that. She asked herself whether she wanted it to. The fact was that the feel of a man’s arms around her had re-awoken feelings that had been long buried and she liked it. In fact, she liked everything about John. She felt completely safe and secure with him and as an added bonus, found him very attractive. As time went on, she began to wonder why he hadn’t made any further advances and whether he was attracted to her as more than a travelling companion.
‘There’s still time…’ she thought, ‘…if it happens, I don’t think I’ll object; if it doesn’t, then I’ve had a really nice time with this man.’
They flew in a small plane with a group of other tourists, who were staying at an Eco-hotel in the jungle and the minute they left Caracas, Carolien began to feel better, quite exhilarated by the adventure even. They passed over Venezuela’s eerie Tepuis, a landscape of sandstone mesas, which were evidence of the time when South America and Africa were one continent. As the pilot explained this over the tannoy, Carolien thought again that she could see Elfriede’s face, this time reflected in the window. It was only a fleeting moment but it made her shudder. Later, they looked down at the isolated plateaus that had been the inspiration for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s, The Lost World and couldn’t help but imagine there to be dinosaurs still living there, in splendid isolation and remote from human contact. The plane also circled over the Angel Falls, the highest in the world but it was getting dark and little could be seen. Finally, they landed and stepped out into the humidity and insect noise of the jungle evening. There was a minibus waiting for the larger group and the driver agreed to drop John and Carolien off.
John had booked them into a wooden-built, jungle pension not too far from the falls; it had been the only thing available at such short notice. They rang the bell at the desk and while they were waiting, joked about how they felt they were stranded in a Humphrey Bogart movie. Eventually, a fat, middle-aged man in a t-shirt and jeans and sweating profusely, ambled out from a room at the back and confirmed their booking, before demanding payment on the spot. Credit card would be fine, he said but cash would be much better and John felt he was being given little option as he handed over the notes. When Carolien saw there was only one key, she had to confess to being surprised. It seemed they were booked into one room but she found it more amusing to see how horrified John was. He spent at least ten minutes apologising for the mistake and insisting to the manager that he had booked two rooms not one but to no avail. This was the only room suitable, all the others were having work done on them and it was a question of, ‘take it or leave it.’
“Oh don’t be silly John. It’s only for one night. We can manage.”
“But…are you sure? I’m so terribly sorry. I didn’t mean…”
She laughed at him, took him by the hand and said to the manager,
“That’s fine. We’ll take it.”
After some further argument, the man was persuaded to arrange some food; yelling into the back room in rapid Spanish.
“She will bring it to your room. You want breakfast too?”
John and Carolien looked at each other in disbelief and then burst out laughing.
“Of course we want breakfast. They said in Caracas that this was a three star hotel!” John raised his voice indignantly.
“They say anything in Caracas. You never believe what those city people say. They’re all crooks. I never trust them.” He looked so earnest, frowning at the perceived criminality of the capital’s inhabitants that they had to stifle their laughter for fear of offending him further.
“ You can pay me tomorrow for the food.”
After they had settled into their room, a virtual double of the man at the desk, only clearly his wife, delivered a tray of small dishes and two bottles of cola and without a word, disappeared.
“Well,” said John, “It’s hardly gourmet fare.”
“Oh, it’ll do. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
You’ve changed your tune!”
“Yes, sorry, I was a bit grumpy in Caracas. I didn’t mean to be but I feel better now; quite excited in fact.”
She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye.
“No problem. You’re probably tired after the journey though. What say we get a good night’s sleep and hit the falls bright and early tomorrow?”
She looked at him puzzled but he’d already gone into the tiny bathroom at one end of the room.
‘What was it with this man?’ she wondered,’ …he couldn’t have a better opportunity to ‘get to know me better’ so to speak, and yet…’
Her thoughts were interrupted as he returned, dressed in t-shirt and boxer shorts and climbed into bed.
“Your turn…” he said, “…is this side of the bed alright?”
“Fine.” She replied, a little more abruptly than she had intended and went to inspect what sounded like very suspect plumbing. When she returned, he was turned on his side and to all intents and purposes asleep.
She had a disturbed sleep. The bed wasn’t comfortable and she was conscious of bumping into John but above all, all sorts of strange images kept flashing through her mind and she only dozed on and off, until at one moment in the early morning she woke with a start. There were voices outside. Angry voices, shouting and yelling. At first, she thought she was still dreaming but they were real enough and getting closer.
“Can you hear that?” she whispered to John. He only grunted at first but eventually woke up, as the noise seemed to come from inside their building. He was just about to get out of bed to investigate, when their door burst open and three men rushed in brandishing semi-automatic guns.
“Get up! Get up! Get your clothes and come with us!”
Elfriede looked out at the rapidly darkening sky. A few flecks of snow just outside the window flickered in the light.
“It’s a beautiful view from here, don’t you think Elfriede?”
Her oldest friend sat back in her old, leather armchair, rocking gently and twiddling the beads of her bracelets.
“Valentine, there is nothing beautiful about this view. What do you see? Just more stacks of boxes just like this one; boxes that people have to live in. Look, down there. It’s supposed to be a park in which people can sit in the summer and talk to each other and enjoy the sunshine; a green place between the flats. All you see are a few scrubby trees that can’t flourish because they’re in shadow and litter, tons of litter and the grass disappeared long ago.”
