The Chameleons
45. Marcel does it right…with a little help
The television blared from the corner of the room but Marcel wasn’t watching it. He’d put it on as a distraction; something to assuage his tiredness, to stop his mind working overtime but it hadn’t worked. His head was full of arrangements that still had to be made and things that he might have forgotten. He felt ill with the stress but refused to give in to it; Willem had to have a proper funeral and more to the point, one that came as close to his wishes as possible. Of course, Willem being Willem, had demanded the impossible. They’d both been to the funeral of a local gay celebrity a few years before and whereas Marcel had found it over the top and tacky, Willem’s eyes had glowed with envy; even then Marcel had known that Willem wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less. The problem was that he’d refused to take out adequate insurance beyond a basic coffee and cake reception afterwards and Marcel was forced to deplete his own savings in order to provide extras. It didn’t matter; he’d already seen the will and knew there would be enough to cover it in what had been left to him but that could take months before it was settled. Consequently, Marcel was doing the best he could with his own limited resources but in no way would Willem get everything he had wanted. Logically, Marcel knew he was doing his best but he couldn’t help feeling guilty.
Then there had been the people, sympathisers and hangers-on, to deal with. Koos had ensured that rumours of Willem’s wealth had been spread far and wide and the steady stream of visitors had drained Marcel’s energy to the point where he didn’t even let them in the door as soon as their intentions became clear. At first, he had been fooled by initial expressions of sympathy and condolence and had laid on a steady supply of coffee and snacks, as people told him how close they had felt to Willem and how their friendship had stretched back years. Some had even said that they had lent him money, which he had somehow forgotten to pay back and all that sort of crap. One woman even turned up claiming to be a cousin and thus one of the few family members entitled to a share of Willem’s estate. She had been shown the door pretty smartly because the one thing Marcel did know was exactly how many people could justifiably claim to be relatives. After that episode, Marcel went to the Solicitors and asked for advice. He told them as much as he knew about the lottery win but deliberately left out the fact that it had been given away to the Salvation Army. Some sixth sense told him that Willem would have wanted it that way and he didn’t want to cause trouble or complications for anyone. The solicitor had been cold and businesslike and had told him to carry on with what he was doing and not answer the phone or the door but Marcel found this to be unrealistic and superficial and told him so. Marcel turned off the television and put a George Michael CD on; it seemed to fit his mood.
The meeting with Koos had been the worst. The man had arrived full of spite and bile and had offered no condolences whatsoever. Marcel had sat and listened as tirade followed tirade and had eventually thrown him out, with threats of lawsuits and police involvement ringing in his ears. There was no way he was going to try to deal with that until after the funeral and he had to resort to yelling in order to get that across. It had been a draining experience but his understanding of human nature had been unalterably enhanced and embittered.
On the other hand, the director of the cemetery had been only too pleased to accommodate Marcel’s requests. He had seen enough Aids funerals in the eighties to know that times had changed and that gays had been responsible for a momentous change in the way people were buried. So many people from the population at large had attended gay funerals that the conventional Christian burial was being adapted in all walks of life and funerals were becoming celebratory rather than rituals of grief. He didn’t know of another funeral director who didn’t wholeheartedly approve; not to mention that it was extremely lucrative. Marcel had been grateful that in this area at least, he had encountered few problems.
He sat and checked his list again. The advert had gone into the paper, the invitations had been sent, and the flowers and music were all in hand. What was left could be dealt with tomorrow; for the moment, he was exhausted. He pulled out the phone plug and considered going to bed but he knew he wouldn’t sleep, his head was still buzzing. The problem with having to be strong was that you didn’t allow yourself the chance to give in to your emotions. Marcel knew that he had to keep a grip on himself for two more days and then he could deal with whatever it was he needed to rationalise but it wasn’t easy. Once more, his eyes stung as he was overwhelmed with sadness and once more, he fought back the tears as he struggled to maintain control. He envied those cultures which allowed people to scream and howl and vent their grief without any trace of social embarrassment; they had it right; trying to bottle up your grief was self-destructive and he felt he was going to suffer for it but did he have any choice? He thought about sadness. How could you quantify it? The pain in his chest was as a result of much deeper feelings than just fatigue and he stopped himself just in time before falling into the abyss. How would he cope without Willem? Now he was gone, he knew exactly what he had meant to him. Guilt welled up inside as he thought of the times he had ignored, or ridiculed, or argued with his best friend and again he pushed it back. This would all have to be faced later but for now, the formal goodbyes had to run smoothly.
There were about fifty invited guests at the cemetery near Haarlem but the advert in the paper had attracted more and the Aula was in danger of overflowing. Willem had chosen this particular place because whilst attending a distant relative’s funeral, he’d been so impressed by its beauty and tranquillity. Being away from Amsterdam, had the advantage of reducing the number of people making the effort but there were still far too many. Marcel was gratified on one level that his friend was being given a decent send off but his cynicism had reached the point where he doubted most people’s motives; still, Willem wouldn’t know that and would love it that so many people had turned up. Koos had arrived with his retinue and taken the front seats intended for others. Fortunately, a tactful usher who persuaded them to move avoided a nasty incident and Marcel was able to take his place with empty seats on either side. Willem’s elderly aunt hadn’t shown up and Lily, a woman friend since childhood had been taken ill herself and couldn’t make it. The rest of the hall was a seething mass of people, mainly men, dressed in the various colours of the rainbow nation that was gay life. Marcel didn’t dare look at them, he was trying to concentrate on keeping his composure but he knew that black would predominate, not because it was the colour of mourning but because leather came that way.
He was pleased with the décor. The white drapes he had ordered, covered the walls, all suitably ruched the way that Willem had described. There were huge yellow bows at each intersection and Marcel was uncomfortably reminded of a brothel he had once seen but the mass of burning candles of all shapes and sizes and the sea of yellow and white flowers on the dais, combined to add a touch of class to the scene. In the centre stood the white coffin, draped with silk and Marcel’s own bouquet lying in splendid isolation on top. It had cost him over two hundred guilders but it had been worth it and was by far the most elegant arrangement on view. Projected onto a backcloth was a photograph of a huge portrait of Willem that he had commissioned years before and had loved. It showed him off at his best and captured the twinkle and the mischief in his eyes, as well as his dignity but Marcel found it difficult to look at. The audience had been led into the hall to the sound of the Nuns’ chorus from Cavalleria Rusticana and the beauty of the music had set exactly the right tone as far as Marcel was concerned. He was more worried about Willem’s later choices.
There were short prayers led by a gay priest from Amsterdam and then it was Marcel’s turn. His heart was in his mouth as he walked up to the lectern and his stomach was knotted as, for the first time he looked at the expectant faces in front of him. Control; he had to stay in control.
“Welcome everyone. Thank you all for coming. Willem would have loved this, as many of you know. “
Marcel stopped. His throat constricted and he struggled for breath. He turned to look at the coffin and then back to the audience.
