The Upstairs Room Read online

  Nervously I walked around the room, tripping over the rug every time I came near it. I pushed my face against the window. “Sini, come here. I think I can see the hiding place.”

  “Where?”

  “Through those two trees. See how the ground is a little elevated there?” Could you stand up in it? I wished I were there now, so that I could talk about it later. I would, too: “You’ll never guess where I was. In a place under the ground. Yes, sure, under the ground. A grave? No, of course not. Would I have come back from a grave? Well, actually it was a little bit like a grave, I guess. Only you went in alive.”

  And Frits would look at me with his mouth wide open. Dumb thing, he was. Darn, why couldn’t I go out and take a look at it?

  Some people were lucky, like the two Jews who were in the backyard now. Mr. Hannink had brought them to the hiding place last night. “They’ll stay there,” he said, “until I can take them to their real place.”

  As if that wasn’t a real place. Why didn’t he take us there, and let them stay up here? And why was he always getting new Jews anyway? Well, I didn’t mind, but they were the ones who got to live in the cave for a while, until he found them a home. They probably didn’t even want a home. I didn’t want one. I wanted a cave!

  November became December, and every day I hoped it would snow. And one day it did.

  “Sini, come to the window.”

  Tiny white snowflakes were whirling down. I tried to follow one. I lifted my head, singled one out, and moved my eyes with it. Before the flake hit the window, I had to step away. Watching it made me dizzy.

  “Sini, let me out for this one time. It’s snowing!” I looked up at her. What would happen if I went out just once. “Sini, please.”

  “You know you can’t, but I’ll let you touch the snow,” she said.

  She opened the window a little bit. I stuck my hand out far enough to catch some snowflakes. A pity, they melted as soon as they landed on me. I sat down on the bed. I heard Dini coming up the stairs. She must be covered with snow. She probably had some stuck on her shoes.

  “Shall I make you a snowman?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” But she was already on her way down the stairs. I walked over to the window.

  There she was, rolling a ball of snow through the backyard. She looked up. I pushed my face against the window. The ball was getting bigger and bigger. It wasn’t perfectly shaped though. My hands fumbled with the curtain. There. She had put the ball in place underneath the window. She pushed it against a tree. Right. That’s what I would have done, too. A smaller ball for the head. What a funny shape! The snowman was going to have a pointed head.

  “Sini, come and look. It’s so much fun.” But he should be wearing a hat. The ones I used to make always did. Where is Dini? Maybe she went inside to get one. Please. Yes, she has one. I laughed. Waved at her. Great.

  “Are your hands very cold?” I mouthed the words at her when she looked up. She didn’t understand. I spread my hands out, brought them to my face, blew on them, stuck them under my arms. Yes?

  She nodded.

  As soon as I woke up the next morning, I opened the curtain. The snowman was still there, but he was smaller. The hat had dropped over his eyes. He looked sad.

  Christmas came, although Sini had said it never would. The Hanninks had company downstairs. “You can’t make any noise,” Mrs. Hannink said, “until after they’ve gone.” Of course not. I understood. Absent-mindedly I played with the chair next to me.

  “Don’t, Annie,” Sini warned.

  Don’t what? And I played with it again, tipping it back and forth.

  “You heard what Mrs. Hannink said.”

  “Sure,” I answered in a whisper, my hand on the chair. And then it fell.

  Sini grabbed my arm. Not a sound came from downstairs. Then Mr. and Mrs. Hannink started to laugh loudly. What was so funny? I thought irritably.

  I didn’t think that any longer after Mr. Hannink talked to me when the company had left. Nobody should suspect that there were people upstairs, he said. They might tell the Germans who would come to look. If they found us, they’d punish the Hanninks and take us away to Mauthausen or to a camp in Poland. My lips trembled. Would I never stop hearing about those trucks?

  But he was suspected anyway, Mr. Hannink said a few evenings later. And it had nothing to do with the chair. He had taken a Jewish child from one family to another. Everything had gone well, he said. It was dark, and the child hadn’t said a word. But on the way back, Mr. Hannink had been followed by a German soldier.

