you say exactly what you want to say to people and are never the least bit shy.”
“I can tell you, you’re making a big mistake,” I answered. “I usually say things quite differently from the way I meant to say them, and then I talk -too much and far too long, and that’s just as bad.”
I couldn’t help laughing to myself over this last sentence. However, I wanted to let him go on talking about himself, so I kept my amusement to myself, went and sat on a cushion on the floor, put my arms around my bent knees, and looked at him attentively.
I am very glad that there is someone else in the house who can get into the same fits of rage as I do. I could see it did Peter good to pull Dussel to pieces to his hearts content, without fear of my telling tales. And as for me, I was very pleased, because I sensed a real feeling of fellowship, such as I can only remember having had with my girl friends.
Yours, Anne
Wednesday, 16 February, 1944
Dear Kitty, It’s Margot’s birthday. Peter came at half past twelve to look at the presents and stayed talking much longer than was strictly necessary—a thing he’d have never done otherwise. In the afternoon I went to get some coffee and, after that, potatoes, because I wanted to spoil Margot for just that one day in the year. I went through Peter’s room, he took all his papers off the stairs at once and I asked whether I should close the trap door to the attic. “Yes,” he replied, “knock when you come back, then I’ll open it for you.”
I thanked him, went upstairs, and searched at least ten minutes in the large barrel for the smallest potatoes. Then my back began to ache and I got
cold. Naturally I didn’t knock and opened the trap door myself, but he still came to meet me most obligingly, and took the pan from me.
“I’ve looked for a long time, these are the smallest I could find,” I said.
“Did you look in the big barrel?”
“Yes, I’ve been over them all.”
By this time I was standing at the bottom of the stairs and he looked searchingly in the pan which he was still holding. “Oh, but these are first- rate,” he said, and added when I took the pan from him, “I congratulate you!” At the same time he gave me such a gentle, warm look, making me feel a tender glow within me. I could really see that he wanted to please me, and because he couldn’t make a long complimentary speech he spoke with his eyes. I understood him, oh, so well, and was very grateful. It gives me pleasure even now when I recall those words and that look he gave me.
When I went downstairs. Mummy said that I must get some more potatoes, this time for supper. I willingly offered to go upstairs again.
When I came into Peter’s room, I apologised at having to disturb him again. When I was already on the stairs, he got up, and went and stood between the door and the wall, firmly took hold of my arm, and wanted to hold me back by force.
“I’ll go,” he said. I replied that it really wasn’t necessary and that I didn’t have to get particularly small ones this time. Then he was convinced and let my arm go. On the way down, he came and opened the trap door and took the pan again. When I reached the door, I asked, “What are you doing?” “French,” he replied. I asked if I might glance through the exercises, washed my hands, and went and sat on the divan opposite him.
We soon began talking. After I’d explained some of the French to him, he told me that he wanted to go to the Dutch East Indies and live on a plantation later on. He talked about his home life, about the black market, and then he said that he felt so useless. I told him that he certainly had a very strong inferiority complex. He talked about the Jews. He would have found it much easier if he’d been a Christian and if he could be one after the war. I asked if he wanted to be baptised, but that wasn’t the case either.
Who was to know whether he was a Jew when the war was over? He said.
