Once upon a time, there lived a man, his wife and their seven children, in a big house in a small but pretty town, surrounded by a splendid forest. Every day, while the Father went out to work and the Mother stayed at home looking after the house, the children would go off to play in the woods and come back laden with baskets of sumptuous nuts and berries, which they gave to their Mother to make into a fine evening stew.
One day, a neighbour, the wife of the late mayor no less, happened to be passing by the house and heard such merriment coming from inside that she decided to stop and look through a window to find out what was causing such a cheerful scene. What she saw inside, however, made her heart ache with envy and rage. She had never liked this family. She couldn't abide the way they chose to rummage in the woods and get their fingers dirty looking for food, instead of going to town to buy their goods, like all normal and respectable people did. How, she argued, was the town supposed to grow into the most prosperous city in the country, if people awkwardly decided not to spend their money in the shops and to pretend they could make do on a few paltry nuts and berries?
She might have been able to tolerate it if it had been just that family (after all, she wouldn't want their grubby little mitts fingering the nice packets of meat and juicy vegetables that she was going to buy) but she couldn't ignore the fact that other villagers were beginning to be affected by their bad example. Particularly worrying was how far word had got around about the Mother's forest stew, which not only tasted better than anything anyone had ever eaten but was also so wholesome that just one batch would be strong enough to feed an entire family for a week, and to keep them happy and healthy throughout. Of course,she didn't personally believe a word of the rumours but she was aware that not everybody shared her strong resolve and advanced understanding.
And now, as she watched the children playing their musical instruments, and the Mother and Father dancing together by the fire, her hatred of the family was complete. She had always thought it wrong that they should be living in such a splendid house, when she, the wife of the town mayor (which, as she never hesitated to point out to her close circle of listeners, practically made her a Lady), had to make do with a much smaller and uglier one. And here they were, lauding the injustice over her, and anyone else who had the misfortune to be passing.
In that moment, therefore, she determined to put an end to the troublesome family and their simpleton ways once and for all. She would make the house hers and gain control of the recipe for the famous forest stew. Laughing to herself, she pictured how she would make the family produce it for her on such a large scale that alone she would be able to fund the village's advancement to the awe-inspiring city it had long had the potential to be.
The next day was as bright and sunny as any the villagers had ever enjoyed. The children rushed off at dawn's crack to go and play in the woods, and the Father went singing to work, giving his wife an extra warm kiss goodbye before he left. She, finding herself alone as usual, decided she wouldn't do any of the things she normally did in the house but would go out to the garden and enjoy the sun instead. She was very tired from a week of working hard and as soon as she lay down in the grass, the buzzing of the bees and the singing of the birds lulled her into a deep sleep.
The mayor's wife, who until then had been lurking in the bushes, waiting for such an opportunity, was quick to make the most of her chance. Using a silenced gun, she shot the Mother in the back of the head, picked her up and carried her off to the woods, where she buried her so deeply that not even a burrowing rabbit would ever be able to find her. Having made sure that there was no evidence of her misdeed, the mayor's wife then went back to her house to work on the next part of her plan.
The Father was the first to return home that night and was surprised not to find his wife standing by the stove as usual, preparing things for the evening stew. Guessing rightly that she might have fallen asleep outside in the sun, he searched the garden for her but could see no sign of her having been out in it all day. When he got back to the house, the children were just coming in the door, laden with fruit and forest goods as usual.
I'm sorry kids, I don't know what your mum's planning but she's certainly not here to give us our stew like she normally does, he told them.I've looked for her everywhere, and there's no note saying where she's gone either. I'm sure she hasn't forgotten us, though, so why don't you run along and start practising your instruments while we wait for her to turn up?
But the hours passed and still there was no sign of the Mother. By now the Father was very worried, he couldn't remember a time his wife had failed to be there when he got home from work and it was very unlike her not to leave a note saying where she had got to. Not wanting to alarm the children, however, he decided to make the stew himself and served it up to them as if there were nothing wrong. But that night during supper, the atmosphere was more strained than it had ever been before, and everybody became increasingly uneasy about the strange turn the evening had taken.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and everyone let out a huge sigh of relief. The children jumped to their feet to be the first to answer the door and the youngest, on getting there first, flung it wide open. To everyone's amazement, the woman standing in the doorway wasn't their Mother at all but the mayor's wife. Her head was bowed in an attitude of unmistakable grief, and as she came into the room, she touched the cheek of the littlest child, saying softly, Oh, my dear, my poor, poor dear.
Now, the Father had never liked the mayoress after he'd found out that she'd been advising the other villagers not to mix with him and his wife, and to keep their children away from his. But seeing her so clearly distressed, he got to his feet and welcomed her in to take a seat. She accepted, and having chosen the seat next to him at the table, placed her hand on his and looked him sorrowfully in the eyes.
