The World's Worst Mothers (12 page)

Within an hour, they had reached Nordfall. The little harbour was dimly lit. Only at Dune View was there a light over the door. All the other houses lay in darkness. The inhabitants of Nordfall were asleep. Nobody noticed the arrival of the little motorboat that Kruschke was just now carefully mooring.

He disappeared briefly into the cabin again. It seemed to Bruno as if he was speaking to someone. He was probably making another phone call.

When Kruschke came out of the cabin, he said nothing. He just signalled to the children to follow him. The three Annas stayed sitting in the boat, their silly smiles pasted across their faces.

Emily turned to look at her Aunt Anna, in whose hair the remains of the chocolate whip were still visible. How could she ever have taken this thing for a living person? She stuck her tongue out at her.

Kruschke went ahead of them, past Dune View, along a road, till they came to a high fence. Then he unbarred a gate and they went up a driveway that led to a big gloomy building. Everything was dark, except that over a big double door a neon sign glowed. Kruschke unlocked the door and they followed him along a passageway. They crossed a big hall full of shelves. The huge windows let in the moonlight, which lit up extraordinary shapes.

Sophie poked Emily in the ribs. ‘Look, it's all toys.'

When she was younger, Emily had loved the toy departments in the big department stores, but this looked spooky. She stumbled against a shelf, and a plush monkey started to bash his cymbals together. Kruschke took hold of the monkey and turned his head right round. The monkey said nothing. It was, when all was said and done, only a soft toy. But Emily got an icy feeling down her spine. Kruschke turned to her. One eye was gleaming like glass. He was winking nervously with the other one.

‘Don't worry. I'll soon have him right again.' He spread out his arms. ‘All this is my work, you may as well know.'

They came to a large hall, with long tables. An iron staircase led up to the only room where a light was on. A little apprehensively, the children followed Kruschke, who was stumping awkwardly up the stairs. He knocked briefly and pushed the door open.

The man behind the desk looked exhausted. As the children came in, he stood up and offered his hand to each of them.

‘My name is Walther Wohlfarth,' he said by way of introducing himself. ‘I own this place.'

When he tried to shake hands with Nicholas, the boy hid his hand behind his back.

‘I want my mama,' he insisted. And I want her now!'

Sophie admired her little brother. The little lad had hardly slept, and, apart from a couple of fish rolls and a few dried-up biscuits, he had hardly eaten anything all day, but he was showing no sign of crumbling.

‘Please sit down,' said Wohlfarth. ‘I believe I owe you an explanation.'

Emily sat up with a start and banged her head off a metal bar over her bed. ‘Ouch!'

Just then, a mop of hair appeared, hanging upside down.

‘Wasswrong?'

The head disappeared, and Bruno came climbing down the ladder from the upper bunk. He was wearing striped pyjamas that were way too big for him. Emily was wearing an old-fashioned flannel nightshirt. It scratched horribly. She rubbed her head.

‘I was having a nightmare,' she said, ‘and I banged my head.'

Something moved in the top bunk at the other side of the room. Sophie pushed back the blanket and announced, ‘I slept like a log.'

‘No wonder,' said Bruno. ‘We were very late going to bed last night.'

The door opened and a roundy woman came in, carrying a tray of cups and bowls.

‘Awake at last?' she said. ‘I'll just put your breakfast here on the table. You haven't much time. The ferry for Südersiel is going in about an hour. You know where the bathroom is. I've left you some towels.'

Just as she was about to leave the room, Emily said, ‘Frau … eh … Paulsen?' She was pleased that she'd been able to remember the name. ‘Can you tell me how my mother is?'

Vibke Paulsen gave Emily a sympathetic look.

‘Your mother is Susie, isn't that right?'

Emily nodded.

‘Well, she finds the lessons hard. She's not good at concentrating. She's easily distracted.' Vibke Paulsen shrugged her shoulders. ‘They can't all be as good as your mother, Sophie.'

As if on cue, Nicholas, who was in the bunk under Sophie, raised his head and murmured, ‘Mama?'

Vibke Paulsen bent down and stroked his hair. ‘Your mama works very hard. You will be astonished, when she comes home, at how much she has learnt here.'

‘When is she coming home?'

‘In two weeks and two days,' said Vibke Paulsen.

‘Is that a long time?'

Vibke Paulsen didn't answer. She just poured some drinking chocolate into a mug and gave it to the little boy.

‘Will you all be able to manage on your own until then?' she asked.

