Читать книгу Midnight Blue: A gripping historical novel about the birth of Delft pottery, set in the Dutch Golden Age - Литагент HarperCollins USD, F. M. L. Thompson - Страница 11

During the day everything is fine. I get up at daybreak to start my chores and don’t go to bed until late in the evening. The work distracts me from the thoughts I don’t want to have and the silence I don’t want to hear. But everything that allows itself to be pushed into the background during the day returns at night, and it’s even stronger for having been repressed. Regardless how cold the nights get, I always leave the doors of my box bed open. When I close them I feel as though I’ve been buried alive. Often I jerk awake from a nightmare, thrashing around, struggling to breathe. When that happens, I leap out of bed and go to stand at the window to cool off and calm down. The deep blue of the night always has a calming effect on me. At home I used to sit at the window and gaze at the stars when I couldn’t sleep, wondering what was up there. Heaven? What do you have to do to get in? And how easily do you go to hell?

Back then, I didn’t concern myself with questions like that. Now, they keep me awake for hours.

‘Have you settled in here a bit now?’ Adriaan van Nulandt has summoned me to his office and is looking at me from behind his desk.

‘Yes, sir. Greta has been a great help.’

‘Good. And your mistress?’

‘Oh yes. She is most kind.’

‘Kind.’ Adriaan stares out the window onto Keizersgracht, absorbed in thought. ‘Yes, she is. But not always. Not to herself, at any rate.’

‘She’s rather harsh on herself when it comes to her painting.’

Adriaan sighs. ‘She shouldn’t take it so seriously. I mean, it’s a wonderful pastime and I would happily fill the house with her work, but that isn’t enough for her. She wants praise in artistic circles and to sell her work. But if she keeps on destroying her paintings, that’s not going to happen.’

‘May I ask what kind of medicine your wife takes?’

‘Laudanum. It’s a spiced wine containing opium. Opium eases the pain, soothes the nerves and stimulates creativity. Maybe too much; all she does is paint.’

‘In Alkmaar one woman was allowed to join the Guild of Saint Lucas. She was given training and now works as a master painter in her own studio.’

Adriaan pulls at his goatee and leans back. ‘I know what you’re driving at, but there is no way my wife can start an apprenticeship as a master painter.’

‘That’s not what I meant, sir. I just meant to say that nowadays painting is becoming more than a hobby for women. I was wondering …’ I hesitate.

‘What were you wondering? Speak your mind, I have no objection.’

‘She could take lessons to improve her technique. There are many great painters in Amsterdam who could help her get better. I think then she wouldn’t need those draughts any more.’

A pause follows and I wonder whether I’ve been too free with my opinions. But Adriaan’s expression is more thoughtful than annoyed and eventually he says, ‘I shall have to think about it.’

The day passes with all manner of small chores. I’m scrubbing a kettle when Brigitta comes into the kitchen.

‘I’m hungry, is there any cheese?’ she asks.

‘Of course, madam. Should I cut a piece for you?’

‘No need, I’ll do it myself.’ Brigitta picks up the pewter plate the cheese is kept on. She cuts a slice, pops it straight into her mouth and looks around. ‘It’s clean in here. Much cleaner than before.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re a good housekeeper, Catrin. We’re very happy with you.’ She walks to the window that overlooks the garden and stands with her back to me, gazing out. ‘Where are you from originally?’

‘De Rijp, madam.’

‘That’s quite a distance away. Why did you come to Amsterdam?’

‘My husband died two months ago, madam.’

Brigitta turns around. ‘How dreadful. But surely that’s no reason to leave your village?’

‘I wanted to leave. I’ve always wanted to live in the city.’

‘I can imagine.’ She looks at me, consumed in thought. ‘Did you marry for love, Catrin?’

The question makes me uneasy. I don’t answer straightaway and Brigitta sighs sympathetically. ‘You didn’t, did you? People seldom marry for love. I’m jealous of everyone who does.’

It doesn’t seem fitting for me to respond.

‘So your husband died? What of?’

‘One day he was dead in his bed.’

‘Wasn’t he sick?’

I shake my head and add, ‘But he drank a lot. Ever such a lot.’

‘Then you can count yourself lucky you’re rid of him. It’s no good having a drunk as a husband.’

The ease with which she reaches this conclusion and skips over my feelings doesn’t surprise me. Rich people have a habit of doing that, as if their employees aren’t made of flesh and blood. I smile noncommittally and say nothing.

