The Book of Everything (5 page)

A
unt Pie came storming up the stairs. Thomas stood at the top of the stairs waiting for her. It was as if the sun was rolling into the house. With Aunt Pie, warmth streamed into the cold hallway.

“Hello, my boy,” said Aunt Pie. She was wearing a large hat fastened with a hatpin. She kissed Thomas from underneath her hat.

“Hello, Aunt Pie,” said Thomas.

He always liked it when Aunt Pie came. But this time was different. Aunt Pie did not look happy. Her face was covered in red spots.

“You're such a gorgeous boy,” she said. Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she had been crying. She walked on and sailed into the living room with her flapping hat. She went up to the table, planted her hands on her hips, and called, “Benno has hit me!”

The earth trembled and Heaven held its breath. The birds in the trees fell silent and the wind died down. Church bells started ringing of their own accord and trams ground to a halt. Uncle Benno had hit Aunt Pie! Bewilderment spread through the land.

“And do you know why?” shouted Aunt Pie. “Because I bought a pair of slacks! He hit me because I was wearing trousers! Has he gone completely off his head?”

Mother, Margot, Thomas, and Father stared at Aunt Pie as if she were a ghost. Father had gone pale. Then he said, “Margot and Thomas, go to your room. Aunt Pie and I have something to discuss.”

“No, not at all!” said Aunt Pie. “There's nothing secret about it.” She looked from Margot to Thomas and back again. “Margot, Thomas, your Uncle Benno has hit your Aunt Pie. There.”

“Have a seat, Pie,” said Mother. She got up and pulled over a chair. Aunt Pie sat down.

“And I think that you” — Aunt Pie stabbed her finger at Father — “that you, as his eldest brother, need to go and talk with him. You have to tell him that he just cannot do this. If not, I am going to stand in front of our house with a placard that says ‘Mr. Klopper Beats His Wife Because She Wears Trousers.' So there. Has he gone totally bonkers?”

“Calm down, Pie,” said Father with a trembling voice. “It is simply a fact of life that the man is the head of the household …”

“But that doesn't mean he has to go about belting everybody!” exclaimed Aunt Pie.

“Listen, Pie,” Father said severely. “Let me finish. It is the
man's task to lead and instruct his wife and children. And if they refuse to listen to him, he has no choice but to …”

“Beat?” screamed Aunt Pie.

“… but to take severe measures. That is how God has ordained things. God has also ordained that women wear dresses and men, trousers.”

Aunt Pie grinned maliciously. “Ludicrous!” she shouted.

Father raised his voice. “And if you obstinately resist God's commandments, your husband has the right, no, the duty, to compel you to obey, with a hard hand if need be.”

Aunt Pie regarded Father mockingly. “Oh, is that so?” she said sweetly. She opened her handbag and produced a packet of cigarettes. She drew one out and lit it, then blew a cloud of smoke at the light. “Okay,” she said. “You are obviously useless. But I tell you this: If Benno hits me just once more, I'm off, and he'll never see me again. And from now on, all I'll wear is trousers. Look.”

She lifted one leg above the table. It was covered by a pink trouser leg. She winked at Thomas. “Don't you agree, my sweet?”

Thomas quickly glanced at Father. “Blank's my name,” he thought.

“What's happened to your nose, anyway?” Aunt Pie asked Mother. “You haven't been resisting God's commandments, I hope?”

“No, nothing,” Mother said awkwardly. She looked at the tablecloth. There were a few gravy stains on it.

“Only joking,” said Aunt Pie. “So how come your nose is so swollen?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Mother. “I bumped into something.”

“Into the aquarium,” said Margot. “Didn't she, Papa?”

Thomas felt the fear in his stomach. “Don't, Margot,” he thought. “Don't needle.”

Aunt Pie puffed small clouds of smoke up at the ceiling. “Yes,” she said. “They can do nasty things to you, those aquariums. I'm forever bumping into aquariums, usually with my nose.”

“Shall I make some coffee?” said Mother nervously.

“Not for me,” said Aunt Pie. She looked at Father venomously. “I have suddenly realized something,” she said. “You're just as big a coward as your brother.”

“Pie,” said Mother. “You're mistaken….”

Aunt Pie squashed her cigarette on Father's plate. “Duty calls,” she said. “Back to my pious husband with the flapping hands. But I'll teach him! You just watch me!”

