Otto Tattercoat and the Forest of Lost Things Page 3

  “That’s because I am,” Otto said. This was the first time in over a week that someone had noticed how upset he was. He realized just how much he wanted someone to talk to. Since his mother had disappeared, he’d barely spoken to anyone aside from that girl Nim and her rat. “And that’s not the worst of it. I’ve also lost my mother. She disappeared two weeks ago, and I’ve been looking for her ever since.”

  “That’s awful,” the girl replied. “But I think I know someone who could help.”

  “Really?” For the first time in days, Otto felt hope rise inside him. Despite not having a coat, the world seemed to grow a little warmer.

  The girl nodded. “I can take you to her right now. She doesn’t live far away. She’s probably still awake as well, wondering where I’ve got to. Come on,” the girl said. She held out her hand. “She’ll be able to find your mother in no time.”

  Though sceptical this unknown person could help, Otto was tired and desperate and freezing. He was willing to try anything to find his mother. After all, if he had been the one to go missing she would have torn the whole city apart to find him.

  “OK,” Otto said. He reached out and took the girl’s hand. She helped him up and they walked off down the lane. Perhaps because he was so tired, or perhaps because he had been looking at the girl’s pale face and nowhere else, Otto did not notice that the hand he held was stained black.

  5

  FRAU FERBER’S FACTORY

  “It’s not much further,” the girl with the lantern said as she led Otto through the darkness.

  Otto hoped it wasn’t. They had been walking for at least half an hour. They’d left Mister Kruger’s Inn far behind and were now near the outskirts of the city. The coldness that covered Hodeldorf during the day was even worse at night. His skin had gone numb and he couldn’t feel a thing.

  “Do you really think this lady can help?” Otto asked as they walked.

  “Absolutely,” the girl said. “Frau Ferber is very good at finding things.”

  They turned down another street. Out of the corner of his eye, Otto saw two lanterns bobbing in the street behind them.

  “I think someone’s following us,” he whispered, moving closer to the girl.

  “Don’t worry. That’s Helmut and Heinz. Frau Ferber sent them to look after me. Now, here we are.”

  The girl stopped before a large brick building. Chimneys littered the roof, but no smoke puffed up into the night sky. The bricks and the windows were stained black. A brass sign was nailed to the front door: Frau Ferber’s Boot Polish Factory.

  The girl pointed to the third floor. Candlelight flickered through a large grimy window.

  “That’s Frau Ferber’s study,” she said. “I told you she’d still be up.”

  The two of them waited for Helmut and Heinz to catch up. They had the key to unlock the front door. It creaked open and Otto was led inside.

  The first thing Otto noticed about the boot polish factory was that it was warm: warmer than anywhere else in the city. It was even warmer than Dortzig. Then he noticed the smell: oil and dirty people. The floorboards were rotten, and Otto could see old, grey rats scurrying about in the shadows.

  “Maybe I should go.” Otto turned towards the door, but Helmut had already locked it.

  “You can’t go now,” the girl said. “We’re almost there.”

  Otto was led up the staircase. It was as rotten as the floor. With every step he feared he would fall straight through the mouldy wood.

  They stepped on to the second floor. It was dark and silent. But it was a strange silence: the kind of silence where you couldn’t hear anything, not because there was nothing to hear, but because whoever or whatever was there was too afraid to make a sound.

  They climbed to the third floor. A thin line of warm light trickled out from a door to their right. Heinz knocked on the door and a woman called them inside.

  Frau Ferber’s study took up one side of the building. Large windows on three sides looked out over the city. A little lady dressed in black sat behind a large wooden desk. A fireplace lay empty behind her. Despite there being no crackling fire, it was warm up here as well: not as warm as it was on the floors below, but still far warmer than the world outside.

  “Well done, Bertha,” the lady said. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  The girl standing beside Otto smiled.

  “How did you get him to come?” Frau Ferber asked.

  “I told him you would help find his mother. He’s lost her, you see.”

