Ten White Geese by Gerbrand Bakker Read Free Book Online Page B

necessary and he should realise perfectly well that he was to blame.
    ‘Yes,’ said the father, without so much as a glance in his direction. Up till then he hadn’t even opened his mouth.
    ‘Yes, what?’ asked the mother.
    ‘Just, yes,’ said the father.
    She sighed. ‘How can we start the festive season like this? St Nicholas. Christmas.’ She gestured weakly at the windowsill, where three candles were already burning in a triangular holder. The flames were motionless; the windows were well insulated.
    ‘Don’t ask me,’ said the husband.
    ‘Bah!’ said the father.
    ‘What?’ asked the mother.
    ‘He can’t sing at all!’
    ‘Has she done this before?’ the husband asked. ‘I mean, before me.’
    ‘Never! She never just disappeared. She didn’t even like pyjama parties. She never stayed the night at friends’.’
    ‘At my brother’s, she did,’ the father said.
    ‘Yes. She never got enough of that. Staying at her uncle’s. She never even mentioned her auntie. Those two were thick as thieves.’
    ‘He taught her how to smoke,’ said the father.
    ‘Bah. That’s right. And always putting ideas in her head. He used to say funny things to her. When she came home, it always took ages to get her back to her old self.’
    ‘What kind of things?’
    ‘That she had to be able to do things herself. That when it comes down to it, people are always alone. That you should never let other people tell you what to do.’
    ‘That’s not so bad, is it?’
    ‘No, but she took it to heart, she upped and left. Her auntie was distraught, but her uncle just sniggered. And when she came home again, she wouldn’t listen to us at all.’
    ‘So she used to disappear.’
    ‘No, an hour or so, never long. Two hours at most. When we heard about the smoking, that was it. We refused to let her stay there ever again.’
    ‘My brother isn’t…altogether right,’ the father said.
    ‘That’s one way of putting it, I suppose,’ the mother said. ‘You could say he’s mad as a hatter.’
    ‘Come on…’
    ‘I’m always scared that he’ – pointing at her husband – ‘is going that way too. Fortunately he’s married to a very sensible, very strong woman.’
    ‘Drink?’ the father asked.
    ‘Yes, please,’ the husband said.
    ‘Sure, hit the bottle. That’ll solve things.’
    ‘You too?’ the father asked.
    ‘No, of course not! Have I ever drunk a single drop of alcohol?’
    ‘You’re never too old to start.’ The father got up and poured two old genevers: his own glass full to overflowing so that he had to bend over and take a slurp before he could pick it up. After putting the other glass down in front of the husband, he immediately returned his attention to the TV.
    ‘Yes,’ the mother said, sighing. ‘Him going that way too…’
    ‘
Ach
, woman.’
    She started to cry softly.
    The husband sipped his genever. He wondered if his mother-in-law was right, if it was his fault. A squall of rain briefly drowned out the singing of a fat girl with spiky hair who was standing motionless in a large room. She had a magnificent, clear voice and seemed to forget everythingaround her while she sang. Her eyes gleamed, her hands hung next to her thighs, completely relaxed, she became beautiful. Soon after, they told her that she lacked the ‘necessary charisma’. Next, please.
    ‘Bastards,’ said the father.
    *
    During a commercial break, the mother started again. ‘Are they going to put you in prison now?’
    ‘No,’ the husband said. In front of him was a second glass of genever.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because I’m paying for all the damage.’
    ‘So nowadays you can commit arson wherever you like without getting sent to prison?’
    ‘That depends, I suppose,’ the husband said. ‘I didn’t leave the scene. I cooperated. I think it’s related to that.’
    ‘Have you got the money?’
    ‘Sure.’
    ‘It’s still your fault.’
    ‘Why do you say that? Do you really think it’s that