Alice went inside Saskia's room and closed the door; she sat in the window, still singing the words to "Breathe on Me, Breath of God," although no one could hear her. Els told the boys to move on; all but one of them were still arguing with her when Nico Oudejans suddenly appeared in the Bloedstraat. When the boys didn't walk away fast enough, Nico shouted at them and they began to run. The one boy who hadn't argued with Els was running backward--he simply couldn't take his eyes off Alice.
Nico smiled at Jack, who waved to his mom in the window. She just went on singing. "I'll keep checking on her, Jack--and on you, too," the policeman said.
It would have been easier to invite the men inside the room; their disappointment in being denied advice ran the gamut from utter incomprehension to anger. Some would simply look embarrassed and skulk away--others were baffled or belligerent. Alice just kept singing; she wouldn't even stop long enough to eat a ham-and-cheese croissant, which Saskia and Jack brought her. And not long after dark, Tattoo Theo paid her a visit. He had stuffed a basket with a bottle of wine and some fruit and cheese, but Alice wouldn't accept it. She gave Rademaker a hug and a kiss; then she waved Els and Jack over to her doorway and gave them the basket. Naturally, they took the food and wine to Saskia, who was always starving.
Robbie de Wit showed up, too. He looked heartbroken at the sight of Alice singing soundlessly in Saskia's window. Robbie had brought her a couple of marijuana cigarettes, which Alice accepted; when she left the window for the doorway, she would light one of the joints and take a hit from it while she went on singing.
It would be years before Jack made the connection--namely, that it was one of those nights Bob Dylan could have written a terrific song about.
Around ten o'clock that night, when the red-light district was very crowded, Els and Saskia and Jack accompanied Alice on the short walk from Saskia's room on the Bloedstraat to Els's room on the Stoofsteeg. Els was carrying Jack. The boy was half asleep, with his head on her shoulder. Alice didn't sing when she was changing rooms. "Do you think William's ever going to show up?" she asked.
"I never thought he was going to show up," Saskia said.
"You should call it a night, Alice," Els told her. She unlocked the door to her room, and Alice took up her usual position in the doorway. She was about to start the hymn again when she saw Femke coming toward her on the Stoofsteeg.
"You're not singing," Femke said.
"He's not coming, is he?" Alice asked her.
Both Saskia and Els started in on Femke--they were furious and let her know it. Jack woke up, but he had no idea what they were saying. It was all in Dutch. Femke didn't back down to them, not a bit. Els and Saskia kept after her. Jack thought Els was going to throw Femke down on the cobblestone street, but they stopped shouting when Alice began to sing. Jack had never heard her do "Breathe on Me, Breath of God" any better. Femke looked undone by her voice. Possibly Femke said, "I didn't think you'd actually do it." Alice just kept singing--if anything, a little louder. But Jack was so out of it, for all he knew, Femke might have said, "I didn't think he'd actually accept it."
As Jack understood things, his father was playing a piano on a cruise ship--or someone was. The piano seemed to surprise Alice, but most organists learn how to play piano first--certainly William had. Maybe the surprise was that William wanted to sail to Australia and get tattooed by Cindy Ray.
Alice had switched hymns, but she was nonetheless continuing to sing--heedless of such a small thing as punctuation, or the fact that William might already have been on his way to Australia. "The King of love my Shepherd is," she sang. (She just kept repeating that line.)
Did William hope that Australia would be too far away for Alice and Jack to follow him there? Jack was falling asleep on Els's big, soft bosom. Alice had switched hymns again and showed no sign of stopping. "Sweet Sacrament divine," she sang repeatedly. The purity of Alice's voice followed Femke down the street. By the time Femke left the Stoofsteeg, Alice had switched back to "Breathe on Me, Breath of God" and Jack woke up.
"You can stop now, Alice," Saskia said, but Alice wouldn't stop.
"Where's Australia?" Jack asked Els. (He just knew that Australia wasn't on their itinerary.)
"Don't worry, Jack--you're not going anywhere near Australia," Saskia said.
