‘None of your business,’ she said.
Angelien led the way and after a few minutes they arrived at another pancake house. It was much bigger than the one he had been to with his father at lunchtime. This one was like a fast food place, with rows of plastic-covered tables and vases of plastic tulips.
The waiters all said hello when she came in and a woman came round from behind the counter and kissed her on both cheeks.
‘I used to work here,’ said Angelien, when they had sat down at a table by the window. ‘I was a waitress for months when I was starting college. It’s hard work though – my feet were so sore at the end of the evening . . . What is that phrase you English say when your feet hurt?’
Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Sure you do,’ Angelien said, frowning as she tried to remember. ‘I hate it when I can’t remember.’
A waiter came over and Angelien ordered a bacon pancake. Alex did the same.
Alex smiled. He still didn’t really know what to say to Angelien and was happier looking out of the window than into her face. He knew a few girls at school but he had never had a real girlfriend or been on a date. He had never even been alone with a girl like this in a café. Since the trouble with Molly, none of the girls at school would speak to him. They just ignored him completely or giggled and walked away.
Alex looked out of the window, watching cyclists sail through the junction, seemingly fearless of cars and motorbikes. A garbage truck beeped as it reversed over the wheel of a bicycle chained to a tree. The driver craned round to look at what he’d hit and then drove off, leaving the bicycle wheel bent and useless.
‘Killing me!’ shouted Angelien suddenly, slapping her palm down on the table and making Alex jump.
‘What?’ said Alex.
‘ “My feet are killing me”,’ she said with a grin. ‘That is what you say. I love that saying.’
Angelien chuckled to herself.
The waiter brought their order. Angelien started eating her pancake, rolling her eyes and sighing. ‘The pancakes are so good here.’
Alex poured syrup in a thin spiral over his own.
‘So how about you? Do you have a girlfriend?’
Alex shrugged and looked at the table.
‘Nah,’ he said.
‘How come?’ said Angelien leaning forward and peering up into Alex’s lowered face. ‘A good-looking boy like you?’
‘I just haven’t, OK?’ said Alex, frowning.
Angelien laughed.
‘OK, OK,’ she said. ‘So what did you buy?’ said Angelien, sitting back in her chair and waving to the waiter.
‘A mask,’ said Alex.
The waiter came over and stood next to the table.
‘Een koffie en . . . Alex, what would you like to drink?’
‘Can I have tea?’ said Alex.
‘Een thee, alsjeblieft.’
The waiter walked away to fetch their drinks.
Alex unwrapped the tissue paper and passed the mask across the table. Angelien took it carefully, and laid the mask on top of the tissue paper.
‘The woman said it might be Japanese,’ he said.
Angelien studied the mask intently for a few moments and then looked back at Alex.
‘Is something the matter?’ he asked.
Angelien put her hands to the side of her face and frowned, obviously deep in thought.
‘But . . . But this is so strange . . .’
‘What is?’ said Alex.
‘Well –’
‘Angelien!’ a voice called out from behind them.
‘Dirk!’ said Angelien, turning round and getting up. A man was walking over to them. He was tall and slim, with long tangled hair that was heading towards dreadlocks. He had a long face with stubble growing over his cleft chin. Angelien kissed him and they hugged. He looked over Angelien’s shoulder and smiled a crooked smile at Alex.
‘What a surprise,’ said Angelien.
Alex knew that she was speaking in English for his benefit, and he wasn’t fooled. She had arranged to meet this man here, Alex was sure. He wrapped the mask up again and put it back in the bag.
‘Sit down,’ said Angelien. ‘We were just about to pay. Dirk – this is Alex, from England.’
‘Alex,’ said Dirk with a nod.
He sat down, slouching back and stretching his long legs out. A long key chain dangled from a clip on a belt loop on his hip, and rattled against the chair as he moved forward.
‘I’m taking Alex on a tour of Amsterdam,’ said Angelien. ‘Why don’t you come along? Alex won’t mind, will you, Alex?’
