‘You know,’ he said, ‘I didn’t tell Labare the whole truth.’
‘What didn’t you tell him?’
‘I told him they didn’t trust me, but there was more to it than that. That fellow Cor said he didn’t think I was a day over seventeen. He didn’t believe I was Osewoudt. He said there’d been no point in rescuing me, because I was just some poor sod the Germans had beaten up by mistake, and that they only put themselves on the line for people important to the Resistance, not for the likes of me. He said I looked like a girl. But I’m a man!’
‘Of course you are.’
‘It’s true, I don’t shave. I’ve been picked on for that ever since I reached the age boys start sprouting beards.’
‘Oh, that’s just some physiological peculiarity, or it could be a skin disorder, something minor that has nothing to do with the rest of you. I wouldn’t feel the way I do if you weren’t a man.’
She tickled his side, saying: ‘Every time you see me you prove you’re a man. And what a man!’
‘Proving it to you is easy. But I can’t go around proving it in public, can I now?’
‘Just as well. I love being the only one to know. I’m very jealous. You shouldn’t take any notice of what people say or think.’
‘All the same, it got to me, almost as if I had a sneaking feeling they were right.’
‘Why, for goodness sake?’
‘The thing is, the man in the photograph actually exists. You’re not going to believe this, but it’s the truth. I met that man a number of times. His name is Dorbeck. We’re the same height, and he looks exactly like me. Really, like a twin. It’s hard to imagine how two unrelated people can look so alike, but we do. Only, his hair’s black, and he shaves. Everything else about him is completely different. He was an officer in the Dutch army back in ’40. When Rotterdam was being bombed he saw two Germans in the street. He had them shot immediately. So he was a wanted man from the moment we capitulated. He wasn’t afraid of anything. He asked me to do things for him a couple of times. I did everything he asked. I had the feeling I was an extension of him, or even part of him.
‘When I first saw him I thought: this is the sort of man I ought to have been. It’s a bit difficult to put into words, but think of the goods being produced in factories: now and then a substandard article gets made, so they make another one and throw away the reject …
‘Only, they didn’t throw me away. I continued to exist, reject though I was. I didn’t realise I was the reject until I met Dorbeck. Then I knew. That’s when I knew he was the successful specimen, that compared to him I had no reason to exist, and the only way I could accept that was to do exactly as he said. I did everything he told me to do, which was quite a lot sometimes … quite a lot …’
Marianne sat up and leaned forward, propping herself up on her elbow.
‘But Filip, aren’t you getting a bit carried away? You could be imagining it all, you know, I mean about that man looking so much like you.’
‘Imagining it? Why do you suppose the Germans arrested me if it’s him they’re looking for, why would they circulate his picture with my name? And how could Roorda be so sure he recognised me, when I know for certain it was Dorbeck he met? There’s no other explanation than that Dorbeck is the spitting image of me, other than that we’re like twins — identical twins even: same height, same build, one voice lower than the other but the same intonation, same gestures. I’m telling you: the only difference between Dorbeck and me is that Dorbeck has black hair and shaves.’
‘But he’s not you. Would you prefer to be someone else then?’
‘Why not? Who am I? Do you think it’s any fun being me?’
‘Maybe I wouldn’t be yours if you were someone else.’
‘Maybe if you knew Dorbeck you’d rather have him than me.’
‘No.’
‘How can you say that? When you met me I was at Dorbeck’s beck and call. It was only by doing what Dorbeck said that I got to know you. Without Dorbeck I’d still be stuck behind the counter in the tobacco shop. You’d never have met me. You’ve never known me the way I used to be. Ten minutes after we met my hair was pitch-black, like Dorbeck’s.’
‘Poor Filip. The one thing I can’t give you is a beard. A stick-on moustache maybe, but that’s all. Anyway, I don’t like moustaches.’
‘You’re turning it into a joke.’
‘What else can I do? It’s almost as if you’re telling me you’re a fraud and that loving you is a mistake. You make it sound as if you’d offer me to Dorbeck on a plate the moment he turned up. How do you think that makes me feel?’
‘You might fall for him anyway.’
‘It’s good to know where you stand, I must say. You obviously have a high opinion of me and my feelings.’
‘That’s not the point. The point is I can’t help thinking: in reality she’s in love with Dorbeck, even if she doesn’t know it. She says she loves me, but she means Dorbeck, because Dorbeck’s the genuine article and I’m the reject.’
‘Your nerves are on edge, that’s all. The black dye will grow out eventually. You’ll see how much I love you when you’re fair-haired again. I wish you’d believe me. Why don’t you break contact with Dorbeck, if he’s such a nuisance? Give up on him, be yourself. You can trust me. Try me.’
‘What do you mean, break contact with Dorbeck? You don’t know what you’re saying! Give up on Dorbeck? That would mean betraying him. And how would I go about that? By going to the Germans and saying: you’ve got it all wrong. I know who you’re looking for. His name’s Dorbeck. His hair’s black, mine’s only dyed. That’s not what you meant, is it, Marianne?’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’
‘And even if it was, it would still be absolutely impossible, because of all the things I did on his behalf. I developed secret films for him, I shot a man in Haarlem, I killed a Youth Storm leader, I shot a German agent and the agent’s wife, I abducted their kid to Amsterdam …’
‘But it was you doing all those things on your own, Filip, just you. Dorbeck wasn’t there, was he?’
‘No, Dorbeck wasn’t there.’
‘So if Dorbeck wasn’t there, they were your own actions! What difference does it make that it was Dorbeck telling you what to do? Soldiers obey orders, too. Does that mean a soldier’s actions aren’t his own?’
‘A soldier obeys whoever’s superior in rank. He doesn’t obey the man, he obeys the orders. But I can only obey Dorbeck, and no one forced me. Do try to understand: before I knew him I didn’t have a life, really. I got married to a first cousin seven years older than me, it was pure chance. I did nothing, wanted nothing, left everything to chance. My uncle thought I should go to university, but by chance, when the time came, my mother was discharged from the mental institution, so the easy way out was to take over my father’s tobacco shop and have my mother stay there. It looked as if I was making sacrifices for her, but that wasn’t the case at alclass="underline" I sacrificed nothing because I was nothing. I had no skills, no ambition. It wasn’t until I met Dorbeck that I felt I wanted something, if only to be like Dorbeck, if only to want the same things as he did. And wanting the same thing as someone else is a step up from not wanting anything.’
Marianne lifted her elbow and leaned diagonally across his body. She kissed his ear. ‘Here you are, talking away, while I could do with some loving. Why can’t you do what I want for a change? If you love me as much as you say you do?’
He pressed her to him, muttering: ‘You’re right. This is the answer. This is the only possible answer.’
He had an acute sense of how tired he was, but overcoming his weariness became in his mind a bid for glory. Everything that might happen from now on he would confront with this passion, as if life itself were a gigantic female, the tang of whose sweat alone would drive every virile male to unrelenting ecstasy. Not just once, but time and again, without respite, without rest.