THE FURY
We nicknamed my aunt "Tiny Scrub".
But never said it to her herself.
Aunt Tiny got her cloths
from the humpback.
Handmade by the prison inmates.
If Aunt Tiny didn't like something,
she would be ruthless.
Once, when she was caught smoking...
...she forgot that her apron
was man-made fibre.
Her experimental toothpaste
had been a free gift...
...and she'd rather have inflamed gums
than throw half of it away.
My mother was Tinvs sister.
1 often stayed with my grandparents.
Aunt Tiny knew
lots of exciting stories.
Tiny was such a good liar
that she believed her own fibs.
Only years later I discovered
why she had such an odd character...
...and what had motivated her
a her We.
Tiny!
Tiny!
The slave is called to the job
but this slave stays in bed.
Let the tyrants make their own coffee.
Young Albert, where are you?
Do you know where Tiny is?
Must we discuss it again?
- We've never discussed it decently.
Talk decently about something indecent?
Not in front of the boy.
You go and see if grandpa's cigars
are in his coat pocket.
And if they're not,
go and find them upstairs.
And hurry up.
What you've done is so disgraceful,
there are no words for it.
I'll shout it from the roofs.
I do have words for it.
And you'll only be sorry.
You're not going to the funfair
and that's it.
You know no limits. You're staying in.
Hear me? I'll say it once more:
You're staying here.
No cigars.
So, you've got big plans I see.
I have to hand in my whole salary
to those slave drivers.
But what I earn this way, I keep.
Young Albert is staying with us.
He can help with the lacing.
Here...
Don't you want a boyfriend?
They're scared of you,
did you know that?
Scared? Why?
- You slap them.
As a joke.
But you should see your face
when you pinch someone.
OK, I won't pinch or slap again.
Young Albert, want a cigarette?
- No.
You're Hasje van der Serckt, aren't you?
Off to where?
- Amsterdam.
Amsterdam no less.
Did you get fed up,
house painting with Verstegen?
Yes.
So you're going to be an artist?
Get in, we'll give you a lilt
in the right direction.
What's got into the lad?
Oh, we've seen much worse than this.
I've come to see how Hasje is doing.
Is he gone?
- Yes.
He'd be a good match.
You can see him as often as you like.
Only in the house of course.
Not much progress, is there?
Is this where you are?
- Well spotted.
Wasn't Henneman here?
- He's gone, it's off.
Is it off?
It's off.
- What?
It's off. I have no more to say about it.
At last there's a good man,
a superintendent to be...
Tiny, you never learn for God's sake.
Hello... It's off.
- Off?
Broke it off with Henneman.
- Be free to meddle.
I can't go home, I'm helping Aunt.
Don't let this one go
or I'll never get you another one.
And don't you hit or pinch him either.
He's worth his weight in gold.
I hope he's as fat as a pig.
Still got a headache, young Albert?
Come and I'll take you out.
No wonder you've got a headache:
all those letters! They would blind me.
I want to marry him.
So you're a hotel porter.
That means you're dependent
on a tip here and there.
On top of my regular wages.
I know they don't amount to much...
...but the tips do add up.
It's not a secure job.
- Very insecure.
There's always a chance of promotion.
I want to end up being the manager.
Then you won't be in a draught.
Tiny, how serious is it between you?
We are intending to get engaged.
Isn't that a bit hasty?
An engagement is fine,
but she can't marry until she's twenty.
She's eighteen.
We've always agreed that she wouldn't
leave home until she's twenty.
Tell him the reason why.
We never will.
Then I'll tell him.
- You'll do nothing of the kind.
If there's something I should know...
It is an engagement after all.
I'll tell you what: you get engaged
whenever you like, I pay for the party...
...and we keep quiet
about everything else.
Including why she can't marry
until she's twenty.
Or this other thing that Tiny mentioned.
So there we were. What a story, eh?
I'm getting all hot and bothered.
Hey, when I'm engaged
you can't come into my bed any more.
He doesn't want me to have other men in
my bed. You must see that, young Albert.
Tiny, get the coffee going.
Our Tiny is getting engaged.
I pay for the party and you're all invited.
Who to?
- Peter Walraven.
Pete the Porter.
He's always got cystitis
from being in the draught.
Whining on and on and on.
Just like that violinist.
He gets rat poison in his coffee.
No one will notice.
Only when he drops down dead.
But they won't know it's the coffee.
Have you got rat poison?
Won't he taste it?
- Not if I stir it well.
Otherwise it might taste funny.
But just don't say that as a visitor.
You say: "That's a real nice cuppa."
And then he's under the table: dead.
I say, Tiny, are you getting engaged?
Nothing in my coffee. I drink it black.
As black as my dirty nails.
Nico is a funny guy.
He once threw a meatball straight into
the mouth of a man who was yawning.