“I had a eulogy prepared. I’ve got it written down here. There are copies at the back of the hall for anyone who’s interested.”
He stopped again, clenching his fists, trying desperately to regain command over himself.
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry. They’re just words. They don’t say what I want to say. They don’t tell you how much he meant to me. They don’t tell you how much I loved him. He was the most important person in my life, ever. I don’t know how I’m going to go on without him…”
The tears streamed relentlessly down his face and he couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was a nightmare and he was frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to speak. Only seconds must have past but they felt like hours and he could hear the nervous coughing and shuffling in the audience but couldn’t do anything about it. Just then he felt a hand take hold of his arm and allowed himself to be led away as the sobs gave way to uncontrollable yelps and howls of grief. He was led to the side of the hall and wrapped in someone’s arms. It felt like a cocoon of warmth and love and he opened his eyes to see a black face radiating kindness and compassion.
What happened next was not on the agenda but made this particular funeral one that was talked about for years to come. From the back of the hall came a procession of women, dressed from head to toe in white, singing in perfect harmony and swaying to the rhythm of their own tribute. Making their way to the front and onto the dais, the choir of black women increased their pace, clapping and stamping, until the audience were infected by the music and joined in. The previous stillness gave way to a cacophony of sound and the walls vibrated as one joyous hymn gave way to another. People were on their feet, clapping and singing and spilling over into the aisles. It came to a reluctant conclusion, when Elfriede stood at the lectern and raised her arms.
“We are here to pay tribute to Willem and to his spirit and to send him to Heaven with our best wishes. We celebrate the man and his life and we celebrate the man and his death. Such a lover of life deserves a joyous farewell. Please join us in our last hymn.”
Elfriede herself sang the opening line of Amazing Grace. Her voice was cracked and out of tune but there wasn’t a dry eye in the room and when the rest of the choir joined in, the audience gave way to its collective emotion and people resumed singing and hugging each other. Marcel watched as the coffin began to slide out of sight behind the drapes and nearly fainted with happiness. When the Director plucked his sleeve and asked him if he wanted the rest of the planned ceremony to take place, he shook his head.
“Somehow, I don’t think his other choices are too appropriate do you and I don’t think anyone can add anything to what has happened here.”
The man shook his head and smiled; this was certainly one of the most meaningful funerals he had ever presided over.
The procession to Willem’s grave was no anticlimax. It was a beautiful site, even in winter. Everything was outlined in black and white. There had been a light dusting of snow, not unusual for April, which had masked the bare ground and the newly emerging grass and the bare branches of the elms and maples created a filigree pattern against the sky. It was an oasis of quiet in which Marcel felt sure Willem would get the rest he had so often denied himself in life. The choir led the way, humming quietly, their elaborate white lace accessories complimenting the snowy scene and the crowd shuffled respectfully behind, almost drained of emotion but to a man, feeling that this was the way to bury someone and planning subtle alterations to their own plans. Marcel felt nothing but exhilaration. The tension had disappeared and been replaced by immense satisfaction that Willem had received the ceremony he deserved, even if it wasn’t the one he had planned. Elfriede had held his hand all the way to the graveside but when he realised that he owed all this to her and turned to express his gratitude, she had gone. In his hand was a crumpled note, which he resolved to read later, as it was time to pay his final respects. With head bowed, he said a silent prayer for his friend as the coffin was lowered into the ground.
“Goodbye Willem. I loved you. I hope you know that. Nobody will ever give me what you gave me and I will miss you more than anything. Hope you enjoyed your send off, everybody here certainly did. Bye my friend, rest in peace.”
With that, he turned away and walked back up the path, with a peace of mind, that only days before, he had never dreamed possible. The others could enjoy the party without him. It was time to get on with his life.
The television blared from the corner of the room but Marcel wasn’t watching it. He’d put it on as a distraction; something to assuage his tiredness, to stop his mind working overtime but it hadn’t worked. His head was full of arrangements that still had to be made and things that he might have forgotten. He felt ill with the stress but refused to give in to it; Willem had to have a proper funeral and more to the point, one that came as close to his wishes as possible. Of course, Willem being Willem, had demanded the impossible. They’d both been to the funeral of a local gay celebrity a few years before and whereas Marcel had found it over the top and tacky, Willem’s eyes had glowed with envy; even then Marcel had known that Willem wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less. The problem was that he’d refused to take out adequate insurance beyond a basic coffee and cake reception afterwards and Marcel was forced to deplete his own savings in order to provide extras. It didn’t matter; he’d already seen the will and knew there would be enough to cover it in what had been left to him but that could take months before it was settled. Consequently, Marcel was doing the best he could with his own limited resources but in no way would Willem get everything he had wanted. Logically, Marcel knew he was doing his best but he couldn’t help feeling guilty.
Then there had been the people, sympathisers and hangers-on, to deal with. Koos had ensured that rumours of Willem’s wealth had been spread far and wide and the steady stream of visitors had drained Marcel’s energy to the point where he didn’t even let them in the door as soon as their intentions became clear. At first, he had been fooled by initial expressions of sympathy and condolence and had laid on a steady supply of coffee and snacks, as people told him how close they had felt to Willem and how their friendship had stretched back years. Some had even said that they had lent him money, which he had somehow forgotten to pay back and all that sort of crap. One woman even turned up claiming to be a cousin and thus one of the few family members entitled to a share of Willem’s estate. She had been shown the door pretty smartly because the one thing Marcel did know was exactly how many people could justifiably claim to be relatives. After that episode, Marcel went to the Solicitors and asked for advice. He told them as much as he knew about the lottery win but deliberately left out the fact that it had been given away to the Salvation Army. Some sixth sense told him that Willem would have wanted it that way and he didn’t want to cause trouble or complications for anyone. The solicitor had been cold and businesslike and had told him to carry on with what he was doing and not answer the phone or the door but Marcel found this to be unrealistic and superficial and told him so. Marcel turned off the television and put a George Michael CD on; it seemed to fit his mood.
The meeting with Koos had been the worst. The man had arrived full of spite and bile and had offered no condolences whatsoever. Marcel had sat and listened as tirade followed tirade and had eventually thrown him out, with threats of lawsuits and police involvement ringing in his ears. There was no way he was going to try to deal with that until after the funeral and he had to resort to yelling in order to get that across. It had been a draining experience but his understanding of human nature had been unalterably enhanced and embittered.
On the other hand, the director of the cemetery had been only too pleased to accommodate Marcel’s requests. He had seen enough Aids funerals in the eighties to know that times had changed and that gays had been responsible for a momentous change in the way people were buried. So many people from the population at large had attended gay funerals that the conventional Christian burial was being adapted in all walks of life and funerals were becoming celebratory rather than rituals of grief. He didn’t know of another funeral director who didn’t wholeheartedly approve; not to mention that it was extremely lucrative. Marcel had been grateful that in this area at least, he had encountered few problems.