I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this. Really, I don't think it should have to come from a stranger and that your wife should have been brave enough to tell you herself. But there was no arguing with her; she had clearly decided that I, as the most respectable person in this town, should be the unlucky one to bring you the news. She paused, continuing to fix her eyes earnestly on him, and with a choke in her voice continued, I'm afraid your wife, yes, your children's Mother, has left you today to run off with a travelling salesman who was visiting the town. And with that, as if it had taken all her strength to say it, the mayor's wife collapsed in a heap of uncontrollable sobs.
The Father was too shocked to offer her any comfort. A million different thoughts were running through his head, about how much he'd loved his wife, how many happy times they'd spent together, and about the children, how upset they'd be and how on earth he could ever look after them by himself. The mayoress, seeing the look of horror on his face, stopped sobbing and put a consoling arm round him.
It'll be ok, don't worry. I know you must be very angry right now but I'm sure you'll soon find a way to forgive your wife. She was truly sorry about acting so selfishly and leaving you all alone with the children like this, and made me promise that I would do everything in my power to make sure that your life will be even better from now on than it was before.
Impossible, he cried. How can my life ever be good again? He pointed to his children who were all weeping together by the fire,Look at them, they're so young. How can I ever explain to them what their mother's done in a way that won't make them bitter for the rest of their lives? How can I give them everything they need by myself? Oh, it's too much, I don't want to go on alone.
It's ok, you won't have to, murmured the mayoress soothingly. Like I said, I promised your wife I would take care of you and your family, and I will. I'm a wealthy woman now that my husband's died, and I would welcome the opportunity to be able to make some noble use of my vast fortunes. What good is money if it just sits in a bank all day long? No, I promise you that from now on, I'll make sure you and your family never need want for anything.
And she was true to her word. Every day she brought round huge crates containing the finest foods the shops had to offer, luxuries the Father and the children had never even heard of, let alone tasted in their wildest dreams. At first, she would just leave the deliveries on the doorstep, for the family to discover when they got home. But after a while, she began to wait until the Father got back from work before she came knocking on the door. Knowing full well that he would have spent all day in the fields and would be too tired to have to worry about cooking supper, she would appear and not only hand over the baskets overflowing with food, but offer to turn it into a fabulous feast for them as well.
Initially, the Father resisted her gifts and refused to rely on her charity. He insisted that he could make the stew just like his wife used to do, and look after himself and his seven children perfectly adequately by himself. One day, however, he returned home after a particularly tiring day in the fields, and the thought of being able to put his feet up and relax by the fire while someone else took care of the evening meal was too tempting to resist any longer. He grudgingly accepted the mayoress' offer and invited her to join them for the meal.
To his great surprise, she proved to be a delightful guest; she regaled them with fabulous stories about her adventures in other towns, telling them in such a lively and captivating manner, that she was even able for a short while to take their minds off their recent misfortunes. When, at the end of the meal, she offered to come back and cook for them the next day, the Father accepted with hardly a moment's hesitation. One offer led to another, however, and before long, the mayoress was not only cooking supper for the family every night but also cleaning the house and tending to the children's daily needs too.
The Father grew to rely on her being around and began to wonder how he had
ever been able to manage without her before. As the weeks wore on, he even began
to admit to himself that he was grateful for her company too. She had been much
younger than the mayor when she'd married him, and by the time he died, she
had lost none of the beauty that had originally attracted the old man to her.
When she took to staying at the Father's house later and later into the night,
he gave her no encouragement to leave but rather offered to pour her another
drink or thought up some other ruse to detain her in his company.
One late night, as they were sitting together by the fire, the Father noticed
the mayor's wife grow sad, and he asked what was troubling her.
I've been thinking about your poor children, she wept. They need a Mother so badly! There's no denying that you do an incredible job looking after them but they need somebody who will be able to take proper care of them while you're out at work as well, and to tuck them into bed with a good night kiss, if you're kept late.
And you need someone who will know what you need when you come home, and whom you trust to take on some of your responsibilities. It's too much to ask of anyone to do all the things you do by yourself. I've been watching you closely over the past few months, and you've aged more than ten years in just that time. Look, your hair's even gone grey round the edges!
I can't help feeling that I could be of help but I'm worried you'll get angry if I suggest a solution, she paused, waiting for him to give her a sign to go on. He said nothing, so she continued anyway, I've been wondering whether it wouldn't make sense for us to get married. That way, not only could I make sure there's always plenty to eat on the table but I could also help your children to grow up knowing stable motherly love. I've come to adore them as if they were my own and it hurts me greatly to see the suspicion in their eyes as they regard me, and all women, as equally capricious and untrustworthy.
She went on to describe how lonely she'd been since her husband had died, and how angry she'd been with him for leaving her alone to cope with her unhappiness. Everything she said seemed to the Father to encapsulate his own feelings perfectly, and he was overcome by the need to share the rest of his days with this woman, whose qualities seemed to stretch deeper and deeper by the day.
