The Darkroom of Damocles Read Online Free

down for military service.’
    â€˜So was I, almost. But I stretched myself.’
    Dorbeck laughed. His white teeth were so even and close-set they looked like two transverse blades of ivory. His hair was black, and a shadow of stubble tinged his jawline with blue. This made his face look even paler, although there were spots of red on his cheekbones. He had a voice like a bronze bell.
    â€˜Thanks,’ he said. ‘They don’t need to be ready the day after tomorrow, as I shan’t be back by then. But I’ll be back, you can be sure of that.’ He walked out of the shop and jumped into his lorry.
    Osewoudt followed him with his eyes. When he turned round he saw Ria standing between the sliding doors.
    â€˜Who was that?’
    â€˜Oh, nobody in particular.’
    â€˜He looked exactly like you, the way a photo negative looks like the positive.’
    â€˜He was passed for military service and I wasn’t.’
    â€˜No wonder. You look as much like him as a pudding that hasn’t set properly looks like a … let’s see … like a pudding that
has
set properly. What a scream! Did you let them all go off without paying?’
    â€˜What business is that of yours? You take money from the till without asking.’
    â€˜Yes, I do! It’s my father’s money! I can do what I like with it! Who do you think you are? What would you and your mother live on if you hadn’t married me?’

The Germans arrived in the backs of dusty lorries. The blue tram service had to stop running. The Germans wore the same steel helmets as in the Great War. They confiscated the Dutch Home Guard’s helmets, as well as their uniforms, pistols and old rifles.
    Soon the blue tram was running to its normal schedule again. Everything returned to normal, only things were somewhat busier for a while.
    Two days later a Dutch army officer on a motorcycle stopped in front of Osewoudt’s shop. When he dismounted, Osewoudt saw it was Dorbeck.
    Dorbeck dropped the motorcycle halfway across the pavement and went into the shop.
    â€˜Sorry, your film isn’t ready yet,’ said Osewoudt. ‘I don’t do the work myself, it’s done by somebody in The Hague, but he hasn’t called – because of the war, I expect.’
    â€˜Doesn’t matter.’
    Dorbeck sat with one thigh propped on the counter.
    â€˜Is there anyone back there?’ he asked, glancing at the sliding doors.
    â€˜No, my mother’s in bed and my wife is out.’
    â€˜Good. I thought of you because you’re the same height as me. I need you to lend me a suit. I want to get rid of this uniform. I can’t go and give myself up as a prisoner of war. I know Holland has capitulated, but that doesn’t mean to say I have. I’ll capitulate in my own good time.’
    Osewoudt went to the room at the back where the wardrobe stood. Dorbeck followed him, already undoing the buttons of his tunic.
    â€˜There was some trouble. What happened was this: I’m on my way to Rotterdam. There’s a bunch of sodding German paratroopers blocking the road. Shots are fired, vehicle kaput, my whole division incapacitated. The Germans make me hand over my pistol and take me with them. But then the bombs start falling and I escape. I flag down one of our trucks and get to Rotterdam. I walk down a street, don’t hear any more bombs, but what do I see? One house after another bursting into flames, just like that. I ask myself how this can be. Great crowds everywhere, people pushing prams loaded with bedding, people with pushcarts and bicycles. Everyone running and shouting. I spot two men in brown overalls. I know right off what their game is, and I stop them. Krauts, of course! They give me a long spiel. Say they’re paratroopers, that they were captured two days ago by our marines and taken to an ordinary prison, for want of a better place, where they were stripped of their uniforms and made