He did.
- Yes, that's me all over.
He nearly choked to death on it.
For Christ's sake.
Tiny, what were you doing?
You want one of my shirts?
- They would never fit me.
That man Van Dartel hasn't left yet.
I should have let him drink the rat poison.
He'd have gone in the hearse by now.
Don't. Go away.
You stink.
I can't smell anything.
I stink.
- I don't think so.
It's that monthly nasty business.
I don't know if I have real periods now.
Or ever will have again.
I used to. I started when I was twelve
and it stopped at fourteen.
That is to say there are a few drops,
but very irregularly.
I don't know if it's real periods
or unhealthy blood loss.
Do you ever go to a doctor?
I daren't. Isn't that stupid?
I'm scared
that they'll discover something.
What does Grandma say?
Do you think I can talk about it
to that woman?
I might as well talk to the door.
At least it talks sense,
when it creaks in the draught.
What did he want?
- Who?
Henneman, of course.
What did he say?
It was about you.
That you broke it off with him.
I shoved him aside, for you.
It's the way how that matters.
Simple. I put a stop to it.
I make no bones about it.
He came to warn me.
- Warn me?
He wanted to marry you
and have children.
And you told him that you are...
infertile.
That's what he warned me about.
That's how much I care for you.
My parents wanted me to marry him
and he knew that.
But then I met you.
It was the only way to get rid of him.
The boss thinks you ought to leave.
I lied to Henneman.
So you're not infertile?
- No, silly boy. I was lying.
To get rid of him
because I want to marry you.
And have babies.
Can you imagine what a shock it was?
I wanted to break it off.
I'll show you that it was a lie.
Next week is a good time of the month.
Come along.
Your grandma is so ill
she can't do any housework.
I'm pregnant again.
For God's sake, couldn't you have sent
the child out of the room?
Albert, go and play upstairs.
I'll call you when we eat.
Dear Lord, the misfortunes
cast upon this house...
And now?
Now it's no longer a case
of whether I want to marry Peter.
I will have to marry Peter.
But how?
- Just quickly, before it shows.
How could you let that happen? We've
always kept such a close eye on you.
You know damn well how it happens.
Don't pretend you're innocence itself.
Don't make me say
it was a dirty toilet seat.
Peter is the father and we've been,
well... careless.
Does he know?
- He'll be here tomorrow to talk about it.
I'm so ashamed.
- Be ashamed about something else.
We've always set a good example.
Another option is to get rid of it.
- That I should live to see the day!
I'm fetching Albert. He doesn't know
what's going on and he hasn't eaten yet.
How's the courtship going?
I don't approve of what you've done.
- Done what?
Making up a story to create a break
between Tiny and me.
What you mean "making up"?
It's a dirty trick, especially
for a policeman, to dream up a story.
The truth, and nothing but the truth.
She's not infertile.
She's pregnant.
Here, this belongs to Tiny.
There is no letter. What's more,
I've never been examined.
I'm as fertile as anything.
I get pregnant from sitting in wet grass.
Henneman asked me to give you this.
Infertile as a result of inflammations...
- Enough.
What it boils down to is
that you told Henneman the truth...
...to get rid of him and that you lied to me
to marry me.
Or not?
All right, because I'm no longer
asking for your hand in marriage...
...there's no point in waiting for your
parents. Give them my regards.
What's the last word?
Erm... hourglass.
- Let me have a look.
Yes, hourglass. Well done.
Bye, old chap.
Something the matter?
Hey, are you ill?
That's normal when you're pregnant.
Now what's up?
I've had a miscarriage.
You make your bed, you lie in it.
It's a sin. They say that God punishes
but here He's offered a solution.
She could have married well.
That superintendent has a good future.
Let's go to bed.
Wait...
Your last wages.
You're going to do the housekeeping.
Mother is too ill.
That means I can never go out.
- Exactly.
At last, there you are.
I thought you were ill.
Go and make some tea.
Be nice to Grandma.
Here's your guest again.
Good to see you, young Albert.
Wait for me, we're going into town.
Looking for something?
- The woman who lives above the place.
She left. Years ago.
She runs a dog kennel
in the industrial estate.
I'm in trouble, young Albert,
because of a dirty woman.
She'll have to suffer for it,
never mind the consequences.
Is that why you put that knife
in your bag?
What are you going to do?
- Scare her or stab her. I'll have to see.
If something nasty happens,
get out and wait for me at the bus stop.
What do you want?
I might leave my dog Bobby here
for the holidays.
I'll lock up the Bouvier first.
You don't have a dog.
- She doesn't know that.
Don't I know you?
I wouldn't know why.
I don't know if my Bobby
would like it here.
It stinks and it's airless.
They get high quality dog food
three times a day...
...and clean water all the time.
And they get taken out every day.