He sat and checked his list again. The advert had gone into the paper, the invitations had been sent, and the flowers and music were all in hand. What was left could be dealt with tomorrow; for the moment, he was exhausted. He pulled out the phone plug and considered going to bed but he knew he wouldn’t sleep, his head was still buzzing. The problem with having to be strong was that you didn’t allow yourself the chance to give in to your emotions. Marcel knew that he had to keep a grip on himself for two more days and then he could deal with whatever it was he needed to rationalise but it wasn’t easy. Once more, his eyes stung as he was overwhelmed with sadness and once more, he fought back the tears as he struggled to maintain control. He envied those cultures which allowed people to scream and howl and vent their grief without any trace of social embarrassment; they had it right; trying to bottle up your grief was self-destructive and he felt he was going to suffer for it but did he have any choice? He thought about sadness. How could you quantify it? The pain in his chest was as a result of much deeper feelings than just fatigue and he stopped himself just in time before falling into the abyss. How would he cope without Willem? Now he was gone, he knew exactly what he had meant to him. Guilt welled up inside as he thought of the times he had ignored, or ridiculed, or argued with his best friend and again he pushed it back. This would all have to be faced later but for now, the formal goodbyes had to run smoothly.
There were about fifty invited guests at the cemetery near Haarlem but the advert in the paper had attracted more and the Aula was in danger of overflowing. Willem had chosen this particular place because whilst attending a distant relative’s funeral, he’d been so impressed by its beauty and tranquillity. Being away from Amsterdam, had the advantage of reducing the number of people making the effort but there were still far too many. Marcel was gratified on one level that his friend was being given a decent send off but his cynicism had reached the point where he doubted most people’s motives; still, Willem wouldn’t know that and would love it that so many people had turned up. Koos had arrived with his retinue and taken the front seats intended for others. Fortunately, a tactful usher who persuaded them to move avoided a nasty incident and Marcel was able to take his place with empty seats on either side. Willem’s elderly aunt hadn’t shown up and Lily, a woman friend since childhood had been taken ill herself and couldn’t make it. The rest of the hall was a seething mass of people, mainly men, dressed in the various colours of the rainbow nation that was gay life. Marcel didn’t dare look at them, he was trying to concentrate on keeping his composure but he knew that black would predominate, not because it was the colour of mourning but because leather came that way.
He was pleased with the décor. The white drapes he had ordered, covered the walls, all suitably ruched the way that Willem had described. There were huge yellow bows at each intersection and Marcel was uncomfortably reminded of a brothel he had once seen but the mass of burning candles of all shapes and sizes and the sea of yellow and white flowers on the dais, combined to add a touch of class to the scene. In the centre stood the white coffin, draped with silk and Marcel’s own bouquet lying in splendid isolation on top. It had cost him over two hundred guilders but it had been worth it and was by far the most elegant arrangement on view. Projected onto a backcloth was a photograph of a huge portrait of Willem that he had commissioned years before and had loved. It showed him off at his best and captured the twinkle and the mischief in his eyes, as well as his dignity but Marcel found it difficult to look at. The audience had been led into the hall to the sound of the Nuns’ chorus from Cavalleria Rusticana and the beauty of the music had set exactly the right tone as far as Marcel was concerned. He was more worried about Willem’s later choices.
There were short prayers led by a gay priest from Amsterdam and then it was Marcel’s turn. His heart was in his mouth as he walked up to the lectern and his stomach was knotted as, for the first time he looked at the expectant faces in front of him. Control; he had to stay in control.
“Welcome everyone. Thank you all for coming. Willem would have loved this, as many of you know. “
Marcel stopped. His throat constricted and he struggled for breath. He turned to look at the coffin and then back to the audience.
“I had a eulogy prepared. I’ve got it written down here. There are copies at the back of the hall for anyone who’s interested.”
He stopped again, clenching his fists, trying desperately to regain command over himself.
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry. They’re just words. They don’t say what I want to say. They don’t tell you how much he meant to me. They don’t tell you how much I loved him. He was the most important person in my life, ever. I don’t know how I’m going to go on without him…”
The tears streamed relentlessly down his face and he couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was a nightmare and he was frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to speak. Only seconds must have past but they felt like hours and he could hear the nervous coughing and shuffling in the audience but couldn’t do anything about it. Just then he felt a hand take hold of his arm and allowed himself to be led away as the sobs gave way to uncontrollable yelps and howls of grief. He was led to the side of the hall and wrapped in someone’s arms. It felt like a cocoon of warmth and love and he opened his eyes to see a black face radiating kindness and compassion.
What happened next was not on the agenda but made this particular funeral one that was talked about for years to come. From the back of the hall came a procession of women, dressed from head to toe in white, singing in perfect harmony and swaying to the rhythm of their own tribute. Making their way to the front and onto the dais, the choir of black women increased their pace, clapping and stamping, until the audience were infected by the music and joined in. The previous stillness gave way to a cacophony of sound and the walls vibrated as one joyous hymn gave way to another. People were on their feet, clapping and singing and spilling over into the aisles. It came to a reluctant conclusion, when Elfriede stood at the lectern and raised her arms.
“We are here to pay tribute to Willem and to his spirit and to send him to Heaven with our best wishes. We celebrate the man and his life and we celebrate the man and his death. Such a lover of life deserves a joyous farewell. Please join us in our last hymn.”
Elfriede herself sang the opening line of Amazing Grace. Her voice was cracked and out of tune but there wasn’t a dry eye in the room and when the rest of the choir joined in, the audience gave way to its collective emotion and people resumed singing and hugging each other. Marcel watched as the coffin began to slide out of sight behind the drapes and nearly fainted with happiness. When the Director plucked his sleeve and asked him if he wanted the rest of the planned ceremony to take place, he shook his head.
“Somehow, I don’t think his other choices are too appropriate do you and I don’t think anyone can add anything to what has happened here.”
The man shook his head and smiled; this was certainly one of the most meaningful funerals he had ever presided over.
The procession to Willem’s grave was no anticlimax. It was a beautiful site, even in winter. Everything was outlined in black and white. There had been a light dusting of snow, not unusual for April, which had masked the bare ground and the newly emerging grass and the bare branches of the elms and maples created a filigree pattern against the sky. It was an oasis of quiet in which Marcel felt sure Willem would get the rest he had so often denied himself in life. The choir led the way, humming quietly, their elaborate white lace accessories complimenting the snowy scene and the crowd shuffled respectfully behind, almost drained of emotion but to a man, feeling that this was the way to bury someone and planning subtle alterations to their own plans. Marcel felt nothing but exhilaration. The tension had disappeared and been replaced by immense satisfaction that Willem had received the ceremony he deserved, even if it wasn’t the one he had planned. Elfriede had held his hand all the way to the graveside but when he realised that he owed all this to her and turned to express his gratitude, she had gone. In his hand was a crumpled note, which he resolved to read later, as it was time to pay his final respects. With head bowed, he said a silent prayer for his friend as the coffin was lowered into the ground.
