‘What’s the meaning of this?’ the woman says. She talks loudly and the dog starts barking. ‘Quiet, Benno! You’re wrecking the place. I knew it. I was on to you. Do you plan on knocking over other headstones too?’
Dieke has stood up, but stays close to the stone she’s cleaning. Uncle Jan and her father are standing between the graves with the stone in their hands. The woman sounds angry and the dog’s not listening to her. He’s still barking.
‘This is our grave,’ her father snaps. ‘You keep out of it.’
Dieke’s shocked. The way he’s said it sounds really rude.
‘I’m going to report this! And what’s that girl doing? To that stranger’s grave! She’s dirtying the stone. Have you got a tub of cow shit here somewhere too? What are you doing? Benno, quiet!’
The dog barks, Uncle Jan and her father slowly lower the stone. ‘Up a little,’ her father says, ‘there’s some pebbles on the concrete.’ Uncle Jan bends down and brushes something away with his free hand and the stone moves down out of sight. Then the men straighten up, her father with a red face.
‘Well?’ the woman says.
Dieke looks at her father. Is he going to be rude again?
‘Go away.’
‘What?’
‘Just mind your own business.’
Her father stares intently at the big dog, and after a while it stops barking and skulks back behind the woman’s legs.
‘I have business here,’ the woman says, pointing at the tall narrow headstone she pointed out to Uncle Jan earlier.
Her father turns and looks carefully in that direction. ‘We’re not doing anything against the rules,’ he says slowly.
‘We’ll see about that,’ the woman shouts, now staring at Uncle Jan. ‘And you…’ she says.
‘Yes?’ says Uncle Jan.
It looks funny: Uncle Jan bare-chested with that T-shirt tied around his head, the woman and her dog on the shell path. Only now does she notice that the woman doesn’t have her jacket on. And wasn’t she wearing glasses before? Dieke is curious what she’s going to say to Uncle Jan. It’s gone very quiet, so quiet she thinks she can even hear the panting of the two birds. The woman doesn’t say another word. She just spins around and strides off. When she passes Dieke she gives her a dirty look. ‘Horrible boys,’ she says.
Dieke gives her a sweet little smile. ‘I’m a girl,’ she says cheerfully. ‘Bye-bye!’
The dog drags on the leash.
‘I actually came to pick you up,’ her father says a little later.
‘Did you?’ she says.
‘Yep. You ready to go home?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t you want to go to the swimming pool?’
‘No.’
‘We could go to the beach instead.’
‘Yuck.’
‘When are you going to have lunch?’
‘I’ve already had a banana. And an apple.’
‘Me too,’ says Uncle Jan. ‘Let her stay if she wants to.’
‘Fine.’ Her father sticks his hands in his pockets. ‘You heading off again tonight?’
‘Yeah,’ says Uncle Jan. ‘What would I stay here for?’
‘Maybe we could do some fishing?’
‘In weather like this?’
‘Sure, why not? A worm’s a worm, or do fish stop biting when it gets too hot?’
‘Yay, fishing!’ Dieke shouts.
‘Have you already decided what you’re going to do?’ Uncle Jan asks her father.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Have you sold the land yet?’
‘No.’
‘But what are you going to do then?’
‘I dunno. It’s not your problem.’
‘No,’ says Uncle Jan. ‘So towards evening we’ll go fishing.’
‘We’ll see,’ her father says. ‘I’ll see you in a bit, Diek.’
‘Bye, Daddy.’
Her father strolls down the shell path to the Polder House. He walks a bit crooked, she notices. Almost like Grandpa. Quickly she throws the rag into the bucket, which is almost empty. ‘My water’s finished,’ she says.
‘I’ll get a new bucket. Shall I fill your drinking cup while I’m at it?’
‘Yes, please.’ She sits down on the stone she’s cleaning, although that doesn’t feel quite right. It’s not nice that her father’s gone again. She feels a bit lonely and wonders why she said no. Because now she is thinking of the swimming pool. And of Evelien, because she’s sure to be having fun there right now. Maybe with Leslie, though he hasn’t been to the pool that much lately. Of course, somebody else might come here, like Grandpa, and then she can go home with them. And then she can lie down in her big blow-up paddling pool. If a thunderstorm comes she’ll be able to get out of that a lot faster than the swimming pool. Even Grandma would be OK, although Dieke’s been doing her best to avoid her ever since that visit to the zoo and the dinner afterwards. It hurt like anything, her pinching her arm like that. The church bell rings.
‘What’s the church clock say, Dieke?’ asks Uncle Jan, coming back with a full bucket.
‘A lot.’
‘Twelve.’
Straw Book
I need new underpants, Zeeger Kaan thinks as he takes the dry washing off the line. He tosses the clothes in a laundry basket and sets it on the kitchen table. That’s as far as his duties go. He’s never folded them up or done the ironing. Rekel has followed in at his heels and stretches out under the kitchen table. Zeeger looks at the clock. Twelve thirty. Summer days can take forever. Klaas is back home. The car, filthy and clapped out, is parked next to the barn. He suspects that his oldest son has been to the cemetery. He goes over to the sliding patio doors and stares out at the garden, which has grown fuller and fuller over the years. All kinds of plants are in flower, not a single perennial clashes with the perennial next to it, but still it looks somehow drab on a day like today. He’d like to turn on the sprinklers, but doesn’t, because he doesn’t want a scorched lawn. The large leaves of the pipevine are dull and dusty. Already, and it’s not even July yet. He crosses the room and studies the front garden. Anna’s right, it’s gloomy, even now, at the start of summer. Early this morning it was already grey. But for some reason he finds it impossible to cut down things he planted himself. Anna’s not the only one to complain; Klaas has taken to commenting too, not that he pays him any attention: he doesn’t keep the farm garden up at all. He just lets things go to rack and ruin, not even taking the trouble to plant a few violets or African marigolds in the drinking trough next to the back door in spring.
He gets the exercise book out of the desk in the small room, intending to take it through to the living room, but changes his mind. Why not just stay here? It’s pleasant enough and has more or less the same view as the one through the sliding door, just a couple of metres further along. He opens the door to the garden. Not because he thinks it will make it cooler, but so he can hear the radio in the garage. Rekel starts to whimper; he doesn’t like being alone. Zeeger walks into the living room and says, ‘Come on, then,’ to Rekel, who’s standing with his front paws on the last row of kitchen tiles. That’s his limit, he’s not allowed in the rest of the house. Head down and tail between his legs, the dog comes up to him. He’s doing something that’s forbidden, but he’s been ordered to do it. That confuses dogs. He slips into the small room and slinks straight through it. He exhales deeply and slumps against the open door to the garden. ‘It’s not easy for you either, is it, boy?’ says Zeeger Kaan, who sits down on the desk chair and rubs his knees. Sometimes he has to tap his left knee when he wants to stand up, as if the joint won’t work without a jolt to get it going.