Sugarplum
In a small village, somewhere in the far north of the Netherlands, a bunch of children are running down a quiet street in the morning on their way to school as they sing a song: “There was a raid! There was a raid, but we have our Maartje! The police came way too late, but in the end, there's always fate."
The children's voices fade in the wind that carries their words along until they are expressed again elsewhere in an incomprehensible deep sigh that meaninglessly blows down someone's cheek.
Three Years Earlier
Maartje is walking through the village where she was born and where she has lived all her life. She’s a young teenager, and she would love to become a journalist later. Her father owns a bakery and runs it with her mother. Maartje has learned early on to take care of herself because her parents are already at the bakery in the morning and they go to bed early in the evening. She is already very mature for her young age. At her school, she had the paper version of the school newspaper reintroduced, with the permission of the principal himself, to promote reading among the students. Maartje is now on her way to the bank, where she has an interview with the bank manager about three robberies that hit the bank shortly after each other.
She pops into her parents' bakery for some freshly baked sandwiches. She calls out when she enters the bakery: "Hi, Mom!"
Her mother comes walking into the store from the bakery and asks, "Hello, dear, have you already finished the interview at the bank?"
"No, not yet, mom. I wanted something to eat; I'm so hungry."
Maartje’s father also comes walking into the store for a moment when he hears his daughter's voice. "Hi, Dad!" shouts Maartje.
"Hi, Sugarplum, have you been to the bank yet?" asks her father as he takes off his big baker's hat for a second.
Maartje already feels very grown up and has been trying in vain to get rid of her nickname for ages: "Jesus, Dad, can't you just call me Maartje?"
Her father can't help but tease her a little more: "Oh, c’mon, there's no one in the store now to hear it; is there, sugarplum?"
Meanwhile, her mother prepares some sandwiches with cheese. After Maartje has finished her sandwiches, she gulps down a big mug of milk and says goodbye to her parents as she heads to the bank. Her mother opens the door for Maartje, "See you later, dear! Send Mr. Van Benedendonker our regards!"
Van Benedendonker is the bank manager with whom Maartje has an appointment. Her parents are waving her off from the doorway of the bakery. "Good luck, sugarplum!"
“We are incredibly proud of you!" shouts her mother.
The bank is a large, white, detached villa on the outskirts of the village. It’s a five-minute walk, and Maartje already stands at the door and plays with her cell phone for a while.
The Bank Manager
From behind her desk, the receptionist opens the door for her by pushing a little button. Maartje walks in through the large, dark oak wooden door. She is greeted by a tall, blonde receptionist: "Good afternoon, young lady. How may I help you?"
Maartje replies, "I have an interview with Mr. Van Benedendonker at eleven o'clock."
The receptionist holds her phone to her ear and looks at Maartje for a second. "One moment, please?"
Maartje looks up at a large crystal chandelier that, through the natural light from the high windows, gives the entire lobby an enchanting look. Footsteps can be heard in the distance, coming closer and closer. They are brisk steps that must belong to a big man, Maartje thinks to herself.
It is Van Benedendonker walking down the hall to pick up Maartje for an interview. Actually, the bank manager has no time for an interview, but his ego couldn't resist, and besides, this is a young girl from the school newspaper, and, unlike real journalists, the bank manager sees no harm in this and gladly welcomes her as he enters the lobby. "Maartje, welcome to our bank!"
The bank manager is a fat guy in a three-piece suit, with big hands and several different rings on his fingers. He’s clean-shaven and has a large bald spot on the back of his head. When they arrive at his office, he tells Maartje that she can sit down wherever she likes and asks if she might like something to drink. Maartje wants a glass of water, and she takes a seat in one of the four large black leather chairs arranged around a round, wine-red burgundy coffee table. The office is larger than their living room and kitchen combined, and there are paintings on the wall that look expensive and depict images that can't be defined, yet they get you to keep your eyes focused on them uninterruptedly.
The bank manager returns with a glass of water for Maartje and a cappuccino for himself. He faces Maartje and, with two hands, pulls up his pants legs a little before sitting down across from her. "So, Maartje, from the school newspaper, tell me, what do you want to know?"
Maartje has done her research, and she has made a great discovery while preparing for this interview, but she wants her interview for the school newspaper before she tells the bank manager her all-important final question; she can hardly wait to ask it.
The Interview
Maartje takes a sip of her water, takes out her notebook and pen, and also records the interview on her phone. She then begins the interview: "How are you doing now after all those robberies at your bank?"
The manager throws one leg over the other, leans back, interlocks his fingers, and replies, "Under the circumstances, fine, thank you."
"Do the police have any idea of the perpetrators yet?"
"I am not concerned with that. My immediate concern is primarily with my staff and our customers."
Maartje nods understandingly, "What impact have these events had on your employees?"
"A very big impact!" replies the manager. "For example, when there are fireworks outside or if someone slams a door shut by accident, we all jump off our seats, including me. That will have to wear off with time, I'm afraid."
"In addition to victim support, have you offered any additional help to your staff?"
"I offered one employee, who has been unable to work since the third robbery, to cover part of his medical expenses."