She bent and kissed Mother, then Margot, and finally Thomas. “We're not going to take things lying down, are we?” she said. Then she sailed out of the room with her hat and floated down the stairs.

Silence descended. No one dared look at anyone. Thomas
could smell Aunt Pie. Her smoke and her perfume still hung under the light.

“Isn't it time you did your homework, Margot?” Father asked. His voice sounded like an empty bucket.

“Yes, Papa, but first I'll do Mama's hair.”

“Oh,” said Father. He got up. “I've got things to do for work,” he said. He withdrew into the side room, where his desk stood.

 

“How did you like those frogs?” asked Mrs. van Amersfoort.

Thomas was surprised. He was sitting in the chair with the carved legs. A black cat was rubbing against his legs.

“Quite good,” he said. “But Mama doesn't want this.”

“I can imagine,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “It was rather meant to be a joke. I think it's actually not a very practical plague.”

Thomas took a gulp of his cordial to recover from the shock. Mrs. van Amersfoort was a powerful witch. Much more powerful even than he had thought.

“Listen to this,” she said. “This is fun.” A small book lay in her lap. “You've got an aquarium, haven't you?”

Thomas nodded. Mrs. van Amersfoort knew everything.

“Listen,” she said. She put her glasses on and read aloud.

When she had finished, she gave Thomas a questioning glance. “Well, what do you think?”

“Funny,” said Thomas seriously.

“I think she's such a wonderful writer, Annie M. G. Schmidt,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “She writes for the newspaper.”

“Oh,” said Thomas. “But what does that poem mean?”

“Nothing, really,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “It's just fun.”

“Ah, yes,” said Thomas. He considered. It was just fun.

“Music usually means nothing much either,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “It is just beautiful.”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Just beautiful. Now I see.”

“The forest and the sea don't mean anything either, do they,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “Forest is forest and sea is sea. You can enjoy them.”

“Yes, yes,” said Thomas. “Enjoy.” He thought about the beach and the sea. About building sand castles against the tide.
Of catching shrimps in a net. “We go to Zandvoort for the day sometimes,” he said.

“And how do you like that?”

“Great,” Thomas sighed.

“And what does Zandvoort mean?” she asked.

Thomas laughed. He had understood. “Nothing,” he said. “It's just great.”

The cat jumped onto his lap. It was warm and soft. He could feel the purring right through his body. It was just good to be at Mrs. van Amersfoort's place, even though her husband had been shot dead with guns.

“Will you do something for me?” she asked.

“Of course,” said Thomas.

“Will you read to me? Here.” Mrs. van Amersfoort put the book by Annie M. G. Schmidt down on top of the cat in his lap. “Start at the beginning.”

Thomas felt himself blush. At school, he often had to read aloud, but he had never done it in someone's home. It was a strange feeling. He opened the book and began.

At first, he stumbled over some of the words. But it quickly became easier. At times, Mrs. van Amersfoort laughed. He didn't know why. He was too busy reading.

It was miraculous. Weren't these supposed to be children's rhymes? So why did they make a grown-up person laugh? He
raised his eyes from his book occasionally so he could see her face. When she laughed, funny wrinkles darted from her mouth to her ears. Her head nodded as if she were saying, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” And without him noticing, she had grown two plaits, bows and all.

At first, Thomas didn't know what he was seeing, but that didn't last long. He saw that Mrs. van Amersfoort was not an old lady, but an old little girl. She might jump out of her chair any moment and grab her jump rope. That's what she looked like.

Thomas read and read. Mrs. van Amersfoort was a witch, but now she was under a spell herself. That was a good feeling. Thomas wanted never to stop reading aloud, never.

“That was lovely,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort when Thomas had read five poems. “But now I need a rest. You know, my husband used to read aloud to me. We always enjoyed that so much.” The plaits had gone, and so had the bows. Her gray bun was back.

“I think I shall start a reading-aloud club,” said Thomas.

“What a good idea,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort.

“With music in the breaks,” said Thomas. “We'll need a program, otherwise people won't know what to expect. For instance:

“Item one: Psalm 22, recited by Thomas Klopper, because I already know that one by heart.

“Item two: Music from Mrs. van Amersfoort's portable gramophone.

“Item three:
Emil and the Detectives
, chapter one, read by Thomas Klopper.

“Item four: Music from Mrs. van Amersfoort's portable gramophone.

“Item five …”

“Very good, excellent,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “How come you know that psalm by heart?”

“We have to know a psalm by heart every Monday for school,” said Thomas.