I keep thinking I know you
from somewhere.
We did meet once, when you lived
over the fish market.
There was also such a stench then.
I've never lived over a fish market.
I don't know you.
I thought I did, but I was wrong.
Not true. I came to see you upstairs.
There was a stench of rotting eel.
You're mistaken.
I have never seen you before.
And my kennel is full up.
That woman did some really evil things,
young Albert.
Things your mother knows about.
What evil things?
- I should've killed her.
But that would be something worse...
...than what she did.
I didn't want to give her that joy.
Did you notice her fingers?
Those dirty nails. Dirt underneath.
You wouldn't trust her with your dog.
The maid has just made
a pot of tea.
Could the butler take it upstairs
so that the maid can peel the spuds?
You look pale.
Are you feeling sick?
I don't feel well.
- The doctor is upstairs.
Ask him for some pills.
That quack makes a mint out of her.
He's here all the time.
He can spare a few pills.
Doctor, I'm not dying am I?
You've improved. Drink a lot and
you'll feel better in a few weeks' time.
I'll feel better, he says.
It can't be worse than this.
I keep having to be sick and...
Doesn't he give you something?
- The doctor is no use.
They might as well send a plumber.
It's coming out at both ends.
Pour me some tea.
I've got this bad taste in my mouth.
Have a cup yourself. Drinking a lot is
good for everyone, the doctor says.
So let's drink.
Aren't you feeling well?
The tea will do you good.
You look so pale, young Albert.
I had some of Grandma's tea.
Does tea often make you feel sick?
No, only today.
I'll make you a hot aniseed drink.
That will help.
There I go again.
She's upstairs in bed like a queen
and I'm just a skivvy.
That's my lot.
But it's not a lottery lot, I can tell you.
Your lot... ever thought about it?
Young Albert Egberts, top of the class,
the brainy one.
You can rebel against your lot.
A French Revolution on your own.
Don't be surprised
if there's a revolution here.
Young Albert, it's meant to be a surprise.
Grandma told me to give it for Easter
and your birthday, but I'll give it now.
You look pale. Are you ill?
Must be the milk.
Were you dreaming?
Of me?
Why is Grandma so ill?
Gall stones.
And a lot of silly pretending.
Shall I cheer you up a little?
If I get some of your chocolate egg...
...I'll tell you about Uncle Hasje
and the Papuans.
OK.
You know that Papuans are warriors.
They don't have guns
but they shoot arrows at the Dutch.
Poisoned arrows. With real poison.
One arrow and you're a goner.
But what you don't know is
that they hardly wear any clothes.
Instead, the men wear penis sheaths.
Do you know what that is?
First some chocolate or I'll stop.
The reason is that they always have
a hard... an erection.
That's when the penis isn't like
when you pee, but it's up here.
Straight up.
And they shove this sheath over it.
That's just their custom.
They tie the sheath with a string
round the neck...
...and under the balls. To keep it in place.
They don't teach you that at school.
You need your Aunt Tiny for it.
Do you want to hear more?
- Yes.
Koos Kassenaar wants to get married.
- Who?
You don't know him. He's from Breda.
Should I do it?
I'd be stuck in Breda.
I'll miss you.
You dirty-minded sod.
He's coming. In a fantastic suit.
He had to erm...
Could you knot my tie for me?
Nice and tight.
Oh, your nose
shines like a billiard ball.
You can't go to the altar like that.
I don't want any powder on my face.
- No?
You're shiny all over.
Come here a minute.
Ouch, I've got a very sensitive skin.
- But you've got a shiny face.
All right, but you're taking my skin off.
Koos...
What have you got on your face?
Is that what they do in Breda? Before
their wedding day they sit in the sun?
You with your freckles, too.
I can't be on a photo with you like this.
Martina Antonia Maria van der Serckt...
...will you take Kornelis Lucas Maria
Kassenaar to be your wedded husband.
And will you be true to him for better or
for worse, in sickness and in health?
Yes.
Hello dear people, hello to you all.
Hello Koos, nice party.
You'll need it mainly for pissing.
What. What do you mean?
You don't seem to know much
about Tiny.
Getting some fresh air.
What did the apostles do after
the miracle of the loaves and the fishes?
Come with me.
After the miracle of the loaves...
they were stuck with the leftovers.
Why didn't you tell me earlier?
There was nothing to tell.
It's not true.
You could have said there was a rumour.
I look an idiot at my own wedding.
I didn't know of any rumours.
- I've been misled.
I was supposed to be infertile. Fell
wide-legged out of a tree on a branch.
I'd never have children, the doctors said
and now I am expecting my third.
Koos, don't believe gossip.
Anyone can see you're a fertile couple.
The honeymoon is off.
Tomorrow we'll go to the doctor
to be referred to a specialist.
I want certainty.
And our honeymoon in Lugano?
