wednesday, september 29, 1943

dearest kitty,

it's mrs. van daan's birthday. other than one ration stamp each for cheese, meat and bread, all she received from us was a jar of jam. her husband, dussel and the office staff gave her nothing but flowers and also food. such are the times we live in!

bep had a nervous fit last week because she had so many errands to do. ten times a day people were sending her out for something, each time insisting she go right away or go again or that she'd done it all wrong. and when you think that she has her regular office work to do, that mr. kleiman is sick, that miep is home with a cold and that bep herself has a sprained ankle, boyfriend troubles and a grouchy father, it's no wonder she's at the end of her tether. we comforted her and told her that if she'd put her foot down once or twice and say she didn't have the time, the shopping lists would shrink of their own accord.

saturday there was a big drama, the likes of which have never been seen here before. it started with a discussion of van maaren and ended in a general argument and tears. dussel complained to mother that he was being treated like a leper, that no one was friendly to him and that, after all, he hadn't done anything to deserve it. this was followed by a lot of sweet talk, which luckily mother didn't fall for this time. she told him we were disappointed in him and that, on more than one occasion, he'd been a source of great annoyance. dussel promised her the moon, but, as usual, we haven't seen so much as a beam.

there's trouble brewing with the van daans, i can tell! father's furious because they're cheating us: they've been holding back meat and other things. oh, what kind of bombshell is about to burst now? if only i weren't so involved in all these skirmishes! if only i could leave here! they're driving us crazy!

yours, anne