Valentine came to join her at the window.
“Yes but look at the sky. I can sit in my chair and watch the clouds go by. There’s so much sky in this country and it’s always different.”
“Don’t you feel trapped here? Do you feel safe? I worry about you here Valentine. There are so many bad people ready to take advantage of a weak old lady. There are so many break-ins, so many drugs.”
Valentine raised her ample eyebrows at her friend.
“Elfriede Christiaanse, how can you say that? You live out amongst those people. You live in the city, in the streets and you worry about me?”
“Nothing will happen to me. You know that. You know I’ve got protection.”
“Pouf! Protection! I know you’re lucky! But one day, I reckon I’ll be coming into Amsterdam to identify your stone-cold body lying on a slab!”
“I don’t want to argue with you again over this Valentine. You know I won’t change and I suppose I know you won’t either.”
“Too right girl. I’m too old to change and anyway I’m happy in my little ‘box’ as you call it. I feel safe here, near my friends and I’ve got the telephone if I need help.”
Elfriede shook her head. She did worry. Valentine wasn’t on her list. She wasn’t sure if she could help her if she had an emergency. She looked at the older woman and smiled. It was New Year’s Eve and Valentine had dressed up for the occasion. She was a large woman but Elfriede thought she looked so elegant in her white dress with all the lace trimmings. It was perfectly complemented by the white bandana wrapped tightly around her head so that only a few wisps of silver grey hair showed through. She was wearing her best jewellery, mostly gold and Elfriede thought she looked like an angel.
“Look at the lights coming on Elfriede. Aren’t they pretty? Everybody makes their home so colourful at this time of year.”
Thanks to advanced glaucoma, Valentine couldn’t see many details but was able to register all the colours and sparkles of light.
“Yes, dearie, they are pretty.”
Elfriede looked at a window opposite, where clearly a man and woman were arguing furiously. When the man raised his hand, Elfriede turned away.
“So where’s that rum you promised me?”
“Aren’t we waiting for Laetitia?’
“We could wait until Hell freezes over. You know what Laetitia’s timekeeping is like.”
“I’ll get the food out then, meanwhile, there’s the rum. Pour yourself some.”
With the use of her walking stick, Valentine walked slowly to the kitchen area.
“ I can’t wait for the fireworks. I love the fireworks on New Year’s Eve. You can see them so well from here.”
Elfriede poured herself a small rum into a gold-rimmed glass and went to help her pick up the plates with the napkins carefully arranged over the top, looking at the old lady fondly.
This time of year held few good memories for Elfriede. When George and Anton had died in that awful car crash, Valentine had taken her and her other son Albert into her home and looked after them until the immediate pain subsided. Elfriede however, couldn’t recover mentally from the tragedy and later when she became too difficult to handle, was transferred to a psychiatric clinic for six months. It was Valentine, who visited every day and sat and held her hand as she wept uncontrollably, or screamed in frustration, or just sang to herself to calm the demons within. After Elfriede had regained control of her emotions and had been released, Valentine took her back in but try as she did, she was powerless to stop her abandoning her responsibilities, her own flat and taking to the streets. Albert had stayed with Valentine until he too got married and moved away to the south of Holland, unable to bear the embarrassment and pain of watching his mother descend so inevitably into destitution. Elfriede had never forgotten what Valentine had done however and swore to help the old lady as much as she could, albeit from the point of view of a homeless woman helping someone who was actually comfortably placed. Elfriede had never forgiven herself for having omitted Valentine from her list, it was a mistake; a human error and it was something she felt sure she would live to regret.
The list. It had become her life’s work, her raison d’être. Without it she felt sure she’d be dead and buried by now and there wasn’t a day went by without her recalling the circumstances that had led to its formation.
During her more lucid moments in the clinic, Elfriede had tried to summon the Wintis, or Anana himself to explain why her husband and son had had to die. She even tried praying to the Christian God to see if he had answers but nothing happened. She felt spiritually abandoned, neglected and completely alone. She felt herself sliding into madness and cursed the ancient spirits for lying to her. She had been promised destiny and spiritual powers and although her time in Amsterdam had dulled the memories of those promises, she had always felt that there had been some special purpose for her. Now, she felt she had nothing. She barely remembered Albert and her friends and didn’t recognise Valentine, who appeared every day to offer her comfort. It was New Year’s Eve in 1986, when she decided to kill herself and end her misery.
She could hear other patients and nursing staff celebrating down the hall and she pretended to be asleep, so that she would be left alone. She made her way to the toilet at the end of the ward and slipped the knife she had secreted from the dining hall, out from under her skirt. As she sat on the toilet seat and stared at the white tiles on the walls and the door in front of her on which someone had scratched, ‘God is shit!’ she felt the time was right. There was nothing more to live for and nobody would care; time to get rid of one more useless human being. She managed to slide the blade across the veins of her left wrist without crying out and watched for a second as the blood bubbled to the surface and began trickling onto the floor. Half laughing, half crying, she took the knife to the other wrist…
“Elfriede Urmi. This we can’t allow. Your time and your task are not completed.”
She felt cold water pouring over her wounds but when she looked down, all she could see was the blood gushing out of her arm. She looked up to see the Watra Wenu standing above her. Filled with rage, she lashed out with her arms against the vision but the blood just spattered over the door.