I'll claim the money from the insurance.
No honeymoon until I'm sure.
I'd so been looking forward to Lugano.
Get into a normal dress
because we're leaving in half an hour.
Young Albert...
Go and ask one of those
waiters for a sharp wire cutter.
Young Albert, how are you feeling?
I can see you're ill.
You're white as a sheet.
I want to go to Breda.
- You can't go to Breda like that.
Aunt Tiny needs me.
She has no children.
I have to be her son in the holidays.
Off they go.
Good riddance of bad rubbish.
Go and lie down and you'll feel better.
- OK.
Poor boy.
Are you all hot?
Move up.
Do you know it can grow?
And something comes out
that's not pee?
Before long, seed will come out
to make kiddies.
And nothing at all comes out...
Your Uncle Koos...
Well, something comes out of it...
...but it's lazy seed.
Remember him shouting at me
on our wedding day?
We went to the hospital for
an examination, and what do you think?
Your Uncle Koos is as sterile as hell.
So Peter Porter was wrong
about that letter?
What letter?
- From the hospital.
He showed it to you. I was there.
He got it from the policeman.
It said you couldn't have children.
Oh, that nonsense.
Now I remember.
The porter stood there bragging.
Men... Yuck...
I'll get you a sandwich.
You're better now.
Albert, one thing: Never mention
that letter when Koos is there.
It was forged.
I can't show you it was forged
because I tore it up.
It could lead to great misunderstandings.
You don't want to be part of that.
Don't forget.
Maaike Boezaardt here. Hello?
- Hello, neighbour.
What do you mean... blood.
Can't you be any clearer?
Get me Aunt Tiny or Uncle Koos.
They're not here.
- They can't have left you alone?
They don't appear.
- Have you looked everywhere?
They're in the bedroom.
The bed's full of blood.
- What's going on?
Yes, young Albert.
Your aunt is still losing blood.
Shouldn't you go to the doctor?
I will, one day.
I don't mind the creatures
but I do mind their mess.
Hurry up and get in. We'll be late.
Stop moaning...
...or I'll throw you out and you can sit
beside the road with your pillow.
Tiny, sit straight. If you go smack into the
windscreen we're even more in trouble.
I'm enough in trouble with a man
who looks for offspring elsewhere.
Why are you so quiet, young Albert?
You don't mind it being a bit later?
Good thing you rang them.
I want to go and see my parents.
They mustn't think...
Stop nagging-
I'll tell him what's what.
- There's a boy in the car.
I'll throw it in their faces.
That mother of yours for a start.
See you next time.
How's things?
- Great, let's say.
Nearly bled to death for a change.
But otherwise moonlight and roses.
And you, Hanny?
We're going to cheer them up
in Lynx Street.
Thanks for having me to stay.
Had a good time?
- Yes.
Do you feel like going? Or not?
Keep your mouth shut.
The party hasn't started yet.
Party!
I'm wearing my slave's outfit. I'll have
to crawl through the dust for them.
Party. Yes. But not for me.
They get me all the way from Breda
to work for them.
They all knew I was kept as a slave
but nobody took action.
Congratulations.
Congratulations everybody.
Mother, you too.
Tiny, stop that and come here.
Or go to the kitchen.
- Don't cry.
You know her. She'll be OK.
No expense spared.
Are you going to order me around
like you used to?
Nice dress!
Everybody one teaspoonful
and there'll be enough for you all.
Hey, young Albert Egberts...
...top of the class. Tell me:
A ruby wedding, what does that mean?
A fortieth wedding anniversary.
That's true. And how old
is your mother now?
Forty-two.
- Forty-two.
Yes, typical for
those hypocritical Catholics.
First it's their daughter's 42nd birthday...
...and a week later it's their 40th
wedding anniversary.
Forty-two minus forty is two.
Hanny was two
when they got married at last.
We kept being harangued about morals
but you didn't bother to get married.
Hush, Tiny. Quiet.
A look at them sitting there.
The Royal couple.
Making a servant of their own daughter.
That's enough, Tiny.
We couldn't get married.
What?
- Don't be provoked.
I was in prison, in Veenhuizen.
- I say!
There was no work in the 30s.
I went grape picking in France.
Then I heard I was going to be a father.
I went straight home.
After the border there was a man who
pulled out a knife.
I stabbed him in the guts
with the grape scissors.
I spent eighteen months behind bars.
When I got out we married immediately.
Gut Ham was two the.
We moved house straight away
and that's how it happened.
So that your new neighbours
wouldn't know.
Do I hear that only now?
Now I understand why you're not really
part of the family.
Because for two years
you were illegitimate.
The eldest daughter was made
assistant mother...
"because my real mother was too ill
or so they said.
And you never stopped meddling with me
and being a tyrant.
I don't know what
you're talking about, Tiny.
