B007P4V3G4 EBOK (43 page)

On leaving, Werther declared he would be coming next day. I
did not accompany him further on his way than the exit to the
garden and took my leave, mumbling.

Until meal time, out of the mat from the box room, I built a tent
at the edge of the garden, up against the neighbours' bicycle shed;
in the middle I planted a heavy concrete block in the soil.

'This is the centre of the temple,' I said softly. I set down an old,
cracked casserole on the block and made a little wood fire inside it,
slipping into reverie as I did so. A lot of smoke developed. I took
the old blue cover of an exercise book, smoothed it out and,
having gone and sat down in the tent, I wrote on it in chalk: 'To
Andre, who's a brother. On the ship, On Board that is. They must
give him this letter'. I rolled up the sheet and cast it into the
flames.

Now something strange happened: in the adjacent garden,
footsteps approached and halted right next to the tent. I put the lid
on the casserole. There was some mumbling and immediately
following that a bucket of water was tipped out on to the tent. I
sat there quite motionless and didn't make a sound. The water did not come in but ran down in noisy streams. Then the footsteps
removed themselves, a handle rattled and a door closed. I thought
it possible that the casting into the fire of the letter and the
crashing down of the water enjoyed a magical connection but
I could not understand it. Until I was called to have my meal I
continued to sit there, shivering. 'He stinks,' my brother said when
I was sitting at the table: 'He's just like a ruddy bloater. He only
does filthy things. It has to be filthy or else he won't do it.'

I spent the next day decorating our bedroom. I fixed branches
of Christmas trees I had brought in off the street to the wall with
drawing pins and braided them with strips of white paper. Then I
was going to install the wire for the lights.

A good while back already I had been allowed to buy a sixty
cents doorbell transformer but until now I had not been allowed to
use it because my mother didn't trust the device. I was now
allowed to on condition that I showed it beforehand to an
acquaintance in the neighbourhood, a small, hunchbacked tailor
called Rabbijn: he had the reputation of being knowledgeable on
the subject of electricity. 'Yes, that's an ordinary transformer,' he
said at once, but he held me up a long time, telling me how the
poles had to be connected even though this was clearly marked on
the bakelite casing. His wife, who was racked with rheumatism and
could barely move her swollen fingers any more, looked at the
device with her poor eyesight and said: 'You shouldn't play pranks
with such things.'

Her husband now asked me whether I knew that there were
people who took the covers from electric sockets and held their
fingers to the poles for fun.

At the same time he told of what had happened to him a few
days previous. In his work room, which looked out on to the garden, he had fixed up all kinds of loose wiring which hung like washing lines around the room. One late afternoon, while he was cutting,
holding up the cloth to get some good light on it, he had cut
through the wire connecting the lamp. A bang and a flame had occurred; he had received a violent shock and a short-circuit had been
caused instantly. Neighbours in the adjacent garden had come
rushing in and had described the light phenomenon as being a
'blue spurt of fire'. He himself was convinced that a layer of worn
lacquer on the eyes of the scissors had saved his life for him.

On returning home I fixed up the transformer and connected
three bicycle lamps to it which I allowed to be half hidden by the fir branches. On a piece of cardboard I drew in coloured crayon:
'Join the B.V.C.' and hung it among the greenery. Finally I
switched on the current. Then I asked my father to come and have
a look.

A hand in his pocket, he looked round with a mocking expression
curled round his mouth. 'What's the B.V.C.7' he asked. 'That's a
secret which only the members know,' I said in apparent triumph
but in fact depression had taken me in its grip. It had begun to
thaw and it was raining lightly.

At the table on the landing I went and wrote a programme that
ran as follows: '1. Meeting opened by the chairman. 2. The
chairman welcomes those present and explains the purpose of the
meeting.'