“You betrayed me. You took away everything I loved. You let him die. You couldn’t even take him peacefully; you had to mangle his body and that of my son. You had to put them through agonies before they died. Why? Why?”
“You know Elfriede…” the voice had become conciliatory and calming, “…everything in the universe has a purpose. You learned that as a child. Your purpose is to serve us, to fulfil your destiny, to perform tasks of great importance.”
“I can’t accept that. Why do innocent people have to suffer because of me? Why? For what reason, for what great purpose? I’ve seen no sign of having to do anything. My life has been normal. I have no powers. I’ve been given no special task.”
“Your tasks are soon to begin. You will find you have power when you need it. You will know what to do without realising. Your life so far has been a preparation for what is to come.”
“So, my husband and son dying, that’s preparation for something I’m supposed to do?”
“In a way, yes. Tragedy strengthens the Kra.”
“In that case, I reject your tasks, your destiny, utterly, completely! I will not be a servant for gods who can be so cruel, so heartless. I’ll cheat you of your plans. I’ll die and I don’t care what happens to my spirit in the after-life.”
The Watra Wenu looked concerned and before she knew it, other Wintis appeared. As if with one voice, they exerted pressure on her.
“You will not die Elfriede Urmi and you will do what you’re destined to do. You cannot prevent it. Your task is to attempt defeat evil in many manifestations. You will suffer much more than you already have but you must fulfil your destiny. Many souls must be saved, many lifetimes protected. You will be a puppet master, controlling the strings of living puppets. You will need all your knowledge and the power we give you because the dangers will always be there. There will be those who oppose you; those who will try to destroy your work; destroy those in your care. When your tasks are done, you will rejoin your husband and your son and exist in bliss through eternity but until then, you must carry out your duties.”
Elfriede was frightened, more than she had ever been but she made a decision, hardened her heart and resolved to resist.
“I will not!”
As her lifeblood fell to the floor of the tiny enclosed room, the Wintis made one final effort to convince her.
“George? Is that you?”
Her husband’s ethereal form appeared before her. She could just make out the image of her son just behind.
“Honey. Yes it’s me. I’m alright you know and Anton’s alright too. We’re happy here and so proud you have been chosen to do important work.”
There was something in his voice, something not quite right. It was most certainly George to look at and she was grateful for the opportunity to look at him closely once again but she had an overwhelming feeling that she was being used, manipulated and although it was hard to tear herself away from the temptation, she laughed, at first loudly and then hysterically.
As the nurses rushed her away on a stretcher, she was still laughing.
“You think you can use cheap tricks to force me to do what you want? I reject you! I reject you I say!”
The nurses, fearful that she might become violent, sedated her and she fell into troubled unconsciousness.
It was only after her recovery that she was able to rationalise the reappearance of the Wintis in her life. Not for a moment did she think it had been a dream or the results of drug-induced delusions. She knew it had been real enough and although she had refused them, it had scared her a little. She had thought long and hard about what they had wanted her to do and felt some guilt in having thwarted her own destiny, if that’s what it was. She couldn’t forgive them for allowing George to die, or herself for having failed to protect him and decided that she had done the right thing, whatever the consequences might be. A nagging voice at the back of her mind however, kept telling her that her refusal had somehow interfered in the fight against evil. She also realised that, despite her acquired sophistication, she was still a country girl from Surinam and that logic often clashed with superstition and she spent many weeks debating with herself what she truly believed. It was during this period of self-examination that she alienated her remaining son and her friends and neglected her responsibilities. It didn’t matter. She knew she had to win the battle with her doubts and discover what she truly wanted to do next with her life and then never waver from that path. No one could accuse her of having taken the easy way out. Living on the streets wasn’t easy, especially at first, while she was learning the rules of how to survive with nothing and amongst other people who had nothing. It was part of her plan that she should find her purpose by stripping away all the material things in life that had mattered to her. She found out that she actually needed very little to live and it left her unencumbered so that she could see the world for what it was. She found that she had the ability to weigh people up just by watching them and was never wrong. She was able to spot and avoid people who might do her harm as easily as she could spot those who would do her a kindness and she became a true observer of city life. Most importantly, she found she could see if people were in need. Material need was one thing, she wasn’t too worried about them but emotional need struck her as being important to deal with and gradually the seeds of a plan began to form in her mind. She decided to identify certain people who were having problems finding happiness and apply herself to helping them. She would need to make judgements as to who was deserving and who wasn’t but she felt she had that power and this way she might appease the Wintis. She even wondered if this had been their purpose all along but suspected they had had much grander designs for her. Either way, she made her decision and began the slow process of looking for people who needed help. It was confusing at first; so many people needed support and she realised that she was trying too hard. It wasn’t going to happen this way. She had to trust her instincts and slowly after some trial and error, she found that she knew from the minute she met someone that they were the one. Her first rule was that they should not be conscious of her involvement in the improvement of their lives and for that she needed a little trickery. Thus, it was during these first few years that she began to discover the powers that the Wintis had left latent within her. To invoke these powers, she needed to perform certain rituals and to do that, she needed a safe place where she wouldn’t be interrupted and that’s how she came to be reconciled with Valentine.
At about two minutes to twelve, Valentine’s bell went.
“That must be Laetitia. Where has she been?”