‘My father is at home,' said Bruno. ‘He'll just have to do the cleaning and the washing for a change.'

‘And what about you two?' Vibke Paulsen asked, looking first at Emily and then at Sophie.

‘My parents are separated,' said Emily. ‘I'll go to my father. His girlfriend will look after me.'

She didn't let on that her father wasn't at home. She would have to spend the time until her mother came home all alone.

‘Nicholas and I will manage,' said Sophie. ‘My stepfather will be home at the weekend.'

‘So everything's OK then,' said Vibke Paulsen, relieved. ‘You don't want Kruschke's dolls – your aunts, I mean – to go home with you?'

‘Absolutely not!' cried Bruno and Sophie, and Emily added, ‘They're scary.'

‘Yeah,' said Nicholas. ‘They're not real, you know.'

‘Aren't you observant!' said Sophie.

‘And I don't like that man with the funny eye either,' said Nicholas. Then he added in a whisper, ‘He killed the monkey.'

‘He lost his eye in an explosion,' Vibke Paulsen explained. ‘In the factory. It used to be a munitions factory back then. They made gunpowder and bullets, that kind of thing.'

‘He's weird,' said Emily.

‘Ah, no,' said Vibke Paulsen. ‘He's a funny old thing, but he's harmless enough. All he cares about are those inventions of his.'

‘And what about Wohlfarth?' asked Bruno.

‘Walther Wohlfarth is a wonderful man,' said Vibke Paulsen. ‘He refused to carry on manufacturing ammunition like his father and his grandfather. Instead, he started producing toys. His father never spoke to him again.'

‘And his mother?'

Vibke Paulsen frowned. ‘She was dead by then, I think. He loved her very much, I can tell you.'

‘Is that why he set up the school for mothers?'

Vibke Paulsen nodded.

‘To tell you the truth, I thought at first that it was a mad idea. But you should just see our pupils! They are all so delighted with it. When I think of the children, how thrilled they will be when they get their mothers back and find that they aren't terrible any more …'

Emily helped herself to a croissant. ‘I still don't understand why we can't see them.'

‘Herr Wohlfarth already explained it to you. Your mothers are at a critical stage. They are learning to throw off old habits and to substitute new, better habits. If they saw you now, this important process would be interrupted.' Vibke Paulsen gave a pleased sigh, like a child who has just recited her party piece without a hitch.

She went to the door and said, ‘Sven-Ole will pick you up in a few minutes and take you to the ferry. I have to go to class now.'

‘What happens in class?' asked Bruno.

‘Today your mothers are learning how to make custard. I thought every mother knew how to do that, but one of them had lumps in it, another one had a disgusting skin on it, and Susie actually made hers with buttermilk!' Vibke Paulsen laughed. ‘She really is a hopeless case.'

When she saw Emily's face, though, she added, embarrassed, ‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.'

Emily grinned. ‘That's all right. My mother just can't cook. I know.'

‘I have a question for you landlubbers,' said Sven-Ole on the way to the ferry. ‘Have you heard the one about the two sailors?'

Emily turned and looked back. Vibke Paulsen's house, where they had spent the night, looked so nice, quite harmless. It wore its thatched roof like a nice warm cap. Roses in colours from soft pink to deep violet were climbing up the wall. The shutters were a fresh and gleaming green. Emily would love to have had a holiday here with her mother. Maybe they would come back here some day, later, when this was all over.

But although everything seemed so peaceful – little white clouds in a blue sky, pretty houses in colourful gardens – Emily could not shake off a certain sense of menace.

The others didn't seem to be bothered. Bruno was laughing at the joke that the nice young man was telling and Sophie seemed not to be so crotchety. Even her little brother had stopped asking for his mama. He was running towards a black and white cat that was sitting outside a garden gate licking itself clean.

‘Do you teach in the WIMI too?' asked Bruno.

‘Sure I do,' said Sven-Ole proudly. ‘I'm teaching football clubs this afternoon. By the way, your mother got an A in boxing, did you know that?'

‘My mother? Boxing?' Bruno couldn't believe his ears. ‘You must be mixing her up with somebody else. My mother thinks boxing is repulsive.'

‘She used to think that,' said Sven-Ole. ‘That's what we're trying to do here, see. We're trying to get them to unlearn their old ways.'

The ferry was waiting for them at the dock. Its hull was a gleaming white and the brightly painted chimney belched out cheery clouds of steam.