"It's on the other side of the world," Els told him. The boy felt better thinking that his dad might be on the other side of the world; yet this wouldn't prevent Jack from imagining that his father was somehow watching him from a crowd.
"Come on, Alice--it's time to stop," Saskia said.
"The King of love my Shepherd is," Alice started up again, a little tonelessly.
They'd been so interested in watching Femke's departure that they hadn't noticed Jacob Bril's arrival. It wasn't even midnight, but there was Bril on the Stoofsteeg, and he wasn't walking. He stood paralyzed in a religious rage. "That's a hymn you're singing--that's a prayer!" Bril yelled at Alice.
She looked right at him and went ahead with "Sweet Sacrament Divine." (In her state of mind, maybe three hymns--or just their titles--were all she could remember.)
"Blasphemy!" Bril shouted. "Sacrilege!"
Saskia said something in Dutch to him; it didn't sound especially religious. Els stepped up to Bril and shoved him; he dropped to one knee but kept himself from falling with the heel of one hand on the cobblestones. When he straightened up, Els shoved him again. He managed to stay on his feet, but he bounced off the side of the building. "Not around Jack," Els told him calmly. She stepped forward to shove him again, but Bril backed away from her.
"Where's Nico when you need him?" Saskia said facetiously--Els didn't appear to need Nico's help.
Alice began again with "Breathe on Me, Breath of God." That was when they all saw him--the boy who had not argued with Els, the one who'd run backward out of the Bloedstraat. He was there because he needed another look at Alice. This time, he was alone. Els spoke to him in Dutch; she looked as if she intended to shove him, now that Bril was retreating.
"Leave him alone. He was the only nice one," Alice told Els; she had finally stopped singing. She smiled at the boy, who stood helplessly in front of her. "He looks like he needs advice, doesn't he?" Alice asked.
"Alice, you don't have to," Saskia said.
"But he looks like he needs advice," Alice said.
"Saskia or I can give it to him," Els told her.
"I think it's my advice he wants," Alice said.
"You should call it a night, Alice," Els repeated.
"Would you like to come inside?" Alice asked the boy. He didn't look as if he understood English. Els translated for him and he nodded.
"Come on, Jack," Saskia said; she took his hand. "I could use a ham-and-cheese croissant. Couldn't you?"
The boy in need of advice had an olive complexion and very dark hair, cut short; he was small-boned with wide, staring eyes and features as fine as a girl's. He had not moved since he'd been invited inside the prostitute's room--he just stood there. He'd wanted to have another look at Alice, never imagining that he would get up the nerve to ask her again, or even have the opportunity to do so--that is, if he'd asked her the first time. (From the look of him, he'd been too scared; probably one or more of his friends, the hecklers, had asked her.)
Els stepped up behind him and pushed him toward Alice, who took his hand and pulled him inside the room; the top of his head barely came to her chin. When Alice had closed the door and the curtains, Els joined Saskia and Jack. "Is he a virgin?" Jack asked them.
"Definitely," Els said.
Remembering what Nico Oudejans had said to his mom at the police station, Jack asked: "Is he too young a virgin?"
"Nobody's too young at this time of night," Saskia said.
Jack had been napping half the afternoon and night--first for an hour or so in Els's room, and then in Saskia's, and of course in Els's arms when she carried him here and there--but now he was exhausted. When they got back to Saskia's room, Saskia closed her
curtains so Jack could go to sleep. She stood in her doorway, guarding him, while--every fifteen or twenty minutes--Els would walk back to her room on the Stoofsteeg to see if Alice was still advising the virgin.
Jack managed to stay awake for the first two trips Els took. "I thought Els said virgins were quick," the boy remarked.
"Go to sleep, Jack," Saskia said. "It's taking a long time because the virgin's English isn't very good. Your mom probably has to speak very slowly to him."
"Oh."
"Go to sleep, Jack."
Much later, the sound of whispering woke Jack. The three women sat on the edge of Saskia's bed in the glow from the lamp with the red glass shade; there was hardly any room on the bed for Jack, who didn't let them know he was awake. His mom's string of pearls was broken. Els and Saskia were trying to help Alice put her necklace back together. "The clumsy oaf," Saskia said. "That's the trouble with virgins."
