After five minutes of perfect quiet, the same sequence repeats itself three more times, after which he’s presumably lulled himself back to sleep for a while.
Sometimes the guns go off during the night, between one and four. I’m never aware of it before it happens, but all of a sudden I find myself standing beside my bed, out of sheer habit. Occasionally I’m dreaming so deeply (of irregular French verbs or a quarrel upstairs) that I realize only when my dream is over that the shooting has stopped and that I’ve remained quietly in my bed. But usually I wake up. Then I grab a pillow and a handkerchief, throw on my dressing-gown and slippers and dash next door to Father, just the way Margot described in this birthday poem:
When shots ring out in the dark of night,
The door creaks open and into sight
Come a hanky, a pillow, a figure in white!
Once I’ve reached the big bed, the worst is over, except when the shooting is extra loud.
Six forty-five: Brring…the alarm clock, which raises its shrill voice at any hour of the day or night, whether you want it to or not. Creak…wham…Mrs van D. turns it off. Screak…Mr van D. gets up, puts on the water and races to the bathroom.
Seven-fifteen: The door creaks again. Dussel can go to the bathroom. Alone at last, I remove the black-out screen…and a new day begins in the Annexe.
Wednesday, 4 August 1943
* The residents of the Annexe helped out with work when the office was closed.
IT’S TWELVE-THIRTY: The whole gang breathes a sigh of relief:
Mr van Maaren, the man with the shady past, and Mr de Kok have gone home for lunch.*
Upstairs you can hear the thud of the vacuum cleaner on Mrs van D.’s beautiful and only rug. Margot tucks a few books under her arm and heads for the class for ‘slow learners’, which is what Dussel seems to be. Pim goes and sits in a corner with his constant companion, Dickens, in the hope of finding a bit of peace and quiet. Mother hastens upstairs to help the busy little housewife, and I tidy up both the bathroom and myself at the same time.
Twelve forty-five: One by one they trickle in: first Mr Gies and then either Mr Kleiman or Mr Kugler, followed by Bep and sometimes even Miep.
One: Clustered round the radio, they all listen raptly to
the BBC. This is the only time the members of the Annexe family don’t interrupt each other, since even Mr van Daan can’t argue with the speaker.
One-fifteen: Food distribution. Everyone from downstairs gets a cup of soup, plus pudding, if there happens to be any. A contented Mr Gies sits on the divan or leans against the desk with his newspaper, cup and usually the cat at his side. If one of the three is missing, he doesn’t hesitate to let his protest be heard. Mr Kleiman relates the latest news from town, and he’s an excellent source. Mr Kugler hurries up the stairs, gives a short but solid knock on the door and comes in either wringing his hands or rubbing them in glee, depending on whether he’s quiet and in a bad mood or talkative and in a good mood.
One forty-five: Everyone rises from the table and goes about their business. Margot and Mother do the washing-up, Mr and Mrs van D. head for the divan, Peter for the attic, Father for his divan, Dussel too, and Anne does her homework.
What comes next is the quietest hour of the day; when they’re all asleep, there are no disturbances. To judge by his face, Dussel is dreaming of food. But I don’t look at him long, because the time whizzes by and before you know it, it’ll be four o’clock and the pedantic Dr Dussel will be standing with the clock in his hand because I’m one minute late.
Thursday, 5 August 1943
* W.G. van Maaren and J.J. de Kok both worked in the warehouse. The comment about van Maaren’s ‘shady past’ may be a reference to his pilfering during a previous job.
WHAT IS THE SCENE round the table? How do the various table companions amuse themselves? One is noisy, the other quiet; one eats too much, the other too little, depending on their appetite.
Mr van Daan: Is served first, and takes a generous portion of whatever he likes. Usually joins in the conversation, never fails to give his opinion. Once he’s spoken, his word is final. If anyone dares to suggest otherwise, Mr van D.
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