  “Is that so?” Frau Ferber turned back to Otto.

  Otto nodded. “She disappeared two weeks ago, and I’ve been searching for her ever since. Bertha said you might be able to help me find her.”

  “Perhaps I can.” Frau Ferber turned back to Bertha. “Congratulations. You’re free to go.”

  “Thank you, Frau Ferber.” Bertha smiled at the lady and turned towards the door. As her eyes fell upon Otto a flicker of guilt crossed her face. Then, she was gone.

  “Now.” Frau Ferber turned back to Otto. “I’ll get started on finding your mother first thing in the morning. You can stay here until we find her. You’ll have a roof over your head and food every night. I’m sure you will find it quite pleasant after your nights on the street. A luxury, I should think. Helmut, take him to his room.”

  The tallest boy led Otto to the second floor. He couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had he found a warm place to sleep, but he’d also met someone who could help him find his mother. As they walked down the rickety stairs, Otto asked where Bertha had gone.

  “She left.”

  “The factory?”

  Helmut nodded.

  “Is she coming back?” Otto asked.

  “Not if she can help it.”

  They stepped on to the second-floor landing.

  “What do you mean?” Otto asked.

  “Bertha’s been trying to escape the factory for years. None of us thought she could do it. No one in Hodeldorf’s gullible enough to trade places with one of Frau Ferber’s children.”

  “What do you mean, ‘trade places’?” Otto asked.

  “Exactly what I said.” Helmut opened the door. It led to a dark room. “In you go.”

  Otto felt a chill run up his spine. “I think I’ve made a mistake. I can find my mother by myself.” Otto edged away from the room, but a hand pushed him forward.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Heinz said. He had followed them from the third floor in case there was trouble. “The trade’s been done. You belong to Frau Ferber now.” He shoved Otto into the room and closed the door. Everything was suddenly dark.

  At first, Otto couldn’t see a thing. He used his hands to feel his way around the space. Everything felt grimy and sticky, like even the walls and floors were trying to trap him and stop him from leaving.

  Slowly, Otto’s eyes adjusted. Moonlight trickled through the barred window and revealed a large room. The rotting wooden floor was covered in several rows of straw mattresses. Small lumps lay upon all except one. When one of the lumps moved, Otto realized they were children.

  “Bertha?” one of the children said. She sat up and looked towards Otto. She saw his faint outline in the darkness and said, “I’m sorry you didn’t find anyone.”

  “There’s always next year,” a boy added cheerfully.

  “It’s not Bertha,” Otto said. “I’m Otto. Helmut said I’ve traded places, but I don’t know what that means.”

  Several of the children gasped.

  “I can’t believe she did it,” someone said.

  “It’s finally happened,” whispered another.

  “This is amazing,” said a third. “Finally, we’re going to be free.”

  The boy who had first spoken to Otto left his mattress and came over to shake his hand.

  “I’m Gunter,” he said.

  “And I’m Frida,” said the girl who had mistaken Otto for Bertha.

  One by one the other children introduced themselves. T
here were twenty all together. Some were only a few years old, while others appeared older than Otto. They were pale and thin and dressed in rags, and their arms and hands were stained black.

  Only one person in the room didn’t introduce themselves. He was an older boy sitting in the far corner.

  “Don’t mind him,” Gunter said. “We call him Mouse because he’s as quiet as one. He doesn’t speak.”

  “What happened?” Otto asked.

  “Frau Ferber locked him in the pitch-black cellar for two days because he whined too much,” a boy called Klaus said. “He hasn’t made a noise since.”

  Otto’s eyes widened with fear. All the children, apart from Mouse, laughed.

  “I get it,” Otto said. “You’re joking.”

  “Maybe.” Gunter grew serious again. “Or maybe not. Mouse has worked in the factory longer than all of us. He’s never been able to tell us what happened. All we know is he keeps a good distance from Frau Ferber and always passes the counting.”