“Goodbye Willem. I loved you. I hope you know that. Nobody will ever give me what you gave me and I will miss you more than anything. Hope you enjoyed your send off, everybody here certainly did. Bye my friend, rest in peace.”
With that, he turned away and walked back up the path, with a peace of mind, that only days before, he had never dreamed possible. The others could enjoy the party without him. It was time to get on with his life.
46. Elfriede’s hens come to roost
Elfriede awoke just before the first light and reached for Beest just as she had done for years. The sense of loss she momentarily felt was replaced by excitement. This was going to be a big day, perhaps the most important day in her life so far. It was a pity that Beest couldn’t be there to share it with her but she felt sure he’d be with her in some way and felt comforted. Her first need was for something warm to eat and drink. Although the worst of the winter was over, the previous night had been bitterly cold and she had felt it through all the layers of clothing she wore and despite the airbed that she’d proudly reclaimed from someone’s rubbish, her joints ached from the cold and damp. She heard Manny coming down the steps above her, on his way to work as he did every morning at this time.
“Hallo Elfriede. How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine, just fine dearie. Enjoy your day.”
Their conversation rarely extended to more than that but she was grateful that he was tolerant of her sleeping in the cavity under the steps of his house. The door behind her led to a basement that he never used and although he never once offered her more than she had, there was an old sink in there with running water so she could wash herself and she was thankful. Their arrangement was understood by both sides and was more or less permanent. After she’d woken herself up properly by splashing cold water over her face and hands, she packed up her things and stowed them away in the old container inside the door and checked for litter. Part of the understanding was that she kept her tiny area clean and free of anything that might encourage vermin and she kept to it religiously. Rummaging around in her bag, she found three guilder coins and some smaller change, which she knew would be enough to get her something at the nearby café and set off along the street. The sun was just coming up and she felt optimistic that this Koninginnedag was going to be the best yet.
She had chosen the Berenstraat as the best place for all her people to come to and after her breakfast, which was generously supplemented by the café owner, she paid him what she had and set off. Even this early, the streets were fairly busy, as adults and children of all shapes and sizes dragged their unwanted belongings to the place where they would be offered for sale. Nobody minded that the junk they bought would replace the junk they sold; it was a revered tradition and was fun. It was part of Koninginnedag and very Dutch and most people felt it worth preserving in the face of the rampant commercialism that increasingly dominated their lives. The majority of people wore something orange and even Elfriede had salvaged some battered marigolds from behind a flower stall and tied them to her hat but otherwise, she was empty-handed. She had nothing to sell and nor was that her purpose. Her people would bring her things but again, she had no real intention of selling them, they were meant for something else entirely. What she did have was a blanket to spread on the ground and several tiny paper bags full of items she would need later on, most of which had been rescued from Valentine’s funeral and saved specifically for today.
She found her spot and laid her blanket on the ground, then took off her outer coat to act as a cushion and sat down. Her neighbours on both sides were children, who looked at her strangely but nothing more than that. She had long since learned that children were not always to be trusted and could be very cruel. She’d even been pelted with rubbish from a bin and chased down an alleyway by a group of malicious children. It had shocked her at the time that they couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. These kids however, were more concerned with setting out their stalls than bothering with an old tramp lady and she chuckled to herself as she listened to them arguing over the best ways to display their old toys and books. One little girl with very blond hair tied back in a ponytail, set up a music stand and placed some sheet music on it before getting out her flute and starting to play. She was surprisingly good and even at that early stage in the morning; passers-by were throwing coins into the flute case.
“That’s beautiful dearie. You play really well.”
“Thanks,” answered the girl, “What’s your name?”
“Elfriede. What’s yours?”
“Sjoukje. Why haven’t you got anything to sell Elfriede?”
“Oh I will have dearie, later on but I’m waiting for some people to bring me things.”
“Oh.” Sjoukje thought for a while then added, “You can have some of my things on your blanket if you like and if you sell anything, you can have ten percent.”
Elfriede laughed.
“Well, you’ve certainly got things worked out haven’t you. I’d be glad to sell some things for you but I don’t want your money. If you play your flute nicely, that will be payment enough.”
Sjoukje considered the deal, then nodded and placed some of her things on Elfriede’s blanket.
“There, it doesn’t look so bare now.”
“No, you’re right, that was a good idea of yours. Now, play some more for me.”
“I only know three songs.”
“That’s okay dearie, that’s three songs more than I know.”
As Sjoukje played her entire repertoire over and over again, Elfriede sat in the sunshine and indulged in her favourite pastime of people watching.
As time went by the crowds started building and the atmosphere became livelier, with music coming from every quarter and people in competing forms of orange fancy dress linking arms and dancing along. There was a beer stall at the end of the street and Elfriede watched as the carpet of plastic glasses edged closer towards where she was sitting. People delighted in crunching them underfoot as their spirits rose. The children were doing a roaring business and even Elfriede managed to sell the toys with which she’d been entrusted. Sjoukje beamed at her as she stuffed her pocket with the coins she’d been earning.
“So where are your friends then?”
Oh, they’ll be here, I’m sure of that, in fact, I think I can see the first of them now.”
Elfriede waved at Roy, who approached with a large carrier bag. Just behind him was Gerrit and behind him, laughing and joking with a drunken Dutchman, was Candice.
“Hallo, hallo, welcome. How are you enjoying the Queen’s birthday?”
“Hi there Elfriede. It’s wonderful. We’ve never seen anything like this. What an atmosphere! It’s great to see so many people enjoying themselves like this.”
“I see you’re enjoying yourself too. I’m so pleased that Candice is here. Now you can be a real couple again.”
Roy leant forward to present Elfriede with his bag but before he did, he whispered in her ear.
“I don’t really know how or why Elfriede but you have been instrumental in changing my life; what I really want to know is why; why me, why us? There must be thousands of people who deserve your help more than a couple of slightly bewildered tourists like us.”
”But you’re not a tourist any more are you dearie. Maybe you never were. As to why we met, I don’t really know. We were drawn to each other that’s all; you, me, Candice and Gerrit. Sometimes we walk in each other’s universes in this life that’s all I understand. Now what did you bring me?”
“It’s only an old jacket I’m afraid but it was my favourite…in Florida but it’s so American, I just can’t wear it here. It belongs in the past, with the past, I hope you can make use of it?”
“Of course I can. Thank you. Hallo Candice, how nice to see you again.”
“And you Elfriede and you.”
Candice knelt down and gave Elfriede a kiss on both cheeks.
“Ooh! What have I done to deserve that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, just being you I suppose. I know how you’ve helped Roy and I just wanted to thank you. I’ve brought something too. It’s a book about Florida. It’s in English I’m afraid but lots of people read English books, don’t they?”
“They certainly do. Thank you but don’t you want to keep it to remind you of your home?”
