by Chloe Mayer
He was still calling my name.
‘Hansel?’ It was a whisper.
‘Ah, mein Gott!’
My mouth was so dry I found I couldn’t swallow properly.
‘My legs! My legs! I can’t move!’
There was another crash from inside the hole and a roar from Hansel. A loose plank of wood must have clattered down from the crumbling wall, or else he’d grabbed a piece of debris as the pain turned into a hot frustrated rage and he either threw it or smashed it against the side of the tunnel.
I thought I had also heard, not a splash exactly, but a squelching sound. He might not have landed in a pool of water but he definitely wasn’t on dry ground.
I scooted back on my heels, pulling away from that terrible hole.
My heart was beating so hard it was painful, and my breathing was ragged and shaky.
I was trying to think. He had fallen a long, long way. Maybe twenty feet or more. I thought of broken bones snapping like dry twigs inside his skin. I thought of the wood and rusty nails gouging him as he fell and spearing him as he landed. I thought of blood. I squeezed my eyes closed and turned my face away from the sudden slit, carved like a scar into the forest floor.
Think. Just think.
With a sickening jolt of fear I realised the hole could be a trap. Lying in wait to catch us. But no. No, that couldn’t be right. It was ancient. Just part of an old, crumbling, flooded mine.
I had to try to get him out. But how?
I couldn’t go to anyone for help. Or could I? I couldn’t tell Mother without also revealing that I’d tried to help Hansel leave her. She’d hate me. And I didn’t think she’d know how to get Hansel out of the hole and help him either.
He needed rope and big men, maybe even some kind of machinery to bring him to the surface. I could tell them, these men I’d bring, that I’d just happened to stumble across Hansel, after hearing his shouts in the forest. But I was so far away from Bambury, would they really believe I was just playing by myself out there? And look at me – I was a mess, covered in blood. They’d know I’d helped him. They’d think Hansel was a German outlaw. And they’d make me an outlaw too.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, but burning tears managed to push through anyway.
And supposing I did run to the farm to tell Farmer Dawson, or into the village to tell the first man I came across, about my ‘discovery’ of a PoW in a hole in the woods and they believed my story … What would happen next?
Yes, they might figure out a way to haul him up out of the mine shaft, but then what? He’d be in so much trouble, maybe even more trouble than he was in right now. He’d be a PoW who tried to escape. They’d punish him, take him away.
Another thought occurred to me now. Supposing I did fetch someone who managed to get Hansel out and take him to hospital? In his anger and pain, Hansel might tell them what I’d done. That the whole thing was my fault. And then Mother would find out about me anyway.
He was calling my name again.
‘Are you still there?’
I opened my eyes and looked across at the hole. It was still there, a mouth ripped in the ground.
‘Daniel? Are you there?’
He sounded frightened now. Not just hurt or angry.
I thought about this. He seemed to think I might have run away. He had no way of knowing I was here, backed up against a nearby tree. Crying like a baby, with snot streaming down over my lips. I wiped underneath my nose with my hand; it was still too sore to touch.
He was crying out in German again.
My heart had slowed to a dull thudding that beat in time with the seconds as they pounded by.
Think!
Beat.
Think!
Beat.
I took my backpack off and crawled over to the hole, as quietly as I could, not wanting even the leaves to rustle. I started to peer down inside, but held back.
‘I know you’re there!’
I stayed very, very still.
‘Daniel!’
I heard crashing down there again.
‘Daniel? Daniel, I’m hurt! DANIEL!’
Carefully and quietly, I backed away from the hole. When I bumped into a tree I stood up slowly and leaned against the trunk, never taking my eyes off the tear in the ground.
‘Are you still there?’
More crashing. Then a furious roar: ‘DANIEL!’
I stumbled away, staggering like the Troll, falling over my feet until I was running.
I was dimly aware that I could be at risk of falling down another mine shaft myself, and I was glad I’d left my bag behind so I was lighter, but my fear about Hansel and what to do next was so overpowering that the threat of it didn’t really register.
It dawned on me that I could come back later that day with supplies, medicine and water, while I worked out what to do. Hansel would be calmer by then; he could help me decide the best course of action to take.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I ran. I knew I hadn’t seen his face that final time as I almost, but not quite, looked down into the hole. But it didn’t matter, because I had seen it. My imagination had reached down into the dark and made a picture, and I knew the picture was true.
He was on his back, staring up at me, his eyes wide, stunned with pain and fear, begging for help.
But still I kept running, whimpering with my own pain and fear, and the shame came then. I was trying to outrun my guilt more than I was trying to outrun the echo of his screams.
And the echoes of his screams were gradually muffled as I increased the distance between us, then became silent as they were swallowed up by the great forest, whose branches stooped low to conceal the hole and whose leaves dimmed the sound of the man trapped inside it.
I was sobbing now, and that made it hard to run, but still I pushed on, doing my best to retrace our footsteps. Howling and choking and snotting.
My heart had sped up again, and now it was telling me what to do: run-run, run-run, run-run.
So I did. And I ran and I ran and I ran.
27
‘I would risk it all to win him.’
