Chapter 8

Riiiing. Liza jolts awake and sits upright the moment her alarm goes off. She slaps it silent. Seven o’clock—what a time for a Saturday morning. She flops back onto her pillow and stretches. Just waking up for a minute, she tells herself. Slowly, her eyes drift shut again. But a few minutes later, she shoots upright once again. Stupid alarm clock!

“Stop being so dramatic,” she mutters to herself. After all, she was the one who’d asked it last night to wake her up. No point complaining now. She switches the alarm off completely; imagine if it started screeching again in ten minutes. The last thing she wants is to wake Leonora.

Carefully, without making a sound, Liza slips out of bed, washes, and gets dressed. In the kitchen, she fills the kettle with fresh water for tea and makes herself a buttered rusk with chocolate sprinkles. At a quarter to eight, she quietly closes the front door behind her and heads to the bakery. A thin layer of snow has settled on the street.

Would Leonora dare to ask Pierre if she could take over the grocery shopping at the market this morning? Liza wonders. Well, she’ll just wait and see. Leonora will show up at the shop soon enough.

Sure enough, around ten o’clock, Leonora walks into the bakery, with Tim in tow. It’s very busy, so there’s no chance to talk.

“I’ll tell you tonight,” Leonora whispers.

She must not have spoken quietly enough, because Tim blurts out across the shop, “What happened? Can you tell me too?”

“No,” his sister snaps. “That’s not meant for little, nosy ears.”

A few customers chuckle, and an elderly man in a hat says to Tim, “When you’re a few years older, you’ll probably have a nice secret of your own that only your friend gets to know. I wouldn’t ask any more if I were you.”

Tim looks at him, somewhat baffled. He clearly has no clue what the man is talking about. Leonora grabs him by the sleeve, quickly says goodbye to Liza, and heads out. Liza laughs softly. She’s curious to hear what Leonora will tell her tonight.

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Around half past five, Liza comes home from the bakery. Dad is working at the church, and Mom and Aunt Liesbeth went to a Christmas workshop that afternoon to make a floral arrangement. Pierre is involved in various church activities and is often at the Tapperij, where it’s especially busy right now.

Liza takes a quick shower, then joins Leonora in the kitchen to prepare dinner. With lots of oohs and aahs and plenty of giggling, they go over the funny moments of the day. Gerard, in particular, gets lots of attention. Not that anything remarkable has happened—Leonora just loves talking about him and exaggerating his special traits.

“Hey, Liza, come here for a moment,” Uncle Sander calls from the living room.

Liza sets down her potato peeler and walks over. She stops in the doorway.

Uncle Sander is standing by the window. “Do you hear that? I heard it a few times yesterday, as well. What’s going on outside?”

Liza steps beside him and leans forward to look down the narrow street.
“Look,” she says, pointing. “The beech tree in the Willem Vroesen Garden is lit up. It’s telling a story.”

“Nice,” Uncle Sander says. “I’d like to hear that. Who’s coming outside?”

“Me!” Tim shouts.
“Me too,” Liza says. “Are you coming, Leonora?”

“What are we going to do?” Leonora calls from the kitchen.
“We’re going to the talking tree,” Tim says.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Leonora replies.
“It’s true,” Liza says. “In a few minutes, it starts the story again. Come on, it won’t take long.”

“All right, I’m coming.”

They all put on something warm, and the four of them head outside. Both girls link arms with Uncle Sander. Tim runs ahead. The tree has just finished its last story about the Gouda stained-glass windows of Sint-Jan’s Church. Moments later, the booming sound of the great Moreau organ fills the air.

“Wow,” Tim says, “I love that booming sound.”
The sound fills the garden and echoes off the monumental buildings lining the narrow streets around the tree. The sound fades, and it’s quiet again. Groups of people stand along the paths, while cyclists and pedestrians in the street pause to listen.

“It’ll start again in a moment,” Liza says. “Shall we find a spot near the tree so we can see everything well?”

“See?” Uncle Sander says. “I thought you were supposed to listen.”

