Read Online Tulip Fever by Deborah Moggach - Free Book Online Page B

to him raises his eyebrows.
    Willem wipes his nose on his sleeve. Blubbing, at his age! The humiliation of it.
    “Women,” Willem replies. “Women trouble.” He speaks like a man of experience.
    The fellow nods his head. “Women! They’re all the same. Can’t trust ’em an inch, the sletten .”
    “I walloped her leg and I walloped her wig,
    Until I broke my holly twig . . .”
    He has a kind face, this fellow. His cheek is disfigured by a scar. It runs to his chin, pulling down one eye. This gives him a sorrowful look. He, too, has been in the wars.
    “On Sunday morning I dined without A scolding wife or a bawling bout, I could enjoy my bottle and friend And have a fresh wife at the week’s work’s end!”
    Willem decides to confide in his fellow drinker. He tells him how much he loved Maria and the surprise he was bringing her tonight.
    “I’m not a gambling man, you understand, but I thought I would give it a try. This fellow I know, he tipped me the wink. Admiral Pottebackers, they’re the ones, he said, they’re going to go through the roof. A small investment now and in a couple of months you’ll rake it in. I liked the name, being a patriotic sort of fellow and seeing the ships go by where I grew up. There was other admirals to choose from, plenty of tulips called admirals’ names, but I plumped for that.”
    “And did you?”
    “What?” asks Willem.
    “Rake it in?”
    Willem nods and pats his purse. “Know what I started with, what I scraped together? Nearly ruined me too. Ten florins.”
    “And how much is in there?”
    Tears well into Willem’s eyes. “I was going to tell her tonight—I can put this money toward a little shop, maybe with lodgings above, I won’t have to tramp the streets, I can give her a home and we can get married.” He starts sobbing.
    “How much, you poor tosspot?”
    “Seventy-eight florins, that’s how much.” Willem wipes his nose on his sleeve. “It’s a blessed miracle. I don’t make that much money in six months, not unless I’m lucky; it’s a miracle come to me just like that, just a few old bulbs, but where’s my darling to share it?”
    The fellow seems to have bought him a brandy. Willem gulps it down; it burns his throat.
    “Women!” says the man. “Fuck ’em.” He snorts with laughter. “Fuck ’em, that’s all they’re good for.”
    He clicks his fingers; Willem’s glass is refilled.
    “Drink up, we’ve all been diddled by them, the scheming little cows, but you’re with friends here. And this is an honest place—can’t be too careful, carrying cash like that around—it’s an honest establishment, they don’t water the wine here, they don’t stuff rags in the beer pitchers, not like some places I know.”
    “A boy to me was bound apprentice Because his parents they were poor I took him from the Haarlem poorhouse All for to sail on the Spanish shore . . .”
    Willem’s head swims; he is unaccustomed to strong spirits. Then there is a girl sitting opposite him. She seems to have appeared from nowhere.
    “Allow me to introduce my little sister Annetje,” says the man. “She’s had her heart broken too, haven’t you, my sweet?”
    The girl sighs. “Oh, I’ve been led up the garden path and no mistake.”
    “My poor little innocent sis,” says the fellow. “This is—”
    “Willem.”
    “That’s a nice name.” She is not as pretty as Maria; she has a bony little face with two pink blotches on her cheeks. But when she smiles her eyes twinkle. “Where do you come from, Willem?”
    He tells her the name of his fishing village. “It’s just a little place, you won’t know of it.”
    “Oh, yes, I do,” she replies. “I was born near there.” She moves round and sits next to him, nice and snug. “You and me, we’re two of a kind.” She gestures around the room. “They don’t understand what it’s like for us, this big wicked city, what it’s like for you and me. This man, he lured me here. He said he loved