I only did what I was told to do.
When I got married
I gave you good advice.
Good advice. Bad actions.
Haven't I always been a good mother?
You've been no mother at all to me.
Your two youngest children
were brought up by your eldest daughter.
To punish her for being unwanted.
And when she was married, you said I
couldn't leave home before I was twenty.
Supposedly because I was not a good
girl and couldn't be trusted out of doors.
But in fact it was
because you needed me as a skivvy.
That's enough.
You have kept me on a short lease
on the pretext of that very bad thing.
But that very bad thing
is never mentioned by name.
But if I claim that this crime...
...and it was a crime...
...and the consequences
were Hanny's responsibility?
I only wanted to help you, you bitch.
Some ignore a helping hand,
some press it against a white hot stove.
And sometimes a helping hand
ruins something for good.
You think about that one!
Well... erm... The cake is getting warm.
Hi there.
Koos...
Young Albert, leave your bike here
and come with us.
I don't want to take the bus to school
tomorrow.
Tiny, are you coming with us or what?
I don't want that woman in the taxi.
And never in my house again.
She is not welcome here either.
I don't see her as my daughter.
OK, then I'll go into a hotel.
Koos has the purse but never mind:
I'll play the whore in Eindhoven.
Don't act silly.
- Look who's talking.
Don't act silly?
Only you are allowed to do that.
Because you are so sensible.
And so straight-laced.
Calm, calm down.
Come to the taxi before worse happens.
Albert, get on your bike.
I want to hear you come home.
How I would love to hear a child
come home.
But that's impossible,
thanks to what you call silly things.
Have a proper examination.
- I did. Guess what the result was.
I want to get going.
Get on your bike, Albert.
Dad, it was a great party.
Tomorrow all will be forgotten.
I'll be the ruin of all of you.
And you first of all, you holier than thou.
Leave me alone.
The last bus is gone.
The next one isn't till tomorrow.
I'm not waiting for the bus.
I'm waiting for a customer.
Go away, otherwise they'll think
I've got somebody already.
Albert, bugger off.
I don't have enough for a hotel room.
Pity.
I only want clients who pay for a hotel.
But it'll buy a ticket to Breda.
I'll walk along with you to the station.
Are you cold?
None of them can stand the sight of me.
Except you.
More's the pity.
I want to be rid of them all.
I can do without them.
Remember that kennel
with that old woman?
What I need to square with Hanny
has something to do with it.
I won't see you at Grandma's then?
No? Just you wait.
I'm going to be there every week
from now on.
I'll ram in into them until they understand.
No skin so thick
but I will tear it in the end.
Good evening.
Are you Mr Egberts, Albert,
born on 30 April 1950?
Yes... yes.
I say, does superintendent Henneman
still work with you?
Karel Henneman?
- Yes, I was engaged to him once.
He's now our Chief of Police.
Just what my parents hoped for.
Married? Children?
We're not here to...
- But you can tell me how he is.
He has a family.
Two boys and two girls.
Say hello to him from
Tiny van der Serckt.
And then add: Married. No children.
Mr Egberts...
...on your bicycle you left the address
Lynx Street number 12.
Your parents waited for two hour
before ringing us.
The trouble I predicted.
Beg your pardon?
- No, nothing.
I was saying I abducted my nephew
to use him as a sex slave, for me alone.
It's a punishable of fence to abduct
a minor from his parents.
But I'm his aunt.
They're terribly worried.
Are they? That's their problem.
Will you phone the station?
You can come with us.
I said I was abducting him...
...to use him as a sex slave,
for me alone.
What made you consort with a woman
who put the family to shame?
She stood at a bus stop in the night.
There was n bus due for hours.
I would have let her freeze to death.
Let her be stabbed to death.
And look at you...
Hello, who's that on the phone?
Albert Egberts. Hanny's son.
Your nephew. A friend.
So Pm Tiny Kassenaar.
What do you want?
I happened to be in Breda
so I thought...
Sorry. Koos is on a job out of town.
Won't be home before midnight.
Pity. Great pity. But if you don't mind
I'll pop in for a coffee.
That's ten years ago, isn't it?
I hardly recognize you with long hair.
Come on in.
How are things at the Kassenaars?
Same boring old way. That bloody
redhead is hardly ever at home.
Often away in the weekends, too.
Do you get out yourself?
For years I was holed up
in my parents' house.
Like a lynx in a cage
I got used to it.
So now I still stay in my cage.
I daren't leave my pen.
Don't spill any.
This morning I was thinking of when
Hasje played soldiers in New Guinea.
I was eleven.
A bit later you married Koos.
We were in bed together
and you told stories about Papuans.
Eleven? In my bed?
When you were four or five maybe.
But not a big boy of eleven.
And maybe go to prison?
Grandma had given me an Easter egg...
