Mara (3 page)

‘There you are, sir.’ I knew my cheeks were flaming red and I felt a drop of sweat on my nose. I quickly put the money in the container on the ticket counter, then wiped my nose with my sleeve.

The man put my train ticket in a similar container on his side. Then he gave the contraption a twist and I got my ticket and he got the money. After another twist I got my change.

‘Could you tell me where I should go, sir?’ I leaned slightly closer to get his attention, since by now already he was looking over my shoulder for the next passenger.

He pointed briefly with his hand, then waved me on.

‘Platform two, can’t miss it. Next!’

Without a word of thanks I stepped back, and first placed my wallet and ticket in my bag. Then I looked around me. There were several groups of passengers all moving in different directions. I grabbed my suitcases and returned into the hall that I had crossed earlier on. I looked around me, searching, until I found the sign that I had noticed on my way in.

Platform two. An arrow pointed me into the right direction and I saw on the clock beside the sign, that I had plenty of time. Nevertheless, I walked as quickly as I could to the platform. Better to be early than late.

‘Ticket, Miss.’

A man stopped me before I could enter the platform and he stretched his hand out toward me. I looked at him, not understanding, until I noticed the ticket punch in his other hand. I quickly found my ticket and handed it to him.

‘Here you are.’ My voice trembled. I looked left when I heard a warning whistle, a short sound followed by a longer one. Then I saw a train slowly roll into the station accompanied by a lot of hissing and smoke. If that was my train I had to hurry.

I looked back at the man who calmly took the train ticket and punched a hole in it with his ticket punch. Everything went slowly. With his thumb he pointed back over his shoulder toward the train which stood still by now. Then he returned the ticket to me. I quickly folded it in half and stuffed it into my wallet. Once again I grabbed my luggage and I walked onto the platform, struggling with the shoulder bag that almost slipped off, and the two suitcases that kept bumping into my legs, hindering me in my clumsy walk toward the train.

On the platform I let a porter help me and I watched how he dragged the suitcases to the baggage car. The smell of oil and soot, blown onto the platform with the train’s arrival, made me nauseous and I was relieved that someone else took my luggage so I didn’t need to carry them anymore. I gratefully gave the porter a good tip and he in turn kindly pointed me to the right passenger car.

‘If you look for a seat now, you will probably still find one by a window.’

He touched his hat and disappeared, in search of a new passenger.

I decided to follow his advice and got on the passenger car he had pointed out. In the first empty car I looked for a window seat. Exhausted, I slumped down with the bag still hanging off my shoulder. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply in and out.

Then I pulled the bag onto my lap.

I realized I was exhausted, drained.

In my mind’s eye I saw my mother’s face and his. The two of them together, like a cold and impenetrable front. Again I wondered to myself what had happened to the woman my mother once had been. When had he consumed all her spirit and snuffed out the light in her eyes?
Had
he done that?

At first, when we had just moved into the manse, my mother had been just like I always knew her. We went exploring together through the spacious house and I helped her keeping the rooms clean. When we were finished with our work, she would prepare tea and we would have a cup of tea together. On a rug on the floor sometimes, in one of the rooms of our new home. We’d be having a picnic, Mother would say, and we would pretend we were outside, in one of the fields surrounding the farm.

‘We’ll invite Auntie Be and Grandma for a visit,’ she told me. That same evening she suggested it to the Reverend. I stood beside her and squeezed my hands in excitement. Full of expectation I smiled up at the man in black, who was my new father, and I listened while my mother offered her suggestion.

‘No.’

The answer was short and clear. It left no room for questions, doubt or hope. I looked at my mother, expecting her to try once more, but she gave me a sad smile and shook her head.

I missed Grandma and Auntie Be, and Mother missed them too. I knew that, because she had told me, but she never talked about it again in the Reverend’s presence, and I also kept quiet about it. When word arrived that Grandma had died, Mother cried for many long days, but we did not make the journey to her funeral. Mother turned pale and quiet, and I silently looked on.

3

‘M
ay I sit here, my dear?’
I flinched and opened my eyes to find myself face to face with an old nun.

No, I’d rather you didn’t.
‘Yes, of course.’ I moved over a little and pulled back the shoulder bag, which was about to slip off my lap.

