police started asking questions.
Roboman? Yes, a young man bought it. He looked nice, trustworthy, a bit like a teacher. Yes, I think I could identify him …
10
SOMETIMES JAN THINKS the pre-school is like a zoo.
It always starts late in the day, when everyone is tired: one of the children kicks off, and the others get dragged in. It’s usually one of the boys who has some kind of manic outburst, suddenly becoming hyperactive and hurtling around the rooms, perhaps knocking down someone’s carefully constructed tower of building blocks or trampling all over someone else’s Lego house.
That’s what happens at the Dell on Friday afternoon, when Leo suddenly decides to hit Felix in the face with a cushion. Felix hits him back, roaring at the top of his voice and with tears pouring down his face. Leo starts yelling too, and all at once the entire group is filled with fresh energy; the other boys start wrestling or fighting with cushions, the girls start screaming or sobbing hysterically.
‘Quiet!’ Jan shouts.
It makes no difference. The playroom turns into a blurred mess of agitated children, jumping around and making it feel like a cramped cage.
Jan is the only adult present, and he can feel a wave of panic beginning to rise in his chest. But he puts a stop to it; he breathes in and moves to the centre of the room. Then he raises his voice like a hell-and-damnation pastor: ‘Quiet! Stop that
right now
!’
Most of the children stop dead, but little Leo carries on. His eyes are wide open and he is flailing around wildly with his cushion.
Jan has to move across and put his arms around him; he feels like a lion tamer. ‘Calm down, Leo. Calm down!’
The little body is struggling in his arms; Jan holds on tightly until Leo stops wriggling completely. The beast has been tamed, but afterwards Jan is exhausted.
‘I’m a bit concerned about Leo,’ he says to Marie-Louise in the kitchen later, when they are doing the dishes.
‘Oh?’
‘There’s so much anger inside him.’
Marie-Louise smiles. ‘That’s energy … He’s got enough energy for all of us!’
‘Do you know anything about his parents?’ Jan asks. ‘Are they both still alive? I think his father …’
But Marie-Louise shakes her head and dries her hands on a tea towel. ‘We don’t talk about that kind of thing, Jan. You know that.’
That evening after work Jan is sitting at home on the old sofa in front of the TV, trying to relax. But it’s difficult. His neighbour on the other side of the wall is celebrating the arrival of the weekend with an early party; Jan can hear the sound of music and clinking glasses.
His first working week at the Dell is over. He ought to celebrate, but it doesn’t feel appropriate somehow. It has passed quickly and has been easy, for the most part. He has done his best and taken his responsibilities seriously, and both the children and his colleagues seem to like him.
Jan has set up his old stereo; he puts on Rami’s album and turns up the volume to drown out the noise of the party. His old favourite comes on: the ballad ‘Your Secret Love’, where Rami sings in her whispering voice:
Go over your memories
until you can see them
floating by on the wind
until you can hear them
Love or just a game
you will always miss
your most secret love
like a lost soul in the desert
The song seems to Jan to be about a love which is impossible. If they ever meet again, he will ask Rami if he is right.
If
they meet again – to make that happen he will have to get into St Psycho’s, perhaps through the basement. There is always a way into a building for the person who is brave enough.
He turns his back on the cramped room and looks out of the window.
There is not a soul in sight in the car park behind the apartment block, but it is full of cars. He counts eleven Volvos including his own, seven Saabs, two Toyotas and just one Mercedes. People have come home from work and gone indoors to join their families.
Roboman? Yes, a young man bought it. He looked nice, trustworthy, a bit like a teacher. Yes, I think I could identify him …
10
SOMETIMES JAN THINKS the pre-school is like a zoo.
It always starts late in the day, when everyone is tired: one of the children kicks off, and the others get dragged in. It’s usually one of the boys who has some kind of manic outburst, suddenly becoming hyperactive and hurtling around the rooms, perhaps knocking down someone’s carefully constructed tower of building blocks or trampling all over someone else’s Lego house.
That’s what happens at the Dell on Friday afternoon, when Leo suddenly decides to hit Felix in the face with a cushion. Felix hits him back, roaring at the top of his voice and with tears pouring down his face. Leo starts yelling too, and all at once the entire group is filled with fresh energy; the other boys start wrestling or fighting with cushions, the girls start screaming or sobbing hysterically.
‘Quiet!’ Jan shouts.
It makes no difference. The playroom turns into a blurred mess of agitated children, jumping around and making it feel like a cramped cage.
Jan is the only adult present, and he can feel a wave of panic beginning to rise in his chest. But he puts a stop to it; he breathes in and moves to the centre of the room. Then he raises his voice like a hell-and-damnation pastor: ‘Quiet! Stop that
right now
!’
Most of the children stop dead, but little Leo carries on. His eyes are wide open and he is flailing around wildly with his cushion.
Jan has to move across and put his arms around him; he feels like a lion tamer. ‘Calm down, Leo. Calm down!’
The little body is struggling in his arms; Jan holds on tightly until Leo stops wriggling completely. The beast has been tamed, but afterwards Jan is exhausted.
‘I’m a bit concerned about Leo,’ he says to Marie-Louise in the kitchen later, when they are doing the dishes.
‘Oh?’
‘There’s so much anger inside him.’
Marie-Louise smiles. ‘That’s energy … He’s got enough energy for all of us!’
‘Do you know anything about his parents?’ Jan asks. ‘Are they both still alive? I think his father …’
But Marie-Louise shakes her head and dries her hands on a tea towel. ‘We don’t talk about that kind of thing, Jan. You know that.’
That evening after work Jan is sitting at home on the old sofa in front of the TV, trying to relax. But it’s difficult. His neighbour on the other side of the wall is celebrating the arrival of the weekend with an early party; Jan can hear the sound of music and clinking glasses.
His first working week at the Dell is over. He ought to celebrate, but it doesn’t feel appropriate somehow. It has passed quickly and has been easy, for the most part. He has done his best and taken his responsibilities seriously, and both the children and his colleagues seem to like him.
Jan has set up his old stereo; he puts on Rami’s album and turns up the volume to drown out the noise of the party. His old favourite comes on: the ballad ‘Your Secret Love’, where Rami sings in her whispering voice:
Go over your memories
until you can see them
floating by on the wind
until you can hear them
Love or just a game
you will always miss
your most secret love
like a lost soul in the desert
The song seems to Jan to be about a love which is impossible. If they ever meet again, he will ask Rami if he is right.
If
they meet again – to make that happen he will have to get into St Psycho’s, perhaps through the basement. There is always a way into a building for the person who is brave enough.
He turns his back on the cramped room and looks out of the window.
There is not a soul in sight in the car park behind the apartment block, but it is full of cars. He counts eleven Volvos including his own, seven Saabs, two Toyotas and just one Mercedes. People have come home from work and gone indoors to join their families.
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