Liza looks up at him with a grin. “You’re absolutely right, but there’s more going on than just the story.”

“I’m curious,” Uncle Sander says.

After a few minutes, they hear the sound of several mopeds approaching. Uncle Sander turns around to see where they’re coming from.

Liza laughs. “Those aren’t real mopeds; the sound is coming from the speakers.”

Uncle Sander sighs. “You see how easily you can fool me.”

Then the tree wakes up amid the noise and begins to speak. It is more than a hundred years old and has seen a great deal. Spotlights illuminate the white building with its dark green doors and windows of the Willem Vroesen House, once home to elderly men.

The tree tells of the former orphanage, on the site where the library now stands.⁽¹⁾ The light sweeps across the small windowpanes. When it speaks of the fire during the Spanish occupation, smoke fills the street. One car driving through the city centre comes to an abrupt stop. Once the smoke clears and someone explains that nothing is wrong with his car, the driver continues on.

“Ha,” Tim says, “he really thought his car was on fire.”

The beech tree continues, telling the story of the Jerusalem Chapel. Behind the lit windows, a schoolmaster is shown giving a pupil a thorough scolding.

“Well,” Tim says, “I’m glad that’s not allowed anymore.”

“Hmph,” Leonora says. “Might actually do you some good to get a proper telling-off once in a while.”

“Hey now,” Uncle Sander says. “Leave the child alone. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Leonora can’t argue with that.

The tree goes on, telling of darker times. The Jewish memorial is illuminated, and the beech speaks of the war; of the Jewish citizens of Gouda who were deported and lost their lives. Then the light turns to the stained-glass windows, and the beautiful organ music fills the air again. When the final notes fade, the tree decides it’s time to go back to sleep.

“Well,” Uncle Sander sighs, “I never knew there was so much history tied to such a small part of the city.”

Slowly, they walk back home.

“The whole city centre is really one big story,” Liza says. “When I bike through town and along the canals, I sometimes wonder what must have happened behind all those old façades.”

“If you think about it realistically,” Uncle Sander says, “you can figure that out. People haven’t changed; only their habits have.”

Liza can only nod. He’s right, but she doesn’t want to always see everything realistically. She wants to imagine the past. It wasn’t perfect back then, and it certainly isn’t now either. Antonio’s face comes to mind. She’s relieved when they’re back inside. Standing for just fifteen minutes in the cold has chilled her to the bone. What could she give Antonio to keep him warm? She’ll ask him when she sees him; he’ll know best.

“Shall we get back to cooking, Leonora?” Liza says. “Otherwise it’ll be too late to do anything fun tonight.”

Together they disappear into the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything?” Uncle Sander offers.

“You could set the plates on the table,” Liza suggests.

“Is that really a good idea?” Leonora says doubtfully.

“I’ll help Dad,” Tim calls.

“Oh no,” Leonora groans. “Is there a shop nearby where you can buy new plates?”

Laughing, the girls get back to work.

“When will we see Gerard again?” Leonora asks quietly when no one can hear them.

Liza thinks for a moment.
“Oh, that’s easy,” she says. “He’ll be at the Christmas play at the church tonight.”

“Christmas play?” Leonora looks surprised.

“Yes, every evening until Christmas, there are short Christmas plays performed by different schools. I think Gerard helps out there, too. I haven’t had time to go yet this week, so I’m not sure exactly what he does. If we’re quick, we can still join in, but then we’ll have to eat at the shepherds’ area in the church instead of at home. We’ll see him either way. Or not,” she adds, pulling a silly face.

“Uncle Sander,” Liza calls, “shall we eat with the shepherds at the church?”

“Fun!” he responds enthusiastically.

“Mom and Aunt Liesbeth will have to figure out where they’ll eat. Everything’s basically ready; I’ll leave them a note.”

Liza puts the note on the kitchen table. Quickly, the four of them grab their coats and head outside again. The plates remain clean on the table.

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(1) In 2008, the public library was located here. A few years later, it moved to Klein Amerika.