‘Would you like the window seat?’ I asked to be polite.

‘No, no, I’m quite alright here.’ She let herself drop on the seat beside me and groaned a bit as her joints protested.

‘Old and falling apart.’ She laughed as she looked at me, but I just held on to my bag tighter and moved another half an inch closer to the window.

‘I’m Sister Olivia.’ My hope for a peaceful train ride dissipated when she offered me her hand. Carefully I took her old hand in mine, and before I could remove my hand, I could feel the brittle bones move under my fingers.

‘Maria Klomp.’ I was silent again and looked outside where it was awfully busy now. Not much time could have passed between the moment I got on the train and when I dozed off, but there were noticeably more people now. It was as if everyone had been hiding away in little holes for the right moment to appear.

When finally the train departed, I watched, with dry eyes, how Vlissingen station disappeared. I did not waste any thoughts on my own village, family, or the villagers. It was bad enough that I would have to carry that part of my life around with me the months ahead. I felt cursed, and I quietly cursed my past. Maybe after doing that I would be able to bury and forget.

‘So, where are you going to, if I may ask?’ The old nun again. Couldn’t she go sit somewhere else?

I quickly told her that I had a long journey to make, all the way to Velp. To my amazement she smiled joyfully as I spoke.

‘How wonderful, my dear. Our Dear Lord must have put you in my path. I am on my way to Velp, as well. We can travel together. O, how wonderful! I really dislike traveling you know.’ Her wrinkles folded and unfolded while she spoke, and a few white hairs on her chin moved up and down.

‘I seriously doubt that your Dear Lord had anything to do with that,’ I said sullenly. I did not at all like the idea that God would still concern himself with my life, and the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

‘Oh.’ She was quiet and did not ask anymore, but instead she took her rosary and started to mumble softly.

I felt ashamed of what I had said, and I looked out of the window at the passing scenery. The silence I had wanted so badly was now no longer pleasant, as I was responsible for it because of my harsh words. After a few minutes, I could no longer hold back an apology.

‘I am sorry, Sister Olivia. I should not have said that.’ If I had felt free to do so, I would have explained to her why I did not believe that her Dear Lord had anything to do with it. I remained silent however, for I knew she would not be interested in hearing my explanations. Mother always said that an excuse consisted of the excuse, not an explanation.

The old nun smiled at me and she placed her hand gently on mine. I immediately wanted to pull my hand back, but I held back and merely made a fist of my hand.

‘It’s all right. We won’t talk about it anymore, good?

Thankfully, she removed her hand when I nodded in response. I wiped my hand on my skirt and then hid my hands in the pockets of my cloak. Safe underneath the fabric they were untouchable.

The train jerked slightly. It made me jostle in my seat and I brushed her shoulder when she moved as well. The train started to slow down and once again I heard the shrieking whistle. I quickly looked out the window, curious to find out what was going on, but I saw nothing but a thick cloud of steam floating along beside us.

‘It will be a while yet before we stop. The train starts to slow down at least ten minutes ahead of time. You can easily sit back for a while yet. Middelburg is quite a nice city. Do you know it?’

I shook my head. ‘No, I have never been far from home.’

‘And what about this big journey you’re undertaking now? You are brave, Maria Klomp.’ The nun clasped her hands together in her lap. ‘I’ve never enjoyed traveling much myself. The only reason I’m on this journey is because a good friend of mine needs me.’ She winked at me, and I smiled vaguely at her. I have never been able to wink and every time I’ve tried to I was laughed at, so years ago I decided to respond to winks with a smile.

‘What brings you so far from home, Maria?’

I wanted to say something in response, but didn’t know what. I was still thinking about it when a sudden wave of nausea came over me. Terrified I looked around me, not knowing what to do.

‘Are you all right, my dear?’ With a concerned expression the nun sat up and patted me lightly on the back. ‘Travel sickness, of course. Some people have that.’ She stood and reached over me to open the window. ‘Some fresh air will do you good.’

I nodded, but knew it wasn’t true. I had simply forgotten to have a bite to eat and now my empty stomach was protesting.

Sister Olivia sat down again with creaking knees and a light moan. I raised my head toward the window, trying to catch as much fresh air as possible in the hope it would help. I breathed in and out slowly and deeply. After a few moments the horrible feeling seemed to fade and I quickly searched in my bag for a sandwich. The first bite was horrible, as usual, but I knew I would be feeling better soon if I had some food in me.