Brigitta is about to say something else when the knocker on the front door sounds. I wipe my hands on my apron and rush into the hall. Brigitta follows me and waits by the stairs to see who the visitor is.

As soon as I open the door I am hit by a jolt of happiness. It’s Matthias. He’s standing there talking to a passing acquaintance and turns to face me. For a split second I think the broad smile on his face is for me. Then I notice he’s looking over my shoulder: Brigitta has appeared behind me. She throws her arms around Matthias’s neck.

‘And here we have the most beautiful woman in Amsterdam! Are you still her?’ He holds her at arm’s length and inspects her. ‘Yes, you’re still her. Always a pleasure to see you, my beautiful sister-in-law.’

Brigitta laughs and gives him a tap on the arm. ‘You’ve barely been gone a week.’

‘A lot can happen in a week.’ Matthias turns to me and takes off his hat. I expect him to make some kind of sweeping gesture with it and bow to me, but instead he presses it into my hands.

‘This is Catrin, our new housekeeper,’ says Brigitta.

‘I know, I recommended her to Adriaan myself. Welcome, Catrin.’

Our eyes meet for a few seconds longer than necessary. I think I can see a somewhat warmer greeting in his gaze but as he walks into the hall with Brigitta that feeling disappears again.

‘Bring cheese and wine to the living room, Catrin,’ says Brigitta over her shoulder. She links arms with her brother-in-law and leads him off.

I return to the kitchen, where the kettle is still waiting for me on the table. I scrub as hard as I can. I let Greta take in the cheese and wine.

I keep to the kitchen all afternoon. Brigitta and Matthias are sitting in the living room, their laughter ringing through the house. I work even harder than usual and give myself a good talking to. I’m the housekeeper. Unless I want to find myself unmarried and pregnant for the second time, I’d do well to remember that.

Late that evening, by the time I check the locks and cover the fire with a basket, I’ve got a grip on myself again.

But even so, I jump when Matthias comes strolling into the kitchen. By the light of the moon and the candle in my hand I can see little more than his silhouette.

‘Catrin, I’ve been waiting to catch you on your own.’ His voice sounds soft and warm.

I consider politely asking whether I can be of any service but opt instead for a blunt, ‘Why?’

‘Because I couldn’t very well say hello the way I wanted when I arrived.’ He walks over to me slowly.

I hold the candlestick in front of me so he can’t come too close. Without another word, Matthias takes the candlestick, sets it down on the table and pulls me to him. All my good intentions vanish. The sound of his voice alone is enough to make them dissolve. All my senses cry out for his touch and as soon as his lips brush mine, there is no more controlling them. One moment our kiss is cautious, the next it’s forceful and urgent. Suddenly I come to my senses. I push Matthias away and we look at each other, out of breath.

‘This isn’t a good idea,’ I say.

‘No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry, but …’ He runs his fingers through his hair so it looks even more dishevelled. ‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Catrin.’

‘So that’s why you ignored me when you came to the door this afternoon.’

‘What was I supposed to do? Give you the kind of greeting I just gave you?’

Despite everything, I’m forced to laugh, which gives him the courage to take me in his arms again. ‘If I’d said hello to you properly before, Brigitta would have fired you. I couldn’t pay too much attention to you. I was desperate to do this the moment you opened the door.’ He kisses me at length and I let him. After a while I break free and look at him earnestly.

‘We can’t go on like this, Matthias. This can’t go any further. I’m a servant and I’d like to keep my job.’

‘But we can make it work.’

‘No, we can’t. You’re from a distinguished family, what would you want with someone like me?’

‘My family isn’t that distinguished. My parents had a pottery and had to work hard for their money. If my father hadn’t bought shares in a VOC expedition, I would have probably ended up a potter and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.’

I like the way he looks at things but I can’t dismiss the differences between us so easily. ‘This can’t happen any more,’ I say, quietly but firmly. ‘You don’t stand to lose anything here, but I could lose everything.’

‘You’re right.’ The light-hearted tone in his voice makes way for seriousness. ‘I don’t want to cause you any trouble. As long as you work here, I’ll keep my distance. In a month I’m going away again to Antwerp, and when I come back we’ll talk. Agreed?’ He puts his hand on my cheek and looks deep into my eyes.

‘We’ll see,’ I say.