“No, no, that’s exactly why I’m giving it away. It belongs in the past. I’m looking forward to the future now.”
“Very wise dearie, very wise. Here’s my lovely Gerrit. How are you dearie?”
Gerrit kissed her too and told her quietly,
“I’m taking your advice Elfriede and I’m going to work in an area of which I think you’ll approve. Also, I’m sorry okay. I didn’t believe you and I didn’t trust you the last time we met. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I know dearie, I know. Don’t worry, I wasn’t offended, far from it and I’m pleased for you, you’ll be much happier now.”
“And I’ve brought you some picture frames. They used to have pictures of me as a child in. I’ve kept the pictures but the frames…well, that’s another story. In any case, you’re welcome to them.”
“Thank you dearie. I understand. Now what are you all going to do now?”
“Well, we thought we’d wander round and drink in the atmosphere. This is all new for Roy and Candice and there’s so much to show them and tell them.”
“That’s a good idea but can I ask you something? Could you all go to the café de Paap at four o’clock? I’d love to meet you all there.”
Roy jumped in,
“Of course we will. Do you know where that is Gerrit?” Gerrit nodded. “Well, that’s a date then. We’ve got so much to tell you Elfriede.”
“I know dearie and I’m looking forward to it, now off you go and enjoy yourselves.”
Once the three of them had gone, Elfriede examined their gifts carefully.
“Perfect,” she muttered, “Perfect.”
“Excuse me, how much is that jacket?”
A man reached down to take it from her but Elfriede clutched it to her chest.
“Oh no, sorry, this isn’t for sale; not for sale at all.”
Sjoukje looked at her out of the corner of her eye but Elfriede just winked and piled up her treasures behind her.
The next person she saw was Marcel, who was approaching deep in conversation with Ben. She tugged at his trouser leg as he passed.
“Hey Elfriede, I’m glad you spotted me, I was beginning to think I’d never find you in this crowd.”
“We’ll always find each other when we need to Marcel.”
“Oh by the way, this is Ben; a friend of mine.”
“Well, we’ve never been formally introduced but I know of you Ben and any friend of Marcel’s is a friend of mine. How are you? How’s the leg? Still aching in the mornings?”
Ben gave her a quizzical look but Marcel had primed him to expect something unusual from Elfriede and he shook her hand politely.
“Yes…yes it does but it’s getting better now thank you. Actually, I’ve got something here from that time. It’s a walking stick, my dad’s actually but I used it after the accident. I still carry it around but it’s mainly for show now. Would you like it for your stall?”
“That’s a very thoughtful gift Ben, thank you and I’m so glad you don’t need it now. Marcel, come a bit closer.”
Marcel squatted down on his haunches and bent his head.
“Everything will be alright you know, everything. I was very proud of you at Willem’s funeral, you did a wonderful job.”
Marcel looked at her sadly.
“I couldn’t have done it without you Elfriede. I don’t know what to say. Words aren’t enough to express how grateful I am to you and your friends. I know Willem would have loved it.”
“Oh, he did dearie, he did but I want you to believe that happiness will come to you too. I understand you’re going on holiday?”
“Yes…I am…how did you…Oh well, I suppose it’s pointless asking. You know so much. I’m not looking for happiness though Elfriede, I’m looking for peace of mind.”
“Exactly dearie and because you’re not looking, you’ll find both and maybe from an unexpected quarter too. Will you two meet me for a drink at Café de Paap at four o’clock? Please say you will, it would mean so much to me.”
Marcel looked at Ben, who nodded and then assured Elfriede that they would be there.
“Oh, before I forget, these flowers are for you. I’ve had them wrapped individually so that you can sell them that way too. I think you’ll know what they mean to me.”
With that, he handed her a bunch of yellow and white roses.
“They’re beautiful Marcel, thank you. Yes, I understand what they represent; a very kind thought. See you later then?”
“So if you’re not going to sell those things, what are you going to do with them?”
Sjoukje stood in front of her, hands on hips and blocking the sunlight.
“You get on with your playing missie and don’t ask so many questions. How much have you made so far then?”
Sjoukje shook her head defiantly.
“You get on with your collecting old lady and don’t ask so many questions!”
Giggling at her own cleverness, she picked up the flute and started playing again.
‘Hm, nobody is going to put one over that one in the future,’ thought Elfriede as she smiled at the girl’s cheek. She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Hallo Elfriede.”
“Mia, it’s good to see you. I’m so glad you could come.”
“I would have been earlier but I couldn’t get a taxi and now of course, the streets are far too busy for taxis to get through, so I brought my bike. I needed to you see, to bring these.”
Mia tugged at the straps behind her saddle and unloaded a cardboard box, which, with difficulty she placed on the ground beside Elfriede.
“Oh. How wonderful and so many!”
“I decided that the things that meant the most to me were my books. These aren’t from the shop, they’re my own and I’ve had them since I was a child.”
Mia lovingly took out a complete series of hard backed comic books dating from the early 1960s.
“Oh dearie, these are too good, too precious. You must keep them.”
“Absolutely not. It’s about time someone else enjoyed them. What’s the point of having books stuffed together on a shelf, with only the spines showing? They’re meant to be read and as I got so much pleasure from them, I’m sure someone else will too.”
“That’s very thoughtful Mia, thank you so much. You haven’t changed your mind about our little arrangement have you?”
“Me, no way! I’m really excited about it. I can’t wait to get started. Shall we make an arrangement for next week?”
“That’ll be fine dearie. I’m so pleased. You’re doing me such a great favour, I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay you.”
“Don’t be silly. The favour is mutual you know. It’s exactly what I wanted to do anyway but you knew that didn’t you?”
“Maybe, I had an idea, yes. I tell you what dearie, if you’ve got time, shall we meet at the café de Paap, say at four o’clock and then we can set a day for next week?”
“Uhm, yes okay, why not? I like that bar, it’s got a really good atmosphere. I’ve got to go and meet a friend first, well, a neighbour actually but I’ll make sure I’m there at four. See you later then?”
“Yes, of course, see you later. Enjoy yourself.”
Once more Sjoukje confronted her.
So, you’re meeting all these people later? Do they all know each other then?”
“Don’t you know it’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations missie?”
Elfriede rebuked her with a twinkle in her eye.
“I’m just curious, that’s all. Wow, look at these.”
She dived into the pile of comic books, abandoning her flute and started flicking through them avidly. Elfriede looked at her closely.
‘I suppose this is what they were meant for,’ she thought, ‘but I must keep the first one.’
“Would you like them?”
“Do you mean it? How much will they cost? I don’t know whether I have enough. They must be very expensive because they’re originals and originals always cost more.”
‘Children today,’ thought Elfriede, ‘why do they have to know the market value of everything?’
“If, and it’s a big ‘if’, you promise that you will read them, more than once and then when you have finished with them, pass them on to someone else to get pleasure from. If you promise that, you can have them for nothing.”
