The Book of Everything
By Guus Kuijer

Excerpt:
When he walked into the living room, clutching his book, Father and Mother were sitting at the table in silence.  Mother’s housekeeping book lay open in front of them.  That was where she wrote down all the things she bought and how much everything had cost. 

“I really must get dinner going now,” she said.

“No,” said Father.  “First we have to finish this.”

He checked the housekeeping book, one purchase after the other.  He had a red pencil in his had. 

“Hello, Thomas,” said Mother.

She turned he cheek toward him, but Thomas said, “The other cheek, Mama”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because,” said Thomas.

He saw her flush.  The she turned her right cheek toward him,  He kissed it.  It was the cheek that had been hit.

“Where did you get that book?” asked Father.  He wrote figures on a sheet of paper, one underneath the other.

“From Mrs. Van Amersfoort.”

Father looked up.  He took off his glasses and looked at Thomas absently.  “So you met Mrs. Van Amersfoort and she said, ‘Here you are, have this book’?”

“No, that’s not how it went,” said Thomas.

“So how did it go?”

“I carried her shopping bag in for her.”

“That was nice of you!” Mother exclaimed.  “That poor woman is so alone…”

Father put his glasses back on and continued his figuring.  “I would rather you did not go there,” he said.

There was a silence. The clock on the mantelpiece struck six.  Thomas looked at the copper geckoes that climbed up the chimney-piece toward the ceiling.

“But why not?” Mother asked softly.

“That woman is a Communist, you know that perfectly well,” said Father.  “When the Russians come, she’ll be out on the sidewalk cheering.  And all of us Christians will become slaves.”

There was another silence.  The veranda doors stood open and you could hear the neighbors talking and laughing in their gardens.  A wave of music floated into the room. 

“Isn’t that lovely,” Mother whispered.  “Beethoven…All men will be brothers…”

“Let me have a look at that book,” said Father.

Thomas put it down on the table.

“Emil and the Detectives,” Father read out.  “By Erich Kaestner.

He is a Communist too, I think.”

“It’s only a children’s book,” said Mother.  “What harm could it do?”

Father pushed the book across the table at Thomas.  “Take it back as soon as possible,” he said.  “And don’t ever go in there again.”

“Can I go and start dinner now?” asked Mother.

“But how do you think you will get to the end of this month?” Father asked.

“I’ll make it up out of my clothes allowance,” said Mother. 

“No, no, that’s going a bit far,” he said.  Sighing, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took out a twenty-five guilder note.  “Here, take this,” he said.  “But do try to manage on the housekeeping money.”

Thomas crept out of the room with his book.  Mother went into the kitchen, the twenty-five-guilder note in her hand.