...and you demanded piece after piece.
I loved it.
And yes...
...sometimes it became a bit obscene.
You liar. Such a thing never happened.
This morning, under the shower...
...I got this enormous...
...nostalgia for our story-telling sessions.
Nearly made me feel sick.
It happened that badly once before.
When I'd taken you to the station
and you told the police...
...you were abducting me.
- To needle them, yes.
I wasn't serious. Their police dog
was more serious than me.
No, but... in the following days
and weeks it kept haunting me.
But you didn't come to Breda.
I was seventeen. I didn't dare.
Well... and now you suddenly do?
What's this then?
As an advance on the story-telling.
Don't you have a larger one?
That's too much laundry for me.
Hey... not so impatient.
First a piece of that egg.
Force of habit?
What is? What's the force of habit?
You keeping on your apron.
Young Albert...
You must untie the bow.
Again.
Once more.
Tiny, what is this about?
You don't understand much do you?
You haven't lost your figure.
- Surprised?
For a woman my age with no kids.
Nah...
I wouldn't mind some chocolate.
A foretaste...
Albert...you're only trying
to make me look ridiculous.
You've always promised to tell me
how you got it.
I fell off my bike.
Teeth through my lip.
Handle bars through my teeth.
All I remember is the bell
with a four-leaved clover on it.
Last thing I saw.
You smashed your teeth on
the handle bars and lost so much blood...
...that you lost consciousness.
- The blood was not from my mouth.
Now I want to stop talking about it.
Does it help if I feed you
some Easter egg?
The blood ran down my legs
into my socks and my shoes.
It covered the pedals. I'd lost litres
of blood before my teeth broke off.
Now I'm shutting up about it.
It sickens me every time.
I can imagine.
No, you can't imagine...
...young Albert Egberts
with your tutorials and your knowledge.
What makes me sick is not
that I nearly bled to death...
...but that I didn't bleed to death
in the end.
Tell me the whole story then.
If I told you the whole story,
you'd wish you had never heard it.
If only because the role
your mother played.
Now I do want to know.
When I got my bike back,
the bell cover was out of joint.
I couldn't ring my bicycle bell.
The top of the bell fell down a drain.
I tried to get it out with a magnet...
You don't mind if I touch you?
Go ahead if you must.
Tiny, shall I caress you with my tongue?
As I say: go ahead if you must.
You'll have to spread your legs
a bit wider.
Oh... young Albert...
I'm dying for a smoke.
- Can't help you there. I don't smoke.
Have a bit of Easter egg.
Is this what students do
in their spare time?
You were grunting like a pig. I thought
you were about to bite and eat me up.
It sounds as if you've never before
been...approached like this.
Who by?
Koos doesn't know the first thing. He'd
be scared I'd strangle him with my legs.
When do I get my share?
Never thought of it.
Ok, let's go about it.
I'd put a towel down.
Damn you and your chocolate.
The whole mattress is ruined.
Students mess as much as they like.
They eat in bed...
...they pee in the wash basin
and pooh on a newspaper.
And they are our future leaders?
Bunch of dirty sods.
Just look at it. An expensive mattress
gone to the dogs.
We'd just turned the summer side up.
How are you insured?
All risk. Via my parents.
Explain what happened:
Easter egg got crushed
...during an erotic congress
of Albert and his Aunt Tiny.
They'll be happy to pay.
Grandma?
Grandma? Don't be startled.
It's me, Albert.
Albert...
- Speak up. I'm hard of hearing.
Albert, your grandson.
Young Albert.
Yes, now I recognize you.
What are you doing here?
Turn down the radio.
I was visiting Aunt Tiny.
She didn't tell me you were here.
Why are you crying?
What's this: are you on a leash
like a dog?
Do they feed you?
In the summer I'll come and see you
in Lynx Street.
All right, Grandma?
Hey... Koos.
Hey, young Albert.
That's my... secretary.
Such a wonderful typist!
What are you doing in Breda?
I was in the area.
I had a cup of coffee at your place.
Pity I wasn't there.
But my mother-in-law was there.
She's been with us for a week.
I'm taking her back to the old man
tomorrow. We've done our duty.
I can do without her.
I've got to get back to Nijmegen.
Your study loan is probably used up.
At here, that's for the train ticket.
Oh and... as to my secretary...
Don't mention her in the family.
You'll understand.
- Yes.
Have fun in Nijmegen.
Bye then.
- Bye then.
Twenty-one.
Our candidate goes on
to the next word. It's the letter T.
Thought. T-H-U-U-G-H-T.
Wow, what a stench.
If I didn't come in
this would be a pigsty.
Toilet.
What was that?
- The toilet.
Tiny...
- Pipe down.
Christ...
Yes.
Hanny is calling for help.
How come you didn't hear?