I had completely forgotten about the nun, when she started to speak again.

‘I was wrong, apparently.’

With the napkin that I had brought along, I wiped the breadcrumbs from my mouth. I had no idea what she meant and looked at her expectantly.

‘My conclusion, travel sickness,’ she clarified. ‘For you are after all…’

Suddenly she stopped, looked me in the eyes, then glanced at my stomach, then my ring finger on the left hand. When she found nothing there, she checked the ring finger on my right hand.

‘I’m sorry, I’m talking way too much again, so silly.’ She swallowed with difficulty. ‘Of course it is travel sickness that’s bothering you.’ Her sparkling eyes turned dull and she avoided my eyes.

This stranger’s confusion somehow reminded me of how my mother had turned away from me. All of a sudden I wanted to talk, explain, beg for understanding. But of course I kept my lips sealed and again I looked out the window. I could see a few houses now and I could feel the train slowing down more and more. Finally it stopped at a station that was less imposing to me than the earlier station in Vlissingen, even though the building was large. There were no impressive ornaments, frames or decorations here.

But the nun did not remain silent. She brushed my sleeve and said ‘Don’t worry about it, my dear. Don’t mind this silly old nun. It’s the greatest curse of my life that I’ve never learned to tame my tongue. The holy apostle St. James says it so beautifully in his letter and I have tried so often to do something about it…’ She was quiet for a moment and seemed lost in thought. ‘Please forgive me for jumping to the wrong conclusion.’

She was silent now and I realized that she expected a response from me, the loose, pregnant, unmarried young woman. I swallowed and wanted to reply, but no sound wanted to pass my lips. In the end I managed to produce a light whisper.

‘That’s good.’

My mother would have smacked me on the back of my head, had she heard me speak that way. It was rude, and could barely pass for an acceptance of apology, but Sister Olivia visibly relaxed and crossed herself. Then she looked heavenward and muttered a thankful prayer. She picked up her rosary again and mumbled to herself.

I silently watched her and straightened up in my seat, my back firmly pressed against the back of the seat. I reminded myself that with every station we passed today we were another step closer.

The rest of the journey, all the way to Roosendaal, we traveled in silence. This time the silence was not uncomfortable. I gazed out of the window and let the world pass by. Some of the pressure weighing me down slipped off my shoulders with every tree we passed, every pasture, every town and station. It wasn’t until we approached Roosendaal that we picked up our conversation again. Sister Olivia had nodded off and was softly snoring beside me. I gently nudged her elbow to wake her.

‘O, my goodness, we’re at Roosendaal already?’ she exclaimed. ‘Time flies when you’re asleep. Thank you for waking me up, Maria Klomp, if it wasn’t for you I would have missed my station. Would you mind if we continued our journey together?’

This time she asked me, without referring to her Dear Lord, and I nodded gratefully, because I would be in need of her help. When we finally were seated on the train bound for Arnhem, I was so very grateful for Sister Olivia’s company that I opened up somewhat.

‘I would never have made it without your help!’

It had been Sister Olivia who had made sure that my suitcases were loaded on the right train, she was the one who had navigated us through the station to the correct platform, and she had been the one who had located our train. I simply had blindly followed her, and had gratefully accepted every bit of help.

The train we were on now was much like the earlier train, with this difference that I had the feeling this train had recently been cleaned. The scent of soft soap hung in the air and it reminded me of when I still lived on the farm. I had often helped Mother to wash the kitchen floor. We would crouch on our knees and Mother would give me a brush. I used to watch her carefully and tried to copy her. When we finished, with our knees wet and our hands slippery with soap, we would look at each other and smile contentedly. Even in the days of the influenza, when Father died, just like Grandpa and many other people we knew, we could still laugh at these moments. When did laughter disappear from our home? How could that have happened? Was it the farm? Had our laughter stayed behind on the farm the day we left? Maybe I would rediscover happiness when I returned to the farm? I shut my eyes tightly and tried to remember what the farm looked like. After our move my homesickness had lasted such a long time that I had not expected to forget any details ever, but now, as I tried to recollect and form a picture in my mind, many details remained blurry.