The manager takes a big sip of his cappuccino and compliments Maartje on the interview: "You ask good questions. I'm very impressed."
Maartje just smiles briefly at the manager and then continues, "Do you have any idea how much money the robbers have taken from your bank?"
"I unfortunately can't elaborate on that; let's just say that the amount that has been stolen is significant."
In light of the excitement of her earlier discovery, Maartje starts to feel like she’s dutifully finishing her interview and decides to work faster toward her ultimate question, "Why do you think your bank in particular is a victim of so many robberies?"
"We are a small bank in a fairly remote area. A robbery can always happen, but three times in a short period of time is exceptional for any bank."
"What safety measures have you put in place, or additionally tightened?"
"Extra measures have been taken; for example, we have hired a permanent security guard, and the police are also doing extra surveillance in the area."
"Do you think you should have taken additional measures earlier to prevent the robberies?"
"Well, it's always easier to judge things in hindsight, but there had never been a robbery before, let alone three in a row."
Maartje decides she has played enough with the bank manager, and she asks her primary question, "Do you find it suspicious that your brother-in-law bought a new car when he hasn't even worked for three years?"
Van Benedendonker's face turns white as a ghost, and he stammers, "Um, I don't know anything about that. I have... I have no contact with my brother-in-law."
Maartje immediately corners the manager: "Really? I saw your car in front of your brother-in-law's house the other day."
Van Benedendonker is quickly running out of answers: "Um, that must have been my wife!"
Maartje quietly pulls a few photos from her purse and places them side by side on the coffee table. "These photos were taken last week, when you left your brother-in-law's house."
There’s Always Fate
Van Benedendonker realizes the game is up and asks what Maartje exactly intends to do with this information. She shows her cell phone and says, "I have audio and video footage of you and your brother-in-law arguing about the stolen money. Before I entered this building, I posted that video on Facebook, and I also sent it to the police. Mister Van Benedendonker, perhaps you would like to explain why you robbed your own bank."
Van Benedendonker panics, gets up, and knocks over the coffee table. He runs to the office door and opens it.
Maartje did not expect this aggressive reaction, is startled by this brute force, and anxiously hides behind one of the big black chairs. Sirens can already be heard in the distance. The bank manager stands in the hallway and looks at Maartje with his eyes wide open. He cannot believe that such a little girl from the school newspaper has become his downfall. He runs through the hall, knocks over the receptionist who has come to watch what the commotion is all about, dives over the desk in the lobby, and sprints outside. Two police cars are just arriving. Four officers get out with guns drawn and point them at the bank manager: "Freeze, police! Don't move!"
In a panic, the bank manager runs to his car, jumps over the hood, and crouches. The police call for Van Benedendonker to surrender: "Mr. Van Benedendonker, you are surrounded! The jig is up!"
From behind his Jaguar, the manager tries in vain to get his thoughts in order. He reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a silver hip flask. He empties the whiskey-filled flask with a couple of sips, and he realizes that the game really is over.
He takes the photo of his wife out of his wallet, kisses it, and jumps up from behind his dark green Jaguar. Still holding the silver hip flask, he runs toward the officers. When they warn him to lie down, Van Benedendonker points the hip flask at the officers, who, in a split second, assume that Van Benedendonker is armed.
"Gun!" shouts one of the officers.
All four officers immediately shoot. Van Benedendonker is fatally struck multiple times, and he collapses to the ground, holding his empty hip flask in one hand and a crumpled photo of his wife in the other. The bank manager dies of his injuries on the spot.
Three Years Later
A young man just moved into Maartje's village today. After unpacking his stuff, he decides to take a relaxing afternoon stroll through the village and to get some groceries. On the shopping street near the bakery, there are a lot of people standing in a circle. The mayor, who is unveiling a statue amid great interest, is holding a speech there. He has almost finished his speech when the new villager joins the crowd.
The mayor stands next to an object over which hangs a white cloth. "...Dear villagers, therefore, I proudly unveil a statue of our heroine, Maartje!"
With a gesture as if he had been an experienced matador, the mayor pulls the cloth off the object.
It unveils a bronze figurine with only one word on it: sugarplum.
The young man gently jabs his elbow at a fellow villager: "Who is Maartje?"
The villager looks at the newcomer and replies, "Maartje is a girl who exposed a bank manager who robbed his own bank. She was hit by a stray police bullet; she died."
"How awful!" responds the young man. "Is that the father?" he asks as he makes a head movement toward a sad-looking man in baker's clothing. The fellow villager nods briefly. The baker's wife stands next to the baker and rubs her belly as she looks at her husband. "I wanted to wait until we were together with Maartje, dear. I have the results from the doctor: I'm pregnant."
The baker holds her hand, turns his head, and stares at the copper figurine. And for a very brief moment of utter acceptance and calmness, a small smile appears.
Epilogue
Maartje wanted to become a journalist at all costs and wished that everyone in the village would know her name. She paid the ultimate price for this. Her courage, guts, and perseverance earned her a bronze statue, and thus Maartje, the first heroine in the history of her village, was immortalized and is a wonderful example for every resident of the village, but especially for her unborn sibling.
"Every step matters in life. No matter how small you are, every little step may very well be your last."
Maartje