“Are you sure? Yes I promise. My best friend will love them too. Oh thank you, thank you.”
“There is one thing. You will have to read the first one now because I need that one and I can’t give it away. Is that a deal?”
“It’s a deal,” and the two business partners shook hands solemnly.
While Sjoukje was engrossed in her book, Elfriede went back to her people watching and thought about how successful the day had been so far. It was while she was daydreaming, people streaming past her, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t so much a thing as a feeling that something very familiar was close by. She stared at the crowd of people, trying to focus on what it was that had caught her attention and gradually, she realised that she was staring directly at someone she knew, in fact, two people. Carolien noticed her first and came towards her, arms outstretched but it was Carolien’s companion that Elfriede’s gaze fixed upon. It couldn’t be, her eyes must be playing tricks on her but the more she looked, the more she knew. It was Albert. It was her long lost son!
It was only after the three of them had talked and hugged and cried for over an hour, that Elfriede realised that she had an appointment to keep.
“What time is it? Have you got a watch Carolien?”
“It’s just after three o’clock. Why? You look worried. What’s the matter?”
“Um, it’s nothing really. Listen you two, much as it pains me to leave you, for even a second, there’s something I must do, something very urgent. Carolien, do you know the café de Paap?”
Carolien thought for a moment.
“I think so, oh yes, yes I do. Why?”
Could you both meet me there at four o’clock? It’s very important to me that you do.
Albert, I can’t bear to let you go out of my sight so soon but it’s only for an hour. I can’t believe you’re here, I can’t and I think that what you and Carolien are doing is wonderful and exciting and I want to know all the details but can it wait for just a little while?”
Albert hugged his mother for the hundredth time.
“Well Ma, we’ve waited this long, I’m sure we can wait another hour.”
“Off you go then, I’ve just got to clear up here and do something and then I’ll join you.”
Both Carolien and Albert looked at her questioningly but did as they were asked and Elfriede heaved a sigh of relief.
“That was so sweet.”
“What was dearie?”
Elfriede hurriedly gathered her things together.
“The way you met your son after all that time like that. If I ever have a son, I’ll never let him go.”
Elfriede patted Sjoukje on the shoulder.
“I’m sure you won’t child. I’m sure you won’t. I don’t think you will make the mistakes I did. I’ve got to go now but I hope you enjoy the rest of the day and keep practising on your flute. You really need some new tunes you know.”
“I will, I promise. Oh, don’t forget your book and thank you again for the others.”
“No problem dearie, no problem.”
Elfriede hauled the blanket full of her gifts over her shoulder and hurried off.
The ritual hadn’t been that complicated, although she worried that she would make a mistake if she hurried too much. In the end, everything was completed to her satisfaction and after once more storing everything safely away; she hurried as fast as she could through the crowds towards the café de Paap.
It was well after four when she arrived, exhausted and bruised from her battle through the continually moving mass of people. As she stopped to get her breath, she looked through the window. To her immense satisfaction, everybody was there, all in one group. Mia was talking animatedly to Carolien, in a way that was typically Mia. Roy, Gerrit, Albert and Marcel were clearly involved in men’s talk. Ben was listening to Candice with a slightly puzzled look on his face; ‘Struggling with his English no doubt,’ smiled Elfriede as she took in the scene. Her people were all together, were all happy and all had excellent prospects for the future. She felt that her mission was more or less complete, with the added and unexpected bonus that she had found her son again. Maybe this meant that the Wintis had forgiven her. Maybe Albert was a sign of approval that after all, she had done what they wanted. She couldn’t have been more content.
‘I’ll see them all soon,’ she thought, ‘let them enjoy each other’s company.’
Head held high, she walked away until the crowds absorbed her and she was no longer to be seen.
Elfriede awoke just before the first light and reached for Beest just as she had done for years. The sense of loss she momentarily felt was replaced by excitement. This was going to be a big day, perhaps the most important day in her life so far. It was a pity that Beest couldn’t be there to share it with her but she felt sure he’d be with her in some way and felt comforted. Her first need was for something warm to eat and drink. Although the worst of the winter was over, the previous night had been bitterly cold and she had felt it through all the layers of clothing she wore and despite the airbed that she’d proudly reclaimed from someone’s rubbish, her joints ached from the cold and damp. She heard Manny coming down the steps above her, on his way to work as he did every morning at this time.
“Hallo Elfriede. How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine, just fine dearie. Enjoy your day.”
Their conversation rarely extended to more than that but she was grateful that he was tolerant of her sleeping in the cavity under the steps of his house. The door behind her led to a basement that he never used and although he never once offered her more than she had, there was an old sink in there with running water so she could wash herself and she was thankful. Their arrangement was understood by both sides and was more or less permanent. After she’d woken herself up properly by splashing cold water over her face and hands, she packed up her things and stowed them away in the old container inside the door and checked for litter. Part of the understanding was that she kept her tiny area clean and free of anything that might encourage vermin and she kept to it religiously. Rummaging around in her bag, she found three guilder coins and some smaller change, which she knew would be enough to get her something at the nearby café and set off along the street. The sun was just coming up and she felt optimistic that this Koninginnedag was going to be the best yet.
She had chosen the Berenstraat as the best place for all her people to come to and after her breakfast, which was generously supplemented by the café owner, she paid him what she had and set off. Even this early, the streets were fairly busy, as adults and children of all shapes and sizes dragged their unwanted belongings to the place where they would be offered for sale. Nobody minded that the junk they bought would replace the junk they sold; it was a revered tradition and was fun. It was part of Koninginnedag and very Dutch and most people felt it worth preserving in the face of the rampant commercialism that increasingly dominated their lives. The majority of people wore something orange and even Elfriede had salvaged some battered marigolds from behind a flower stall and tied them to her hat but otherwise, she was empty-handed. She had nothing to sell and nor was that her purpose. Her people would bring her things but again, she had no real intention of selling them, they were meant for something else entirely. What she did have was a blanket to spread on the ground and several tiny paper bags full of items she would need later on, most of which had been rescued from Valentine’s funeral and saved specifically for today.
She found her spot and laid her blanket on the ground, then took off her outer coat to act as a cushion and sat down. Her neighbours on both sides were children, who looked at her strangely but nothing more than that. She had long since learned that children were not always to be trusted and could be very cruel. She’d even been pelted with rubbish from a bin and chased down an alleyway by a group of malicious children. It had shocked her at the time that they couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. These kids however, were more concerned with setting out their stalls than bothering with an old tramp lady and she chuckled to herself as she listened to them arguing over the best ways to display their old toys and books. One little girl with very blond hair tied back in a ponytail, set up a music stand and placed some sheet music on it before getting out her flute and starting to play. She was surprisingly good and even at that early stage in the morning; passers-by were throwing coins into the flute case.
“That’s beautiful dearie. You play really well.”
“Thanks,” answered the girl, “What’s your name?”
“Elfriede. What’s yours?”
“Sjoukje. Why haven’t you got anything to sell Elfriede?”
