‘They’re here,’ Muulke said every five minutes. Then she’d race outside, and I’d feel panic rising inside me and shout that she shouldn’t leave me alone.
Darkness fell. We’d forgotten what an isolated house Nine Open Arms was. A restless house, too: it groaned and moaned, creaked and rattled. All I could think of was Jess, Jess all on her own in the dark, in her thin summer dress . . . without a straightener.
‘It’s as if we’re alone in the world,’ Muulke said dully. ‘It’s as if we’re not half orphans but real orphans.’
‘Stop it now,’ I said.
‘Terrible things happen on the road to Maastricht,’ said Muulke. ‘Last year a tree blew over and struck a woman. And someone was murdered there once, a man – still a boy, really – and the murderer was never—’
‘Shut your bloody face!’ I screamed.
She got a fright. I got a fright, too. I had never screamed like that. It was as if my mouth was no longer my own.
‘You have to stop, Muulke,’ I said, shaking. ‘You’re terrifying both of us.’
And then the waiting started again – or did it just go on? I didn’t know. All I knew was that time passed terribly slowly.
At some point, we fell asleep on the sofa with a blanket over us. We hadn’t wanted to go up to our bedroom; that would have felt like a betrayal. One moment it was pitch-dark, the middle of the night; next I saw the sun shining on the hedge. The window stood ajar, with a rag in the gap to stop it rattling. We had opened it so we wouldn’t doze off. It was cool in the house.
I woke up with a clear head. For the first time in two weeks, I had not had a nightmare. Muulke was still asleep. She was half-hanging off the sofa, with her head at a strange angle.
‘Muulke.’
She opened her eyes. We lay together in silence for a while. We didn’t move – neither of us wanted to feel how we were lying there with our four pathetic arms and legs.
‘The stupid, dumb sjiethoes,’ said Muulke.
‘Yes, I miss her, too,’ I said.
A blackbird landed on top of the hedge and started singing. As if that was the sign it was time to start moving again, Oompah walked past. He stumbled down the garden path towards the hedge. I heard him grumbling and muttering. He had excelled himself this time: in his arms he carried a stack of plates, some cups, a sheet and the cutlery box. On top of all that, the glass jug from the kitchen wobbled precariously.
‘That’s just what we need,’ Muulke muttered.
I got up, shivering, and put my shoes on.
‘Will you make coffee?’ I asked before I went outside. I added, as casually as I could manage, ‘They could be here any moment.’
That was enough to get Muulke moving.
Just as I walked by the fence, I saw Oompah disappearing into the cemetery.
The grass was still damp, the sky bright-blue. The twigs of the hedge slid along my bare arms. The smell of fire was still very noticeable.
Once I was through to the other side, something stopped me from walking towards Oompah. The button-chewer was standing by the nameless grave, some of his treasures displayed on the grass. The glass jug glittered. Behind him, on top of the gravestone, lay his hessian sack, bulging with more treasures. He stood very still, as if he had never moved and would never move again.
The sun’s rays came over the top of the hedge. I had to squint against the fierce light. Oompah became a silhouette. Like a photo from the Crocodile.
I don’t know how long I stood there, how long it took. I just know that I became deeply aware of something: how ridiculous it was that I had wasted all my time thinking and worrying about that nameless grave. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with it, and myself, I would have noticed how very unhappy Jess was. And she wouldn’t have run away.
‘Saint Rosa,’ I said softly, ‘will you please look after her? And make sure that she comes home safely? Then I promise I will never get worked up again about that stupid gravestone.’
It was as if a big load had fallen off my shoulders. As if I’d become the old Fing again. The blackbird, which had been silent, resumed its singing, like it was trying to bring summer in all by itself. The trees further along started rustling again in the breeze.
I took a deep breath. The scent of earth, of grass, of summer penetrated my nostrils.
Then the photo started moving. The spell was broken. It was a full second before I realised it wasn’t Oompah who had moved.
I gasped.
It was the hessian sack.
no sjiethoes
She was still warm with sleep. She blinked against the sunlight, laughed and said, ‘I wasn’t scared at all.’
I wanted to hit her. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to cry and to laugh, but all I did was clear my throat and kneel down next to her. Only her head and a tangle of rags stuck out of the hessian sack. She hadn’t been cold.
Jess was back. My Jess was back.
‘Why aren’t you in Maastricht?’ I said as sternly as I could.
She stared at me confusedly. There was a sleep crease on her cheek.
‘Maastricht?’ she giggled.
‘Wasn’t that where you were going?’
She looked at me sleepily. ‘Maastricht?’
I told her what Oma Mei had heard from the doctor.
She tapped her forehead. ‘I just wanted to know. I’d hardly walk all the way to Maastricht. On my own? In the middle of the night? I’m not completely crazy.’
She hadn’t gone to Maastricht. She hadn’t been walking along the road in the dark of night. I couldn’t help myself – I burst out laughing. And then I nearly cried, I was so relieved.
‘You’ll catch a cold if you’re not careful,’ I said. It was a nonsensical thing to say, I knew. ‘Weren’t you scared?’