Valentine struggled out of her chair to answer the door.
“You make sure you look through the spy hole first,” warned Elfriede, “You never know.”
From the living room, she heard the door open but couldn’t hear Laetitia’s raucous laugh. She suddenly experienced a deep feeling of disquiet.
“Who is it Valentine?” she shouted.
Valentine came back into the room trembling.
“I – I thought it was Laetitia. It looked like Laetitia.”
Elfriede jumped to her feet.
“But it isn’t Laetitia.” Valentine slumped to the ground; her eyes wide open in fear and breathing heavily. A man stood in the doorway. Almost two metres tall, heavily built and with thick curly hair, he grinned at Elfriede, his nostrils flaring and his eyes fixing her in their glare.
“Hallo, Elfriede Urmi. Finally we get to meet.”
Outside, the world seemed to explode. The light of the fireworks outside cast flickering shadows across the room and the flashes of colour illuminated his face.
It was a Wisi-man!
30. Dilemmas for Carolien
Carolien opened her eyes, nervously at first, not quite sure what to expect. Everything was quiet apart from birdsong in the distance and judging by the light, she guessed it was early morning but where was she? Lifting her head slowly because it hurt, she looked around the room. Whitewashed walls, sparsely furnished, a picture of a seascape hanging above her bed and a small bedside table, upon which was a card. Reaching over carefully, she realised that she was also attached to some sort of a drip and catching sight of herself in the glass of the shuttered windows, saw that her head was bandaged. Clearly some sort of hospital then! She read the card.
‘Be back in a short while. Gone to get you some fruit. Don’t worry. Love John.’
She lay back on the pillows and tried to piece together the events that had led her here but all she could remember was being at the carnival with John and Dwight and seeing Elfriede in a dream of some sort. Further than that, she had no idea what had happened. As she closed her eyes to try to ward off her headache, the door opened.
“Hi, are you awake?”
“Yes but I don’t remember much and I have an awful headache. What on earth happened to me?”
“Well, we think you fainted in all the heat and excitement and then you must have hit your head on the step of someone’s house. If it hadn’t have been for a big, strong carnival dancer, you could have been trampled in the crowd. I’ve never seen such strength. He was carrying you over the top of his head. It was really weird seeing you seemingly floating across the top of the crowd like that, really worrying as well. At least you’re safe now.”
He picked up her hand and stroked it gently.
“Well, I’m glad I don’t remember all that. How long have I been here then?”
“This is your second day.”
“Two days! We must have missed the boat!”
“Don’t worry, it’s all arranged. We’re flying to Caracas tomorrow and picking up the boat there. The doctor reckons you’ll be fine once the headache’s worn off and we’ve got ointment and tablets. Six stitches no less!”
Oil money had made Caracas into one of the busiest capitals on the continent, with impressive modern architecture in the centre and a sprawling mass of ranchos, slums, sheds and cardboard boxes littering the hills around, the product of uncontrolled mass migration to where it was perceived that money could be made. Carolien didn’t like it one bit and although the plight of the poor reminded her of her previous life in Amsterdam, she felt that at home, at least the people had a connection to each other if they wanted it. Here life was much harder and the amount of money in her bank balance was beginning to prey on her mind in the face of such deprivation. John took her to a restaurant to try to cheer her up but although they were advised to try the Venezuelan national dish of Pabellón Criollo, with its shredded beef, beans, cheese, fried plantain and rice, she only picked at the mountain of food in front of her. They even went to the Plaza Bolivar, with its historic cathedral but she shied away from going inside. She didn’t want to confront God on his own ground quite yet. Whether it was the incident in Trinidad, or the contrasts between rich and poor which were so evident everywhere they went, she found herself feeling miserable.
‘More likely a guilty conscience,’ she told herself.
John suggested that they take a trip to Angel Falls the next day, leaving them enough time to get back to resume their cruise and she readily agreed, being glad of the opportunity to get out of the bustling and disturbing city.
He had never asked her about money, or how she had come to be on a luxury cruise and in turn, she didn’t pry into his finances. He’d told her he had retired early because he’d been so successful in selling property to rich, Hong Kong Chinese in the Vancouver area and she assumed he was fairly wealthy as a result but had quickly learned from the other passengers, that those with real class weren’t ostentatious about their money. It gave her the opportunity to weave a past for herself that was based on truth but suggested that she’d inherited from her dead husband and John was far too well mannered to probe further. She did wonder, however, where this was all going and if there would come a time when her previous life would be subject to close scrutiny by this man. So far, they had enjoyed each other’s company and had kissed and hugged but it hadn’t gone further than that. She asked herself whether she wanted it to. The fact was that the feel of a man’s arms around her had re-awoken feelings that had been long buried and she liked it. In fact, she liked everything about John. She felt completely safe and secure with him and as an added bonus, found him very attractive. As time went on, she began to wonder why he hadn’t made any further advances and whether he was attracted to her as more than a travelling companion.
‘There’s still time…’ she thought, ‘…if it happens, I don’t think I’ll object; if it doesn’t, then I’ve had a really nice time with this man.’
