Fat, red-haired Art Rose, running at full speed, rounded the corner of a busy side street in the heart of Amsterdam, dodged a green delivery van, leapt acrossa puddle and trotted up the street. He didn't wear cap or hat and the thick rain splashed down on his already soaked, red hair.

"Just our luck!" he grumbled. "Vacation weather in Holland!" It was the tenth of August. The weather should have been radiant but actually it was worse than anybody had thought possible -even for a Dutch summer. Art climbed the granite stops in front of an old dignified house and rang the bell violently.

"Hello there, you fat monster!" a voice shouted from above. "Put something on your head. All the color washes out of your hair." Stepping back, Art looked up at his friend Jan Prins who leaned from a second story window.

"Jan! Did you hear anything from Bob?"

"Not a single word - no wire - no postcard - nothing," Art slicked his wet, red hair back with his hand. A housekeeper in a white apron opened the door.

"Hija, Marianna!" Art greeted her, slipping past her an running upstairs. Jan Prins was sitting by the open window of his room, calmly eating peanuts, greeting his friend.

"No sailing trip today. Nothing but rain and not a breath of wind. And no Bob."
Art stripped off his wet raincoatand dug into the big bag of peanuts.

"What a life!....Think of all those wonderful months we had in the South Seas...and now this. If only that blasted Bob Evers were here!"

"It's funny allright. Today's Tuesday."

"And he should have been here last Saturday. He's four days late already."

Jan glanced sideways at his fat friend who dropped peanut shells into a waste basket.

© 1995 Uitgeverij De Eekhoorn Apeldoorn

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