“Oh I will have dearie, later on but I’m waiting for some people to bring me things.”
“Oh.” Sjoukje thought for a while then added, “You can have some of my things on your blanket if you like and if you sell anything, you can have ten percent.”
Elfriede laughed.
“Well, you’ve certainly got things worked out haven’t you. I’d be glad to sell some things for you but I don’t want your money. If you play your flute nicely, that will be payment enough.”
Sjoukje considered the deal, then nodded and placed some of her things on Elfriede’s blanket.
“There, it doesn’t look so bare now.”
“No, you’re right, that was a good idea of yours. Now, play some more for me.”
“I only know three songs.”
“That’s okay dearie, that’s three songs more than I know.”
As Sjoukje played her entire repertoire over and over again, Elfriede sat in the sunshine and indulged in her favourite pastime of people watching.
As time went by the crowds started building and the atmosphere became livelier, with music coming from every quarter and people in competing forms of orange fancy dress linking arms and dancing along. There was a beer stall at the end of the street and Elfriede watched as the carpet of plastic glasses edged closer towards where she was sitting. People delighted in crunching them underfoot as their spirits rose. The children were doing a roaring business and even Elfriede managed to sell the toys with which she’d been entrusted. Sjoukje beamed at her as she stuffed her pocket with the coins she’d been earning.
“So where are your friends then?”
Oh, they’ll be here, I’m sure of that, in fact, I think I can see the first of them now.”
Elfriede waved at Roy, who approached with a large carrier bag. Just behind him was Gerrit and behind him, laughing and joking with a drunken Dutchman, was Candice.
“Hallo, hallo, welcome. How are you enjoying the Queen’s birthday?”
“Hi there Elfriede. It’s wonderful. We’ve never seen anything like this. What an atmosphere! It’s great to see so many people enjoying themselves like this.”
“I see you’re enjoying yourself too. I’m so pleased that Candice is here. Now you can be a real couple again.”
Roy leant forward to present Elfriede with his bag but before he did, he whispered in her ear.
“I don’t really know how or why Elfriede but you have been instrumental in changing my life; what I really want to know is why; why me, why us? There must be thousands of people who deserve your help more than a couple of slightly bewildered tourists like us.”
”But you’re not a tourist any more are you dearie. Maybe you never were. As to why we met, I don’t really know. We were drawn to each other that’s all; you, me, Candice and Gerrit. Sometimes we walk in each other’s universes in this life that’s all I understand. Now what did you bring me?”
“It’s only an old jacket I’m afraid but it was my favourite…in Florida but it’s so American, I just can’t wear it here. It belongs in the past, with the past, I hope you can make use of it?”
“Of course I can. Thank you. Hallo Candice, how nice to see you again.”
“And you Elfriede and you.”
Candice knelt down and gave Elfriede a kiss on both cheeks.
“Ooh! What have I done to deserve that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, just being you I suppose. I know how you’ve helped Roy and I just wanted to thank you. I’ve brought something too. It’s a book about Florida. It’s in English I’m afraid but lots of people read English books, don’t they?”
“They certainly do. Thank you but don’t you want to keep it to remind you of your home?”
“No, no, that’s exactly why I’m giving it away. It belongs in the past. I’m looking forward to the future now.”
“Very wise dearie, very wise. Here’s my lovely Gerrit. How are you dearie?”
Gerrit kissed her too and told her quietly,
“I’m taking your advice Elfriede and I’m going to work in an area of which I think you’ll approve. Also, I’m sorry okay. I didn’t believe you and I didn’t trust you the last time we met. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I know dearie, I know. Don’t worry, I wasn’t offended, far from it and I’m pleased for you, you’ll be much happier now.”
“And I’ve brought you some picture frames. They used to have pictures of me as a child in. I’ve kept the pictures but the frames…well, that’s another story. In any case, you’re welcome to them.”
“Thank you dearie. I understand. Now what are you all going to do now?”
“Well, we thought we’d wander round and drink in the atmosphere. This is all new for Roy and Candice and there’s so much to show them and tell them.”
“That’s a good idea but can I ask you something? Could you all go to the café de Paap at four o’clock? I’d love to meet you all there.”
Roy jumped in,
“Of course we will. Do you know where that is Gerrit?” Gerrit nodded. “Well, that’s a date then. We’ve got so much to tell you Elfriede.”
“I know dearie and I’m looking forward to it, now off you go and enjoy yourselves.”
Once the three of them had gone, Elfriede examined their gifts carefully.
“Perfect,” she muttered, “Perfect.”
“Excuse me, how much is that jacket?”
A man reached down to take it from her but Elfriede clutched it to her chest.
“Oh no, sorry, this isn’t for sale; not for sale at all.”
Sjoukje looked at her out of the corner of her eye but Elfriede just winked and piled up her treasures behind her.
The next person she saw was Marcel, who was approaching deep in conversation with Ben. She tugged at his trouser leg as he passed.
“Hey Elfriede, I’m glad you spotted me, I was beginning to think I’d never find you in this crowd.”
“We’ll always find each other when we need to Marcel.”
“Oh by the way, this is Ben; a friend of mine.”
“Well, we’ve never been formally introduced but I know of you Ben and any friend of Marcel’s is a friend of mine. How are you? How’s the leg? Still aching in the mornings?”
Ben gave her a quizzical look but Marcel had primed him to expect something unusual from Elfriede and he shook her hand politely.
“Yes…yes it does but it’s getting better now thank you. Actually, I’ve got something here from that time. It’s a walking stick, my dad’s actually but I used it after the accident. I still carry it around but it’s mainly for show now. Would you like it for your stall?”
“That’s a very thoughtful gift Ben, thank you and I’m so glad you don’t need it now. Marcel, come a bit closer.”
Marcel squatted down on his haunches and bent his head.
“Everything will be alright you know, everything. I was very proud of you at Willem’s funeral, you did a wonderful job.”
Marcel looked at her sadly.
“I couldn’t have done it without you Elfriede. I don’t know what to say. Words aren’t enough to express how grateful I am to you and your friends. I know Willem would have loved it.”
“Oh, he did dearie, he did but I want you to believe that happiness will come to you too. I understand you’re going on holiday?”
“Yes…I am…how did you…Oh well, I suppose it’s pointless asking. You know so much. I’m not looking for happiness though Elfriede, I’m looking for peace of mind.”
“Exactly dearie and because you’re not looking, you’ll find both and maybe from an unexpected quarter too. Will you two meet me for a drink at Café de Paap at four o’clock? Please say you will, it would mean so much to me.”
Marcel looked at Ben, who nodded and then assured Elfriede that they would be there.
“Oh, before I forget, these flowers are for you. I’ve had them wrapped individually so that you can sell them that way too. I think you’ll know what they mean to me.”
With that, he handed her a bunch of yellow and white roses.
“They’re beautiful Marcel, thank you. Yes, I understand what they represent; a very kind thought. See you later then?”