  “What’s that?” Otto said.

  “Don’t worry. You don’t need to know about that. We’ll be out of here before the next one. We might even be out of here tonight.”

  At that moment, a deep rumbling filled the room, and the walls of the factory shook.

  “What’s happening?” Otto asked.

  “Just the factory,” Gunter said. “It does that sometimes. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

  Otto didn’t want to get used to it. It felt like the factory was alive. Maybe the walls really were trying to grab him.

  “Are there any other children here?” Otto asked.

  “Only Helmut and Heinz,” Gunter said. “But they don’t sleep in here with us. They’re Frau Ferber’s sons. She’s going to leave the factory to them when she dies. I’m surprised they haven’t killed her already. They’re not very nice.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Otto said. “What about you guys? Is Frau Ferber your mother as well?”

  “Of course not!” Frida said.

  “No way!” yelled a few of the other children.

  “Then why do you live here?” Otto asked.

  Most of the children fell silent: they didn’t want to share their stories. But Gunter did.

  “My mother sent me here because she couldn’t feed me. She thought I’d be safe here, and warm. If she knew what Frau Ferber was really like she would come and get me. Until today, we had no way of telling her. But now Bertha’s going to tell everyone the truth. Once she does, our parents will come and save us. Soon we’ll all be going home.”

  Bertha couldn’t believe it. After five years trapped inside the boot polish factory she was finally going to be free. This was the moment she had been dreaming of. No more quotas and countings and punishments. No more sleeping on the floor and working from before dawn to after dusk. Only one thing stood in her way. She needed the key to the front door.

  Bertha waited patiently by the door for several minutes. She twirled her black ribbons while she waited. When she first came to the factory they had been red, but the boot polish had slowly robbed the colour away. When no one came to open the door she began to climb back up the stairs.

  “What are you still doing here?” Helmut asked when he bumped into her on the second floor.

  “The door’s locked. I can’t get out.”

  “Oh. I forgot about that. Come on.”

  Helmut and Bertha walked back down to the ground floor. Helmut was just putting the key into the front lock when they were interrupted.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Frau Ferber asked.

  “Letting Bertha out, Mother.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you said she could go.” Helmut suddenly looked unsure of himself. He pulled the key away from the lock.

  Frau Ferber shook her head. “Just because I say something, Helmut, doesn’t mean I mean it. You’re just as bad as Bertha. Maybe I should get you to fill the jars as well.”

  “So you don’t want Bertha to leave?”

  “Of course I don’t want her to leave!” Frau Ferber stormed down the stairs and whacked Helmut over the back of the head. “No one leaves my factory!”

  “But …” Bertha said.

  “But what?” Frau Ferber snarled.

  “But I found someone to take my place.”

  “I don’t care. No one leaves my factory.”

  Helmut grabbed Bertha’s arm and began to drag her up the stairs.

  “Not that way,” his mother yelled. “Take her downstairs.”

  Bertha’s face paled.

  “Please don’t take me to the cellar,” she said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Frau Ferber said. “You’re not going to the cellar. You’re going somewhere else.”

  Helmut pulled Bertha over to the cupboard below the stairs. He pushed a piece of panelling aside to reveal a hidden door.

  Bertha tried to run away. She slipped free of Helmut’s grasp for a moment, but then he grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back. One of her ribbons fell on to the black floor. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, Helmut wrapped his hand over her mouth and dragged her into the darkness.

  6

  THE FINEST BOOT POLISH IN THE LAND

  Otto woke to the same darkness he had fallen asleep in. His mattress was so thin he could feel the floorboards beneath it. As much as he’d hated staying at Mister Kruger’s Inn, now he couldn’t dream of anything better. Even sleeping on the streets was nicer than being locked in here. He really hoped Bertha was quick to spread the word about the factory. He didn’t want to spend another night inside these grimy walls.

  “Up!” Heinz yelled. “Get up!” He threw open the door to their room. He held a black truncheon thicker than Otto’s leg. “Get up and get downstairs.”