"He didn't mean to--he'd just never taken off a necklace before," Alice whispered. "I think they're cultured pearls. Is that good or bad?"
"You should have kept the necklace on, Alice," Els told her.
"He was really very sweet--he'd just never done anything before," Alice whispered.
"He must have had a lot of money, for all that time," Saskia said.
"Oh, I didn't charge him--that would have made me a prostitute!" The three women laughed. "Shhh! We'll wake up Jack," Alice whispered.
"I'm awake," he told them. "Did you give that boy some good advice?" he asked his mom. She gave Jack a hug and a kiss while Saskia and Els went on trying to reassemble her broken necklace.
"Yes, it was pretty good advice, I think," Alice replied.
"The best advice he'll ever get," Saskia said.
"At least for free," Els added. The three women laughed again.
"You'll have to take this damn thing to a jeweler," Saskia said, handing Alice the damaged necklace and a bunch of unstrung pearls. Alice put the loose pearls and the necklace in her purse.
Saskia and Els volunteered to walk them back to the Krasnapolsky, but Alice proposed a slight detour. She wanted to walk by the Oudekerksplein, just to show those old prostitutes she was still standing. "It's too late--most of them will have stopped working," Els told her.
"It's worth doing," Saskia said. "Even if only one woman is working, the others will hear about it."
It must have been two or three in the morning. They had just come off the Oudekennissteeg when the music hit them; it was even louder on the bridge across the old canal. That organ in the Oude Kerk was a holy monster. "Bach?" Jack asked his mother.
"It's Bach, all right," Alice said, "but it's not your father."
"How do you know?" Els asked. "Femke is such a bitch. You should at least have a look and see."
"It's Bach's Fantasy in G Major," Alice said. "It's popular at weddings." Weddings were not exactly William's cup of tea, apparently, but Saskia and Els insisted on having a look at the organist.
Alice wanted to walk around the Oudekerksplein before going inside the Old Church, so they did. Only one prostitute was standing in her doorway, listening to the music. She was one of the younger ones--Margriet. "You're up late, Jackie," Margriet said.
"We're all up late," Els told her.
They went into the Oude Kerk. Two of the older prostitutes were sitting in a pew, and one of them, Naughty Nanda, appeared to be asleep; the other one, Angry Anouk, wouldn't look at Alice.
They went to the staircase at the back of the great congregation hall, but only Saskia and Els and Jack started up the narrow stairs. Alice waited for them at the bottom of the staircase. "He's in Australia, or sailing to it," she said stubbornly. "Just imagine all the ladies he'll get to meet on a cruise ship!"
The faint, innocent smell of baby powder preceded their view of Frans Donker, the junior organist. The sudden appearance of Saskia and Els startled the boy genius--he stopped playing. Then Donker saw Jack standing between the two prostitutes.
"Oh, I suppose you thought it was your father," Frans said to Jack.
"Not really," Saskia said.
"Don't talk--just keep playing," Els told him. The child prodigy had returned to the Bach before they reached the bottom of the stairs.
"It's that Donker kid, right?" Alice asked. They all nodded. "He plays like an organ-tuner," Alice said.
Bach's Fantasy in G Major followed them past the Trompettersteeg, where several of the younger prostitutes were still selling themselves. They were nearly to the end of the Sint Annenstraat when they finally outdistanced the music.
"You're not going to Australia, are you?" Els may have asked Alice.
"No. Australia is too long and hard a trip for Jack," Alice might have answered.
"It's too long and hard a trip for anybody, Alice," Saskia said.
"I suppose so," was all Alice said. Her speech was uncharacteristically slurred, and her expression--from the moment Jack had awakened to the women's whispers on the Bloedstraat--was unfamiliarly dreamy and carefree. Jack would later assume that this had to do with how many joints she'd smoked, because--until Amsterdam--his mother and marijuana were not on close terms. But they were on close terms that Saturday night and Sunday morning.
Saskia and Els walked them back to their hotel--not because the two prostitutes thought the red-light district was unsafe, even at that hour, but because they didn't want Alice to run into Jacob Bril. They knew Bril was also staying at the Krasnapolsky.