They flew in a small plane with a group of other tourists, who were staying at an Eco-hotel in the jungle and the minute they left Caracas, Carolien began to feel better, quite exhilarated by the adventure even. They passed over Venezuela’s eerie Tepuis, a landscape of sandstone mesas, which were evidence of the time when South America and Africa were one continent. As the pilot explained this over the tannoy, Carolien thought again that she could see Elfriede’s face, this time reflected in the window. It was only a fleeting moment but it made her shudder. Later, they looked down at the isolated plateaus that had been the inspiration for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s, The Lost World and couldn’t help but imagine there to be dinosaurs still living there, in splendid isolation and remote from human contact. The plane also circled over the Angel Falls, the highest in the world but it was getting dark and little could be seen. Finally, they landed and stepped out into the humidity and insect noise of the jungle evening. There was a minibus waiting for the larger group and the driver agreed to drop John and Carolien off.
John had booked them into a wooden-built, jungle pension not too far from the falls; it had been the only thing available at such short notice. They rang the bell at the desk and while they were waiting, joked about how they felt they were stranded in a Humphrey Bogart movie. Eventually, a fat, middle-aged man in a t-shirt and jeans and sweating profusely, ambled out from a room at the back and confirmed their booking, before demanding payment on the spot. Credit card would be fine, he said but cash would be much better and John felt he was being given little option as he handed over the notes. When Carolien saw there was only one key, she had to confess to being surprised. It seemed they were booked into one room but she found it more amusing to see how horrified John was. He spent at least ten minutes apologising for the mistake and insisting to the manager that he had booked two rooms not one but to no avail. This was the only room suitable, all the others were having work done on them and it was a question of, ‘take it or leave it.’
“Oh don’t be silly John. It’s only for one night. We can manage.”
“But…are you sure? I’m so terribly sorry. I didn’t mean…”
She laughed at him, took him by the hand and said to the manager,
“That’s fine. We’ll take it.”
After some further argument, the man was persuaded to arrange some food; yelling into the back room in rapid Spanish.
“She will bring it to your room. You want breakfast too?”
John and Carolien looked at each other in disbelief and then burst out laughing.
“Of course we want breakfast. They said in Caracas that this was a three star hotel!” John raised his voice indignantly.
“They say anything in Caracas. You never believe what those city people say. They’re all crooks. I never trust them.” He looked so earnest, frowning at the perceived criminality of the capital’s inhabitants that they had to stifle their laughter for fear of offending him further.
“ You can pay me tomorrow for the food.”
After they had settled into their room, a virtual double of the man at the desk, only clearly his wife, delivered a tray of small dishes and two bottles of cola and without a word, disappeared.
“Well,” said John, “It’s hardly gourmet fare.”
“Oh, it’ll do. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
You’ve changed your tune!”
“Yes, sorry, I was a bit grumpy in Caracas. I didn’t mean to be but I feel better now; quite excited in fact.”
She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye.
“No problem. You’re probably tired after the journey though. What say we get a good night’s sleep and hit the falls bright and early tomorrow?”
She looked at him puzzled but he’d already gone into the tiny bathroom at one end of the room.
‘What was it with this man?’ she wondered,’ …he couldn’t have a better opportunity to ‘get to know me better’ so to speak, and yet…’
Her thoughts were interrupted as he returned, dressed in t-shirt and boxer shorts and climbed into bed.
“Your turn…” he said, “…is this side of the bed alright?”
“Fine.” She replied, a little more abruptly than she had intended and went to inspect what sounded like very suspect plumbing. When she returned, he was turned on his side and to all intents and purposes asleep.
She had a disturbed sleep. The bed wasn’t comfortable and she was conscious of bumping into John but above all, all sorts of strange images kept flashing through her mind and she only dozed on and off, until at one moment in the early morning she woke with a start. There were voices outside. Angry voices, shouting and yelling. At first, she thought she was still dreaming but they were real enough and getting closer.
“Can you hear that?” she whispered to John. He only grunted at first but eventually woke up, as the noise seemed to come from inside their building. He was just about to get out of bed to investigate, when their door burst open and three men rushed in brandishing semi-automatic guns.
“Get up! Get up! Get your clothes and come with us!”
31. Willem’s past catches up
Willem wandered around the men’s clothing department of the Bijenkorf for the third time that afternoon. He just couldn’t decide whether to take the double-breasted, blue blazer or the check sports jacket. If the truth were known, he wanted neither of them but he desperately wanted to make a good impression at dinner tonight. Although he didn’t care to admit it, he always sought partners who he thought would impress others and more secretly, his mother. He knew it was a possible sign of superficiality and throughout his adult life, had rejected people he perceived to be common or vulgar, even if personally, he found them to be good company. The ideal man was the one he could have taken home to his parents on a Sunday afternoon. The one they would embrace with open arms and accept completely and by association, Willem would feel accepted too. Needless to say, he had never found such a man but this one seemed to come close; now the problem was to successfully woo him.
Jan was clearly a man of good breeding and taste and above all, apparently conservative and Willem knew he had to buy something sober and classy. It went against the grain; he hated conformity in clothes but wanted, no needed, Jan to like him and if that meant dressing in a certain way, well that was fine. When the fish was safely hooked, he could begin to reveal his true personality bit by bit but until then, there was no harm in a little deception. He took the blazer off the hanger and tried it on yet again.
“If I may say so sir, that blazer really suits you.”
Both Willem and the assistant knew that this was all so much sales talk but he played along.
“Do you think so? You don’t think it makes me look too portly?”