From The Little Mermaid
‘I must find little Kai. Do you know where he is?’ Gerda asked the roses.
From The Snow Queen
Annabel hurtled towards the entrance of the woods. Nearly there, she told herself. There was bound to be some rational explanation once she got to the orchard. Why, Hans might even be there himself. Some sort of misunderstanding – and it wasn’t him who was the missing PoW after all. Or else it was him, but just a case of crossed wires; he’d been sent on an errand by the old colonel, who’d forgotten all about it when later questioned by Dawson.
As she ran, she replayed the greengrocer’s comments in her head, looking for words in his statement that led to Hans and words that led away from him.
Finally, she saw the little entrance to the forest; the two wooden posts that delineated a gap in the foliage and marked the start of the beaten path through the trees.
She was nearly upon it when a group of men emerged from the woods.
‘Oh!’ She stumbled to a stop.
It was the Home Guard, nine of them, led by Higgins, who carried a long wooden truncheon. The others had weapons too, she saw now, but none was carrying a gun. One man was ludicrously armed with a rake. She recognised Dawson, the thug Jimmy Dockett, as well as the nice bespectacled man who’d nearly knocked her hall mirror off the wall.
With a sickening twist in her gut she knew they were hunting for Hans. Or perhaps she was too late and they’d already found him?
Higgins stepped forward. ‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’
‘I …’ She glanced at the entrance to the woods. What could she tell them? And how could she find out what they knew about Hans? What had happened to him?
‘I …’ she said again, bringing a hand to her chest to indicate she was out of breath and needed a moment.
Some of the officers behind Higgins shif
ted from leg to leg – they were impatient to move on. But Higgins stood firm, his feet planted apart as he squared up to her. He was waiting for an answer.
‘It’s … Daniel,’ she said finally.
‘Your son?’
‘Yes, I … I’m looking for him. I can’t find him anywhere.’ She looked at Higgins to see if he believed her. And decided to risk a question. ‘Why? I mean, what are you doing here?’
‘Haven’t you heard? One of the PoWs escaped.’ Now he was looking hard at her. ‘You shouldn’t be out here – it’s dangerous.’
They hadn’t found him then. Where was he?
‘Oh! Goodness! But … Daniel. There’s a place he likes to play. I’ll just go a little way in, I’m sure I’ll find him.’
‘No, Mrs Patterson, we can’t allow that.’
Farmer Dawson spoke up now. ‘The PoW who got away was the one who worked in my orchard.’ He seemed embarrassed.
‘And that’s right by the forest,’ Higgins pointed out. ‘Like I said, it’s dangerous.’
‘Oh, but – that’s all the more reason I need to find Daniel immediately!’
‘We’ll keep an eye out for your lad. But this is no place for a woman. You need to go home. He’ll probably turn up there soon enough anyway, come dinnertime.’
She looked at Dawson and the other men to see if she could find an ally. But they stood behind Higgins like his own personal army.
‘Go home,’ he repeated.
But she hesitated – wondering if she was strong enough to stand them down.
Just then, she heard a cry from inside the forest. She and the men turned as one to face the woods. From the corner of her eye, she saw one or two of them clutch their weapons as though preparing for a fight. Now she could hear running – the unmistakable sounds of shoes hitting the beaten earth as someone headed towards them.
Annabel took a couple of steps back and noticed she wasn’t the only one who did so.
Hans?
They faced the opening in the canopy of trees, which still gave nothing away – although the sound of running feet was growing louder and closer.
She tried to swallow down a knot of fear that had lodged in her throat.
Hans?
But with a noisy crash of sprayed-up pebbles and a jagged scream and flailing limbs, a battered and bloody child burst out of the woods.
It was as though he hadn’t seen them at first, but with another cry he skittered to a halt a few feet from them.
He was almost unrecognisable, but with a jangling incomprehension at how it could be so, she saw through the mess that the child was a boy, and that the boy was Daniel.
28
He pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two.
From Rumpelstiltskin
They saw me first, before I saw them.
They were standing in a group looking right at me as I crashed out of the woods. Some of them were holding truncheons and one held what looked like a torture tool; a spiky spear with metal teeth that loomed above me.
They were all crouched slightly, like animals ready to pounce. They know, I thought. They’ve been looking for us.
I gasped, and shrank back. Then I tried to run away.
‘Good God!’ one cried. Wildly, I looked over and saw it was Farmer Dawson.
Then another man, standing closer to where I was, reached out and grabbed me as I stumbled away. He held on even tighter as I shrieked in terror and struggled to get free.
‘It’s all right sonny, it’s all right!’ he shouted. ‘We won’t hurt you!’ He shook me slightly and forced me to look into his face. ‘Nobody’s going to hurt you!’
I stopped thrashing, but I was still crying uncontrollably and I began shaking.
‘Jesus!’ He looked at the others, who seemed to be stunned into silence.
Then a woman spoke. ‘… Daniel?’
My cries stopped in shock as I looked round for the voice, because I couldn’t place it out here amongst these men. Then they parted like a sea in front of me and I saw her. She was wearing a pretty cream dress that made her look like an angel, just when I needed her most.
