Otto Tattercoat and the Forest of Lost Things Read online

  Also available from Matilda Woods:

  For Hector

  2008-2018

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Also available from Matilda Woods

  Dedication

  1 THE COLDSTORM

  2 THE COLDEST CITY IN THE WORLD

  3 “YOU CAN’T TRUST ANYONE”

  4 THE BLACK-HANDED GIRL

  5 FRAU FERBER’S FACTORY

  6 THE FINEST BOOT POLISH IN THE LAND

  7 THE MELTING SLIPPER

  8 THE COUNTING

  9 OTTO’S TICKET OUT OF THE FACTORY

  10 THE FACE IN THE WINDOW

  11 A NIBBLE IN THE NIGHT

  12 THE GIRL WHO WAS EATEN BY RATS

  13 FRAU FERBER’S CELLAR

  14 THE CODE OF THE TATTERCOATS

  15 THE WELCOMING CEREMONY

  16 A TALK OF MOTHERS

  17 THE THREE TOLLS

  18 THE BLIND GIANT

  19 A LEAD

  20 TWO TRUE TATTERCOATS

  21 THE OLD TREE STUMP

  22 THE YELLOW COTTAGE

  23 THE RED COAT

  24 BACAWK!

  25 THE WOODLAND WOLVES

  26 THE MAGICAL PIPE

  27 ODE THE GIANT

  28 THE SUMMER WOOD

  29 THE TRAVELLING SALESMAN

  30 THE SECOND CELLAR

  31 THE SUMMER NIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  Back ad

  The Coffin Maker’s First Coffin

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Copyright Page

  1

  THE COLDSTORM

  The people of Hodeldorf knew it was a coldstorm long before the three bells tolled. The signs were all around: the wind howled like it was in pain, the hands on the clock tower snapped, and when they tried to breathe they coughed the air back out. It was so icy the feathers of birds froze as they flew and fell like stones out of the sky. It was one such bird – a rather large tree sparrow – that woke the storekeeper up.

  “Blasted tattercoats!” the storekeeper grumbled to his wife when he heard the thump on their roof. “If I had a nickel for each time one of those children slept beside our chimney, I’d be rich.”

  “You already are rich,” his wife pointed out.

  “Well, I’d be even richer.” The storekeeper threw off his blanket and got out of bed.

  “Leave it tonight,” his wife said. “You heard the bells. It’s a coldstorm. It’s not safe to go outside.”

  “You know what isn’t safe? Dirty children scurrying about on our roof. If we don’t shoo them away they’ll gather like a pack of wolves and fall right through the ceiling. We’ll be squashed in our beds!” He hated all children, but filthy little tattercoats who stole from his store and slept on the roof were the worst children of all.

  The storekeeper put on three coats, grabbed a fire iron and headed outside. A blast of frozen air greeted him, but his anger fuelled him and kept him warm.

  “Get off!” he yelled into the sky. “Get off my roof or I’ll call the guards!”

  The only response was silence. The storekeeper crossed the road and looked up at his roof. Instead of seeing a tattercoat huddled beside his chimney, he saw a frozen bird.

  “Blasted sparrows,” the storekeeper mumbled. He was about to go back inside when he saw two people huddled against the wall of his house. That was hardly better than finding them on his roof.

  “Up you get! Be on your way!” he yelled.

  The man and woman didn’t move. Their coats were wrapped tightly around them so that only the top halves of their heads stuck out. A thin dusting of snow lay upon their heads. More snowflakes drifted down from the icy sky. They appeared to be asleep.

  “Shoo,” the storekeeper said, as he poked them with the sharp end of the fire iron. They still didn’t move.

  “Wolves and witches and never-ending woods,” the storekeeper cursed. They were dead.

  Unable to do anything about them tonight, the storekeeper turned to go back inside. Then, he heard a small cry. The man and woman remained motionless, but something moved beneath their coats.