I couldn't think of anything else after this. For a long time I
continued to sit staring in the half light. In the end I added: '3.
Speech in which the points to be touched upon are: a. a club with
clout; b. no dormant membership; c. nobody may act funny to
members or to the chairman; d. a department will be instituted for
building and technology, primarily for mills that run on wind; the
head of this is called the mill-wright: he has to be someone who
has built many mills before.' I made a neat copy of everything and
rolled up the paper. Then I surveyed the decorations and the
burning lights. Silence was all around; occasionally the voices of
children in the street or the barking of a dog would penetrate, as if
only from a distance: it was as though the grey sky, like dull felt,
dampened all the racket.

It was past three o'clock when Werther and his sister arrived.
She was a pale, podgy little girl with a flattened face. She wore a
knitted dress of orange wool that emphasised the cumbrousness of
her figure even more clearly. She spoke in a whisper almost, after
which she would burst out giggling time and again. We went and
sat on the beds in the bedroom.

I had switched off the lighting in advance but now I lit it all of a
sudden. Martha said: 'O-oh'; Werther looked round, silent and indifferent.

I got up, went and stood behind a table and unfolded my piece
of paper. 'I hereby declare the great festive gathering of the B.V.C.
open,' I said. With a ruler I banged a few times on the table. 'Come
in,' Martha said and began to giggle. 'Isn't Dirk coming?' Werther
asked. 'I think not,' I replied, curtly.

'As chairman I welcome the esteemed members and the prospec tive member,' I said. 'Hi-de-hi,' said Werther. 'Let me set out the
purpose of this meeting,' I went on. 'It's not the intention that our
club should only have afternoon parties: we shall have to have
other meetings, about serious things. We must end up with a
good, strong club, a club with clout. Dormant members we can do
without. Members who are just members but otherwise only make
mugs out of everyone, are a waste of time. The next issue I wish
to speak on is the fact that there are members who act funny to
club members or to the chairman. That's not on. Esteemed members!
A department is to be instituted for building and technology,
primarily for mills that run on wind. The head of this is called the
mill-wright: he has to be someone who has built many mills
before. Or someone very good at installing electric wires for lights
'cause that's got something to do with it. That's what I had to say,'
I concluded, scrunched up the paper and went and sat next to
Werther. 'The afternoon meeting has begun,' I said vaguely.

Half a minute past during which no one said anything. 'When
does it begin?' Werther asked. 'Only a few members have turned
up,' I replied. 'It's a shame to perform the entire programme for
just the few attending.' Werther now proposed picking up Dirk.
The three of us went to his house.

He answered the door himself and halted, standing silent in the
doorway. 'I shall address you,' I said. 'A while ago we were on the
dike and some less pleasant things took place,' I started off. 'It
would not be profitable at this point to work out who's the guilty
party,' I went on. 'But this afternoon we're having a tremendous
club party at my place. Of course you understand that the assistant
secretary cannot stay away: the entire committee must be there.
It's going to be a splendid afternoon which will live in our
memories for a long time to come. I shall also be making a
stunning speech.'

After some persuasion he came with us. When we'd arrived
back upstairs my mother brought tea and sugar frosted biscuits.
After we had drunk tea a silence fell that seemed never to end. I
stepped up to the window and looked at the sky. Unheeded I went
downstairs to look for my brother. We're sitting upstairs and we
haven't got a programme,' I said. Won't you play something on
your mandolin?' 'No,' he said. 'But we haven't got a programme!' I
said emphatically. 'No,' he repeated, 'I won't do it.' I continued to
press him for a good while but he stuck to his refusal.

When I arrived back in the bedroom it turned out someone had opened the deep cupboard. I had locked it but had left the key in the
door. I used the cupboard for two purposes: because it was so dark
and quiet, I wielded my member there, or I kneaded little pots, jugs
and ashtrays from modelling clay which were left there to dry. A
bright light without a shade lit the small space so I could close the door
behind me completely. (Most times I would lock it from the inside.)

They had all forced their way in and had brought out pots in
order to look at them in daylight. We won't break them,' Werther
said. He studied the base of an ashtray on which he had discovered
the inscription T.A.P.F. 'What does that mean, Tapf?' he asked. It
was an abbreviation of The Antiquity Pottery Factory, but I didn't
dare to say this.

