The thumping of so many feet going up the wooden stairs to the third floor echoed loudly. Lidy took my hand going upstairs. She looked up at me with her deep blue eyes.
“Marijke, this is not our house, but did you see? It was our table and our chairs and all our other things.”
I looked at her, “Yes, but this is our house, Lidy, this is where we live now.”
“Are we going to stay here forever? And will Mama come back then?”
“No, Mama’s dead, Mama will never come back, she’s in heaven.”
There, I had said it out loud for the first time; I almost choked on the words. Would it become easier if I said it more often?
Chapter 5
The apartment had three upstairs bedrooms. Willie’s room was no more than a little alcove off the main bedroom. There was just enough space to hold a single bed and a small wardrobe.
The two boys shared the second bedroom. With two single beds and a small wardrobe. It was also very compact, as were all the rooms in the apartment. But we didn’t have much in clothes or personal belongings anyway, and we didn’t know any better. All our friends and families lived in similar apartments. For Amsterdam it was quite normal.
The largest bedroom fronted the street, with a window overlooking the kindergarten. In the room were two double beds, one with a wooden frame; the other folded up against the wall, a curtain pulled across it when not in use. When that bed was down, there wasn’t much room to move. But when the bed was folded up, there was floor space for us to get dressed and play.
“Now girls, Aunty Jos and I think it will be best if Lidy and Ineke, being the two youngest, sleep with Ann. She can take care of them if they wake during the night. Marijke, Trudy and Margaret, you three will share the other bed.”
“And Marijke, you have to remember that it is very important you do not wet the bed, as it will make too much washing for Aunty Jos.”
Oh Papa, I will try so hard not to wet the bed, I silently vowed to myself. Mama and Papa had taken me to a special doctor a couple of years before, because I still wet the bed. The doctor told them I’d grow out of it. As I had always shared beds with my sisters, it was embarrassing. Even at the orphanage I regularly wet the bed, much to the disgust of the nuns. I was publicly embarrassed by them by having to strip my bed in front of the other girls. Then I’d be lectured about being too lazy to get up to go to the toilet. It became so embarrassing that sometimes I tried to hide it from the nuns by making my bed quickly.
But they seemed to know, and shamed me more for not being honest. I couldn’t win and the humiliation overwhelmed me at times. At least at the orphanage I had a single bed, and didn’t wet anyone else.
As I got older and it didn’t stop, I became paranoid about it. Each night I told myself I’d wake up for sure, and tonight I’d stay dry. Yet, night after night, I dreamt that I did wake up and was sitting on the toilet. Then I’d feel the warmth go up my back and down my legs; I’d wake up and realise that I’d done it again. I’d be so upset, especially as my younger sisters didn’t wet the bed, not even Ineke.
“Marijke, you will be responsible for making your bed every morning and Ann you will be responsible to make your bed.” Papa’s voice brought me back from my thoughts.
“Papa, can Lidy, Ineke and I have that bed please?” Ann asked, pointing to the wooden bed. Ann had always been the motherly type from a very young age. She had Papa’s dark wavy hair, and dark eyes.
“Yes, if you want, it doesn’t really matter to me. Are you okay with that, girls?”
We all nodded. I liked the idea of having the fold up bed, because I figured that once the bed was folded up, the extra space was for those who slept in that bed. If they got the comfortable bed, we should have the extra space for playing. It didn’t take long to realise it didn’t really work out that way!
“Look everybody, we have a shower. I particularly requested it from the landlord before we moved in. I told them with so many of us we really need it.”
The pride in Papa’s voice was obvious as we followed him through the door into the little alcove next to the stairs. He loved wheeling and dealing and took great pleasure in having a win. He’d brag about any wins for days. I learned as I got older that he didn’t talk about any deals he hadn’t won.
A shower in an apartment was not common, as public bath-houses were used on a weekly basis by most people. In Amsterdam North we didn’t have a shower. Now we not only had a shower, but also a small hand basin for washing ourselves and cleaning our teeth; such luxury.
How Mama would have loved to have had a shower, I thought.
Mama and Papa had instilled cleanliness in us from a very early age, and our weekly bath had always been a Saturday night ritual.
I had a suspicion Aunty Jos had something to do with getting the shower installed. We soon found out that she was extraordinarily concerned and fussy about cleanliness, hygiene and appearances. Having worked as a housekeeper and cleaner for such a long time, she was fastidious to a fault.
“You can all go unpack your things you brought home with you today, and then come downstairs to spend some time with Aunty Jos. She wants to talk with you and get to know you all better. She has cooked dinner for us tonight, your favourite rice pot Marijke. Then after dinner she’ll go home.”
With this Papa went downstairs. We started unpacking the paper bags the nuns had given us with our few belongings.
The left side of the wardrobe had six drawers, one for each girl. The right side had hanging space, but not much was needed as we only ever had a couple of dresses each.
I opened my drawer, and saw my underwear neatly folded, next to them were my few personal belongings. We never had many toys. My most prized possession was a doll Mama and Papa had given me for my sixth birthday.
It wasn’t a big doll, but I loved it dearly; it was a black doll with tight curly hair. I didn’t know anyone else who had such a doll. Mama had knitted a pretty pink dress for it and had helped me to knit little booties, of which I was very proud.
And there was my doll, in the drawer, looking at me with her beautiful dark eyes. I picked her up and held her to my chest and started to cry.
“What’s the matter?” Margaret asked. I knew she wouldn’t understand why this doll had suddenly brought back the tears, I couldn’t explain it myself. I was just so pleased to see something familiar. Dolly had always been my confidant, I could tell her anything, and I loved her so.
I quickly wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, and gave Margaret a hug.
“Nothing, I just missed my doll so much, I’m happy to see her.”
When I’d finished unpacking I placed my doll on the one chair in the room; gave her a kiss, and promised her she’d never be put in a drawer again.
I was back downstairs when the doorbell rang. Papa told John to go downstairs to see who it was. A minute or so later my god-mother, Mama’s sister, Aunty Rie walked in. She came over and hugged me, planted two kisses on my cheeks and wished me a Happy Birthday. She handed