‘I was at first,’ said Jess with a yawn. ‘But Oompah gave me the sack to crawl into and rags to keep me warm. He kept watch.’
She crawled up and I raised my arm involuntarily and put it around her. How well she fitted! How well she fitted in the crook of my arm. How could anything be so right!
The button-chewer grumbled. I looked up, and he lowered his eyes, produced his scissors and vigorously started snipping the air into shreds. But he would never be able to fool me again.
How crazy could you be, if for a whole night, you watched out so that nothing would happen to a scared little girl? If you brought her rags (rags! How had he known about that little girl’s mam with the rag-doll heart?) and a sack she could crawl into? And how confused could you be if you knew precisely how to lure her sister to the cemetery the next morning?
We sat for a while.
‘Is she angry?’ Jess asked.
‘She’s mainly really frightened.’
‘Oma Mei is forever really frightened.’ Jess yawned again.
‘Maybe.’ I kissed the top of her head. ‘Why didn’t you come straight home?’
‘At first, I was cross with Muulke. And with you. And once I had stayed away for a couple of hours I was scared of Oma Mei. Of what she would say.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘I came here because I knew you wouldn’t look for me here.’
That was true. It was the last place we would have looked for her.
‘When it got dark, at first I really wanted to go home. But then I decided I wanted to stay here after all.’ She looked me in the eye. ‘Why am I always so scared, Fing?’
‘I don’t think you are,’ I said.
‘I’m always the sjiethoes,’ said Jess.
‘You’re not half as much of a sjiethoes as me,’ I said. ‘A real sjiethoes doesn’t sleep all night in a cemetery.’
We were silent again for a while.
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘let’s go home. I want to see Muulke’s face. She thinks you’ve been murdered a hundred times over.’
Jess grinned.
‘A tragical tragedy,’ we said in unison, and we laughed.
‘Shall I dress up as a ghost?’ she said. Her eyes shone, and for just a mom
ent she looked like Muulke.
‘Don’t you dare,’ I said. ‘You’ve given us enough of a fright for now.’
We got up.
‘Oompah? Are you coming?’ I asked.
The button-chewer pretended not to hear. I let it be.
‘Jess.’
‘Yes?’
‘You mustn’t ever run away again, do you hear? Never, never again.’
She nodded. We went through the opening in the hedge. ‘What’s Muulke doing?’
‘She’s making coffee.’
‘Muulke?’
We grinned and crossed the road. Through the open window, we heard our sister pottering around, accompanied by many a ‘damn’ and ‘blast’.
‘Miljaar!’ I said myself. ‘I forgot about the stuff he pinched. Wait a minute. I’ll be right back.’ I turned around and retraced our steps.
the wanderer of
sjlammbams sahara
I’ve often wondered whether we would ever have worked it out if Jess hadn’t run away – if she hadn’t hidden in the cemetery because she knew we wouldn’t come looking for her there.
Now, so many years later, I am still not certain of the answer.
Is it actually true that some stories only just manage to be born? Or do those stories simply keep seeking another path, until they find a way to be told?
I walked into the cemetery and I saw it. I saw Oompah Hatsi sitting down.
That was all.
He let himself down onto the gravestone without a name, crossed his arms and waited.
It may have been the way he looked, or the way he sat, I don’t know – but it was as if I had been blind, and suddenly I could see. I looked at Oompah Hatsi, the ageing button-chewer, sitting on the stone slab, but that is not what I saw. What I saw was a boy, a child. The child from my dreams: the young Oompah Hatsi, waiting for Nienevee to come out. Waiting and letting himself down onto the . . .
I gasped.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Jess when I came out through the hedge again.
I didn’t reply. I walked straight past her, crossed Sjlammbams Sahara, raced through the gate, around the corner of the house, to the front door at the rear. I stopped, panting, and the Dad’s words flashed through my mind: A front door at the back, a threshold at knee height. Is this a house full of surprises or what?
I stared at the threshold that was so high we had to literally clamber into the house. I could have kicked myself. ‘That grave isn’t Charley’s grave at all!’ I shouted.
‘Which grave?’ gasped Jess, who’d come running after me.
‘The grave with no name. That isn’t his grave at all.’
Jess frowned.
‘This is why there is no name and no date on it!’ I shouted. ‘And why there’s only a flat slab!’
‘So . . . whose grave is it?’ Jess asked cautiously.
I began to laugh. ‘It isn’t a grave at all!’
‘Then what is it?’
I laughed even more. ‘It’s the porch!’
‘The what?’
‘It’s the porch of Nine Open Arms!’
Jess stared at me as if I’d gone mad.
‘It’s the porch Nienevee always wanted when she was still a child, and that she got when she married Van Wessum!’
It had occurred to me the moment Oompah sat down: I had seen the little boy who’d sat on the porch of Townies’ Welcome, waiting for his mother to come out.
‘But who moved that porch all the way to the cemetery?’ asked Jess. ‘And why?’
I stared at the door, frowning. I kept looking at the four holes. My feeling of disquiet became stronger.
Something began to glimmer in my mind. I didn’t know yet what it was, but it was getting closer.
