At home, I told about the invitation. We're going with an aunt of Werther's to the little circus,' I said. What kind of circus?' my mother asked. 'It's a circus in miniature,' I said, 'a kind of variety with lots of small animals. With monkeys and rabbits. There're dogs as well that go through a hoop.' 'You haven't asked that aunt whether you could come too, have you?' she asked, worried. 'Course not at all,' I said. 'That aunt wasn't even there at his place. They themselves said I should come along.'
The following afternoon she gave me 35 cents in a wrapper. 'You must give that to that aunt,' she said. 'You don't need to go along at those people's expense: I felt through the paper that they were a 25 and a 10 cents piece.
When I rang the bell of Werther's house at ten to two, his father answered the door. 'I'm Elmer,' I said, 'I'm coming along this afternoon.' 'Would you mind waiting downstairs for now?' he asked.
It took a very long time. From time to time I thought they had left already. 'How's it possible his father's home in the daytime7' I thought. At last Werther and his sister came out. They were accompanied by a woman who resembled Werther's mother slightly but she was younger. She did have the same little eyes but she had an ordinary mouth and wore her hair in a bun. I wanted to shake hands with her but wasn't given the chance.
'We're late, kids,' she said, 'let's be off.' There was a strong wind and it was raining. On the way to the bus stop we were heading into the wind so there was no talking. When we were sitting in the bus, the aunt said to me: 'So you're friend Elmer? How nice you're coming with us.' I was already holding my hand out a little to pass the money to her when the bus started off. We said nothing during the ride. Werther's aunt offered peppermints round regularly.
We got out at the terminus and walked to a tram stop. The weather had turned dry. Beneath the glass shelter of the stop it was quiet. Werther and his sister had taken a seat on either side of their aunt on the narrow bench. I ambled up and down in their vicinity. They were talking softly. 'Yes,' Werther's aunt said, 'I'm coming to live with you for a while. D'you like that?' I listened.
'Mum's nervous,' she went on, 'perhaps you've noticed that too. People get like that when they're very tired. I'm coming to you to help out a bit.'
'You really don't need to think it horrid or to have a shock should mum happen to say something you don t understand at all,' she continued. 'You see, she's tired and then thoughts get mixed up. You know what I mean: you ask something and she answers something quite different than you mean.'
'Yes,' Werther said, half whispering. He let his gaze flit to and fro, restlessly. I prepared handing over the money but the tram was approaching so I didn't get down to it.
Our journey's destination turned out to be a low, cafe-like building bearing the name 'Arena' in neon lights. I couldn't imagine a circus being there for there was no need to pay even at the entrance. I thought of drawing Werther's aunt's attention to this but she escorted us into the revolving door with such certainty that I just had to assume she knew the way.
We reached a low, elongated hall with its chairs not arranged in rows like in a theatre or cinema, however, but clustered around tables. There were some thirty or forty people inside, drinking or eating something and watching the stage which had been half built out into the auditorium. On it stood a man with a fearsome face. His head seemed big, his hair stood straight up on end and he was looking at the tip of his nose. He had turned the toes of his shoes towards one another. Bright, coloured beams of light shone down on him. He was silent and appeared to be waiting. People giggled. Just as we were sitting ourselves down at a table the music of an orchestra struck up and the man sang in an awkward, drawling voice: 'I'm the goofy, I'm the simple, I'm the nitwit Jopie!' He held his mouth as if he was vomiting.
It turned out to have been the final line to a number, for the curtain fell and people clapped. Of the four of us, only Martha laughed.
I studied the price list on the table. The cheapest item was lemonade which cost fifty-five cents. It gave me a shock and I wanted to put the paper away but Werther's aunt had already seen me reading it and asked whether I would like something. 'No, not at all,' I said quickly. Meanwhile the curtain rose for a new act. It seemed to be a kind of play; I didn't understand it. It began as follows: in a room with a screen and a desk, two men in white coats were waiting. Thin rubber tubes dangled from their pockets. 'A doctor's life's a hard one,' one said. 'Never ever a nice bit of totty at surgery time,' the other said.
