His cough subsided immediately.
Once again we waited and waited, but heard nothing. Finally we came to the conclusion that the burglars had fled when they heard footsteps in an otherwise quiet building. The problem now was that the chairs in the private office were neatly grouped round the radio, which was tuned to England. If the burglars had forced the door and the air-raid wardens were to notice it and call the police, that would get the ball rolling, and there could be very serious repercussions. So Mr van Daan got up, pulled on his coat and trousers, put on his hat and cautiously followed Father down the stairs, with Peter (armed with a heavy hammer, to be on the safe side) right behind him. The ladies (including Margot and me) waited in suspense until the men returned five minutes later and told us that there was no sign of any activity in the building. We agreed not to run any water or flush the toilet; but since everyone’s stomach was churning from all the tension, you can imagine the stench after we’d each had a turn in the lavatory.
Incidents like these are always accompanied by other disasters, and this was no exception. Number one: the Westertoren bells stopped chiming, and they were always so comforting. Plus Mr Voskuijl* left early last night, and we weren’t sure if he’d given Bep the key and she’d forgotten to lock the door.
Well, the night had just begun, and we still weren’t sure what to expect. We were somewhat reassured by the fact that between eight-fifteen – when the burglar had first entered the building – and ten-thirty, we hadn’t heard a sound. The more we thought about it, the less likely it seemed that a burglar would have forced a door so early in the evening, when there were still people out on the streets. Besides that, it occurred to us that the warehouse manager at the Keg Company next door might still have been at work. What with the excitement and the thin walls, it’s easy to mistake the sounds. Besides, your imagination often plays tricks on you in moments of danger.
So we lay down on our beds, though not to sleep. Father and Mother and Mr Dussel were awake most of the night, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that I hardly got a wink of sleep. This morning the men went downstairs to see if the outside door was still locked, but all was well!
Of course, we gave the entire office staff a blow-by-blow account of the incident, which had been far from pleasant. It’s much easier to laugh at these kinds of things after they’ve happened, and Bep was the only one who took us seriously.
Note: The next morning the lavatory was clogged, and Father had to stick in a long wooden pole and fish out several pounds of excrement and strawberry recipes* (which is what we use for toilet paper these days). Afterwards we burned the pole.
Wednesday evening, 24 March 1943
* Pim was Anne’s nickname for her father.
* A supervisor in the Opekta warehouse and Bep’s father.
* Presumably the Opekta company’s surplus strawberry-jam recipes.
THE NICEST SPECTACLE I’ve ever seen here took place today: Mother was ironing and Mrs van Daan was scheduled for a dental appointment. Dussel began unpacking his case with an air of importance (it was the first time he’d worked on anyone here), and he needed some eau-de-Cologne, which could be used as a disinfectant, and Vaseline, which would have to do for wax. Mrs van D. sat down, and he started looking in her mouth, but every time he touched a tooth, the poor woman flinched and uttered incoherent cries. After a lengthy examination (lengthy as far as Mrs van D. was concerned, since it actually took no longer than two minutes), Dussel began to scrape out a cavity. But Mrs van D. had no intention of letting him. She flailed her arms and legs until Dussel finally let go of his probe and…it remained stuck in Mrs van D.’s tooth. That really did it! Mrs van D. lashed out wildly in all directions, cried (as much as you can with an instrument like that in your mouth), tried to remove it, but only managed to push it in even further. Mr Dussel calmly observed the scene, his hands on his hips, while the rest of the audience roared with laughter. Of course, that was very mean of us.
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