Alex shrugged and finished his tea.
‘Sure,’ said Dirk with a wide grin. ‘Perhaps I’ll learn something, huh?’
Angelien paid the bill and they left the pancake house. Dirk put his arm around Angelien’s waist and pulled her towards him. She stumbled a little, laughing. Alex sighed.
For a while, Angelien continued to point things out to Alex and tell him about them, but more and more, Dirk would interrupt in Dutch and the two of them would start a conversation that Alex could not understand.
Alex found himself trailing along behind them. As they approached yet another bridge over yet another canal, Alex came to a halt and let them walk on. A busker started singing across the street. A black-and-white cat brushed up against his legs.
Alex wondered how long it would take them to notice he was no longer there, but they were already over the bridge and had not realised. Alex scowled and turned back the way they had come. The cat scurried away.
To find his own way back, all he had to do was follow the main road they had just come from until he reached the big square near the hotel. He knew his way from there.
But after walking steadily for ten minutes Alex recognised nothing and realised that he must have turned the wrong way. Or maybe this was not the main road he thought it was. He didn’t even know which direction he was walking in.
He stood on the side of a small canal as the rain began to fall again. A girl ran by in a red hooded coat and her reflection dripped into the water like blood.
Alex cursed and stared at the sky, raindrops spitting in his face. Suddenly all of Amsterdam looked exactly the same. He unzipped his jacket and took out his mobile phone.
Chapter 4
Alex’s father, Saskia and Angelien were standing outside the hotel. Alex couldn’t hear what they were saying but he could see that his father was angry, even though he was barely saying a word.
Saskia, on the other hand, was saying enough for the two of them. She was red in the face and wagging her finger furiously at Angelien who was looking uncomfortable.
After a few minutes Angelien came into the hotel and walked over. She sat down opposite him. She picked up a sachet of sugar from the bowl on the table, and tapped it a few times before tossing it down.
‘Why did you just walk off like that?’ she said. ‘I looked everywhere for you.’
Alex shrugged.
‘I was worried about you,’ she said.
‘Yeah?’ muttered Alex.
‘I’m really sorry about what happened,’ said Angelien. ‘All right?’
‘No offence,’ said Alex, ‘but I didn’t even want to go round Amsterdam with you. I wanted to go with my dad.’
Angelien glanced at her mother who was still talking to Alex’s father outside.
‘Look,’ she said, dropping her voice. ‘I thought it was a dumb idea too, if you really want to know.’
‘Then why did you agree to do it?’ said Alex.
Angelien opened her mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it and took a deep breath instead.
‘Because I care about my mother and I would like her to be happy,’ she said with a sigh.
Angelien reached out and touched his hand.
‘I promise there will be no more Dirk,’ she said, squeezing his fingers. ‘He wouldn’t even help me to look for you. Look, Alex, I got into big trouble. Your father
thinks I am not a responsible person and my mother – my mother says she is going to kill me. I wish that were true – at least it would be quick. She is going to go on and on at me for weeks. Please don’t give me a hard time too. Please. We’re friends, huh?’
Alex took a deep breath. Despite the whole business with Dirk, Alex liked Angelien.
He knew he could not stay cross with her. He hadn’t had much fun of late, and Angelien was fun to be with. He smiled.
‘OK,’ he said.
‘In any case, we need to talk about that mask you bought,’ said Angelien with a smile.
‘I know,’ said Alex. ‘My dad went mental when I told him I’d paid twenty euros for it.’
Angelien rolled her eyes.
‘Bah!’ she said. ‘Another thing that was my fault apparently. But it doesn’t matter. Anyway, that’s not what I meant. The mask is –’ Angelien saw Saskia walking back and grabbed Alex’s hand. ‘Please, Alex – be nice to me. Pleeeeease.’
‘So,’ said Saskia, walking towards them. ‘Has my daughter apologised?’