“Oh, gracious me no sir. A double-breasted is perfect for streamlining, what shall we say, the fuller figure.”
‘Bitch!’ thought Willem.
“You’re probably right but would you possibly just try it on for me? Just so that I can see what it looks like on another person.”
“Ah, well sir, it’s not really our policy…”
“Oh, go on, just as a favour. I can get a much better idea, if I see it on someone else.”
The salesman shot him daggers but tried the blazer on nevertheless. Willem walked around him, exaggeratedly examining the effect.
“Hmm, I can see what you mean but I’m not sure it flatters, what shall we say, the more rounded person. Thank you all the same but I think I’ll leave it.”
With that, he turned on his heel with a smirk on his face and left the assistant spluttering with ill-disguised rage. Just to emphasise that Willem was not to be messed with, he marched over to the rack of sports jackets, took out the one he’d seen earlier and marched over to the till to pay.
Jan was already waiting in the doorway of the chic, new Thai restaurant he’d chosen, when Willem arrived by taxi. He could easily have walked, or caught the tram but tonight was all about image and first impressions and he was therefore taken aback to see Jan dressed in jeans and open necked denim shirt, with a slightly shabby raincoat over the top. However, Willem was the master of disguise and hid his frustration at feeling distinctly over-dressed with his usual aplomb. Willem had never mastered ‘casual chic’. If he dressed in jeans and a sweater, he just looked scruffy and completely the wrong shape. His preference was to overdo the clothes and that way the attention was drawn away from the figure inside them; or at least that was the theory. Marcel frequently and tactfully tried to hint that he sometimes came over the wrong way and became a figure of fun but Willem couldn’t be convinced.
“Hi, I’m sorry I’m late. Hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”
“No, just got here myself. Wow, you look smart.”
Willem took that as a compliment.
“Oh, these old things. Well, I like to smarten up a bit for restaurants. It makes a change from the bars.”
He could have bitten his lip. He didn’t know whether Jan ever went to the bars. He’d certainly never seen him there. As they went to their table, Willem took the opportunity to look closely at his date. He was perfect, just his type and although he usually didn’t attract this sort of man, it didn’t stop him dreaming that one day it would happen. It wasn’t that Willem was socially inept. He could hold his own in most company and certainly didn’t lack for manners. If anything, he regarded himself as being a cut above most of the gay population at the best of times but this time, he felt he had to adapt, partly to impress and partly because he felt certain that Jan was someone with real class. As it turned out, he needn’t have worried; the chemistry was there. He’d been absolutely right. Jan was highly educated, had gone to university in England and had worked in the City of London for a large banking firm before going into the financial side of advertising, with a New York firm.
“How did you like England?” Willem asked, “I find the English to be a curious rat-like people. You expect them to be tall and distinguished and they turn out to be actually small and dumpy, with complexions like uncooked pastry. I’m generalising of course but God knows how they conquered so much of the world!”
Willem had had a most unsuccessful time on his last trip to London, which slightly clouded his judgement.
Jan laughed, “I think you are generalising just a bit but I must admit, the vast majority of them are not particularly attractive.”
“Sean Connery excepted of course,” said Willem.
“Well, he is a Scot.”
The meal went well and Willem was feeling unexpectedly relaxed and happy but began to worry when he realised that he didn’t have a clue as to what to do next. Should he invite Jan back to his place? Would he be invited himself? Should they just arrange to meet again somewhere neutral? For the first time for years, Willem realised that he wasn’t the one making the decisions and controlling the turn of events and for the first time in a very long time, he was very afraid he was vulnerable and had left himself open to being hurt.
Things took a turn for the worse when, just as they were beginning their brandies, a familiar face walked through the door.
‘Oh Christ! Koos!’ Willem’s premonitions of disaster suddenly became reality.
Fortunately Jan had his back to Koos and his friends but they were loud and clearly at a late stage of an early drinking spree and Jan turned around to see what the fuss was. Willem had a lump in his throat the size of a football and he could feel his knees trembling uncontrollably. He picked up the drinks menu and tried to bury his head behind it. Maybe they wouldn’t see him but they’d taken the only available table right by the door and there was no way he could get out unnoticed. Maybe there wouldn’t be a fuss but Willem knew his former partner and his capacity for embarrassing people after he’d had a few drinks. God how he wished Koos would have a heart attack, there and then and be carted away before they’d finished their brandies. It wasn’t to be however and he could hear Koos getting louder and louder and insulting the waiter, as well as guests at nearby tables. Willem began to project ahead and build some sort of protection for when Jan would, politely no doubt but firmly, say goodbye for the last time. It was no good; he couldn’t feel anything but utterly miserable.
“What’s wrong? You look as though you’ve lost a 250 guilder note and found a five cent piece.”
I’m fine. I’m fine. Shall we have another brandy?”
Willem wasn’t sure if delaying the inevitable was going to help at all but he didn’t have many options.
“Yes, fine. Are you sure you’re okay though? You’ve gone very pale.”
He thought about just explaining the whole situation to Jan and hoping that it wouldn’t put him off and thinking he had little to lose, started to speak.
“Uhm, I think there might be a little unpleasantness in a few minutes. You see…”
Too late, from the other side of the room came a familiar sound.
“Poopie! Little Willie! Look everyone, it’s the man who stole my money!”