‘What did Nienevee always say?’ I asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t give a shit about the travellers. I don’t give a shit about the . . . How did it go again?’
‘Townspeople. Only the other way round. But why do you want to know?’
There was something. There was something about those words.
‘You must say it,’ I said. ‘You must say exactly what she said.’
Jess thought for a moment. ‘I don’t give a shit about the townspeople,’ she repeated obediently. ‘I don’t give a shit about the travellers. I don’t give a shit about the whole world, if it comes to it. And I’ll show them, too.’ She looked at me doubtfully.
Finally, I’d got it. Finally, I knew what wasn’t right.
I took a deep breath. ‘If you really want to show that you don’t give a shit about the whole world, why hide your front door round the back? It just isn’t logical. Particularly not if you’ve specially had a sign made saying Townies’ Welcome and you want everyone to see it. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Nor does putting the porch of your house in the cemetery,’ said Jess. ‘Who would do a thing like that?’
I hope you can find rest now.
I heard Oma Mei’s voice so loud and clear that I thought for a moment she was standing next to me. She wasn’t, though – it was only her voice in my head.
I hope you can find rest now.
They were the words that made everything fall into place.
Flabbergasted, I stared from the house to the cemetery. From the holes above the front door and the high threshold to the hedge behind which lay the porch of Nine Open Arms.
Now that I understood, it was strange we hadn’t seen it before. There had been so many signs.
A letter that couldn’t find our house.
A front door round the back.
And above all, the image of our grandmother, Oma Mei, standing by the staircase while Jess was being carried upstairs. Oma Mei, standing bent forward as if she was facing a storm.
I hope you can find rest now.
First, we had thought it was Nienevee who had to find rest. Later, Oma Mei had said she meant Oompah. But that wasn’t right, either. The answer had been closer to home. Much closer. So close that we had quite simply overlooked it. Our home.
‘We’re thinking the wrong way round,’ I cried. ‘It isn’t the porch that’s been moved.’
At the end of Sjlammbams Sahara stood a house.
The house of Nine Open Arms.
Once, it had had a different name.
Once, there were different people living in it.
And once, it had stood somewhere else.
fight
Oma Mei put Jess to bed. We heard her moving around upstairs.
Muulke and I waited resignedly downstairs.
‘Now we’re in for it,’ said Muulke when Oma Mei came down.
I sat at the table and tried to get some order into my thoughts. Oma Mei stood, her arms akimbo, her face pale and stern.
‘From Muulke I could understand it,’ she said. ‘That one has never had an ounce of responsibility in her. But from you, I can’t believe it. You should have stayed with Jess.’
I could feel my cheeks burning. ‘I was being kept in, too,’ I said.
‘You should have told them straight away that you had nothing to do with it.’
‘But . . . ’ I said.
‘If Muulke starts lashing out in all directions, she’ll have to suffer the consequences. You should have known better. Muulke can look after herself. I don’t dare think about what could have happened to Jess.’
My heart shrank.
‘Without her straightener. Dear God!’
‘Fortunately it all turned out alright in the end,’ the Dad said soothingly.
But Oma Mei had no intention of letting herself be soothed.
‘What if she had started walking,’ she spluttered. ‘What if something had happened.’
‘But nothing did happen,’ said Muulke. ‘She just stayed here. And if you ask me, this was all her fault. No one told her she should hide, and stay away the whole night.’
Oma Mei turned to Muulke.
‘I don’t think I asked for your opi
nion. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that you’re never going to be a real lady, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with your insolence. And it certainly doesn’t mean you can go around pulling clumps of hair out of people’s heads like some cheap street girl.’
Muulke looked at her with burning cheeks, but didn’t say anything.
‘She’s practically bald on one side!’ Oma Mei shouted furiously.
I don’t know what gave me the courage. ‘That wasn’t Muulke.’
‘Leave it,’ said Muulke.
‘What?’
‘Just leave it,’ Muulke said again.
Oma Mei stared at me.
‘I did that,’ I said.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Oma Mei. ‘Who is going to believe that you . . . ’
Her voice wavered. She looked at me, and I could see that it was only now she was really seeing me. I still had yesterday’s clothes on. One of the sleeves of my dress was torn. My elbows were cut, and my hair ribbon was in tatters.
Oma Mei gasped for breath. ‘You . . . ?’
I nodded.
My brothers whistled – I couldn’t tell whether in admiration or fright. The Dad laughed, and that was probably the final straw.
‘What sort of a family is this!’ Oma Mei exploded. ‘Have you all gone crazy? Jess throws out her straightener, Muulke secretly steals jars of preserves and nearly does in Oompah Hatsi. And now you go and fight, too?’
I bit my lip.
‘What should she have done?’ demanded Muulke. ‘Do you think she should have stood and watched them making a fool of Jess? Until they’d displayed her wreckbone to the whole school?’
‘You should have called one of the nuns, Muulke.’
‘They weren’t around,’ said Muulke. ‘Anyway, by the time I found out where Jess and Fing were, the fight had already started. And if you want to know my opinion, I think what Fing did was fantastic. It was that stupid girl’s own stupid fault. She should have kept her paws off Jess.’ Her eyes sparkled.
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