The Boy in the Attic: Absolutely gripping and heart-wrenching historical fiction (Wartime Holland Book 3) by Imogen Matthews

Author:Imogen Matthews [Matthews, Imogen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803146348
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-EIGHT

After a refill of hot coffee, they left the café to wend their way back to the main square, where Luuk showed her around the beautiful Renaissance town hall building that stood across from the enormous Nieuwe Kerk. They emerged into the bright sunshine just as the tuneful bells of the church tower chimed out the half hour. From there, they walked along the quaint cobbled streets lining the canals.

‘The name Delft comes from the old Dutch word delvan, which means to dig. The city’s original name, Delf, meaning ditch, is still the name of the town’s main canal. Tourists often call Delft Little Amsterdam,’ Luuk said, turning to Anna, who was feeling like a proper tourist. They were approaching one of the many humpbacked bridges crossing the canals. ‘I prefer Delft myself. It’s not as frenetic,’ he said. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a group of cyclists came flying over the bridge, loudly ringing their bells. Luuk reached out to pull Anna out of harm’s way and put a protective arm around her shoulder. ‘Well, perhaps not all the time,’ he said, laughing.

They kept on walking along the canals, stopping here and there for Luuk to point out an interesting feature or view. ‘Look to the side of that building,’ he instructed Anna, as they drew level with two step-gabled buildings in red brick linked by a paved alleyway. ‘It’s the scene that inspired Vermeer to paint The Little Street… so they say.’

‘You don’t sound as if you believe it,’ said Anna, peering towards where he was pointing.

‘This might be the place, but it’s not proven. In the seventeenth century, Delft was full of little streets with houses lining narrow canals like this one.’

Anna was charmed by what she saw: a slightly peeling, white-painted door stood open, affording a view onto a cobbled yard where a small boy was playing with a plastic toy car. He looked up and waved at them. ‘I suppose he must be used to people coming to look,’ Anna said with a wave back, but she was embarrassed that they had intruded; she had to pull Luuk away by the sleeve to stop his gawping. She’d noticed this about the Dutch, how they didn’t think it rude to stare, but she was willing to forgive Luuk.

They carried on meandering over bridges, past rows of bicycles left propped up against trees coming into leaf along the canals, while Luuk spoke of his love of history and art and how it was encouraged by his father, who was passionate about old Dutch masters and took his son to museums and art galleries throughout his teens. ‘Most teenagers would be bored by the idea of being dragged round exhibitions, but fortunately for my dad, I loved it. He always wanted me to go to Leiden, but I didn’t pass the entrance exam and went to my second choice, Utrecht. It wasn’t such a bad choice – I’ve now ended up working in Leiden.

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