Willem squirmed and tried to shrug his shoulders to Jan, as if this had nothing to do with him. Koos had left his table and was staggering towards them. The entire restaurant had, of course, gone quiet and Willem buried his head in his hands. Koos jabbed him on the shoulder with his forefinger.
“I don’t know how you dare show your face in public Willie. Look at me when I’m talking to you. Spent all the money yet have you? Sponging off someone else now?”
He gave the astonished Jan a pitying look.
“You thought I would fall for your pathetic story did you? Well, I can tell you, my lawyers are going to have a field day over this and you will pay me everything you owe me.”
Willem had his eyes closed and prayed to all the Gods he knew that this would soon be over. He knew better than to argue with Koos in this mood; silence was definitely the best option.
“No wonder you’re hiding your face you miserable queen. You should be ashamed! Stealing money from the only man who ever loved you.”
A waiter, who had discreetly arrived to defuse the situation, was brushed aside. In full flow, Koos was unstoppable. He grabbed his victim’s arm and pulled it roughly away, to reveal Willem’s face, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“God, you’re pathetic. Someone should put you out of your misery, you deceiving cow and I’m the one to do it.”
Willem prepared to receive the slap but it never came because Jan had caught Koos’ wrist in mid air.
“I don’t think so. If you touch my friend once more, or utter one more word to disturb everyone’s meal, I’ll ring the police immediately and have you removed. Is that understood?”
Koos tried to struggle free but Jan had him in an iron grip and in fact, led him forcibly back to his own table to rejoin his friends.
“I suggest you keep your friend under control and make sure that he stays away from Willem in future.”
They nodded, it was clear that Jan meant it, however quietly it had been delivered.
Jan returned to Willem and putting his arm around his shoulders, eased him to his feet.
“Come on, let’s go. You’re coming back with me tonight.”
Willem thought he was imagining it; his worst nightmare was turning into a dream and his heart raced, as he allowed himself to be led away by this knight on a white charger.
Willem wandered around the men’s clothing department of the Bijenkorf for the third time that afternoon. He just couldn’t decide whether to take the double-breasted, blue blazer or the check sports jacket. If the truth were known, he wanted neither of them but he desperately wanted to make a good impression at dinner tonight. Although he didn’t care to admit it, he always sought partners who he thought would impress others and more secretly, his mother. He knew it was a possible sign of superficiality and throughout his adult life, had rejected people he perceived to be common or vulgar, even if personally, he found them to be good company. The ideal man was the one he could have taken home to his parents on a Sunday afternoon. The one they would embrace with open arms and accept completely and by association, Willem would feel accepted too. Needless to say, he had never found such a man but this one seemed to come close; now the problem was to successfully woo him.
Jan was clearly a man of good breeding and taste and above all, apparently conservative and Willem knew he had to buy something sober and classy. It went against the grain; he hated conformity in clothes but wanted, no needed, Jan to like him and if that meant dressing in a certain way, well that was fine. When the fish was safely hooked, he could begin to reveal his true personality bit by bit but until then, there was no harm in a little deception. He took the blazer off the hanger and tried it on yet again.
“If I may say so sir, that blazer really suits you.”
Both Willem and the assistant knew that this was all so much sales talk but he played along.
“Do you think so? You don’t think it makes me look too portly?”
“Oh, gracious me no sir. A double-breasted is perfect for streamlining, what shall we say, the fuller figure.”
‘Bitch!’ thought Willem.
“You’re probably right but would you possibly just try it on for me? Just so that I can see what it looks like on another person.”
“Ah, well sir, it’s not really our policy…”
“Oh, go on, just as a favour. I can get a much better idea, if I see it on someone else.”
The salesman shot him daggers but tried the blazer on nevertheless. Willem walked around him, exaggeratedly examining the effect.
“Hmm, I can see what you mean but I’m not sure it flatters, what shall we say, the more rounded person. Thank you all the same but I think I’ll leave it.”
With that, he turned on his heel with a smirk on his face and left the assistant spluttering with ill-disguised rage. Just to emphasise that Willem was not to be messed with, he marched over to the rack of sports jackets, took out the one he’d seen earlier and marched over to the till to pay.
Jan was already waiting in the doorway of the chic, new Thai restaurant he’d chosen, when Willem arrived by taxi. He could easily have walked, or caught the tram but tonight was all about image and first impressions and he was therefore taken aback to see Jan dressed in jeans and open necked denim shirt, with a slightly shabby raincoat over the top. However, Willem was the master of disguise and hid his frustration at feeling distinctly over-dressed with his usual aplomb. Willem had never mastered ‘casual chic’. If he dressed in jeans and a sweater, he just looked scruffy and completely the wrong shape. His preference was to overdo the clothes and that way the attention was drawn away from the figure inside them; or at least that was the theory. Marcel frequently and tactfully tried to hint that he sometimes came over the wrong way and became a figure of fun but Willem couldn’t be convinced.
“Hi, I’m sorry I’m late. Hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”
“No, just got here myself. Wow, you look smart.”
Willem took that as a compliment.
“Oh, these old things. Well, I like to smarten up a bit for restaurants. It makes a change from the bars.”