Swantje, the maid at Dune View, was shaking out tablecloths outside the front door of the guesthouse. Seagulls swooped around her, screaming, hoping to fall in for a few crumbs. The postman was leaning against his van, chatting to Lührsen, the guesthouse owner. When he caught sight of Sven-Ole, he tipped his hat and called out, ‘So, how are your models getting on? It's a pity we never get to see them.'

‘Models?' Sophie looked quizzically at Sven-Ole.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Fish-heads. They haven't a clue.'

Then he said goodbye to the children and watched as they boarded the ferry. When they were standing at the rail that ran around the deck, he waved to them, and then he set off towards the factory.

There was a loud tooting sound, and the boatman pulled in the mooring rope. A woman appeared suddenly from the dunes. She ran towards the ferry, shouting something, but the wind snatched the words out of her mouth. She gesticulated wildly, and suddenly it became clear what she was shouting, ‘Stop! Stop!'

The boatman grumbled, but he put the rope back around the mooring post.

It was then that Emily recognised the woman. ‘Mum!' she called. ‘Mummy!'

She wasn't sure if her mother heard her because, just at that moment, the woman stumbled, lost her footing, and would have fallen if Sven-Ole hadn't got hold of her.

‘Let me go!' cried the woman. ‘I want to get on the ferry. I want to get away from here!'

Sven-Ole held her fast by the wrist.

A rickety old van came rattling along and stopped beside them. The passenger door opened, and Sven-Ole pushed the woman into the vehicle. The driver turned the van and drove off the way he had come. It all took less than two minutes. Nobody seemed to notice. The ferryman pulled his rope in again.

‘Did you see the madwoman?' asked Sophie, shaking her head.

‘That madwoman is my mother!' gasped Emily. ‘I have to go to her!'

She ran down the gangway to the lower deck. Bruno and Sophie followed her. Only Nicholas remained at the railing, crowing with delight as the seagulls caught pieces of bread he was throwing for them as they flew by.

‘Where do you think you're going, girl?' called the ferryman as Emily ran towards the stern. ‘You can't disembark now!'

He was right. The ferry had moved away from the pier and had started to sail away.

The children looked at each other.

‘Huh!' said Emily. ‘They're supposed to be here of their own free will, right? I don't think so. I had this funny feeling when we were in the factory yesterday.'

‘Do you really think,' asked Bruno, disbelievingly, ‘that they are keeping our mothers here by force? But there are too many of them for that, aren't there?'

‘Well,' said Sophie thoughtfully, ‘maybe some of them are happy enough to be here. But not Emily's mother, for starters.'

‘I have to get to her,' said Emily softly, licking her lips. They tasted salty, either from tears or from the sea-spray. She had to get back to the island. She couldn't go home with this image of her totally distraught mother in her head.

‘There's no way the ferry is going to turn around for us,' said Bruno. ‘Unfortunately.' The rolling and pitching of the boat was making him sick again.

‘Well, then, I'll just have to stay overnight in Südersiel and wait until it goes back in the morning.'

‘Have you got money?' asked Bruno.

Emily shook her head. Aunt Anna paid for the taxi yesterday. She only had enough money to get back home by train.

Sophie pulled out her purse. ‘I've got fifteen euro left. That's not enough.'

‘For one person, it might be,' said Bruno.

‘But not for the four of us,' said Sophie. ‘I'm not planning on leaving Emily on her own.'

‘Kruschke, you are an idiot!' said Wohlfarth for the third time. ‘Not only have your damn dolls completely malfunctioned –'

‘Only three of them,' Kruschke managed to interject. ‘Three out of seventeen – that's not even a twenty per cent failure rate. It's –'

‘It's a catastrophe! Not only have they failed, but they turn up here with those children in tow. Have you any idea what a setback that would have been for my whole project if their mothers had seen them?'

Kruschke was offended. ‘But they didn't see them.'

‘Yes, but only because I managed to convince the children that we have their mothers' best interests at heart, and, of course, theirs also.'

Wohlfarth cleared his throat. ‘What is our motto, Kruschke?'

‘Make your child happy and you save the world,' muttered Kruschke, scratching circles on the ground with the toe of his shoe.

‘Exactly. It's about making children happy in the long term. That's the only way the planet can survive.' Wohlfarth raised his arm like a preacher in church. ‘Happy children mean happy adults; happy adults don't go to war: they live in harmony with each other and with the environment.' Wohlfarth's index finger poked Kruschke in the stomach. ‘And what have your Annas done? Not only have they failed to make these children happy, they have gone so far as to make them
afraid.'