Werther's aunt signalled the waiter and asked him for a programme but there wasn't one. 'It goes on all the time and each time there'll be something different,' he replied. Werther's aunt ordered a coffee for herself and lemonade for the three of us.
The play continued. A fat lady entered with a girl, presumably her daughter. She wished to be examined and undressed herself behind the screen. She came out from behind it a few times to look out to the left and the right. She had taken off more clothes each time, clothes she had hung out over the screen from the inside. Every time she appeared, people laughed loudly. The girl stood looking at the floor with her fingers in her mouth. 'Can you play mummies and daddies?' one of the doctors asked. 'How does that go?' the girl asked in a stupid, petulant tone of voice. The people at the tables laughed.
I became afraid and decided not to look any longer. With great difficulty I drank from the lemonade which was fizzing up my nose. Werther's aunt seemed to notice. 'You don't have to drink it against your will,' she said. I got out the money now and planned to cast the sum wrapped in paper into her handbag.
Meanwhile I spied on Martha and Werther. Martha appeared to think everything that happened on stage to be colourful and funny. She laughed repeatedly. Werther, however, stared out ahead of himself with a gloomy look.
Using the tubes I recognised as those of a stethoscope, one of the doctors examined the lady now only left wearing her corset and shoes. Meanwhile he muttered comments which drew laughs, here and there, but we were sitting too far off to hear them.
I wanted to cast the wrapped-up money with as fluent as possible a movement into Werther's aunt's open handbag but the throw missed and it dropped on the ground. She heard it and picked it up. 'Did that drop from the table?' she asked me. 'I don't know,' I replied. 'Someone's sure to have left it,' she decided, having opened up the paper. Great shock gripped me for it turned out to have been written on. She read it out: 'Milkman, a jug and a half please, will settle up with you tomorrow.' It contained nothing further so I felt somewhat more at ease again. She decided that it was pointless to make an effort to track down the owner. 'You three may buy some sweets with it,' she said.
The doctor had finished the examination and declared she was healthy. Then, without her having undressed herself, he examined the daughter. 'She needs an injection very badly,' he said. 'Gosh, how can you tell so soon?' the mother cried, 'she hasn't even taken anything off yet. 'No,' the other said, 'we can tell from just seeing her.' Then mother and daughter made to leave.
'Your daughter had better come to the surgery tomorrow afternoon, alone,' the first doctor said. 'Is it expensive?' the mother asked. 'No, not at all,' the doctor assured her, 'she'll have that injection for nothing.' 'Can it do any harm?' the lady now asked. 'No, not at all,' the doctor assured her. 'They do occasionally get fat for a while,' the other one said, 'but that passes of its own accord.'
The audience roared. Werther's aunt called the waiter. 'Will the animals still be coming?' she asked, 'the dog with that hoop?' 'No, madam,' the man replied, 'that was last week.' 'So what's on now then?' she persisted. She learned that the programme consisted of sketches, tapdancing and acrobatics. Werther looked on intently during the conversation. I suddenly got the feeling that perhaps he had the same thoughts as I did: that possibly, without anyone knowing it - for it was being kept a secret - we were brothers.
'This's not very suitable,' his aunt said. 'We'll leave.'
With extreme willpower, I began to drink down my lemonade. A finale developed on stage:
having left to applause, the woman returned with her daughter and the orchestra made thumping drum rolls. Suddenly all four of them put on wigs, seemingly made of dusters or cotton wool, and stepped to the edge of the stage. The music struck up a slow, dragging melody. All four, in time to the music, began jerkily to thrust their hips forwards and backwards, singing in harmony: 'Roger here 'n Roger there 'n Roger please, all day; if Roger's still available, it's Roger now till May.' They bowed at the end, the music drumming once again. We went outside.