  “I don’t think he followed me all the way home,” Mr. Hannink said, “and maybe I imagined the whole thing, but it will be better if you go away for a little while. If nothing happens within a week or so, you can come back.”

  “Where are we going?” Sini asked.

  I looked at her. Was she crying?

  To a farm nearby, Mr. Hannink said, only he couldn’t take us there until tomorrow night. In the meantime, we’d have to stay in the hiding place out back, just in case the house was searched.

  Sini and I packed our things. At last I was going to the cave. “Sini, I’m so excited. I wish we could stay longer than one day. D’you think it’s dark in there or.… ”

  “Stop it,” Sini said wearily. “Do you know what day it is? New Year’s Eve. Ha, ha, New Year’s Eve. Well, let’s not take the calendar. Maybe we’ll get a new one next week. For 1943.”

  Impatiently I looked at the watch, which Sini let me wear. Mr. Hannink had said he’d be back in half an hour. Where was he? I was ready. I rocked back and forth on the chair. C’mon, let’s go. It’s time.

  Quietly we followed Mr. Hannink downstairs. Mrs. Hannink gave us a bag. “A couple of sandwiches. And, girls, I’ll see you in a week. Two at the most.”

  “So long, Mrs. Hannink.”

  It was cold outside. I shivered. We stayed close behind Mr. Hannink. At last I was going to find out what the hiding place looked like.

  Mr. Hannink stood still. He bent down and moved some branches away with his hands. An opening’ appeared. He shone a flashlight into it. “Follow me,” he whispered.

  Sini went first, holding on to my hand. Why was it so dark? I licked my lips. They felt dry. Gingerly I stepped forward and down.

  Mr. Hannink shone the flashlight ahead. We were in a long, narrow room. The sides and ceiling were covered with wooden strips. Blankets lay on the floor. I pushed them away with my foot to see what was underneath them. Wood, too. In the corner was a chamber pot.

  “Tomorrow night, around eleven I’ll come for you. Well, good night. Keep the flashlight on as long as you want to. There are more batteries in the box.”

  Mr. Hannink went outside. He put the branches back in place.

  It wasn’t cold inside. The room smelled only a little dank. We put the flashlight on the floor between us. It lit up the area right by our feet and the end of the room.

  “Let’s wrap ourselves in a blanket. Annie, here, I’ll help you. What time is it?” I moved my arm toward the light. “Nine o’clock.”

  Where were we going tomorrow night? They were farmers, and their name was Oosterveld, but who were they? What if they weren’t nice? I put my head in my hands. That could be. It was a good thing we’d only stay for a week, in case they weren’t.

  Now that I was here I didn’t like the cave. There was nothing special about a hole in the ground. How many hours did we have to stay? Twenty-four? I wanted to leave now. I walked to the circle of light at the end of the hole.

  “Annie, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing. I’ll be right back.”

  Could the ceiling come down? I lifted my hands. Right over my head were a lot of crisscrossed branches. They felt cold. I tried poking my finger through them. What would happen if somebody stepped on them? And fell? What would we say?

  I walked back to Sini. She was hiding her face. Hesitantly I sat down next to her. “Want to stay up till midnight?” I asked her.
<
br />   “Why? What’s there to do until then? You want me to wish you a Happy New Year? Fine New Year. If it weren’t for this miserable war, I’d be at a party tonight. I would, too. I used to be popular. Did you know that? Boys were always asking me out. Those were the days. I was somebody then. New Year’s Eve. Even last year was better. I stayed home, but it wasn’t bad. Rachel made New Year’s fritters. We all sat in Mother’s room, eating them. We stayed up till midnight. Mother, too. Father said it was one of the nicest New Year’s Eves he remembered. Even you stayed up.”

  I nodded. I had.

  “But look at me now. Here I am, twenty years old. And miserable. See what I’m wearing? See what my hair looks like? I’m glad I can’t go out tonight. I wouldn’t dare, Well, nobody would’ve asked me the way I look. No, little sister, I can’t see staying awake until midnight. The sooner this night is over, the better.”

  She took my hand. “Annie, what’s the first thing you want to do when we’re free?”

