Peter van Daan

Peter van Daan is one of the people concealed in the Secret Annex, where the threat of discovery shapes even the small routines through which he and Anne Frank come to know one another. Anne’s diary traces their relationship from hesitant visits to trust and affection, while leaving its future unresolved: closeness grows, but she remains unsure how Peter understands it and what either of them may become.

Identity and Circumstances

Peter lives with the others in the hiding place inside Anne’s father’s office building. The Frank family’s move was brought forward after Margot received a call-up notice, so the family entered hiding earlier than planned and with less preparation. Their concealment takes place under the restrictions imposed on Jews by the German occupation, including the requirement to wear a yellow star and the many prohibitions that had already narrowed everyday life.

The building is both workplace and refuge: its ground-floor warehouse and offices connect the residents’ hidden domestic life to the ordinary business conducted below. Peter’s life there is governed by rules designed to keep the group undiscovered. His personal story therefore unfolds not in a separate world of courtship, but within a shared, watched space where a visit, an open window, or a trip downstairs can carry practical risks.

From Distance to Companionship

On January 6, 1944, Anne writes that her longing for someone to talk to has become hard to bear, and that she has chosen Peter as the person she might approach. She has visited his room before, finding it pleasant and comfortable, but has worried that she might be bothering him. Because Peter is too polite to send her away, she has not known whether his welcome reflects genuine interest. A crossword puzzle gives her a pretext to stay: as he works through his puzzle craze, they sit opposite one another at his table, Peter on a chair and Anne on the divan.

Anne reads his bashfulness and uncertainty as she watches him respond to her unexpected visit. She wants to get past her own talkative manner and encourage him to speak about himself, but finds it easier to imagine asking questions than to ask them. Their first encounter in this account ends quietly. She tells him about an article on blushing, but does not yet achieve the more candid conversation she wants. The scene establishes a pattern that will recur: Anne seeks intimacy, while both must find an indirect way to approach it.

Their closeness does not advance in a straight line. On February 16, after they have exchanged only a few meaningless words that day, Peter comes to see Margot’s birthday presents and stays chatting longer than usual. Anne later reaches his room while carrying coffee and potatoes. When she asks whether she should close the attic trapdoor, he tells her to knock when she is ready to come back down and says he will open it for her. The brief exchange offers a practical arrangement for getting in and out, but its importance lies in the ease and trust beginning to develop between them.

Conversation and Growing Affection

A later evening becomes a turning point in Anne’s account. To preserve appearances, she first stands by the van Pels’ window before going to Peter’s room, where he is beside an open window. They stand on opposite sides of it and talk at length in the semidarkness. Anne describes the evening as the most wonderful she has experienced in the Annex. The conversation ranges over their quarrels and their growing distance from their parents; she tells Peter about her mother, father, and Margot, as well as herself. The exchange makes room for a more serious Anne than the sociable, talkative figure she believes she usually presents.

Anne’s account of their relationship remains alert to uncertainty. She thinks Peter may love her, but cannot determine whether he wants a close friend, is attracted to her as a girl, or sees her as a sister. When he tells her that she has helped him during his parents’ arguments, Anne takes this as evidence of friendship. She also tests the idea of her own replaceability by asking what he would do if many Annes kept visiting; his reply reassures her that he enjoys her company. She sees him as handsome, kind, and good, and is pleased that he has discovered she is a dreamer with troubles of her own, rather than merely the worldly person she thinks she appears to be.

The diary also records Anne’s hesitation about what the attachment should mean. She can imagine Peter as a younger brother and describes the possibility of a brother-and-sister affection, while insisting that she does not want him to take the place of someone she believes deserves her trust. Yet she also thinks that true love may be developing in the Annex. Earlier jokes about marrying Peter no longer seem wholly fanciful, though she explicitly does not claim to expect marriage: she does not know what Peter will be like as he grows up, or whether they will love one another enough. Her writing holds possibility and reservation together rather than resolving the relationship into a settled romance.

Risk, Routine, and Narrative Significance

Peter’s ordinary routines are repeatedly interrupted by the demands of concealment. During one break-in, he goes down to the warehouse at seven in the morning and immediately notices that both the warehouse door and the street door are open. He informs Pim, who goes to the private office, turns on a German radio station, and locks the door; they then return upstairs. The residents follow their emergency rules: they avoid washing or using water, keep quiet, dress by eight, and do not go to the bathroom. They learn later that burglars forced the doors with a crowbar, stole two cashboxes and blank checkbooks, and took their entire sugar allotment: coupons for 330 pounds. The incident shows Peter acting as an alert link between the warehouse and the people hiding above, while revealing how quickly the boundary between routine and danger can collapse.

After further security concerns, Peter is assigned to patrol the house between eight-thirty and nine-thirty. He is no longer allowed to open his window after someone connected with the Keg company noticed it open, and the residents must stop flushing the toilet after nine-thirty at night. A night watchman is hired, and a carpenter from the underground is expected to construct a barricade from the residents’ white Frankfurt bedsteads. These restrictions make visible the conditions under which Peter and Anne’s conversations take place: the same window that offers a sheltered place to talk can also draw notice, and the house’s routines must constantly be altered to protect those inside.

Peter’s narrative role is inseparable from this contrast between confinement and companionship. Anne’s changing attention to him turns shared hiding into a story of tentative self-disclosure: she first searches for an excuse to remain in his room, then finds herself sharing family tensions and private uncertainty. Their relationship offers neither a finished promise nor a simple escape from danger. Instead, the diary records a gradual passage from awkwardness to trust, even as the practical rules of hiding—quiet, vigilance, patrols, and barriers—continue to govern the space they share.