After the women hugged and kissed Jack and Alice good night, Jack and his mom got ready for bed. It was the first time Jack remembered her using the bathroom ahead of him. Something amused her in there, because she started laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"I think I left my underwear in Els's room!"
The advice-giving business had clearly distracted her--and by the time Jack finished brushing his teeth, Alice had fallen asleep. Jack turned out the lights in the bedroom and left the bathroom light on, with the door ajar--their version of a night-light. He thought it was the first time his mother had fallen asleep before him. He got into bed beside her, but even asleep, his mom was still singing. Jack was thankful it wasn't a hymn. And maybe the marijuana had resurrected Alice's Scottish accent, which, in the future, Jack could detect only when she was drunk or stoned.
As for the song, Jack had no way of knowing if it was an authentic folk ballad--something his mother had remembered from her girlhood--or, more likely, a ditty of her own imagination that, in her sleep, she'd put to music. (Why not? She'd been singing for half a day and night.)
Here is the song Alice sang in her sleep.
Oh, I'll never be a kittie
or a cookie
or a tail.
The one place worse than
Dock Place
is the Port o' Leith jail.
No, I'll never be a kittie,
of one true thing I'm sure--
I won't end up on Dock Place
and I'll never be a hure.
Hure rhymed with sure, of course. Jack thought it might be a nursery song, which--even in her sleep--his mother meant to sing for him.
Jack said their nightly prayer--as he always did, with his eyes closed. He spoke a little louder than usual, because his mother was asleep and he had to pray for both of them. "The day Thou gavest, Lord, is ended. Thank You for it."
They slept until noon Sunday, when he asked her: "What's a hure?"
"Was it something I said in my sleep?" she said.
"Yes. You were singing."
"A hure is like a prostitute--an advice-giver, Jackie."
"How can a person be a kittie or a cookie or a tail?" Jack asked.
"They're all words for an advice-giver, Jack."
"Oh."
They were walking hand-in-hand through the red-light district to Tattoo Peter's when the boy asked: "Where's Dock Place?"
"Dock Place is nowhere I'll ever be," was all she would tell him.
"How did Tattoo Peter lose his leg?" Jac
k asked for the hundredth time.
"I told you--you'll have to ask him."
"Maybe on a bicycle," the boy said.
It was midafternoon in the district; most of the women were already offering advice. All of them greeted Jack and Alice by name--even those older prostitutes in the area of the Old Church. Alice made a point of walking around the Oudekerksplein; they passed every window and doorway, at a pace half the speed of Jacob Bril's. Not a soul hummed "Breathe on Me, Breath of God" to them.
They went to the St. Olofssteeg to say good-bye to Tattoo Peter. "Alice, you're welcome to come work with me anytime," the one-legged man told her. "Keep both your legs, Jack," Peter said. "You'll find it easier to get around that way."
Then they walked up the Zeedijk to say good-bye to Tattoo Theo and Robbie de Wit. Robbie wanted Alice to tattoo him. "Not another broken heart," she said. "I've had enough of hearts, torn in two or otherwise." Robbie settled for her signature on his right upper arm.
Daughter Alice
Rademaker was so impressed by her letter-perfect script that he requested one, too. Tattoo Theo got his tattoo on his left forearm, which he said he'd kept bare for something special. The lettering ran from the bend at Rademaker's elbow to the face of his wristwatch, so that every time he looked to see what time it was, he would be reminded of Daughter Alice.
"What do you say, Jack?" Tattoo Theo asked. "Shall we listen again to der Zimmerman?" (He wasn't German; he didn't know der from den. Not that Jack knew German, either--not yet.)
Jack picked out a Bob Dylan album and put it on. Robbie de Wit was soon singing along, but it wasn't Alice's favorite song. She just went on tattooing, leaving the singing to Robbie and Bob.
"When your rooster crows at the break of dawn," Bob and Robbie sang. "Look out your window and I'll be gone." At this point, Alice was starting the A in Alice. "You're the reason I'm trav'lin' on," Bob and Robbie crooned. "Don't think twice, it's all right."