I stared at her. Then I was dimly aware of the iron grip on my upper arms relaxing as my mother and I faced each other across the divide.
‘Is that you?’ she said.
I wanted to run to her, to burrow my head into her cool, clean skirts, feel her fingers stroking my hair. It’s all right now, I wanted her to say, I’m here, I’m here, my Darling.
I was still mute. Because, really, what could I say?
‘This is your son?’ said the man who was now loosely resting his hands on my shoulders. He released me completely. ‘What in God’s name happened to you? Who did this?’
I saw myself as they saw me then. My clothes were ripped and dirty, my eyes felt almost swollen shut from crying, there was my smashed nose, my hair must be sweaty and wild, and I was caked in blood. I looked down to see it had dried on my hands and my shirt in brown and red stains.
‘N-nobody, sir.’ My teeth were chattering.
There was a silence and some of the men glanced at Mother, perhaps to see if she would take charge now. Maybe they thought she would come to me. But she looked stunned, and just stared at me along with them as though she didn’t know me any better than they did.
I looked around at the men. The only one I recognised apart from Farmer Dawson was the Home Guard man Mr Higgins.
It was clear to me they’d all been after Hansel. And I felt sick at the thought they’d find out what I’d done. I was a traitor to the country, to the King.
An icy shard of thought poked my brain, which told me: Save yourself … you could tell them he kidnapped you.
I thought they’d probably believe my word over a PoW’s. I could tell them I’d managed to escape and had cleverly thrown him into a hole. Then I’d be a hero – and they’d rescue the woodchopper, so it wouldn’t really be like I’d betrayed him. Although he would be in terrible trouble. And he might tell them how I’d helped him, and how it was all my idea.
No.
I was torn in two – half of me down the hole with poor Hansel and the other half here, facing my mother.
‘It’s all right, lad,’ another man told me. ‘You’re safe now.’ He came over to me and the man who had grabbed me backed away to give him room.
He crouched down so he could look into my face. He wore black-rimmed spectacles.
His kindly expression made me bite my lips in an attempt not to start crying again. Something about him reminded me of my daddy.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Daniel Patterson.’
‘Well, Daniel. It’s lucky you found us. And lucky your mum was here with us looking for you. You’re going to be all right now.’ He smiled. ‘Why don’t you tell me who did this to you?’
I could only shake my head.
‘This boy needs to be taken home,’ Mr Higgins said, with a nod towards Mother, ‘if he’s not going to talk. I’d like to hear what he’s got to say because it might be important – but the rest of us have got a job to do regardless.’
The kind man looked annoyed with Mr Higgins because I saw his lips go tight for a second, but then he spoke to me again.
‘It’s good you found us, Daniel, because it’s obvious something bad happened to you today. We’re all out here because we’re looking for a bad man. A German. Is he the one who did this to you? Did you see him?’
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let them think Hansel had hurt me. That would make them even angrier at him than they already were, and they’d hunt him down – sure to find him now, trapped in his wet hole like a frightened fox against a pack of dogs.
‘No!’ I cried, perhaps a little too quickly, perhaps a little too sharply. ‘I didn’t see any Germans. It … it wasn’t …’
‘All right, all right, Daniel, just take your time. But you must tell us who hurt you.’ The afternoon sun glinted on his spectacles as he le
aned forward, eager now I seemed ready to talk. ‘Who are you frightened of?’
I think it was those words that did it. Who was I frightened of?
Its horrible image reared up in my mind. It had haunted me, and yes, I was frightened of it.
‘It was …’
Now all the men were leaning forward, because my voice had dropped to a shaky whisper.
‘It was …’
‘Who?’ Mr Higgins whispered.
‘It was … the Troll.’
I saw the kind man blink behind his spectacles. ‘Who?’
‘For God’s sake,’ Mr Higgins muttered.
But the kind man wouldn’t give up. ‘Who’s the Troll?’
‘It used to live by the railway tracks, under the bridge, but now it lives in the forest.’
The light was still reflecting on the man’s spectacles, but suddenly it seemed as though a light came on inside his eyes as well.
He turned to face the others. ‘He’s talking about that tramp. The one who’s been about the village.’
There was a murmuring, but I couldn’t catch the words. My mother stood as still as a statue of an angel on a church. My heart was thudding again, and my face felt very, very hot. But still the man wanted more from me.
‘What did he do to you, son?’
Ah, there. The ‘son’. I wanted to be comforted so badly. I hoped he’d put his strong arms around me and squeeze me tight. I thought I might tell him anything now. It seemed as though he was ready to believe me.
‘It’s all right. You can tell me.’
The others stood very still and were very quiet. I looked over at Mother. She nodded her head slightly. ‘Tell him, Daniel,’ she said, with a strange croaky voice.
It felt like it was just the two of us. I thought: Oh, she wants me to tell this story. The Story of the Troll.
I turned back to the man crouching in front of me. I couldn’t quite bring myself to look into his eyes, so I stared at his white cotton shirt instead. His sleeves were rolled up, and I noticed the sweat patches under his arms.