  The children climbed off their mattresses. In the same clothes they’d slept in, they headed downstairs.

  Thin tendrils of morning light trickled through the grimy windows on the ground floor. Two long tables ran the length of the room. At the end of each table was a large vat with a smaller desk stood beside it.

  “Line up,” Heinz yelled.

  The children ran to their places at the tables. Otto was directed to Bertha’s old spot, standing between Gunter and Klaus.

  Hundreds of empty glass jars covered the table and a black bucket rested in front of each child along with a large wooden crate. Both were empty.

  Heinz looked at a large clock on the wall. It was six a.m. He thumped his stick on the ground and yelled, “Begin!”

  One by one, each child picked up his or her bucket and used a tap on the side of the largest vat to fill it with sticky black paste. They returned to their places at the table and for the next hour carefully used their hands to scoop the black paste from their bucket and into the glass jars.

  “What is this stuff?” Otto asked Gunter.

  “Boot polish,” he replied. He tried not to move his mouth in case Heinz or Helmut noticed. “It gets sent all over the country by train. It’s so good, even kings use Frau Ferber’s polish.”

  Ironically, none of the other children in the factory had any shoes, except for Heinz and Helmut. They both wore black boots: they were the shiniest boots Otto had ever seen.

  “Move your hands faster,” Gunter whispered to Otto. Heinz was coming over to inspect their work. “If you move too slow they’ll whack you.”

  Otto’s hands became a blur as he scooped handful after handful of the boot polish into the jars. When Heinz had moved on, Gunter continued.

  “And don’t forget to move your feet. If you stand still for too long, the rats’ll start nibbling at your toes.”

  At the mention of rats, Otto’s feet moved even faster than his arms.

  “Slow down,” Gunter whispered. “You’ll never be able to keep that up all day.”

  “All day?” Otto said.

  Gunter nodded.

  “But what about break
fast? Don’t we get to eat?”

  Gunter looked at Otto strangely. “Frau Ferber doesn’t believe in breakfast.”

  “But she told me I would be fed here.”

  “Only dinner,” Klaus said. “And only if you reach the quota.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The number of jars you have to fill each day. The quota’s set at three hundred.”

  “Three hundred?” Otto’s mouth fell open. He’d never be able to fill that many. “What about water?” he asked. “Do we at least get that?”

  “You could scoop some out of the second vat.” Gunter nodded to the vat they had yet to approach. “But it isn’t very fresh, and it’ll stain your teeth black for days.”

  “What about a break?” Otto asked. “Does Frau Ferber believe in those?”

  “Oh yes,” Gunter replied. “After one year of service you get a day off to spend upstairs.”

  “That sounds nice,” Otto said. “What do you get to do up there?”

  “Just sleep in our room. Frau Ferber says it’s very important to take time to rest. It’s my third rest day next week,” he said proudly. “And we get our birthdays off too. That’s when we’re allowed outside. If we can find someone to take our place, we get to leave. Frau Ferber calls it our birthday present.”

  Otto realized he had been Bertha’s birthday present. He really hoped she told someone about what was going on in the factory so they were freed. If she didn’t, he would have been sent in here for nothing.

  After they had filled all the jars on the table they washed their hands in the second vat. Despite rubbing between each of his fingers, a black residue remained on Otto’s hands.

  When everyone was finished washing, they screwed the lids on the jars and covered each pot with a piece of oil-paper that read: Frau Ferber’s Exemplary Boot Polish: Nothing Else Will Make Your Shoes Shine as Bright

  Then they stacked their jars in a crate and began the whole process again.

  It was dark by the time they stopped working. They had filled jars for thirteen hours. Otto was ready to sleep, but he still had to sit through the counting.

  The counting was held in the same room they filled the jars. Helmut sat at the small table beside the vats. He pulled a ledger from one of the locked drawers and opened to a page marked with a piece of thread. Then, he called the first child forward.