August 16, 2004
The beachcomber
MENSO SPEWED OUT a string or curses. That crazy wiif Louisa Veldkamp was on the island. She had accused him of being a pedophile in front of his daughter. Stay away from my sons.
He jerked his bike along the beach, angrily swinging his shaggy head from side to side as he scanned the damp sand for objects of value that had washed up in the storm. He worked on autopilot while his thoughts swam in a gulf of hatred.
The wiif didn’t belong on Wexalia. This was his home. He was a third-generation islander, a beachcomber same as his father and grandfather before him. At least her visits were brief, but they were long enough to start tongues wagging. Memories stirred. People whispered, nudged one another, pulled their kiddies closer. Her visits to the island were something he had learned to endure, like the chemotherapy for his kidney cancer two years ago.
Shitty luck the wiif was here the same week as his daughter Hilka and her meiske Famke. Shitty luck they took the same ferry—the past vomited at his feet. Hilka was forced to relive the humiliating accusations and sidelong glances that cost her parents their marriage: her father accused of being a pedophile. Menso’s stomach roiled. Though Hilka tried to hide it, he saw doubt lurking in her eyes, and she always made an excuse not to leave Famke alone with him.
There had been times when he had wanted to strangle Louisa Veldkamp with his bare hands. For instance, when he was charged with assault for slugging Kees Doeksen at the Fair Weather Pub. It wasn’t Doeksen’s first disgusting crack about Menso and the Veldkamp twins. Or his last.
Menso had made it his business to learn her habits when she visited the island, and he knew when she was at her most vulnerable. He toyed with various scenarios. It had become a hobby or a favorite fantasy, but not a fantasy that he planned to act on. The satisfaction lay in knowing he could. She ran on the beach at seven in the morning, usually alone, sometimes with her son, Willem. It was seven now. He parked his bicycle and turned, surveying the beach in every direction.