The neighbour says she hay there
for hours perhaps.
Does she now!
Why didn't you hear her?
What's wrong with your ears?
Say Albert, when did you last
visit your mother?
That's a month ago.
I go see her three times a week.
What was your question?
Bye, Albert.
She really can't stay in her own home.
Hey Cynthia, how old are you now?
I'm thirteen years old.
That's enough. Why do you keep hitting
my mother with that wet handkerchief?
I don't hit her. I wipe her lips.
- You keep hitting her.
I have enough reason for it, don't I?
- Tiny, shut up.
Go play outside, kids.
Be back in half an hour.
They're sent away. Important matters
are too much for their tender souls.
All your life you've been lying.
Koos is not sterile, you are.
If you'd been honest
we might have pitied you.
But you've always blamed others:
Grandma, Grandpa, my mother. Koos.
Everybody is guilty in your books.
Blaming others for your failed life:
terrorising, lying...
...quarrelling, that's all you've ever done.
And now you're hitting my mother.
That's as far as it goes Mr Playwright.
I'll tell you what your mother did,
that hypocritical old bag.
No, of course you don't want your son
to know what you did to me.
But he wants to know
so he's going to get it.
Mum and Dad had no words for it
but I do.
Take the sanitary towels home.
I'll buy new ones myself.
And watch out
or you'll be pregnant before long.
And don't come near Black Path. I know
what Nico van Dartel is up to, there.
I'm telling you, stay away from there.
I've got enough.
I've been having periods for two years.
What are you doing?
- Nothing.
Got any cigarettes?
- I'll go get them.
Want some lemonade? Come along in.
I'm not here for lemonade.
I've come to smoke.
You can do that inside.
Something wrong?
Tiny... is something the matter?
It's just not coming.
Have you been together?
- Together?
With a boy or a man?
Oh, that kind of being together.
Don't be ridiculous.
Don't tell the old folks.
Mrs Egberts.
Did you say you were fifteen?
- Fourteen, nearly fifteen.
The result is positive.
In this case that is bad news.
You know who the father is?
Let me put it this way:
The man you have been with, does he
know you've not been menstruating?
I think you'd better tell the doctor
everything.
He is married and his name is Nico.
Nico?
- Children?
Two. A girl Tiny's age, and a boy
a bit older.
Dirty sod. He tried it on me,
ten years ago.
And I heard that his own daughter...
I strongly advise you not to burden him
with Tiny's pregnancy.
There is no point in ruining
a family as well.
Better tell your parents everything.
Often the child oi minor in the family
is raised by the girl's parents.
Not in our family.
They left the upbringing of Tiny
and my younger brother to me.
My mother felt too old and too ill to do it.
We are now twelve years on
and she sees herself as ancient.
And my father says:
I'd rather bury a daughter than take her
to the altar pregnant. No.
It's not a good idea to tell our parents
that Tiny is happily expecting.
Then I don't know.
- You do. Let her get rid of it.
We don't do that at St Joseph's hospital.
But you must know of a clinic.
If I were allowed to mention one,
you wouldn't be able to afford it.
A cheaper address then. Private.
As long as it's done neatly.
This is a Roman Catholic hospital.
If I were to give you an address
I would be overstepping the lines.
And personally I am opposed to abortion.
I am convinced that at the moment
of conception the soul descends.
I think your soul never descended.
Ah, the Van der Serckt ladies.
No jokes, Nico. We've just come back
from the hospital.
Appendix?
Our Tiny is expecting.
Why tell me about it?
Why we're telling you?
You tell me.
I'm a good friend of the family. You can
come to me with all your problems.
As long as it doesn't cost.
How long has this been going on?
Listen, the woman got infantile paralysis,
what they call polio now...
It's yours, Nico.
What's your sister talking about?
- Don't pretend you don't know.
Please explain to Tiny that you can't
blame just any man for your pregnancy.
I know you.
You tried the same with me.
With Tiny you managed and now
she's pregnant. How do we solve this?
If you pay up we'll leave your wife
and our parents out of it.
I'd do anything for you...
...but I can't admit to something
I haven't done.
And I'd certainly not pay.
Nico, you can't say it didn't happen.
Come along, we're going to see his wife.
- Have fun.
There's no point,
Leentje knows all about it.
Look, that's where it happened.
Sometimes Nelleke was present.
We could go straight to the police.
- You'd better sleep on that, Hanny.
I will deny everything and you'll go to
prison for making a false accusation.
Tiny, I'm really sorry for you. All the best.
I will tell our mother and father.
Give them my regards.
High time we played cards again.
Tiny... Come.
He tried it on me when I was twelve.
- Yes...
At home they believed him and not me.
I know that story.
I've got an idea. A blood test can show
if somebody is related to you.
In the hospital they can take blood
from the foetus and compare it to Nico's.
