The World's Worst Mothers (17 page)

‘Come on. There's no time for dawdling about.'

‘Oh, lord,' muttered Sophie's mother. ‘How long do we have to go traipsing around here? I'm thirsty.'

It was hot that day, very hot. Now and again a fresh breeze blew in from the sea, but the sun beat mercilessly down on the mothers and the white sand dazzled them.

Kruschke led the way, constantly wiping the sweat off his forehead.

‘Not much longer,' he called over his shoulder. ‘We're nearly there.'

‘He's been saying that for the past hour.' Bruno's mother was fizzing with irritation.

‘I'm looking forward to a nice piece of cake,' said Clingy Mum, who was small and fat.

‘And a nice cup of coffee,' added Earth Mother, who was tall and thin.

For once, the two of them were in agreement.

Susie took up the rear. She was the only one who wasn't complaining. She had taken her sandals off and was enjoying the feeling of the sand between her toes and wading through the little water channels. The water was quite warm, and transparent shrimps and tiny fishes swam in it.

She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked out to sea. A freighter was sailing by on the horizon. Seagulls were screeching overhead.

Why can't I just enjoy it all?
thought Susie to herself. She felt in her pocket for Porky. There he was! Even though she wasn't superstitious, she somehow felt a lot safer with him there. She laughed softly at herself. What on earth could happen on a picnic?

A grey-green mound came into view. As they came closer to it, the mothers realised it was a bunker, half smothered on the landward side by a high dune and half sunk into the sand on the seaward.

‘It looks kind of spooky,' said Sophie's mother.

‘Maybe there are bodies in it,' said Suspicious Mum, and her pointy nose got pointier.

Kruschke gave a dismissive wave. ‘Bodies! Don't be ridiculous. The most you'll come across in there would be courting couples. It's nice and dark and cosy.'

‘Cosy?' said Bruno's mother, turning away. ‘I could think of a more comfortable spot.'

Kruschke frowned, as if he was trying to decide whether he should reveal a secret. ‘Apparently, some high-ranking navy officer is supposed to have hidden a fortune here, in the last days of the war. Old jewellery, silver cutlery, valuable paintings …'

Now the mothers looked a lot more interested.

‘He was trying to safeguard it from the enemy troops, but it didn't do him any good, because before he could get it out again, he went down with all hands. just here off Nordfall.'

‘But surely they came looking for it?' asked Suspicious Mum, whose eyes had lit up greedily when she heard the word ‘silver'.

Kruschke shook his head. ‘Nobody knows except me. And I only found out a few days ago. Completely by chance.'

‘How do you get in?' asked Clingy Mum, rattling the wooden door.

‘It's just a bit stiff,' said Kruschke.

Clingy Mum threw her whole weight against the door, and it opened with a squeak of protest.

After they had left Alfred at Dune View with a cup of tea, old Frau Wohlfarth marched determinedly through the village towards the factory. The Pekinese wasn't doing too well on his stubby little legs, so she had pressed her darling into Sophie's arms. Sophie wrinkled her nose. Henry the Fourth smelt of wet dog. Aristocratic or not, wet dogs do not smell nice.

When they reached the mesh fence, they found that the gate was locked with a rusty chain and padlock. This didn't bother the old woman. Her anger lent her superhuman powers. She raised her stick and hit the lock. The padlock fell apart and the gate swung open.

‘Did you see that?' Bruno whispered to Sophie. ‘Karate with a walking stick!'

Shaking with anger, Frau Wohlfarth marched up the drive to the factory. But she couldn't open the door to the workshop with her stick. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to have to ring the bell. The shrill sound echoed hollowly inside the building. For a long time nothing happened. Then the door opened a crack and Vibke Paulsen stuck her head out.

‘What can I do for you?' she asked, looking at Frau Wohlfarth. Only then did she notice the children, and her eyes opened wide.

‘What are you lot doing here again?'

‘I would like to speak to my son. Immediately.'

Vibke Paulsen's mouth hung open.

‘But you're …' she stammered.

‘Dead? As you see, I am quite alive. Now, please, get out of my way!'

Vibke Paulsen stood stock-still in shock, so the old woman simply pushed her aside with her stick and walked on in.

‘But you can't just come marching in here,' Vibke Paulsen shouted after her.

‘I most certainly can!' announced Frau Wohlfarth, striding through the factory floor like a kanga-hammer. Now and again she sliced a doll's head off with her stick or ripped open a stuffed animal with the pointy end of it.

‘Kiddy rubbish!' she roared. ‘Silly nonsense. Complete waste of time.'

As she went past the conveyor belts that had been turned into tables, she asked sharply, ‘What's going on here? Coffee mornings?'

She stopped when she got to the staircase leading up to Wohlfarth's office and turned to the children.

‘Is he up there?' she asked.

Emily nodded.

‘In his father's office! Unbelievable!'

Just as Frau Wohlfarth was about to climb the stairs, Vibke Paulsen stopped her. She was holding a doll's head in her hand, one that had been chopped off. The head had red cheeks and blond plaits with a pink ribbon.

