It is half past twelve. The whole crew breathes freely now. At least now Mr. van Maaren, the man with the mysterious past, and Mr. de Kok have gone home. Upstairs you can hear the thumping of Madam’s vacuum cleaner over her pretty and only rug. Margot tucks a few books under her arm and goes to tutor her “children who have trouble keeping up”, because that’s what Pfeffer seems like.
Pim sits in a corner with his fast friend Dickens, just to find a little peace and quiet somewhere. Mother rushes upstairs to help the busy housewife with her chores and I go to the bathroom, to tidy it up a little, along with my own person.
Quarter to one. They all trickle in. First Mr. Gies, then Kleiman or Kugler, Bep and sometimes Miep for a little bit.
One o’clock. Everyone sits listening intently to the B.B.C. They’re all gathered around the baby radio. These are the only moments, when the members of the Back House don’t interrupt each other, for the person speaking is someone even Mr. van Pels does not dare to contradict.
Quarter past one. The big dishing-up. Everyone from downstairs gets a cup of soup, and if there happens to be dessert, some of that too. Mr. Gies sits down contentedly on the sofa or leans against the writing table. The newspaper, his cup and usually the cat beside him. If any of these three are missing, he doesn’t hesitate to protest. Kleiman tells us the latest news from town and he is indeed an excellent source for that. Kugler comes bustling up the stairs. A short, hard rap on the door and he enters, rubbing his hands, depending on the mood either cheerful and talkative or bad-tempered and quiet.
A quarter to two. The diners rise and go about their business. Margot and Mother do the dishes, Mr. and Mrs. van Pels take to the sofa, Peter goes to the loft, Father on the sofa, Pfeffer too and Anne gets to work. Now comes the quietest hour of all, when all are asleep. No one is disturbed. Pfeffer is dreaming of delicious food, that’s exactly what his expression looks like. I don’t keep looking for long, for time is flying by and at four o’clock the pedantic doctor will be standing with watch in hand, because I’m one minute too late.