  I thought. “Get a bike and go for a ride—a long one. No, first I’ll pick up Bobbie. Father will take me in his car, a new one. And I want to go—you know where I want to go next?—to the store, to get ice cream. Vanilla. And I won’t have to wait till three o’clock either. I’ll be the first one there. In the morning. When they open. The minute the door unlocks, I’ll step in, put my money on the counter, and say ‘One double vanilla cone.’ That’s what I’ll do.”

  Sini laughed. She was glad I was with her, she said. It made things easier.

  Being in that place was impossible though. I never knew twenty-four hours had so many minutes. And seconds. Maybe we should go to sleep. Time would go faster.

  At last the branches came off the doorway. “Girls, are you ready?”

  Ready? I stuck my head out of the opening and breathed in. Yes, I was ready.

  The soldiers hadn’t come, Mr. Hannink said. “But that could be a trick. Maybe they’re going to wait until I no longer expect them. I know them. Come.”

  It was very dark. Several times we tripped. Mr. Hannink took my hand. “You hold on to Sini. Once we’re on the road, walking will be easier.”

  He held our suitcase in his other hand. We came to the end of the backyard. Mr. Hannink went on the road first.

  It was lighter now, easier to see. Also more dangerous. Mr. Hannink walked rapidly for a few seconds to get ahead of us, then slowed down. Soon we came to the corner of the street where the bakery was. I tried to see it.

  “Come, Annie,” Sini whispered.

  Mr. Hannink had already turned the corner. There was no sidewalk, only grass. We walked a little faster. Nobody was on the street. The only sound came from high-flying airplanes. A lot of them were out tonight. They probably came from England, or all the way from America, to bomb factories in Germany. Sometimes they were chased by German planes, and you could hear them shooting at each other.

  The last thing we’d need now was an air-raid alarm. Terrible sound that was. It went right through you. We’d have to get off the streets, too. Did Sini think the same thing I did? That we were walking outside for the first time in two months? Scary. I made sure I didn’t let go of her hand.

  Mr. Hannink stopped, looked behind him, then beckoned us to come closer. He pointed to the right. Then he opened a low wooden gate, went through it, and so did we. A house. He turned around again and put the suitcase by us. “Stay here for a minute. This is it.” He walked a few feet, knocked at a door, and went in.

  Footsteps, Mr. Hannink’s, coming back. “Okay, you can come.”

  Mr. Hannink went in the same door again. We followed. The door closed. Somebody turned the key, then switched on the light.

  5

  THESE are the Oostervelds. And this,” Mr. Hannink said, “is Sini. That’s Annie.”

  Sini and I stepped forward. I stuck out my hand to an old lady. “How do you do, Mrs. Oosterveld.”

  The old lady laughed. “God-o-god-o-god, Mrs.!”

  I turned to the younger woman and said the same thing, but hesitantly this time.

  It made her laugh, too.

  “We’re plain people,” the man said. “Just Call us by our first names. I’m Johan. That’s Dientje… she’s the wife… and that’s my mother. You can call her Opoe [Granny]. So,” Johan said, “you’ll take ’em back in a week?”

  “Yes, two at the most,” Mr. Hannink answered.

  “Ja, ja, okay. Don’t forget.”

  Johan turned off the light and unlocked the door. Mr. Hannink slipped through it.

  “Now, let’s see you. Goodness, you’re a little thing,” Opoe said. “You can’t be very old. How old are you?”

  “I’m almost eleven.”

  “What’s the matter with your hair?” she asked Sini. “Got two colors. It didn’t grow that way, did it?”

  Sini explained.

  “Boy, o boy, isn’t that something! Dyed hair. What’s next?”

  I looked around. We were obviously in the kitchen. In the middle of the room stood a wood-burning stove with wooden shoes standing around it. There were two windows. Both of them had dark shades, pulled down. I moved closer to the stove. Nice and warm.

  “Want a cup of coffee?” Dientje went to the cupboard and got two cups, then to the stove for the coffeepot.

  “Dientje,” Sini said, “I don’t think Annie should have coffee.”

  “She sick?”

  “No, but she’s kind of young.”

  “Coffee never hurt anyone,” Dientje answered calmly and poured two cups.