‘Yes,’ said Alex. ‘It’s OK. Everything’s cool.’
‘Everything is most certainly not “cool”,’ said Saskia with a frown. ‘It is not “cool” at all.’
‘Mother!’ said Angelien. ‘Come on. I’ve said sorry and Alex has accepted. What more do you want me to do? I can’t do anything about what happened.’
‘It was my fault as well,’ said Alex. ‘For walking off. I shouldn’t have done it and I’ve caused a fuss and everything. I’m really sorry.’
‘You would not have walked off if she hadn’t been with that no-good –’
‘OK, OK,’ said Angelien, burying her face in her hands. Angelien mumbled some words in Dutch without taking her hands away.
Saskia stood stiffly for a few moments and then turned to Alex.
‘Jeremy needs to come into the office again tomorrow,’ she said, in a softer tone of voice.
‘Again?’ said Alex. ‘He said he would have some time off tomorrow.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Saskia. ‘If today had not been so disrupted . . .’
Saskia glared at Angelien, who scowled and looked out of the window. Alex’s father eventually walked over.
‘Look. What’s done is done,’ he said. ‘Angelien has apologised and has agreed to spend tomorrow with you. But only if you agree. If you aren’t happy about it, we will have to think of something else.’
Angelien looked at Alex with big, pleading eyes.
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Really.’
‘Good,’ said Saskia. ‘Let’s hope we can all start over. Beginning with tonight. We will pick you up for dinner at seven o’clock.’
Chapter 5
Alex stood under the shower, lost to the white-noise hiss and the pin-sharp drumming of the water on his head and neck. Alex’s father had insisted that he had a shower before they went out, and he’d thought it best not to argue. He stepped out, a little light-headed, drying himself on a huge white towel.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he had the same uncanny feeling he’d had earlier in the day: that there was someone watching him; as if the mirror was one of those two-way devices he had seen in TV programmes and cop movies where you could look at someone but they could not see you – they only saw their own reflection. A drip from his wet hair trickled down his back and made him shiver.
Alex put on the hotel bathrobe and went back into the bedroom, closing the door on the bathroom and the mirror, and telling himself he was being stupid.
He had put the mask, still in its bag, on the top of a chest of drawers near the connecting door to his father’s room. A sombre-looking carriage clock sat on top of this chest and Alex wondered if that too was the result of one of those trips to the antiques market.
Its tick was more of a gasp or a quiet cough, as though someone was repeatedly trying to clear their throat.
He remembered how the manager had said that his wife had felt the objects she bought spoke to her. Alex thought he understood this now. The mask had not spoken actual words, but the effect was the same. It was as though the mask had reeled him in like a fish on a line.
Alex picked the mask up and inspected it. Again he was surprised at how cold it was to the touch. Though it was made of wood, it was chilled like a piece of marble.
He ran his fingers over the smooth nose and mouth and around the curved teardrop-like eye sockets. It had been white once, and skull-smooth, but age had yellowed it and crazed the varnished surface so that it looked like cracked eggshell.
There was something about its inscrutable, frozen smile that Alex found horribly disconcerting. His head still felt hot from the shower and the dizziness returned as he squinted at the mask. It now seemed utterly repugnant to him. Why had he found it so hard to resist it at the antiques market?
He opened a drawer in the chest and slid the mask inside, then closed it again a little more forcefully than he had intended.
Five minutes later he was following his father into the lift and down to where Saskia and Angelien were already waiting for them in their usual spot in the hotel lobby.
‘We haven’t kept you waiting, I hope,’ said Alex’s father.
‘No, no,’ said Saskia, standing up to kiss him. ‘We were early.’
‘Mum’s always early,’ said Angelien, moving her bag so that Alex could sit down. ‘She always panics about being late.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be on time,’ said Saskia. ‘You’re young and pretty. You can be as late as you like and no one minds.
