TUESDAY, MAY 2, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
Saturday night I asked peter whether he thinks I should tell Father about us. After we'd discussed it, he said he thought I should. I was glad; it shows he's sensible, and sensitive. As soon as I came downstairs, I went with Father to get some water. While we were on the stairs, I said, "Father, I'm sure you've gathered that when peter and I are together, we don't exactly sit at opposite ends of the room. Do you think that's wrong?"
Father paused before answering: "No, I don't think it's wrong. But Anne, when you're living so close together, as we do, you have to be careful." He said some other words to that effect, and then we went upstairs.
Sunday morning he called me to him and said, "Anne, I've been thinking about what you said." (Oh, oh, I knew what was coming!) "Here in the Annex it's not such a good idea. I thought you were just friends. Is peter in love with you?"
"Of course not," I answered.
"Well, you know I understand both of you. But you must be the one to show restraint; don't go upstairs so often, don't encourage him more than you can help. In matters like these, it's always the man who takes the active role, and it's up to the woman to set the limits. Outside, where you're free, things are quite different. You see other boys and girls, you can go outdoors, take part in sports and all kinds of activities. But here, if you're together too much and want to get away, you can't. You see each other every hour of the day-all the time, in fact. Be careful, Anne, and don't take it too seriously!
"I don't, Father, but peter's a decent boy, a nice boy."
"Yes, but he doesn't have much strength of character. He can easily be influenced to do good, but also to do bad. I hope for his sake that he stays good, because he's basically a good person."
We talked some more and agreed that Father would speak to him too.
Sunday afternoon when we were in the front attic, peter asked, "Have you talked to your Father yet, Anne?"
"Yes," I replied, "I'll tell you all about it. He doesn't think it's wrong, but he says that here, where we're in such close quarters, it could lead to conflicts."
"We've already agreed not to quarrel, and I plan to keep my promise."
"Me too, peter. But Father didn't think we were serious, he thought we were just friends. Do you think we still can be?"
"Yes, I do. How about you?"
"Me too. I also told Father that I trust you. I do trust you, peter, just as much as I do Father. And I think you're worthy of my trust. You are, aren't you?"
"I hope so." (He was very shy, and blushing.)
"I believe in you, peter," I continued. "I believe you have a good character and that you'll get ahead in this world."
After that we talked about other things. Later I said, "If we ever get out of here, I know you won't give me another thought."
He got all fired up. "That's not true, Anne. Oh no, I won't let you even think that about me!"
Just then somebody called us.
Father did talk to him, he told me Monday. "Your Father thought our friendship might turn into love," he said. "But I told him we'd keep ourselves under control."
Father wants me to stop going upstairs so often, but I don't want to. Not just because I like being with peter, but because I've said I trust him. I do trust him, and I want to prove it to him, but I'll never be able to if I stay downstairs out of distrust.
No, I'm going!
In the meantime, the Dussel drama has been resolved. Saturday evening at dinner he apologized in beautiful Dutch. Mr. van Daan was immediately reconciled. Dussel must have spent all day practicing his speech.
Sunday, his birthday, passed without incident. We gave him a bottle of good wine from 1919, the van Daans (who can now give their gift after all) presented him with a jar of piccalilli and a package of razor blades, and Mr. Kugler gave him a jar of lemon syrup (to make lemonade), Miep a book, Little Martin, and Bep a plant. He treated everyone to an egg.
Yours, Anne M. Fran
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