He could have bitten his lip. He didn’t know whether Jan ever went to the bars. He’d certainly never seen him there. As they went to their table, Willem took the opportunity to look closely at his date. He was perfect, just his type and although he usually didn’t attract this sort of man, it didn’t stop him dreaming that one day it would happen. It wasn’t that Willem was socially inept. He could hold his own in most company and certainly didn’t lack for manners. If anything, he regarded himself as being a cut above most of the gay population at the best of times but this time, he felt he had to adapt, partly to impress and partly because he felt certain that Jan was someone with real class. As it turned out, he needn’t have worried; the chemistry was there. He’d been absolutely right. Jan was highly educated, had gone to university in England and had worked in the City of London for a large banking firm before going into the financial side of advertising, with a New York firm.
“How did you like England?” Willem asked, “I find the English to be a curious rat-like people. You expect them to be tall and distinguished and they turn out to be actually small and dumpy, with complexions like uncooked pastry. I’m generalising of course but God knows how they conquered so much of the world!”
Willem had had a most unsuccessful time on his last trip to London, which slightly clouded his judgement.
Jan laughed, “I think you are generalising just a bit but I must admit, the vast majority of them are not particularly attractive.”
“Sean Connery excepted of course,” said Willem.
“Well, he is a Scot.”
The meal went well and Willem was feeling unexpectedly relaxed and happy but began to worry when he realised that he didn’t have a clue as to what to do next. Should he invite Jan back to his place? Would he be invited himself? Should they just arrange to meet again somewhere neutral? For the first time for years, Willem realised that he wasn’t the one making the decisions and controlling the turn of events and for the first time in a very long time, he was very afraid he was vulnerable and had left himself open to being hurt.
Things took a turn for the worse when, just as they were beginning their brandies, a familiar face walked through the door.
‘Oh Christ! Koos!’ Willem’s premonitions of disaster suddenly became reality.
Fortunately Jan had his back to Koos and his friends but they were loud and clearly at a late stage of an early drinking spree and Jan turned around to see what the fuss was. Willem had a lump in his throat the size of a football and he could feel his knees trembling uncontrollably. He picked up the drinks menu and tried to bury his head behind it. Maybe they wouldn’t see him but they’d taken the only available table right by the door and there was no way he could get out unnoticed. Maybe there wouldn’t be a fuss but Willem knew his former partner and his capacity for embarrassing people after he’d had a few drinks. God how he wished Koos would have a heart attack, there and then and be carted away before they’d finished their brandies. It wasn’t to be however and he could hear Koos getting louder and louder and insulting the waiter, as well as guests at nearby tables. Willem began to project ahead and build some sort of protection for when Jan would, politely no doubt but firmly, say goodbye for the last time. It was no good; he couldn’t feel anything but utterly miserable.
“What’s wrong? You look as though you’ve lost a 250 guilder note and found a five cent piece.”
I’m fine. I’m fine. Shall we have another brandy?”
Willem wasn’t sure if delaying the inevitable was going to help at all but he didn’t have many options.
“Yes, fine. Are you sure you’re okay though? You’ve gone very pale.”
He thought about just explaining the whole situation to Jan and hoping that it wouldn’t put him off and thinking he had little to lose, started to speak.
“Uhm, I think there might be a little unpleasantness in a few minutes. You see…”
Too late, from the other side of the room came a familiar sound.
“Poopie! Little Willie! Look everyone, it’s the man who stole my money!”
Willem squirmed and tried to shrug his shoulders to Jan, as if this had nothing to do with him. Koos had left his table and was staggering towards them. The entire restaurant had, of course, gone quiet and Willem buried his head in his hands. Koos jabbed him on the shoulder with his forefinger.
“I don’t know how you dare show your face in public Willie. Look at me when I’m talking to you. Spent all the money yet have you? Sponging off someone else now?”
He gave the astonished Jan a pitying look.
“You thought I would fall for your pathetic story did you? Well, I can tell you, my lawyers are going to have a field day over this and you will pay me everything you owe me.”
Willem had his eyes closed and prayed to all the Gods he knew that this would soon be over. He knew better than to argue with Koos in this mood; silence was definitely the best option.
“No wonder you’re hiding your face you miserable queen. You should be ashamed! Stealing money from the only man who ever loved you.”
A waiter, who had discreetly arrived to defuse the situation, was brushed aside. In full flow, Koos was unstoppable. He grabbed his victim’s arm and pulled it roughly away, to reveal Willem’s face, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“God, you’re pathetic. Someone should put you out of your misery, you deceiving cow and I’m the one to do it.”
Willem prepared to receive the slap but it never came because Jan had caught Koos’ wrist in mid air.
“I don’t think so. If you touch my friend once more, or utter one more word to disturb everyone’s meal, I’ll ring the police immediately and have you removed. Is that understood?”
Koos tried to struggle free but Jan had him in an iron grip and in fact, led him forcibly back to his own table to rejoin his friends.
“I suggest you keep your friend under control and make sure that he stays away from Willem in future.”
They nodded, it was clear that Jan meant it, however quietly it had been delivered.
Jan returned to Willem and putting his arm around his shoulders, eased him to his feet.
“Come on, let’s go. You’re coming back with me tonight.”
Willem thought he was imagining it; his worst nightmare was turning into a dream and his heart raced, as he allowed himself to be led away by this knight on a white charger.
- Elfriede’s best friend
- Dilemmas for Carolien
31. Willem’s past catches up
The Amsterdam Series
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