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DEAREST DEAREST KIM VAN KOOTEN A NOVEL BASED ON A TRUE STORY ‘Simultaneously delightful and unbearable, sprightly and deeply horrifying, this story of abuse and resilience is borne aloft by its endearing heroine’ Michel Faber Cover Dearest.indd 1 19-9-2016 9:09:31 Dearest Dearest is the story of Puck. At the age of fi ve she and her mother move from a shabby Rotterdam neighborhood to a residential mansion in Zwijndrecht, where her mother’s new lover lives. It seems like a fairy tale: the man – called ‘Uncle Mister’ by Puck – takes care of the girl. Uncle Mister overloads her with presents, washes her hair three times a week, and together they make long trips in his big car. Puck is his dearest. It is their secret. But sometimes secrets grow too big to stay hidden and they want to be discovered. In Dearest – based on the life story of Pauline Barendregt – Kim van Kooten gives voice to the girl Puck, whilst making the unimaginable imaginable with her light-hearted, but razor sharp, tone. She sheds light on a dark theme and is able to tell a hideous story with humor – a major achievement. After reading Dearest, you never want to leave Puck alone. Specifi cs Dearest sold over 80.000 copies in Th e Netherlands and was fi rst published in November 2015 238 pages Agency Oscar van Gelderen T: + 31 6 46096823 E: [email protected] In collaboration with: Vicki Satlow Literary Agency / Vicki Satlow T: + 39 0248015553 E: [email protected] Kim van Kooten Dearest Based on the story by Pauline Barendregt Translated by Arjaan van Nimwegen and Th ijs van Nimwegen Lebowski Agency, 2016 © Kim van Kooten en Pauline Barendregt, 2015 © Dutch translation: Arjaan van Nimwegen and Th ijs van Nimwegen © Lebowski Agency, 2016 Cover design: Peter de Lange Photograph of the author: © Henneman Agency Typesetting: Crius Group, Hulshout www.lebowskipublishers.nl www.overamstel.com Lebowski Publishers is an imprint of Overamstel Publishers bv All rights reserved. Th is book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Table of Contents Dearest Interview with Kim van Kooten and Pauline Barendregt by NRC Handelsblad ‘I Hope People Will Stop Looking Away’ Biography Quotes 5 Mom can’t do it by herself, life. And I can’t do it with just mom, so I went over to a phone booth and I called dad and dad came over. Puck 1975 Th e Black Car Mrs. Marsman’s curtains are moving. Th ree times already she’s pus- hed them aside a bit to see if we’re still there. We’re still there, every time. I waved to her and hollered that it’s my birthday, but mom said: ‘Put a sock in it Puck, you’ll wake up the whole street.’ We’re on the sidewalk in front of our house with our suitcases. I don’t know what time it is, but I guess it’s early morning, because it’s still dark. Th e whole street is sleeping, except for Mrs. Marsman and us. She’s rich. On the inside, her house is white with bits of gold and pink. Once I got to come along, when my mom went over there to clean. Well actually, she wasn’t really cleaning. First we watched TV for a long time. Me drinking coke and her smoking. In the end she did a tiny bit of vacuuming. She doesn’t like cleaning, because that’s not the reason she was put on this earth, she says. But she’d seen a silver coat and she wanted to buy it. Mrs. Marsman would pay her twenty-fi ve guilders. At the end of the afternoon Mrs. Marsman came home and said: ‘Well, that was once but never again.’ ‘My thoughts exactly,’ mom replied. ‘I mean, I’m actually a hair- dresser.’ I turned fi ve today. I haven’t gotten any presents, but I might get some later on. Mom didn’t even have time to sing me a birthday song this morning because she had to pack her bags and do her make-up and shave her legs and blow-dry her hair until it was all the way up. Twice I asked her where we’re going, but she hasn’t answered me yet. We’re waiting. I look at the suitcases. We might be going on a 9 holiday, but holidays cost money and we don’t have any of that. Suddenly I’m thinking of dad. We’re waiting for my father! He’s coming to pick us up because it’s my birthday. Dad is a fi lthy old stinky bastard. He’s living with another woman and I’m not allo- wed to talk about him. So I don’t. But mom hasn’t said anything about thinking. I don’t recall exactly what he looks like. Last year, when I was still four, I saw a picture of him in a book at Granny Crooswijk’s. Th e picture had come loose and it fell to the fl oor when I opened the book. ‘Well, shit-a-brick,’ Granny said. Her voice sounds like she’s smoking a box of cigars a day. Which she does. She picked dad off the fl oor and looked at him. He was crouched next to a radiator. He looked handsome and young. He was smiling. I smiled back at him and asked Granny Crooswijk if maybe she knew where dad was now. ‘He went and joined the circus in Gouda,’ she said, tossing the picture into the trash can. Just as I’m about to ask mom if we can go back inside, a shiny black car turns into our street. Mom gets on her toes and starts waving madly. Th e car drives up to us. Th en it stops. A man gets out. It can’t be dad, I’m sure of it. Th is man is very old. He’s wearing a grey suit. He has big ears, a big nose and he’s wearing big glasses. He looks around like he’s the president of something. ‘Hey, Dicky-doo,’ mom says. ‘Well,’ the man says. ‘Th is is Puck.’ She’s pointing at me. ‘Well,’ the man says once again. After that everything happens very quickly. First they put the suitcases in the trunk, and after mom gets in the front seat the man puts me in the back. Inside it’s all leather and wood. ‘Mom,’ I say. She doesn’t hear me. Just before we drive off I see Mrs. Marsman opening the curtains again. Mr. Marsman is with her now, wearing dark-blue pajamas. Mrs. Marsman tells him something. Mr. Marsman shrugs. 10 Th e Brown Castle My mother is shaking my shoulder. ‘We’re there, Puck.’ ‘Where?’ I ask her. ‘Where we gotta be.’ She’s pointing out through the windshield and I see a house the size of a castle. Th e old man is carrying our suitcases to the front door. ‘We’re going to live here,’ she says, getting out of the car. I’m about to cry, but she doesn’t notice, because she’s walking towards the house. I climb out of the car quickly, run after her and grab her skirt. She turns around. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Mom.’ ‘What’s wrong? Let go of my skirt.’ ‘All the stuff is still at home!’ I tell her. Th e man has already gone inside. She’s trying to make me let go, but I’m grabbing her skirt tightly. ‘You’re being silly,’ she says. ‘Th ere’s nothing in Rotterdam. Eve- rything’s here. And now let go of my skirt.’ I do as she says and she walks over to the front door. Th ere’s a lot of garden, with trimmed grass and tall trees. And a street. Across it there’s a policeman. He’s smoking a cigarette and waving. I wave back. Th en I run after my mother. Th ey might just slam the door and then I’ll be out here on my own. ‘Th is is the ‘all, Puck,’ mom says. For a moment she sounds like a completely diff erent person. More posh. ‘What’s the all?’ I ask her. Mom rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. ‘Th e ‘allway,’ she says. 11 Th e hallway is wide and the ceiling is high. Th ere’s a lamp han- ging from it, full of jewels and silver icicles. I try to count how many there are. When I’ve reached seven, suddenly the man is standing next to me. ‘I’ve heard it’s your birthday today,’ he says. I look at mom. She’s over by the coat stand nodding yes franti- cally. Yes, it’s my birthday. I’d actually already forgotten. ‘So come with me for a moment,’ the man says. We follow him to another room. It’s three times the size of the hallway. Again it’s all leather and wood, just like the inside of the car. Th ere’s a big, leather couch and a couple of dark brown, leather chairs. I can see walls covered with dark brown cabinets. Th ere are thick leather books in a dark brown bookcase. Dark brown must be his favorite color. In the middle of the room there’s a red children’s bike, wrapped in a silver ribbon.

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