“How about saying it for me?” said Mrs. van Amersfoort.

“Okay,” said Thomas.

He gently pushed the cat from his lap, stood up, and said:

 

(WARNING: You can safely skip the poem Thomas is about to recite. It is totally unreadable!)

“Goodness gracious,” exclaimed Mrs. van Amersfoort when Thomas had finished. “Very clever. And so cheerful for children, don't you think?”

Thomas sat down. “Eh … yes,” he said. “But it is very difficult to learn by heart, you know.”

“I could never do it,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “Good, so now you have a reading-aloud club and a program. And where are you going to do it?”

“What do you mean, where?” said Thomas, surprised.

“Well,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “A club needs a meeting place. Where is the meeting place?”

Thomas suddenly felt embarrassed. He knew where, but he didn't dare say it.

“I know what we'll do,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “We'll do it here, but the program will have to be changed a little. You read poems by Annie M. G. Schmidt, and I take care of the audience.”

“Good,” said Thomas.

“Take the book home with you,” said Mrs. van Amersfoort. “So you can practice.”

Thomas went home and practiced till he was cross-eyed.

I
t was a windy day with a lot of rain. A day that would shake the world. For ever after, trams would scream as they rounded a corner. Men walked through the streets with grim faces, not liking one another.

“It seemed like an ordinary day,” Thomas wrote in
The Book of Everything
. “But that was because I hadn't paid proper attention. I should have known, because my ears were already ringing when I woke up. My window was rattling, so I couldn't think. And I couldn't find my socks.”

But good things had happened too on that day. When Thomas was walking home from school, he saw Eliza coming out of Mrs. van Amersfoort's house. That surprised him. He had never seen Eliza there before.

She came up to him,
creak, creak,
and spread her arms. “Come here, my favorite friend,” she said. She embraced him and pressed him firmly against her chest. That was nice, for it felt as if his head lay on a bouncy pillow. He looked up into her face. Eliza had put lipstick on. When she smiled at him, he thought he would expire on the spot. “And I wouldn't have minded at all,” he wrote in
The Book of Everything
. “Luckily she
held me for a long while and I thought, ‘Girls are nice.' I will never forget that, because I never forget anything. I write everything down. This too: ‘Perhaps Eliza cannot find a boyfriend because she has a leather leg and a bad hand. Perhaps she is waiting for me to grow up a bit. My good fortune.'”

“Mrs. van Amersfoort tells me you're very good at reading aloud,” said Eliza. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Then she let go of Thomas. She left a terrible emptiness. “I'll wait for you forever,” Thomas whispered. But once she turned the corner, he waited no longer. His ears buzzed. He rang the bell and Mother opened the door.

“Hello, Mama,” he said.

“Hello, my dream prince,” said Mother. Her nose had healed quite well. The cotton wool was gone. He wasn't a dream prince, really, he was more of a thinker. But Mother meant well.

“Mrs. van Amersfoort tells me you've started a reading-aloud club,” she said. “That should be fun.”

It seemed the whole world knew about it.

“Yes,” said Thomas. “But I have to practice.” He ran up the stairs to his room.

“Don't you want a drink?” Mother called.

“No, rather not,” he responded, closing the door.

But he did not practice. He sat in front of the window to think. The window rattled in the wind, so the thinking was rather jerky. He thought, “I am a coward, because I'm scared.”

Then he thought nothing for a while. He listened to the window rattling.

“I don't like cowards,” he thought next. “But that is how I am.”

Every day, he had pinned Mrs. van Amersfoort's letter to his clean shirt. Now he undid his shirt and unpinned the letter. He folded it open, read it, and sighed deeply. The world held its breath. Would Thomas do it? Would Thomas dare? The world did not know. The world was waiting in suspense.

“Let this cut of suffering be taken away from me,” he thought. Thomas did not know what those words meant, but he knew Jesus had said them when He knew He was going to die. They were beautiful words that brought tears to Thomas's eyes.

“Don't be afraid,” he thought.

He stood up with the letter in his hand. He crept down the stairs.

 

When they had finished eating, Father opened the Bible. Thomas's throat felt like a screw-top lid.

“What is this?” Father asked. A sheet of paper lay in the Bible, right on top of the plagues of Egypt.

Father read it. Then he turned the letter over, but the other side was blank. “So,” he said. He had turned pale.

No one said anything, but Margot hummed a hit tune.