  Reluctantly, the storekeeper pulled aside the cloth. A young girl lay underneath, nestled between her parents. The cold that had claimed them had yet to claim her.

  The storekeeper wondered what to do. If he left the child out here she would die. If he brought her inside his wife would want to keep her.

  “I can’t have that,” he said. “Better get rid of you before she sees.” Though he didn’t care for children, he also didn’t care for them freezing in the streets. In a place like Hodeldorf, that happened a lot.

  The girl cried as the storekeeper pulled her from her parents’ icy grasp. Her coat was very thin and did barely anything to keep her warm. He carried her off into the night.

  “I know just the right place for you,” he said.

  In Hodeldorf there was only one place to take lost children: Frau Ferber’s Boot Polish Factory.

  The storekeeper trudged through the empty streets of the city, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow. He reached a small, dark door and knocked sharply. A woman answered. She was dressed in black and wore her hair tied in a bun. It was Frau Ferber.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” the storekeeper said. “But I thought you might be able to help.”

  “You’re too poor to care for your child?” she guessed.

  “I’m not poor and she’s not my child,” the storekeeper snapped. “And I didn’t snatch her, either,” he was quick to add. “Her parents died in the coldstorm, and I can’t look after her.”

  Frau Ferber looked at the girl nestled against the man’s chest and frowned. “She’s a bit small to work in the factory.”

  “Please, Frau Ferber,” the man said. Unaware of the conversation taking place about her, the girl had fallen asleep. “She has nowhere else to go.”

  “Show me her hands.”

  The storekeeper held up one of the girl’s small, pale hands. She stirred slightly.

  “They would fit very nicely,” Frau Ferber remarked.

  “What do you mean?” the man asked.

  “I mean that I will take her,” Frau Ferber said. “Does she have a name?”

  The man was about to say he didn’t know her name when he saw something written on the collar of her coat.

  “Elke,” he said, before handing the girl over.

  “Don’t worry, Elke.” Frau Ferber carried the girl inside. “I’ll look after you now.”

  The factory door closed. The storekeeper heard a key turn in the lock. The sound made his heart skip a beat. Even though he had saved the little girl from the cold, he couldn’t shake the feeling he hadn’t saved her from something else. There was something about Frau Ferber he didn’t like: something about the way she had looked at the child when she carried her inside. Frau Ferber had looked at the girl the same way he looked at money or a fine set of jewels. There was no love in that gaze, only greed. Why would someone look at a child like that?

  2

  THE COLDEST CITY IN THE WORLD

  Ten Years Later

  Otto peered out the window of the train at trees that rose like giants into the sky. Thick snow made their branches hang low. Amongst the dark shadows, Otto saw movement. Creatures were slinking about in the darkness, watching them pass. He was sure of it. Otto shivered. It felt like whatever was in the woods was watching him now. He shuffled closer to his mother.

  “We’re almost there,” his mother said with a smile. She hadn’t noticed anything odd about the trees. “The city’s just beyond the woods.”

  The trees cleared and Hodeldorf came into sight, surrounded by a la
rge stone wall. The icy wind had peeled all the paint from the walls so every building in the city was the same dull grey. Snow lay thick upon the roofs and smoke chugged out from thousands of little chimneys as the fires in the homes below desperately fought to keep the cold out. The train pulled into the station. It was grey too. Otto and his mother were the only two passengers to disembark.

  Hodeldorf greeted them with the coldest blast of air they had ever felt. Snow lay heavy upon the platform. No one had made attempts to clear it. The platform was deserted. For a moment it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Then they caught sight of the stationmaster.

  The stationmaster sat in a small office. When he didn’t come to greet them they trudged over to greet him. Otto’s mother knocked on the office window, and the stationmaster jumped and looked up. He put on one coat and then another before stepping outside.

  A wave of heat escaped the office, but the icy air gobbled it up in an instant.

