Another milestone of maturity is passed when Anne manages to have a conversation with Peter about sex, when he shows her his cat’s male organs. Anne feels strange, but she admires Peter for being able to talk about it in a matter-of-fact way. Other than that, the normal daily routines of the little group continue. Anne is still involved in her studies, but she also occupies herself with compiling the family trees of the royal families of Holland and England, as well as collecting pictures of the various movie stars of the time. The adults continue to annoy her by repeatedly telling the same anecdotes, and, in a telling phrase, she marvels at the fact that “we are quite as used to the idea of going into hiding, or ‘underground,’ as in bygone days one was used to Daddy’s bedroom slippers warming in front of the fire” (January 28, 1944). Their “protectors” continue to help and encourage them, even though this involves danger for them, and Anne regards this as being on a par with all other acts of heroism performed during the war, vowing never to forget them.
The probability of an invasion of Europe by the Allies (the forces fighting against the Nazis) increases, and all sorts of rumors and speculations are talked about and considered. The group in the “Secret Annexe” is aware of all this through their “protectors,” as well as through listening to the BBC. Anne gives examples of the kinds of conversations conducted by the members of the group, concluding rather fatalistically, “I myself keep very quiet and don’t take any notice of all the fuss and excitement. I have now reached the stage that I don’t care much whether I live or die. The world will still keep on turning without me; what is going to happen, will happen, and anyway it’s no good to resist. I trust to luck and do nothing but work, hoping that all will end well” (February 3, 1944).
Anne’s growing relationship with Peter continues to excite and console her, even though she remains terribly frustrated by having to remain inside—especially now, when spring is beginning, filling her with longings “to talk, for freedom, for friends, to be alone!” (February 12, 1944). Peter confides in her about his frustration at being unable to express himself clearly, as he claims she does, and even though she feels that this is not justified, and that she is equally tongue-tied or unnecessarily verbose, she feels glad “because I sensed a real feeling of fellowship, such as I can only remember having had with my girlfriends” (February 14, 1944). On another occasion, Peter helps Anne find the smallest and sweetest potatoes, and Anne feels that he is looking at her with “such a gentle warm look which made a tender glow within me. I could really see that he wanted to please me, and because he couldn’t make a long complimentary speech he spoke with his eyes” (February 16, 1944).
Although Anne now feels much happier and is always hoping to see “him” when she goes upstairs, she still experiences sudden moods of unhappiness, when the tears simply roll down her cheeks, and she feels uncertain of Peter’s affection for her (February 19, 1944). Anne does find some solace, though, in going up to the attic, where Peter works, and from where she can look up through the skylight at “the bare chestnut tree, on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver, and at the seagulls and the other birds as they glide on the wind” (February 23, 1944). From that room, Anne can also look out over Amsterdam, gaze at the roofs, and at the horizon, and in her misery, she finds that this communion with nature, and with the things that seem more permanent than man, bring peace to her soul.
As her concern with Peter increases steadily, so that she “hardly does anything else but think of Peter” (February 27, 1944), Anne realizes that there are a great many similarities between them. Both of them, she feels, have mothers who are inadequate, and both she and Peter wrestle continually with their inner emotions. She notes, however, that whereas her reaction is to be noisy and boisterous, Peter is more likely to sink into silence. In a sad mood, Anne ends this entry for February 28, 1944, with the plaintive cry, “I’m sentimental—I know. I’m desperate and silly—I know that too. Oh, help me!”
A burglary in the office downstairs alarms the members of the little group again, although fear does not seem to play such a large part in their lives as it did at the beginning of their period of hiding. Anne, in particular, appears to be less fearful about things than she was before, possibly because she has developed a more fatalistic attitude, as her entry for February 3, 1944, shows. Still, though, she continues to resent the fact that grownups treat her, Margot, and Peter as “children” and prevent them from expressing their opinions about such subjects as overcoming depression and feelings of discouragement, which they feel as well-equipped as the adults to discuss.
Anne finally admits to herself that her feelings for Peter are “pretty near to being in love with him” (March 3, 1944), and each entry in her diary records another topic of conversation discussed or another meeting between them. Anne realizes that Peter is very shy, and she does not want to appear too eager herself, so both of them seem to be hovering on the brink of declaring their love. She writes, “Who will be the first to discover and break through this armor?” And she then adds, “I’m glad after all that the Van Daans have a son and not a daughter; my conquest could never have been so difficult, so beautiful, so good, if I had not happened to hit on someone of the opposite sex” (March 6, 1944).
In one of her more introspective moods, Anne looks back to the girl she was and to the life which she led before she went into hiding, noting that “. . . it all seems so unreal. It was quite a different Anne who enjoyed that heavenly existence from the Anne who has grown wise within these walls” (March 7, 1944). While recognizing that her life beforehand had been enjoyable, she admits that she was certainly more superficial then, and that she will never again be able to live like that, at least not for long stretches of time. She maintains that even then she felt a certain emptiness, but disguised it with a constant flurry of activities and friends. She also analyzes the various phases which she has gone through after going into hiding. She speaks of her initial confusion, followed by depression and then, as she began to mature, both physically and emotionally, she describes her growing self-awareness, and finally, her discovery of her inward happiness through her close relationship with Peter Van Daan.
