Little Sister Read Free Page A

too.’
    She brightened at that. The day had been long and boring.
    ‘So who’s going to take me through it all? Or do I get the pleasure of both of you?’
    ‘Sam’s going to need his supper in a while,’ Vos said. ‘I’ve got some washing to pick up.’
    ‘May I hold his lead, sir?’ Van der Berg asked meekly. ‘Along the way?’
    ‘It’s half past three!’ Bakker cried. ‘Even you two can’t bunk off work this early.’
    Vos checked his watch again and wondered if there was something wrong with the battery. The minute hand had scarcely moved. They had another hour to kill at least. Time seemed to have got stuck
in this steamy, slow weather.
    ‘Expense forms!’ he said, raising a finger into the air. Van der Berg groaned then banged his head gently on the desk. ‘After that I’m buying.’
    Bakker closed her eyes and made weeping noises.
    ‘This is all your fault,’ Van der Berg told her.
    She got to her feet.
    ‘I’m going to look for those files. What was his name again?’
    ‘Ollie Haas,’ the two men replied in unison.
    ‘The Timmers case,’ Van der Berg added. ‘Don’t delve too deep, Laura. Not if you want to sleep tonight.’

3
    Sisters, brought into the world thirty – ten times three – minutes apart, Kim and Mia stayed by the heavy window staring at Volendam across the placid water,
understanding each other’s thoughts the way they always did, knowing they both saw the same thing.
    Three boats broke the bright horizon.
    Three states of existence. Past. Present. Future.
    Three parts to the world now visible. Earth. Water. Sky.
    The seafront of Volendam seemed closer than usual. Without speaking a word each knew what the other was remembering. A warm summer evening ten years before. A backing band was starting up on a
platform near the landing stage.
    Three days and three nights Jonah lingered in the belly of the whale.
    Three days and three nights Jesus spent in the heart of the earth before he rose to glory.
    Three girls in blue hot pants, sparkly scarlet shirts, patent red leather shoes, yellow hair tied back in buns, faces heavy with mascara and lipstick, walking up the stairs onto the stage.
    Three men before them. Famous once upon a time. Revered. Lucky escapees from the round of fishing and drink and hard leisure that was the lot of many in the town by the water.
    Applause then. Shouts from the audience. A few yelled phrases that eleven-year-old girls didn’t really understand.
    They stood on the waterfront stage dancing slowly to the ballad their mother had taught them from the CD player in their living room.
    Then the girls began to sing in perfect harmony with such delicacy, charm and precision they silenced the half-drunk audience and kept the rapt attention of the lone TV camera that had come out
from Amsterdam seeking cheery sequences to fill the empty minutes of local summer news.
    The camera loved them, Freya said.
    The audience too.
    Everyone.
    And those three men who mattered most, grinning figures in denim seated at the front of the stage on chairs placed like thrones, judging everyone the moment they rose to take the steps.
    This was a talent contest, Freya said. One of those win-or-lose moments in life when everything might change for the better. A chance to be spotted. To rise from obscure poverty in Volendam to
something bigger, in the Netherlands, perhaps abroad one day.
    The lovely singing sisters. The Golden Angels. Children now but teenagers soon. Freya had that transition mapped out all along. Cute then sultry. Adorable then desirable. An inch or two of that
line had to be crossed at the start.
    ‘You can save us,’ she told them, putting on their make-up at the back of the grubby bar where she waited tables. The place both tantalized and scared them. It was called the
Taveerne van de Zeven Duivels, the Inn of the Seven Devils. From the ceiling leering demons stared down at the customers, waving pitchforks. They met their mother there almost every