Anyone can put on a charming exterior when they want to. Mrs van D. is friendly to men, so it’s easy to make a mistake until you get to know her true nature. A good person can’t imagine at first that she could be so cunning, so calculating and so selfish. It’s impossible, you think, for anyone who looks reasonably well-bred on the outside to be so empty and bare on the inside.
Mother thinks that Mrs van D. is too stupid for words, Margot that she’s too unimportant, Pim that she’s too ugly (literally and figuratively!), and after long observation (I’m not so distrustful at the beginning), I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s all three of the above, and lots more besides. She has so many bad traits that I can’t single out just one of them.
Will the reader please take into consideration that this story was written before the writer’s fury had cooled?
Monday, 2 August 1943
AFTER NEARLY THREE months of peace and quiet, interrupted by only a few quibbles, a fierce discussion broke out again today. It happened early in the morning, when we were peeling potatoes, and caught everyone off guard. I’ll give a rundown of the conversation, though it was impossible to follow it all since everyone was talking at once.
Mrs van D. started it off (naturally!) by remarking that anyone who doesn’t help peel potatoes in the morning should be required to do so in the evening. There was no reply, which apparently didn’t suit the van Daans, since shortly after that Mr van D. suggested that we all peel our own potatoes, with the exception of Peter, since peeling potatoes isn’t a suitable job for a boy. (Note the crystal-clear logic!)
Mr van D. went on: ‘What I can’t understand is why the men always have to help with the peeling. It means that the work isn’t divided equally. Why should one person have to do more communal chores than another?’
Mother interrupted at this point, since she could see where the conversation was heading. ‘Aha, Mr van Daan, I know what comes next. You’re going to tell us for the umpteenth time that the children aren’t doing enough. But you know perfectly well that when Margot doesn’t help out, Anne does, and vice versa. Peter never helps out as it is. You don’t think it’s necessary. Well, then, I don’t think it’s necessary for the girls to help either!’
Mr van D. yelped, Mrs van D. yipped, Dussel shushed and Mother shouted. It was a hellish scene, and there was poor little me watching as our supposedly wise ‘elders and betters’ literally fought it out.
The words flew thick and fast. Mrs van D. accused Dussel of playing one off against the other (I quite agree), Mr van D. spouted off at Mother, about the communal chores, about how much work he did and how we should actually feel sorry for him. Then he suddenly yelled, ‘It’d be better for the children if they helped out here a little more, instead of sitting around all day with their noses in a book. Girls don’t need that much education anyway!’ (Enlightened, eh?) Mother, having calmed down a little, declared that she didn’t feel sorry for Mr van Daan in the slightest.
Then he started in again.
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