“Good,” said Father. “I'll read it to you.” He cleared his throat. He seemed calm, but his fingers trembled.

“‘
A man who hits his wife dishonors himself,
'” he read. He put the letter down next to the Bible and smoothed it out. “I agree with that completely,” he said. “But there is something missing. It should read, ‘A man who hits his wife
without good reason
dishonors himself.'”

“Tiddlyum, tiddlyum, tiddlyum-tum-tum,” hummed Margot.

“Would you mind turning off that music, Margot?” Father asked.

“Of course, Papa. Sorry,” said Margot.

“All right,” said Father. “The letter itself doesn't matter a great deal. The important question is why it is in the Bible and who put it there. It would seem that someone is out to turn us against each other. Someone who wants to draw our family away from God and His institutions. Entirely in the spirit of these times, of course.”

Father looked first at Mother, then at Margot, then at Thomas. “So the question is, who put this letter in the Bible?” He took it between his thumb and index finger and waved it about.

It was as if all life on earth had died out, it was so still. It woke the dead in the churchyards. They pricked up their ears, but heard nothing.

“No one?” asked Father. He tapped his fingers on the table. “Someone at this table is lying. I do not know who it is, but nothing remains hidden from God's eye. Let us ask Him for help.”

He folded his hands on top of the Bible and closed his eyes.

“Almighty God,” he said. “See our plight. Help this family to be strong in this time of great temptation….”

Thomas closed his eyes. The sky turned clear blue and sand blew around his ears. “Jesus?” he asked. But Jesus was nowhere to be seen.

“I'm here,” said Jesus.

“Where?” said Thomas. “I can't see you.”

“That's pretty obvious,” said Jesus. “You've got your eyes shut.”

Thomas opened his eyes. Jesus stood in the room, in front of the chimney-piece with the copper geckoes. He looked at the praying man.

“So that's him?” asked Jesus.

“Yes,” said Thomas.

“He means well, I think,” said Jesus. “But he is afraid. He is really a coward, if you ask me.”

“I don't know,” said Thomas.

“He hides like a scared child behind God's broad back,” said Jesus.

But Thomas thought, “How can you hide behind the back of someone who is no longer there?”

“I have to tell you something,” he said.

“Go on then,” said Jesus.

“God the Father is not just not here,” said Thomas. “He has died. I'm telling You honestly.”

Jesus was stunned, and for a moment He was speechless. “You really mean it!” he exclaimed.

Thomas nodded. He thought it was sad for the Lord Jesus, but the truth had to be stated.

“But how did this happen?” Jesus cried.

“He was beaten out of me,” said Thomas. “And then He died, for He could not do without me.”

Jesus had to think about that. Then He nodded and smiled sadly. Of course, that was how it had been. Without Thomas, nothing could exist.

“We pray for this in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, amen,” Father said.

Jesus waved to Thomas and faded. Thomas waved back.

“What are you doing?” Father asked.

“I was waving,” said Thomas.

“What for?”

“I saw Jesus,” said Thomas.

Margot giggled and Mother laid her arm on Thomas's shoulder in fear.

Father flushed. He hit the Bible hard with the flat of his hand, making the dust of three thousand years swirl. “I will not put up with this,” he shouted, red in the face. “In my house, there will be no jokes about our Lord and Redeemer. Is that understood?”

Thomas bent his head. He hadn't been joking. He didn't feel the slightest bit like joking.

“Is that understood?” Father repeated.

“Yes, Papa,” said Thomas.

“And now I want to know who put that letter into the Bible.”

“I did,” said Margot.

Everyone stared at Margot, but she did not stare back. “Tiddlyum, tiddlyum,” she hummed.

Father shook his head. “I don't believe a word of it,” he said.

Margot shrugged.

“Who wrote it?” Father asked. “I don't recognize the handwriting.”

“Found it in the street,” said Margot. “Tiddlyum, tiddlyum-tum-tum-tum.”

“You're lying,” said Father. “We all know who has done this.” He looked around the circle.

Thomas's heart missed a beat when he felt his father's eyes on him. It lasted only a moment. Father looked at Mother. “Don't we?” he said.

“Yes,” said Mother. “I did it.”

Thomas looked at her, horrified, and felt himself grow angry inside — so angry that his fear burst apart into a thousand pieces. “Not true!” he screamed. “It was me who did it! Me!”

Father looked at him severely. “You are a liar, Thomas,” he said.

“But —” shouted Thomas.