'They're just letters,' I replied. 'But I see the same ones each
time,' he insisted, for he was having a look at the base of the other
objects too.'Quite possible,' I said. 'But we'd better put everything
away again.'

They were showing signs of putting the items back again when
Werther dropped a little pot that fell to bits, unrecognisable, with
lots of powder forming in the process. 'That's a pity,' he said and
stood there looking at it. I began to pace to and fro, fretfully.
When everything had been put back in its place again I locked the
cupboard, put the key in my pocket and went and sat on the bed.
Again a silence forced its way into the room.

We're going out again now,' I said and switched off the lights.
We stomped down the stairs and sidled in silence to the front
door. 'I've still got some homework to do,' I said dully. They
halted just beyond the doorway. 'You'd better go away now,' I
said, 'I'm staying here. You've got horrid habits.'

Dirk went off to his house but Werther and his sister continued
to stand there. Without a word, I thumped him hard, which made
him cry out; I then quickly jumped inside again and shut the door
with a bang.

In the empty bedroom I stood at the window a long time.
Needles rained down sparsely from the fir branches. 'The silence
sails like a ship,' I thought.

It was raining next day. In the afternoon, after school, I found a
note in the letter box that proved to be from Werther. The text
ran: 'Elmer. Don't bother coming to my place any more. You
thump because you're mean. The club's finished because I don't
want to any more. Werther'. It had been written in pencil on half a
sheet from an exercise book.

At once, I called Dirk to come outside and showed him the
paper but moved it about and kept it exactly at a distance he
would just not be able to read from. 'This's something secret that's
just arrived,' I said. 'It's a letter. We must have a meeting at once.'

We made our way to the box room. Here I let him read the
text. 'As a good member of the club you've understood, of course,
what the matter is here,' I said. 'He's a frightful spy. He has stolen
into the club to tell all to the enemy: that's how he wants to smash
the club. He's been at it a while already. He has gone and opened a
cupboard at the chairman's to chuck nice things to bits. That was
to muck up the club. We have to bury the list of members in a
secret place.'

Dirk continued to peer at the note but said nothing. While
reading he picked with nonchalant motions at a scab on his knee.

'Did you know a club with two members is a very good thing?'
I asked. 'It's really even better than three members.' Dirk dropped
the note and felt along the ground until he had found an empty
treacle tin; he tried to lift its lid with his nails. All of a sudden I
began to hate him.

'You have to be got rid of too,' I said. 'You've been put up to
things as well; I can see that clear as anything. You, too, want the
club to end. From now on you're suspended.' Dirk said nothing
and went on messing with the tin. I got up.

'You've got to get out of the meeting,' I said. 'If you want to
get into the club again - but that's very difficult - then you must
send the chairman a letter and beg forgiveness. Would you do
that?'

I left him no opportunity to reply but began to kick him,
holding back. 'You just ruin everything,' I said. When he didn't get
up, I drew him upright by his arms and pushed him outside. I
watched him go as he trundled off in silence.

It wasn't raining any more but the atmosphere was damp; there
was no wind though banks of mist slid past slowly above the
houses. I went back into the box room. On a piece of cardboard I
wrote: 'There are enemies of the club everywhere'. I buried it,
folded up tiny, in a shallow spot which I marked with an elder
branch I had picked.

I no longer spoke with Dirk and Werther for some time. Because
the cold weather wouldn't go away, I no longer visited the box
room but made my way frequently to the loft. Here I would sit on my own for long periods at a stretch. I called the space 'The
Enchanted Castle' and nailed a cardboard sign to the door bearing
those words drawn on it in crayon.

On a Wednesday afternoon I once let in a little grey cat that
had been sitting in the rain on the roof, coughing. I locked the
creature up in the drawer of a large cabin trunk and left it there for
hours. When I opened the drawer again, the bottom, pasted with
floral wallpaper, was soiled with sticky slime. I threw the animal
back on to the roof across which, coughing in spasms, it disappeared from view. 'It has coughed and must therefore be tormented,' I said out loud, watching the cat go through one of the
little windows I would often stand looking out at to think the
while.