Becoming Strangers Read Online Free PDF Page B

All about you. It's the sex,' said Dorothy, mumbling, but loud enough for them all to hear. Jan stared at her, his mouth open for just a moment, his fork poised to enter it. George cleared his throat and drank noisily from his glass.
    'We came here on account of our granddaughter giving us the tickets as a present. Took us by surprise. We've never been on this sort of a caper. You can't complain, though,' he said, rearing a little with the gas in his system.
    'By us it is also the case,' said Jan, 'a gift to come here. From our sons.'
    'But we could have come all the same, Jan!' Annemieke reproached him, 'this kind of holiday is normal for us. But our oldest son, he is doing so well with his business. He has bought a big townhouse in Brussels; it
was something like one point two million euros. A friend of ours, a stockbroker, he tells us it is a very good investment. He likes to spoil his mother; he spends too much on me. But then, this is a special case, you see. A last holiday. My husband is very ill. With cancer.'
    Jan laid his knife and fork side by side on his plate and closed his eyes momentarily.
    Dorothy wished she had a dustpan and brush to sweep up after the Belgian woman. She noticed that the woman was dropping little bits and pieces of bread as she twisted the bread roll in her hands, turning in her seat, looking over her shoulder at Mr Moloney and then looking back at her husband and at them.

8
    J AN HAD HAD PLENTY TO DRINK at the bar with George that night, the women left them to it, but still sleep eluded him. It was the drugs.
    Night after night, he lay awake, plucking his past. The bald facts were what remained. His business partner, his one-time friend, André De Vries had cheated on Jan in these last years, when Jan was forced into retirement through his illness, divesting him of the profitable parts of their company—and also his wife and children. Off they went for trips here and there, sunshine days in the rain, while he sat inside, sheltered.
    'He likes to laugh. I like to laugh. The children, they must also laugh,' Annemieke said in explanation, the
first time she and the boys had gone off with him for a Sunday lunch in Brugge. She wore a multi-coloured sweater, tight over her bust, and a long military-style skirt with straps. He had grabbed her by the arm.
    'This is the man that has stolen from me, and from me means from us, Annemieke.'
    'He has an explanation. I wish you'd listen to him. He means to capitalize on, well, what is it, the capital, the liquid assets, that's it, the cash and then he will turn them into assets, property and so forth, he will expand the franchise and then, he will give us our share and in this way you need not work, Jan. You must see it is the best thing. Don't be paranoid. We all care about you. You need to rest.' All of this she had delivered at pace. He had wondered whether she had done so from emotion or because they were running late. She had not been at all concerned about his hand around her upper arm. 'I must go, Jan. You will not listen to him, will you, you won't give him a chance? It's not Andrés fault that you have cancer. You have a persecution complex.'
    'You look cheap,' he had told her. 'You are cheap.'
    'Stop it,' she said, 'stop it. You are demeaning yourself.' Her reply, delivered calmly, had caused him to let her arm drop instantly. To them, he must look like a fool, to his sons. They thought he was going mad; perhaps it was true. Perhaps he misunderstood De Vries. They had worked together for years, been friends.
    Then one of the boys had knocked on the door to the study. 'Mother?' he'd said without coming in and she had left. When he heard the kitchen door close, he
called out, in a cowardly sort of way, 'Your mother's a whore and yet you love her.' Then he called out, 'What about me?' and was so ashamed of himself he lay on the sofa and wept.
    Often, when he was finally about to go to sleep, he saw the optimistic set of De Vries's eyebrows