foul, however severe, however evil, there would never be peace without forgiveness. Forgiveness was essential.
He had written back, quite unusually outside of his usual prose, expressing himself now rather, formally and promising a firm undertaking on his part to forgive others for any transgression against him. He made no conditions, like demanding remorse or expecting his own absolution in return. His statement had been plain, succinct and unambiguous. A pledge from which there was no escape. This had pleased Anna, for she saw this as a fundamental instrument of life, one not to be diluted or compromised. Furthermore, if the pages of history had been landing on her fatherâs back consuming him with hate, the petals of love had been falling on her for a while, each one stopping to kiss her on the face or hair or shoulders before accumulating around her in an emotion she felt less and less inclined to temper.
However, there was a kind of fascination with English culture and tradition in the van der Vliet home. The
Island
people, as her Dad often referred to them, describing them as perhaps the most foreign of other Europeans, or even not European at all. He would comment on their polite ways and sense of fair play, the queuing, the pin-striped suits and bowler hats her mother was convinced everyone still wore. These were the characteristics of civility and decency they clung to. Even if the news from across the North Sea was entirely contrary, with stories of a failing economy, political strikes, power cuts and an unsettled population, for Annaâs Mum and Dad, the England of old was the one they believed in and a few news stories werenât going to change that.
When Geert had suggested he and some friends make a car trip to England, the idea had been met with approval or even some enthusiasm by the parents. Annaâs father had even been perhaps a little envious, for despite everything, he had never been to England. The children had all been on school trips to London already, but for one reason or another, neither he nor Adrie had visited and perhaps in deference to that had suggested Anna go too. Geert had not been enthusiastic. Anna was quite a few years younger than he and her agenda would be quite different, but some gentle persuasion and a little financial subsidy had helped, so the trip was arranged.
When Anna returned, she announced before long that she had a new pen pal, a boy. Her mother hadnât thought much about it and had simply assumed he was English, having never been told any different. It wasnât until once when Anna left her letter to Michael on the counter ready for posting that her mother noticed,
Northern Ireland
written on the envelope. She had been a little bothered by that and had questioned her daughter. After all, the news from there was not of people striking for a pay increase, it was rather more severe. This was a dangerous place. There were bombs and bullets, rioting and civil unrest. But Anna had assured her that all was fine and that these events were happening far from Michael and the life he lived.
And that was what Anna believed. Michael never mentioned such things and she never sought to bring them up. Before long, she put such thoughts out of her mind and paid them no heed. Occasionally when the news was on and there was some awful report of explosions or rioting, she would ponder a little and wonder about Michael, but come Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest each week, his new letter would arrive. In time, it ceased to be an issue.
And so their little romance developed. Michael had been in love from the start. For Anna it took a little longer, but she was charmed a little more by each letter and Michael seldom put a foot wrong. His letters would be laced with little rhymes and verses, poetry and prose. He always wrote well and she liked that. The truth was despite the awkward ways she remembered from their sole meeting; he was a deep, sensitive, thoughtful young man.
He had written back, quite unusually outside of his usual prose, expressing himself now rather, formally and promising a firm undertaking on his part to forgive others for any transgression against him. He made no conditions, like demanding remorse or expecting his own absolution in return. His statement had been plain, succinct and unambiguous. A pledge from which there was no escape. This had pleased Anna, for she saw this as a fundamental instrument of life, one not to be diluted or compromised. Furthermore, if the pages of history had been landing on her fatherâs back consuming him with hate, the petals of love had been falling on her for a while, each one stopping to kiss her on the face or hair or shoulders before accumulating around her in an emotion she felt less and less inclined to temper.
However, there was a kind of fascination with English culture and tradition in the van der Vliet home. The
Island
people, as her Dad often referred to them, describing them as perhaps the most foreign of other Europeans, or even not European at all. He would comment on their polite ways and sense of fair play, the queuing, the pin-striped suits and bowler hats her mother was convinced everyone still wore. These were the characteristics of civility and decency they clung to. Even if the news from across the North Sea was entirely contrary, with stories of a failing economy, political strikes, power cuts and an unsettled population, for Annaâs Mum and Dad, the England of old was the one they believed in and a few news stories werenât going to change that.
When Geert had suggested he and some friends make a car trip to England, the idea had been met with approval or even some enthusiasm by the parents. Annaâs father had even been perhaps a little envious, for despite everything, he had never been to England. The children had all been on school trips to London already, but for one reason or another, neither he nor Adrie had visited and perhaps in deference to that had suggested Anna go too. Geert had not been enthusiastic. Anna was quite a few years younger than he and her agenda would be quite different, but some gentle persuasion and a little financial subsidy had helped, so the trip was arranged.
When Anna returned, she announced before long that she had a new pen pal, a boy. Her mother hadnât thought much about it and had simply assumed he was English, having never been told any different. It wasnât until once when Anna left her letter to Michael on the counter ready for posting that her mother noticed,
Northern Ireland
written on the envelope. She had been a little bothered by that and had questioned her daughter. After all, the news from there was not of people striking for a pay increase, it was rather more severe. This was a dangerous place. There were bombs and bullets, rioting and civil unrest. But Anna had assured her that all was fine and that these events were happening far from Michael and the life he lived.
And that was what Anna believed. Michael never mentioned such things and she never sought to bring them up. Before long, she put such thoughts out of her mind and paid them no heed. Occasionally when the news was on and there was some awful report of explosions or rioting, she would ponder a little and wonder about Michael, but come Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest each week, his new letter would arrive. In time, it ceased to be an issue.
And so their little romance developed. Michael had been in love from the start. For Anna it took a little longer, but she was charmed a little more by each letter and Michael seldom put a foot wrong. His letters would be laced with little rhymes and verses, poetry and prose. He always wrote well and she liked that. The truth was despite the awkward ways she remembered from their sole meeting; he was a deep, sensitive, thoughtful young man.
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