‘Look!' she said. ‘This is Grete. She was our most successful model. She wore a genuine traditional costume, a dirndl.'

‘You don't mean to tell me,' said Frau Wohlfarth turning around, ‘that my son named a DOLL …' She practically spat the word. ‘That he named a
doll
after me? Absolutely incredible!'

‘Exactly,' said Vibke Paulsen. ‘I cannot believe that anyone would call anything after you!' She added under her breath, ‘Except maybe a rhinoceros.'

By now the old woman had arrived at Wohlfarth's door. She didn't bother to knock. She just swung the door open. Wohlfarth was sitting at his desk, directly under the portrait of his mother. Ramona Bottle was standing beside him, handing him a folder. Sven-Ole was lounging in a chair, reading a manual on child-rearing.

‘I have a question,' he was saying. ‘Parents who have had it up to here with their daughters, could they ever feel
sunny
about things, do you think? D'you get it, d'you get it – SON-ny!'

When he caught sight of Frau Wohlfarth, the laughter stuck in his throat.

It's just like when you're watching a DVD, thought Emily, and you press the Stop button. Everyone had frozen to the spot. All eyes were on the apparition in the doorway.

The first to move was Sven-Ole. He looked from the old woman to the picture over Wohlfarth's desk and then back to her.

Wohlfarth had gone white as a sheet. ‘Mother … you … what are you doing here?'

Frau Wohlfarth took a step towards her son and rested both hands on the desk. Her parrot-nosed face shot forward. ‘You're on the board of the biggest bank in New York, isn't that right? You are engaged to the owner's daughter, right? You spend your free time in an exclusive golf club. Right?'

With every ‘right' Wohlfarth collapsed. Three times altogether. Ramona Bottle collapsed just the once, and that was when she heard the word ‘engaged'.

‘Did I teach you how to lie like that? Did I teach you to go behind your own mother's back? Speak to me!'

‘I didn't want to disappoint you, mother,' said Wohlfarth. His voice shook. ‘I knew you wouldn't stand for all this.' He stretched his arms out to indicate what she would not stand for. ‘You never had any time for toys.'

‘For a very good reason,' Frau Wohlfarth spat. ‘Children should not play. They should study. So that they do not grow up to be losers. Like you.'

‘I never owned as much as a teddy,' said Wohlfarth softly.

‘Yes, you did. Your aunt sent you one. But I threw it away,' said the old woman.

Wohlfarth leapt to his feet. ‘Now I remember. He had these funny button eyes and he was so soft. I used to take him to bed with me, but you took him away from me. You are
appalling.
You are the world's worst mother.'

Frau Wohlfarth reached out and whacked her son a resounding clip on the ear. He sat back on his chair and started to wail. Ramona Bottle stood beside him and stroked his shoulders helplessly, as the old woman released a barrage of shouts and screams at him. The most harmless insults she hurled at him were ‘loser', ‘fathead' and ‘dishrag'.

Sven-Ole gestured to the others and they left the office.

Vibke Paulsen, who had been listening all the while on the other side of the door asked, horrified, ‘Am I dreaming, or is all this actually happening?'

‘Seems to be actually happening,' said Sven-Ole. ‘That's supposed to have been the best mother in the world? She's a monster!'

‘Where are our mothers?' asked Emily, when they were back on the factory floor.

Vibke Paulsen looked at her watch. ‘Kruschke was to take over the afternoon classes today. He was going to take them to the beach to make kites and then fly them. Wohlfarth thought that'd be easier than the eternal model-aeroplane construction he goes on with. But they should be well back by now.'

‘I feel a bit like Tom Sawyer in the cave,' said Susie, holding a candle up to the wall of the bunker to read the names that someone had scratched there.

Swantje and Hinnerk,
it said, with a heart around the names.

‘Nonsense,' said Sophie's mother. ‘There aren't any passageways here where you could get lost.'

‘And no stala-whatsits hanging from the ceiling,' said Bruno's mother.

‘Stalagmites,' said Sophie's mother grandly.

‘Stalactites,' Earth Mother corrected her. ‘Stalagmites grow up from the floor.'

They were all holding candles that they had found, handily enough, at the entrance, and they were running around to see what they could find in the interior of the bunker.

‘Well, have you found the treasure yet?' Earth Mother asked Clingy Mum, who was using a candle to light up the floor.

‘There's a funny crack here,' she said by way of an answer.

‘Don't be silly. There are all sorts of cracks and crevices everywhere here,' said Suspicious Mum, who was just lifting a battered old mattress up with her fingertips, but she found nothing more interesting than a few woodlice. The search for this supposed treasure was proving fruitless.

‘I'm hungry,' said Bruno's mother. ‘Didn't Kruschke say that Wohlfarth and the others were coming after us with the food? Maybe they're here by now.'

‘I'd say Vibke Paulsen has baked apple pies,' said Clingy Mum. ‘I love her apple pies.'

‘What about the silver cutlery?' asked Suspicious Mum.