  “Hello,” Otto’s mother said. The cold air pinched her cheeks and made them red. “I was wondering if—”

  “The next train leaves in two hours,” the stationmaster said, cutting her off. The quicker the conversation ended the quicker he could get back to the warmth of his office.

  “Why are you telling me that?” Otto’s mother asked.

  “So you don’t miss it.”

  “I don’t care if we miss it. We don’t want to leave, on account of only just arriving.”

  The stationmaster looked confused. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” Otto’s mother snapped. “We just got off that train.” She pointed to the green and gold train that was now being loaded with crates of black jars.

  “Well, best get back on it,” the stationmaster said.

  “Why ever would we do that?”

  “Because no one comes here. Not any more. Hodeldorf is the coldest city in the world.”

  “That’s exactly why we’ve come,” Otto’s mother said. “Now, where’s the nearest inn?”

  “He was right, you know,” Mister Kruger told Otto and his mother as they climbed the stairs of his inn. “Hodeldorf’s been getting colder for over fifty years. It’s cold in winter, it’s cold in spring, it’s even cold in summer. I can’t remember the last warm day, and I turn fifty next year.”

  “It was cold in Dortzig too,” Otto’s mother pointed out.

  “Not like the cold here,” Mister Kruger warned.

  They stepped on to the landing and Mister Kruger led them to a room on their right.

  “Now, it’s one silver a night. That includes two hot breakfasts. The dining room is downstairs and the bathroom is at the end of the hall. Wood for your fire is delivered every evening, and if you hear the clock tower toll three times, make sure you don’t let the fire go out.”

  “Why not?” Otto asked.

  “Because three tolls mean there’s a coldstorm coming. If you let the fire go out, you’ll freeze to death in your sleep.”

  Great, Otto thought to himself. He’d never wanted to come to Hodeldorf in the first place; it had been his mother’s idea. Now, he had his first reason to leave. Who wanted to live in a place so cold you could freeze in your sleep?

  Mister Kruger unlocked their room and left them to settle in.

  “My, doesn’t this feel cosy?” Otto’s mother said as she looked around the room. It was a very quick look, for it was a very little room. “Once I’ve sold a few coats we’ll be able to move into our own place, just like we had in Dortzig.”

  “About Dortzig,” Otto said, “I wish we hadn’t left.” Things had been good there. It hadn’t exactly been warm, but it had been warmer than this place; and, he’d had friends and his mother had owned her own shop. It had glass windows with a gold trim that looked out over the main square. She had been the best seamstress in Dortzig.

  “I know you’re sad, but this will be an adventure. Didn’t you feel cramped in Dortzig, Otto? All squished in?”

  “I feel more squished in here,” Otto said, looking mournfully around the room. “How many coats do you have to sell before we can get a house?”

  “Oh, three or four or five or ten.” His mother waved her arm absently in the air. When she saw her son’s face pale, she put down her bags and knelt in front of him. “Don’t you worry, Otto. When our first store burnt down in Dortzig, you thought it was the end of the world. But then I bought another that was even grander. Remember all that gold trim?”

  Otto nodded.

  “And when your father fell sick and passed away, you cried for weeks and weeks. I couldn’t bring him back, but do you remember how I made you feel better?”

  “You loved me twice as much.”

  “That’s right. And now we’ve moved to the coldest place in the world, but we’re going to be fine.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because we came here together. And as long as we’re together, we’re going to be OK.”

  “Promise?” Otto said.

  “Promise.” His mother wrapped him in a warm hug, and for the first time since he stepped off the train, Otto forgot all about the cold. “Now, off you go to bed. I’ll stack the fire tonight and head out first thing in the morning to start selling my coats. I’ll be back before midday, and we can have lunch together.”

  The following morning Otto woke to the sound of Mister Kruger delivering his breakfast.

  “Your mother asked me to bring it up so you could eat in bed.” Mister Kruger placed the tray in front of Otto. There was warm toast, marmalade and two boiled eggs. “She ate before dawn and was out at first light.”

