Dearest Kitty, It is becoming a bad dream—in daytime as well as at night. I see him nearly all the time and can’t get to him, I mustn’t show anything, must remain gay while I’m really in despair.
Peter Schift and Peter van Daan have grown into one Peter, who is beloved and good, and for whom I long desperately.
Mummy is tiresome; Daddy, sweet, and therefore all the more tiresome, Margot the most tiresome because she expects me to wear a pleasant expression, and all I want is to be left in peace.
Peter didn’t come to me in the attic. He went up to the loft instead and did some carpentry. At every creak and every knock some of my courage seemed to seep away and I grew more unhappy. In the distance a bell was playing ‘Pure in body, pure in soul.’ I’m sentimental—I know. I’m desperate and silly—I know that too. Oh, help me!
Yours, Anne
Wednesday, 1 March, 1944
Dear Kitty, My own affairs have been pushed into the background by—a burglary.
I’m becoming boring with all my burglars, but what can I do, they seem to take such a delight in honouring Ges & Co. with their visits. This burglary is much more complicated than the one in July, 1943.
When Mr. van Daan went to Kuglers office at half past seven, as usual, he saw that the communicating glass doors and the office door were open.
Surprised at this, he walked through and was even more amazed to see that the doors of the little dark room were open too, and that there was a terrible mess in the main office.