“So if you’re not going to sell those things, what are you going to do with them?”
Sjoukje stood in front of her, hands on hips and blocking the sunlight.
“You get on with your playing missie and don’t ask so many questions. How much have you made so far then?”
Sjoukje shook her head defiantly.
“You get on with your collecting old lady and don’t ask so many questions!”
Giggling at her own cleverness, she picked up the flute and started playing again.
‘Hm, nobody is going to put one over that one in the future,’ thought Elfriede as she smiled at the girl’s cheek. She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Hallo Elfriede.”
“Mia, it’s good to see you. I’m so glad you could come.”
“I would have been earlier but I couldn’t get a taxi and now of course, the streets are far too busy for taxis to get through, so I brought my bike. I needed to you see, to bring these.”
Mia tugged at the straps behind her saddle and unloaded a cardboard box, which, with difficulty she placed on the ground beside Elfriede.
“Oh. How wonderful and so many!”
“I decided that the things that meant the most to me were my books. These aren’t from the shop, they’re my own and I’ve had them since I was a child.”
Mia lovingly took out a complete series of hard backed comic books dating from the early 1960s.
“Oh dearie, these are too good, too precious. You must keep them.”
“Absolutely not. It’s about time someone else enjoyed them. What’s the point of having books stuffed together on a shelf, with only the spines showing? They’re meant to be read and as I got so much pleasure from them, I’m sure someone else will too.”
“That’s very thoughtful Mia, thank you so much. You haven’t changed your mind about our little arrangement have you?”
“Me, no way! I’m really excited about it. I can’t wait to get started. Shall we make an arrangement for next week?”
“That’ll be fine dearie. I’m so pleased. You’re doing me such a great favour, I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay you.”
“Don’t be silly. The favour is mutual you know. It’s exactly what I wanted to do anyway but you knew that didn’t you?”
“Maybe, I had an idea, yes. I tell you what dearie, if you’ve got time, shall we meet at the café de Paap, say at four o’clock and then we can set a day for next week?”
“Uhm, yes okay, why not? I like that bar, it’s got a really good atmosphere. I’ve got to go and meet a friend first, well, a neighbour actually but I’ll make sure I’m there at four. See you later then?”
“Yes, of course, see you later. Enjoy yourself.”
Once more Sjoukje confronted her.
So, you’re meeting all these people later? Do they all know each other then?”
“Don’t you know it’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations missie?”
Elfriede rebuked her with a twinkle in her eye.
“I’m just curious, that’s all. Wow, look at these.”
She dived into the pile of comic books, abandoning her flute and started flicking through them avidly. Elfriede looked at her closely.
‘I suppose this is what they were meant for,’ she thought, ‘but I must keep the first one.’
“Would you like them?”
“Do you mean it? How much will they cost? I don’t know whether I have enough. They must be very expensive because they’re originals and originals always cost more.”
‘Children today,’ thought Elfriede, ‘why do they have to know the market value of everything?’
“If, and it’s a big ‘if’, you promise that you will read them, more than once and then when you have finished with them, pass them on to someone else to get pleasure from. If you promise that, you can have them for nothing.”
“Are you sure? Yes I promise. My best friend will love them too. Oh thank you, thank you.”
“There is one thing. You will have to read the first one now because I need that one and I can’t give it away. Is that a deal?”
“It’s a deal,” and the two business partners shook hands solemnly.
While Sjoukje was engrossed in her book, Elfriede went back to her people watching and thought about how successful the day had been so far. It was while she was daydreaming, people streaming past her, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t so much a thing as a feeling that something very familiar was close by. She stared at the crowd of people, trying to focus on what it was that had caught her attention and gradually, she realised that she was staring directly at someone she knew, in fact, two people. Carolien noticed her first and came towards her, arms outstretched but it was Carolien’s companion that Elfriede’s gaze fixed upon. It couldn’t be, her eyes must be playing tricks on her but the more she looked, the more she knew. It was Albert. It was her long lost son!
It was only after the three of them had talked and hugged and cried for over an hour, that Elfriede realised that she had an appointment to keep.
“What time is it? Have you got a watch Carolien?”
“It’s just after three o’clock. Why? You look worried. What’s the matter?”
“Um, it’s nothing really. Listen you two, much as it pains me to leave you, for even a second, there’s something I must do, something very urgent. Carolien, do you know the café de Paap?”
Carolien thought for a moment.
“I think so, oh yes, yes I do. Why?”
Could you both meet me there at four o’clock? It’s very important to me that you do.
Albert, I can’t bear to let you go out of my sight so soon but it’s only for an hour. I can’t believe you’re here, I can’t and I think that what you and Carolien are doing is wonderful and exciting and I want to know all the details but can it wait for just a little while?”
Albert hugged his mother for the hundredth time.
“Well Ma, we’ve waited this long, I’m sure we can wait another hour.”
“Off you go then, I’ve just got to clear up here and do something and then I’ll join you.”
Both Carolien and Albert looked at her questioningly but did as they were asked and Elfriede heaved a sigh of relief.
“That was so sweet.”
“What was dearie?”
Elfriede hurriedly gathered her things together.
“The way you met your son after all that time like that. If I ever have a son, I’ll never let him go.”
Elfriede patted Sjoukje on the shoulder.
“I’m sure you won’t child. I’m sure you won’t. I don’t think you will make the mistakes I did. I’ve got to go now but I hope you enjoy the rest of the day and keep practising on your flute. You really need some new tunes you know.”
“I will, I promise. Oh, don’t forget your book and thank you again for the others.”
“No problem dearie, no problem.”
Elfriede hauled the blanket full of her gifts over her shoulder and hurried off.
The ritual hadn’t been that complicated, although she worried that she would make a mistake if she hurried too much. In the end, everything was completed to her satisfaction and after once more storing everything safely away; she hurried as fast as she could through the crowds towards the café de Paap.
It was well after four when she arrived, exhausted and bruised from her battle through the continually moving mass of people. As she stopped to get her breath, she looked through the window. To her immense satisfaction, everybody was there, all in one group. Mia was talking animatedly to Carolien, in a way that was typically Mia. Roy, Gerrit, Albert and Marcel were clearly involved in men’s talk. Ben was listening to Candice with a slightly puzzled look on his face; ‘Struggling with his English no doubt,’ smiled Elfriede as she took in the scene. Her people were all together, were all happy and all had excellent prospects for the future. She felt that her mission was more or less complete, with the added and unexpected bonus that she had found her son again. Maybe this meant that the Wintis had forgiven her. Maybe Albert was a sign of approval that after all, she had done what they wanted. She couldn’t have been more content.
‘I’ll see them all soon,’ she thought, ‘let them enjoy each other’s company.’
Head held high, she walked away until the crowds absorbed her and she was no longer to be seen.
45. Marcel does it right…with a little help
46. Elfriede’s hens come to roost
The Amsterdam Series
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