Bedtime

Dieke looks out through one of the living-room windows. The window with the crack. The blades of grass are still completely motionless, but the colour is a lot different from this morning. It’s around eight o’clock, she should have been in bed ages ago. Standing behind her is her mother. Her father is in the kitchen, sitting at the table that still has to be cleared. He rustles the newspaper.

Everybody’s gone. Uncle Jan and Uncle Johan got into Grandpa’s car and drove off. Grandpa’s not back yet. Dieke is waiting to see the car turn into the yard of the house next door and she’ll only manage that if she keeps her nose pressed to the glass. She’s expecting a lot more to happen today and sleep is the last thing on her mind. With all the things that have broken so far, there’s a chance the whole barn might collapse – and what if she was in bed and missed it? ‘Who broke this window?’ she asks.

‘I don’t know, Diek.’

‘Not you?’

‘No, not me.’

‘Is it going to fall out?’

‘Don’t be silly.’

Dieke sighs deeply.

‘Ask Grandpa who did it. He’s sure to know.’

‘When he comes home? Can I ask him then?’

‘No, give him some peace and quiet first. Tomorrow. You’re going to bed now.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘It’s already gone eight.’

‘But it’s holidays!’

‘You’re five.’

‘Why is Grandma up on the straw?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You never know anything.’

‘More than you. Maybe for Grandma, being up on the straw is like drawing for you.’

‘Huh?’

‘The way you start drawing when something’s bothering you.’

‘I draw all the time.’

‘Yes, but when you’re angry you use different colours and your tongue’s poking out of your mouth.’

‘Grandma’s mean.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘She pinched me, when we went to the zoo.’

‘You must have done something to deserve it.’

‘No, I didn’t. Was that a real sword?’

‘Yes, with a sharp edge.’

‘Did people fight with it?’

‘I don’t think so. Brush your teeth.’

Dieke sees her grandfather’s car drive past and slow down. She pulls her nose back from the glass and turns, walks to the kitchen and slides the plastic step over in front of the sink. She takes off everything except her knickers, dropping her clothes on the floor. A big blob of toothpaste on her Jip and Janneke toothbrush. ‘Cn ywu tuck mwe in, D-ddy?’ she asks.

Her father lays the newspaper on the table. ‘Sure,’ he says.

‘I’ll tidy your clothes up,’ says her mother, who doesn’t sound nearly as nice as her father.