'It was really nice last week,' Aunt Truus said, 'but this's not quite suitable.' I wondered where we were trundling off to. 'Why don't the two of you go off and buy something,' she said all of a sudden, giving Werther the money and she sent him and me together into a grocer's shop. There were rather a lot of people standing there. Werther,' I said as we waited, 'you must come with me on Sunday to my uncle and aunt. I've been with you this time so you may come with me on Sunday. You've really deserved that.' We bought dates and sticks of rock and spent the entire amount. I wanted to request him again to accompany me on Sunday, but we'd already left the shop and returned to his aunt. She approved our purchases. It began to drizzle. Werther divided up the dates but I didn't like them. 'I'd better go home again,' I said. His aunt tried to talk me into staying with them but I didn't give in. 'I have to be back early,' I said. In the end she gave way and asked whether I had money for the tram. 'Oh yes,' I said but I had none on me. When she wanted to take me there, I said I still wanted to look at a few window displays and would then take the tram myself. I left with a fleeting wave of the hand. When they were some way off already, I walked back and asked Werther if I could count on him on Sunday. Before he had answered, I had run off already but in this short time his aunt handed me a stick of rock which I accepted. I began to travel the very long road home on foot and ate the stick of rock, without relish.
'Did you give that aunt the money,' my mother asked. 'Yes, she's got it,' I said. Was it nice?' she asked. 'Yes, it was a giggle,' I said flatly and went up to the loft. Here I wrote a note to Werther, which read as follows: Werther. You must come along on Sunday afternoon because it's great fun. Come to my place as early as you can. When you get home the letter will be on the mat already.' When I went to deliver it, the same rain prevailed as when we had set out. In front of Werther's house there was a white car; some people stood talking beside it. I passed them, entered the porch and popped the note into the letter box. The moment I had done this I heard the clump of footsteps on the stairs and noisy voices that developed into cries. Now hold on, easy,' a high-pitched man's voice said, 'and don't let go.' I listened at the letter box. Thudding, half stumbling noises sounded, as if there was a struggle. At this moment a man from the group standing by the car approached me and chased me off. I ran some way into the park and sought out the spot where I had been on the lookout before, and I settled down on the trunk. The same way as previously, I continued to spy on Werther's house. Nothing extraordinary happened, however. The shrubs gave inadequate shelter so I started to get wet and went home.
Early that same evening Werther came to bring a reply in a letter which he handed to my mother. She called me but when I reached the door, Werther had already disappeared. The note ran: 'Dear Elmer. I'd love to come with you. I'll come to you; you mustn't come to me. I'll come over to you before it's Sunday. You must not come to my house. Werther.' This letter made me think.
He didn't turn up for the rest of the week. I thought he had forgotten the entire appointment and began to write a new letter, but -I destroyed it.
On Sunday, when I had installed myself on the lookout in the loft, I saw Werther approaching at almost half past two. We set off. 'You're sure to like it,' I said: 'that's why I have brought you along.' The truth was that I didn't want to go to my uncle and aunt on my own. They had asked my mother why not send me over this Sunday. They lived in an upper-storey flat on the Tweede Oosterparkstraat.
My uncle sold goldfish in the market. His stock stood in large tin baths on the veranda at the back. When, sitting on my heels, I looked at the fish swimming among the floating water plants, my mood would always turn sombre and I would feel desolation encroaching. The house was situated close to a comer and the veranda only provided a view of a blank wall plastered white. (Thin, blue smoke would settle in the gardens frequently.)
We spoke little on the way. The weather was dark but dry and windless. I foresaw that the afternoon would run a bad course.
My aunt greeted us warmly and gave each of us a piece of Christmas cake. My uncle wasn't home. She went and sat at the window and brought out her cithern. Underneath the strings she laid out a trapezium shaped sheet of music which didn't contain notes but little balls connected by a jagged line. When the sheet had been placed accurately, the little balls, each lying beneath their relevant strings, indicated the plucking point for the melody.
As always, she began with the song about a frog that was eaten by a stork: she sang slowly and loudly.
Werther sniggered for a moment and stood there listening with a stupid expression on his face. I leant against the alcove door.