“Silence!” Father thundered.

“I did it! Me, I did it!” Thomas was weeping with fury. “There are pinholes in that letter. Pinholes! And do you know how they got there? I made them with a safety pin. This one.” He rummaged in his trouser pocket and tossed the safety pin on the table.

Father, Mother, and Margot stared at the pin as if their lives depended on it. It glinted in the lamplight. “I could actually hear the safety pin,” Thomas wrote in
The Book of Everything
. “It made a high-pitched sound, like someone screaming in the distance.”

Father stretched the letter between his hands and held it up. The paper was bright in the glow of the lamp.

“It is true,” Father muttered. “There are pinholes in it.” He lowered the paper. “You were not lying, Thomas. I falsely accused you. Forgive me. But more important is that someone has used you, Thomas. Someone is trying to turn you against your father. Who is that, Thomas? Who wrote this letter?”

“That is a secret,” said Thomas.

“Aunt Pie?”

“It is a secret,” said Thomas.

“Thomas,” said Father.

“Yes?”

“Tell me who wrote this letter.”

“No, Papa.”

“Thomas, fetch the spoon, go upstairs, and wait for me.”

A hot wind came up, scorching the earth. The trees shriveled up and the animals fled. Everything was desolate and empty. No one could live on the earth any longer.

“Except perhaps the gnats,” thought Thomas. “And bubonic plague.”

“No,” said Mother quietly. “Thomas stays where he is and you read from the Bible.”

Father glared at her furiously.

“I'll get the spoon, Mama,” said Thomas.

Mother took his hand. “No,” she said. “My brave hero stays here sitting next to me.”

“Tiddlyum, tiddlyam,” sang Margot. “How happy I am.”

Thomas was frightened by the cold look in her eyes.

“Woman!” said Father. “Do not contradict me!”

“Mama,” said Thomas. “It's all right, just let me go.”

“No,” said Mother. “You have not deserved any punishment.” She kept a firm hold on his hand.

“Tiddlydum, tiddlydim, I find no guilt in him,” Margot sang.

Father stood up. His head rose like a balloon, higher and higher. The ceiling came down and the room became smaller and smaller. “Woman!” he thundered. “Let go of that child.”

Mother got up too, pulling Thomas along with her. “No,” she said. Her chair tottered.

Father walked around the table, gripped Thomas by his other arm, and tugged.

“No!” screamed Mother.

Father raised his hand at her threateningly.

No one had been minding Margot. Suddenly, she was there, as if she came falling from the sky. In her right hand, the carving knife flashed, and her eyes blazed. She jumped in front of her father and pointed the knife at his throat. Father let go of Thomas and stared at the knife.

“She looked like an angel,” wrote Thomas in
The Book of Everything
. “The most dangerous angel in Heaven. One of those with a flaming sword.”

“Hands off,” Margot snarled. “I've had enough of this. I've had it up to here.” She brushed the knife along her throat.

“Don't, Margot,” Mother whispered. “Put that knife away.”

But Margot wasn't listening. “Goddamn it,” she said.

The curse was worse than the knife. It cut through the soul.

“Mama and Thomas have no reason to be afraid of God,” she hissed. “Because they are kind. You are not kind.” She made a stabbing movement with the knife. “Don't think I won't dare,” she growled. “I am like you. I am not kind either.”

Father collapsed like a dying elephant and finished up on his knees. “This family is doomed,” he groaned. “The spirit of the time has poisoned you. Let us pray.”

And he started praying loudly.

“I don't give a damn what you believe,” Margot shouted. “But there will be no more hitting.”

The man was startled out of his prayer and looked at her wildly.

“You know that it is wrong,” Margot said coldly. “But you do it anyway.” She took a deep breath. “As long as the neighbors don't notice. As long as the family doesn't notice. As long as nobody in the office finds out! Isn't it true?”

The man got up, turned furiously, and stalked to the door. He stopped and looked back into the room with his red eyes. “I cannot stay under the same roof as you,” he roared. “I AM GOING TO SLEEP IN A HOTEL.”

He yanked the door open and disappeared into the hallway. Then he rumbled down the stairs. The front door slammed shut like a clap of thunder.

“Tiddlyum, tiddlyum-tum-tum,” Margot hummed. She put the carving knife back on the table and sat down. She
planted her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. Mother and Thomas stayed where they stood.

Two sparrows played their piercing trumpets on the windowsill.

“Child, what have you done?” Mother whispered.