‘So – we are going to take you to a little restaurant we know. We can walk – it’s not too far. Shall we go?’
They all got to their feet and headed for the door. It was no longer raining, but the street was still wet and Alex shivered at the dampness in the air as they stepped outside.
They left the hotel behind them and walked along the canal. A group of tourists walked past in the opposite direction. The wet cobbles were almost as reflective as the black waters of the canal and a distorted mirror image of the group trailed in their wake as they walked away.
Saskia had set off ahead. Alex’s father caught up with her and they linked arms. As they crossed the bridge, Alex couldn’t resist looking back towards his room. He would never have admitted it, even to himself, but he half expected to see something – a silhouette on the curtains, a face at the window.
Alex felt foolish for feeling uneasy and yet the uneasiness remained. He had never experienced anything like this. He had no idea what he was afraid of or why.
There was no face at the window, no sinister silhouette. The light was off, just as he had left it. Angelien saw him looking back and followed his gaze.
‘Forgotten something?’ she asked.
‘No . . .’ said Alex, starting at her voice. ‘I thought I saw something.’
Angelien smiled, scanning his face.
‘Anything in particular?’
Alex shrugged. He looked at the hotel again. It was just a trick of light, he was sure, probably caused by the position of the street lights and the fact that other rooms had their lights on, but the window of his room seemed darker somehow. The glass was so black it could have been blocked up and painted.
‘No . . . not really.’
Angelien gave him a quizzical look but didn’t say anything more.
‘Angelien is studying the houses along this canal,’ said Saskia, her voice bright and cheerful.
‘Really?’ said Alex’s father, turning to look at Angelien. ‘How come?’
‘My doctorate is on family life in seventeenth-century Amsterdam,’ said Angelien. ‘I am using this canal as the basis for the study.’
Alex turned away from the hotel. He seemed to feel its chill on his back like ice and shivered slightly as he walked.
‘Are you studying our house?’ said Alex. ‘I mean the house that’s been turned into our hotel?’
Angelien nodded. �
�I was just looking at some papers about it the other day, in fact,’ she said.
They were walking down a busy street now and the crowds and the conversation seemed to have a magical effect. Alex felt entirely normal once more. As strange as the sensation of dread had been, the immediacy of its lifting was, if anything, even stranger.
‘Are you interested in history, Alex?’ said Saskia.
‘I suppose so,’ he replied. ‘A bit. I like the Romans.’
‘He’s obsessed by the Romans,’ said his father.
‘No I’m not,’ said Alex, blushing a little. ‘I just think they’re cool, that’s all.’
‘And so they are,’ said Angelien and, to Alex’s surprise, she linked her arm with his. The fur of her hood brushed his face as she leaned in and whispered, ‘Romans are very cool.’
Alex felt his heart race at her touch. He had never walked arm in arm with anyone. That was something people did in the movies. It felt nice though. Saskia and his father had moved on. A distant tram sounded its horn.
‘What did you mean about the mask earlier?’ said Alex. ‘What did you want to tell me?’
Angelien cast a quick glance towards her mother and put her fingers to her lips.
‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘It’s too weird to talk about now. Too crazy . . .’
She nodded her head towards their parents and headed after them with Alex in tow, wondering what she meant by ‘Too crazy’.
‘Here we are!’ announced Saskia. Alex’s father turned and raised his eyebrow slightly when he saw Angelien and Alex arm in arm.
They were outside a brightly lit restaurant with a sign that had tropical leaves painted on it in gold. A blast of warm air full of strange aromas hit Alex’s face as he walked in. A waitress, small and dark skinned, dressed in black, smiled and came across to show them to a table.
The contrast between the dark buildings outside and the restaurant interior was startling. It was warm and lit by fairy lights and small candles on the tables. There were potted plants everywhere. It felt as though they had been transported to the tropics.
The conversation was a little strained at first, as everyone tried to avoid all mention of what had happened that afternoon.
Through Dead Eyes Page 3