It's useless, Hanny.
Nico is not the only one.
No, Tiny... and you're asking me
to help you?
In nomine Patris et Filii
et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.
I am erm...
I have...
There's somebody...
a friend of my parents, Nico van Dartel...
"who has done really bad things.
Really very bad.
What Nico van Dartel has done
he has to confess himself.
I'm here to listen to your sins.
Hurry up, woman. We're going.
Heady? Hurry up.
- All right.
Did you come to see us?
We're going off to play cards.
Tiny is in, so you can see her.
Tiny... I found a woman who has
a practice at home.
Not expensive.
I'll pay three quarters. Is that OK?
Is it far to go?
- Over the fish market.
I daren't.
You don't have to go on your own.
I will come with you. We'll do it together.
Come.
I don't dare.
Come along.
Don't give up now. Come.
Come.
Hail Mary, full of grace...
Have you been done?
The sanitary towel cost some extra.
How do you feel?
In pain?
She didn't even use any instruments.
She did it with her sharp nails.
That can't be true?
You didn't come in with me, did you!
Go upstairs before they ask
why you look so white.
And put an old curtain underneath you.
Something you can throw away later.
If the pain doesn't stop,
send Hasje over to me.
If you don't come down
I'll put your food away again.
Whole days in bed never cured anyone.
Where are you going?
Pretending to be ill and now going
out to party in town.
Now what's up?
Oh girl...
Oh... Nico, hurry up, man.
I've phoned him.
You'll be all right.
The doctor told us.
You've been to her over the fish market.
Good thing Nico found you
and has a telephone.
Van Dartel found her. Had you heard?
- No.
He rang for an ambulance.
He saved your life. Do you realize that?
Why didn't you come to me?
Why go to Nico van Dartel for help?
I hoped he would open the door
and I would collapse at his feet.
Dead.
Then everybody would find out
that he had done it.
I wanted to die and lie dead at his feet.
I love him.
This is for your parents:
your medical report.
Jesus.
- Can't be true.
What was trumps?
- Clubs. You start.
That's mine.
- No, it's mine. I've got the ace.
Hello, girlie.
Did they let you go home?
Come, come, Nico.
Your turn.
AVE. aye.
And here's a three.
- Look at that.
Got another one?
And that was all I got.
Then I was in their power.
Thanks to the wonderful help
I got from your mother.
Because she forked out so little money
I'm now mutilated.
It was a crime.
The cheapest address
far and wide around.
Well, thanks a lot.
Well, that's quite a revelation.
After nearly forty years of marriage.
Except that this letter
was never seen by my parents.
Happy with your copy?
Got a cigarette for me?
Are you smoking?
In a minute I will be.
Long ago you got into bed with me...
...and I told you about the Papuans.
We went out on the town together.
And now here you are with your letter
and your reproach.
I always thought there was one person
in the family who understood me.
I was wrong.
I shouldn't have done it.
The story has it that I discovered Tiny
aged four, when she was sixteen...
...and I waddled after her
like a duckling.
Later I fell in love.
I have desired her, hated her...
...and finally understood her.
After many hitter words I understood
what she was trying to say.
Now she's in hospital
and doesn't speak.
There is no medical reason for it...
but Tiny remains sf lent.
Young Albert.
- Hey, Koos.
I didn't recognize you in a Mercedes.
Weren't you always an Opel man?
That ancient history.
This is my fourth Mercedes, man.
This is Henk, and that's Willem.
Two of my sons.
And that's young Albert,
world-famous in Amsterdam.
She's in oncology. Room number 2-203.
Hello, Aunt Tiny.
So... had a nice chat catching up?
The doctors give her a few more weeks.
I say, young Albert...
When the time comes,
would you speak at her funeral?
That's one thing taken care of.
WW ma'!?
You're a theatre man, aren't you?
Whenever I switch on the TV, I see...
Scenario and script: Albert Egberts.
SEQ?
Just a few funny stories about her life.
I mean, it's a funeral
but that doesn't exclude a laugh.
Just a few anecdotes about our Tiny.
Sure you can do that?
Yes, young Albert...
...that's all that remains of a life.
A few anecdotes.
Going off for a smoke.
Don't forget to tell them
about the chocolate egg.
What do you know of another person?
Precious little, unfortunately.
And sometimes you wish
you didn't know anything at all.
Tiny, Nico's in the mood for it.
Come on in.
He's at the back.
Hi...
- Hi.
I've invited some friends.
You know them, football or pool mates.
Come on.
Sit down.
Nelleke is making the coffee.
We won't be long.
One... two...
Let the blood flow to your head
and keep your eyes closed.
Count till ten and then open them.
Do you see?
Upside down, the world looks
very different.
More beautiful, don't you think?
- Much more beautiful.
Something else you've learned
from your Aunt Tiny.