‘It is a burglar,’ he thought to himself at once, and to satisfy himself he went straight downstairs to look at the front door, felt the Yale lock, and found everything closed. ‘Oh, then both Peter and Bep must have been very slack this evening,’ he decided. He remained in Kugler’s room for a while, then switched off the lamp, and went upstairs, without worrying much about either the open doors or the untidy office.
This morning, Peter knocked at our door early and came with the not so pleasant news that the front door was wide open. He also told us that the projector and Kuglers new portfolio had both disappeared from the cupboard. Peter was told to close the door. van Daan told us of his discoveries the previous evening and we were all awfully worried.
What must have happened is that the thief had a skeleton key, because the lock was quite undamaged. He must have crept into the house quite early and closed the door behind him, hidden himself when disturbed by Mr. van Daan, and, when he departed, fled with his spoils, leaving the door open in his haste. Who could have our key? Why didn’t the thief go to the warehouse? Might it be one of our own warehousemen, and would he perhaps betray us, since he certainly heard van Daan and perhaps even saw him?
It is all very creepy, because we don’t know whether this same burglar may not take it into his head to visit us again. Or perhaps it gave him a shock to find that there was someone walking about in the house?
Yours, Anne
Thursday, 2 March, 1944
Dear Kitty, Margot and I were both up in the attic today, although we were not able to enjoy it together as I had imagined, still I do know that she shares my
feelings about most things.
During dish washing Bep began telling Mummy and Mrs. van Daan that she felt very discouraged at times. And what help do you think they gave her? Do you know what Mummy’s advice was? That she should try to think of all the other people who are in trouble! What is the good of thinking of misery when one is already miserable oneself?
I said this too and was told, “You keep out of this sort of conversation.”
Aren’t the grown-ups idiotic and stupid? Just as if Peter, Margot, Elli, and I don’t all feel the same about things, and only a mother’s love or that of a very, very good friend can help us. These mothers here just don’t understand us at all. Perhaps Mrs. van Daan does a little more than Mummy. Oh, I would have so liked to say something to poor Elli. something that I know from experience would have helped her, but Daddy came between us and pushed me aside.
Aren’t they all stupid! We aren’t allowed to have any opinions. People can tell you to keep your mouth shut, but it doesn’t stop you having your own opinion. Even if people are still very young, they shouldn’t be prevented from saying what they think.
Only great love and devotion can help Elli, Margot, Peter, and me, and none of us gets it And no one, especially the stupid ‘know-alls’ here, can understand us, because we are much more sensitive and much more advanced in our thoughts than anyone here would ever imagine in their wildest dreams.
Mummy is grumbling again at the moment—she is obviously jealous because I talk more to Mrs. van Daan than to her nowadays.
I managed to get hold of Peter this afternoon and we talked for at least three quarters of an hour. Peter had the greatest difficulty in saying anything about himself, it took a long time to draw him out. He told me how often his parents quarrel over politics, cigarettes, and all kinds of things. He was very shy.
Then I talked to him about my parents. He defended Daddy; he thought him a ‘first-rate chap.’ Then we talked about ‘upstairs’ and ‘downstairs’ again, he was really rather amazed that we don’t always like his parents.