  Otto thanked Mister Kruger for the food, and the innkeeper left.

  Otto ate his meal and then stood by the window, looking down over the dull city. He searched amongst the people bustling below, on the lookout for a bright, red coat: that was what his mother wore. But he couldn’t spot her. She must have ventured further away.

  Otto sat by the fire for a little while and then went back to bed. When he awoke, the sun was setting. He looked around the room. His mother still wasn’t there, and the fire was almost out.

  Otto put some logs in the fire and stood by the window, looking down over the city. As night fell, the crowds dispersed. Not a single person wore a coat as red as his mother’s.

  A boy delivered more wood for the night.

  “Excuse me,” Otto said, as the boy stacked the wood in the corner. “Have you seen my mother anywhere?”

  The boy shook his head and hurried off to deliver wood to the next room.

  Down below, the street lamps were being lit. By the flickering light, Otto continued to search for his mother. When his legs grew tired, he pulled a chair over to the glass and rested his head against the icy pane. The clock tower tolled one hour and then two and then three. Otto’s eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep.

  When he awoke, weak sunlight trickled through the window. He looked over to his mother’s bed. It remained untouched. The fire had almost gone out. Something was wrong: his mother had never left him alone for this long. He would have to go outside and find her.

  3

  “YOU CAN’T TRUST ANYONE”

  “Cabbages and mouldy bread!” Otto cursed as he was hit by another blast of wind. It passed right through his coat like he wasn’t even wearing one. Out of all the places his mother could have gone missing, why did it have to be Hodeldorf?

  The streets of the city were as dull and bleak as Otto’s thoughts. He’d been searching for his mother for almost two weeks and was still no closer to finding her. Everyone he asked had no idea where she was. It was like the wind itself had carried her away.

  Otto had just turned on to a smaller street near the main square when a girl appeared beside him.

  “That sure is a fine coat,” the girl said. She looked a little older than Otto. She had wild brown hair, almost as wild as the woods surrounding the city, and skin as pale as the snow. “Who’d you steal it from?”

  “I
didn’t steal it from anyone,” Otto replied. “It’s my coat, given to me true and proper.”

  “By who?”

  The girl walked around Otto in a circle, admiring the coat from every angle. Otto, however, didn’t admire her coat. It was sad and grey with at least five holes in the right sleeve alone. If anyone in the city needed a coat made by his mother it was her. She must have been freezing.

  “I’m not telling,” Otto said. He folded his arms across his chest and stepped away from the girl in the tatty coat.

  “Ha!” the girl said. “If you won’t tell me who gave it to you, that means you stole it.”

  “No, I didn’t!” he protested. “My mother gave it to me. She made it. Have you seen her?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know what she looks like.”

  “She’s about this tall.” Otto raised his arm as high as it would go. “And as thin as you. She has brown hair like me and brown eyes to match. So, have you seen her?”

  The girl thought for a moment and then shook her head. “I don’t really notice what people look like. What coat was she wearing? Did it look like yours?”

  “No. Her coat is red with a white fur trim.”

  “Sorry. I’ve never seen a coat like that.” The girl sounded certain, and in fact, if anyone in the city would have noticed that coat, it would have been her. She estimated that at least one quarter of all her thoughts were about coats, and at least half of those thoughts were about the coat she currently wore. She had stolen the coat when she was eight. It had been bright yellow back then; that’s what had caught her eye. Now, four years later, it had faded to a sad grey, and the cloth was so thin it barely kept any warmth in.

  Next time she would steal a thicker coat, perhaps something lined with wolf or fox fur. But she couldn’t steal one yet; that was against the rules. She had to wait until her current coat was so worn it was threadbare. Only then would she be allowed to discard it and choose a new one.

  “Oh.” Otto’s body slumped with disappointment.

  “What colour would you call that?” the girl asked.

  “Huh?” Otto said.

  “Your coat,” she clarified. “What colour would you call your coat?”