  “This kind won’t hurt her,” Opoe said. “Hasn’t got many real coffee beans in it. It’s mostly junk. Additions. Dientje, I always told you to store up on coffee when you still’ could, but you didn’t listen.”

  “What are you talking about,” Dientje mumbled. She looked annoyed.

  I picked up my cup with both hands and sipped slowly. The coffee tasted kind of bad, but I felt very grown-up.

  I looked at Dientje. She had such big hands. I stared at them with awe. Johan’s hands were big, too, and red. So was his face. On top of his head brown-gray hair grew straight up. He didn’t look a bit like Opoe, who was short, round, with old gnarled hands. On her right temple was a wart. She was wearing a long black dress with long sleeves, and over it a black apron with gray flowers. Embarrassed I looked away. It wasn’t polite to stare.

  Sini and Johan were talking… about the war. “You know something. I never handed in my radio.”

  The Oostervelds had a radio, too? Nobody would listen to me again. “Ssht,” they’d say.

  “Not me. At night I listen to a Dutch broadcast from England. That’s for the real news. Those damn newspapers never tell you a damn thing. Nothing but lies.”

  “Damn” twice in one sentence! I forgot that I was annoyed.

  “I’ll give you an example. The papers tell us how well the German army’s doing in Russia. When they have to give up a town, they say they did so for tactical reasons. Tactical reasons, shit.”

  “Johan, please.” Dientje looked anxiously at him. “Don’t talk that way. What’ll the girls think of you?”

  “I don’t care. Now the radio tells you differently. A defeat is a defeat. And the Germans are having plenty of them right now in Russia.”

  “Johan, the girls must be tired. Let them go to bed.”

  “Okay, Ma. Let’s go upstairs.”

  We went through the kitchen door and came into a biggish room with a plush tablecloth, straight chairs, and portraits.

  “Here, the stairs are behind this door to the left.”

  We all went up.

  “Now this is where you’ll be,” Johan said.

  “Just for two weeks,” Dientje added.

  “Ja, ja, woman,” Johan said.

  The room was small, with a stove in it, two chairs, and a big bed. Johan pointed at the bed. “Annie’ll sleep in there with Dientje and me.” It wasn’t wide enough for Sini, too, he said. “She’ll have to sleep on the floor on a mattress. If anybod
y comes to the house during the night, Annie can jump out of bed, and I’ll put Sini’s bedding on top of ours so it doesn’t show that we’ve got two extra people sleeping in here.”

  “And then where do the girls go, Johan?” Dientje asked.

  “Under the bed, woman.”

  “Good night, girls.” Opoe was standing in the doorway. She went into her room, next to ours.

  “I told you we’re plain people,” Johan said, “not like those fancy Hanninks.”

  “Johan, it’s late,” Dientje warned.

  “We haven’t got a bathroom in the house. There’s an outhouse, but you can’t get there. You use a chamber pot, and Dientje’ll empty it.”

  He took off his socks, corduroy pants, and shirt. He got into bed. Dientje moved next to him. “Johan, move over. Annie needs more space.”

  I climbed in next to Dientje. She lifted her hand over her head and pulled a cord. Instantly the room became dark. I looked over the edge of the bed to where I knew Sini was. I lowered my hand until I touched her face. “Good night.”

  “Good night, little one.”

  Along the edges of the shade a little light crept through. From the far side of the bed came Johan’s snoring. “Johan, don’t snore so. What’ll the girls think?”

  The Oostervelds were nice.

  In what seemed to be the middle of the night, the alarm clock went off. Opoe called from her room, “Johan, get up.”

  Nothing happened. I pulled the feather comforter over my ears. Dientje lifted herself up on an elbow and looked at the alarm. “Johan, what’s the matter with you? Didn’t you hear the alarm go off?”

  “That’s all you women ever tell me. Get up, Johan. Go milk the cows, Johan. Feed the pigs, Johan. Why don’t you get up too, eh, and help me?”

  “Quit it, you know I don’t feel well in the morning.”

  “Awright, woman, I’m up.” He lifted the comforter. Goodnaturedly he slapped Dientje’s thigh and stepped out of bed. He felt around for his clothes. “Can’t find my socks. Got to turn the light on.”