At twelve-thirty the outside door was locked, crates were lugged into the kitchen, with Peter, Father and Mr. van Daan stumbling up the stairs.
Anne got hot water from the water heater, Margot went for a bucket, all hands on deck!
With a funny feeling in my stomach, I entered the overcrowded office kitchen.
Miep, Bep, Mr. Kleiman, Jan, Father, Peter: the Annex contingent and the Supply Corps all mixed up together,
and that in the middle of the day! Curtains and windows open, loud voices, banging doors -- I was trembling with excitement.
I kept thinking, “Are we really in hiding?” This must be how it feels when you can finally go out into the world again.
The pan was full, so I dashed upstairs, where the rest of the family was hulling strawberries around the kitchen table.
At least that's what they were supposed to be doing, but more was going into their mouths than into the buckets.
They were bound to need another bucket soon. Peter went back downstairs, but then the doorbell rang twice.
Leaving the bucket where it was, Peter raced upstairs and shut the bookcase behind him.
We sat kicking our heels impatiently; the strawberries were waiting to be rinsed,
but we stuck to the house rule: “No running water when strangers are downstairs -- they might hear the drains.”
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