At the end of some verse or other, of which the final words ran: 'Mr Stork, Sir', I could no longer contain myself and I just had to look at the brass vase with peacock feathers on a small, three-legged table at the entrance to the alcove. I knew that great sadness had appeared and made my way on to the veranda. There, everything was as I had foreseen. This time, too, there was a hazy veil of smoke between the rows of houses. I looked into the tin baths, dipped my finger in and studied the wall. I knew I had to go back in again but that this, too, would provide no relief.
'That's the wall,' I said out loud, 'and these are the tin baths. The cithem is inside with the song on it. And in the vase the peacock feathers are.' I wanted to start and sing it softly but it wouldn't work. I went back in through the kitchen; my aunt went on singing the song. Without switching the light on, I went and sat in the lavatory and waited. In the end I came off and stayed and stood listening in the hall. The song had finished but now the cithem was playing something else, without any singing. Without a sound, I descended the stairs and went on to the nearby footbridge above the railway. Here I stood for an hour, watching how the smoke of the locomotives mingled with the strands of mist. In the end I clambered down from the bridge again and took up my post on the comer from where I could keep an eye on the house. I stayed and waited here for I did not want to go up there again. After a very long time Werther came out.
Unseen, I followed him for several streets. Then, jumping out at him from behind, I gave him a fright. He was cross for a moment but didn't remain so. 'I thought you'd gone to fetch something somewhere,' he said. Where had you gone?' 'I can't tell you that yet, not right now,' I said, 'though I would like to: it simply has to stay a secret.' When Werther failed to reply I said, to fill the silence: 'It's horrid, the way they live there, I think. Did you like it upstairs?' He replied feebly that he didn't. We walked on. We're going to move,' he said suddenly. 'To the Slingerbeekstraat. That's in Plan Zuid.' I didn't reply. Without my asking anything, he told how the removal would be taking place within a week. He mentioned the number of the house as well.
I was silent a long time. Then I said: 'You've got to be very careful with removals 'cause there're people who move and then they end up in a lesser house than the one they first lived in.' Neither of us said anything after this.
'D'you know why I stayed outside?' I asked after a while. "Cause I think you're boring this afternoon. That's what you are all the time, really.' Before he could reply, I ran out ahead and hid myself away on a comer. Again I gave him a fright but in doing so I collided with him, which made him fall. It fumed out he had grazed the palms of his hands a bit. I apologised and declared it had happened by accident but in truth his injury gratified me.
From now on we kept silent as we walked along. He looked at the ground with a stern expression. I tried to make him laugh several times but didn't succeed.
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br /> Approaching my house we took our leave with a bit of a mumble.
I ru ' longer saw him after that. I did, every day after school, walk past his house without ringing the bell.
The sixth day there were no longer any curtains to be seen. I made my way home and took a piece of paper but merely dashed a few scrawls across it. Then I took my brother's bike and rode to the Slingerbeekstraat.
It was slightly foggy, and the street lamps had been lit early. I had remembered the number.
It was a ground floor flat near the corner. The sign with the green star had already been attached to the door.
Without getting off, I slowly rode past the windows and then turned back. 'They live darkly,' I said, softly.
At home I roamed the back garden and pulled the tops off the withered remains of the Michaelmas daisies. Afterwards I fetched the axe from the loft to hack thin branches to bits on top of the fence.
Arthur van Schendel
In a small town with little canals and tall elm trees lived a man who for his entire life had only observed people without having anything to do with them. It was said that he was timid, not a philanthropist although he always subscribed to good causes. Never had he had any other pastime than books and reading; from morning till night, year in, year out, he had long reposed in worlds far from this one. Otherwise he was ordinary - no criticism the two old servants who had known him from his birth lived contentedly in his house. By day and by night he was in his room with the books, occasionally looking out at one of the windows at the back on to the garden, occasionally at one of the windows at the front on to the canal.
One evening at the window he saw black clouds scurrying in the dark; bare branches were being tugged at and the lantern light on the bridge moved up and down. It was chill; he smelled hail. He drew the curtains; he heard the swishing of the branches outside. Seated near the lamp he opened a book on stars, a page full of figures, numbers without end. And he read:
The Dedalus Book of Dutch Fantasy Page 33