Within a month they were married, in the finest chapel in the town. The townspeople turned out in their best attire to cheer and congratulate the happy couple on their auspicious union. All the children, including the Father's own seven, ran around happily together, delighted not to be prevented by their parents from playing with each other any more. The festivities lasted until the small hours and nobody could remember there having been a party so wild and fun since the town was built. Finally the guests, reluctantly reminded about the coming day's task by the crowing of the cock, made their way back to their houses, a little less sure-footedly than they had left them. The Father and his new wife gathered up the children, who had fallen fast asleep in various spots of the marquee, and led them back to the Big House, looking to all the world like the most blissful pair of newlyweds imaginable.
*
Sunday passed as Sundays will, and was followed by a bright Monday morning. The children were the first to get up, and seeing that the sky was blue and there was no prospect of rain, they jumped into their clothes and bounded down the stairs, hoping to grab some breakfast before making off for a day's frolics in the woods. Seeing no breakfast on the table, however, they decided to go without, and were just about to run out the door when there was an angry shout from the top of the stairs. The children stopped in their tracks. It was the first time they had heard a raised voice since the occasional fights they would overhear before their mother left, and they waited, terrified, to find out what they had done to cause such an unusual disturbance. The Stepmother followed the shout down the stairs, her hair dishevelled, her dressing-gown half done up, and a furious expression on her face.
Where do you think you're going, children? she demanded harshly.
The eldest child, relieved to think she was only worried about them leaving without having eaten a good breakfast replied laughingly, To the woods of course, mum. But don't worry about breakfast today, we'll find something to eat in the forest if we get hungry.
You'll do no such thing! She shrieked, and with that she dragged the bewildered children back inside and slammed the door behind them. None of you is leaving this house today until I've made a few things clear. There are going to be a lot of changes round here, now that your Father and I are married, and you'd better get used to them quick or you'll be sorry you ever came into your miserable, good-for-nothing lives. Pulling out a set of keys from her dressing-gown pocket, she went round the house and locked all the doors and windows. When she'd gone round the entire house, she returned to the kitchen, where the children were waiting for her, trembling and desperately hoping that soon they would wake up and discover this had all been a terrible nightmare.
Your Father's still in bed, the Stepmother went on, barely able to keep the smirk off her face, and he's waiting for me there, so I'm going to keep what I have to say brief and I don't want to hear any questions.
I intend to be rich, children, even richer than I am already, and I'm going to use you and your house to make me so. So listen carefully. Later today, men from the neighbouring town will be arriving with cranes and diggers and truck loads of the very latest in mechanical equipment. As soon as they get here, they will start turning this decrepit old mansion into the tallest and most technologically advanced factory, this county has ever seen. I've employed the finest architects and engineers in the country and people are already talking about travelling miles just to come and see it.
And whats this factory going to produce? I hear you ask. She laughed wickedly, Your mother's famous stew, of course. I'm going to make enough of that wretched slop to supply the food requirements of the entire town. None of the other manufacturers will be able to compete with my levels of production and before long they'll all go out of business, making me the sole provider of food in the town. Just think of the prices I'll be able to charge! Imagine how much money I'm going to make! And it's so wonderfully simple that it takes a genius like me to think of it. She cackled with such glee that all children winced involuntarily.
Yes, you little scumbags, you may well make faces, you have every reason to be scared of my plans. The factory is going to run on your hard work. It makes me almost sick with rage that you've been allowed to waste your whole lives frolicking mindlessly in that grotty forest, when your Father should have been putting your fresh bones and flesh to some valuable use. From now on, all that's going to change.
I don't trust you to handle any of the equipment before it's been assembled but I believe you know something about that dank forest, which has been blocking my view for one day too many. It didn't take much to persuade the new mayor that selling me the forest would be the most far-sighted move of his career. So now it belongs to me, and when the men arrive with axes and chainsaws later today, you are to help them cut down all the trees in the wood to provide fuel for the factory. And don't try any funny business because I've got ways of watching you and if there isn't enough wood to keep the engines burning for one week piled up outside the house by the end of the day, I'll know why, and you'll be sorry. I've used up all the money I inherited from my first husband getting us to this stage, and I don't intend to let it go to waste. It's useless to think you can do anything to stop me now, so I wouldn't bother trying.
Well if we can't stop you, Father can, shouted the eldest child, who couldn't bear to hear anything else the evil woman had to say. He'll never let you get away with it! He loves that forest as much as we do. And he won't let you turn our beautiful home into a factory. Where is he? What have you done with him? he demanded, as he ran at the Stepmother and pummelled her with his fists.
She grabbed his hands disdainfully and replied, unperturbed, I told you. Your Father's still in bed. He decided he doesn't want to go to work today because he's discovered a more valuable use of his time. In fact, I doubt he'll ever go to work ever again. No, it's no good looking to him to help you. You can try calling to him if you like but I promise you, he won't come down.
Yes he will! retorted the eldest child, filled with hatred and indignation. He loosened himself from her grasp and ran to the bottom of the stairs. Finding the door to the stairway locked, he called up, Dad, Dad, come downstairs now, we need you to help us! Stepmother's gone mad. She wants to turn our house into a stew factory and she's going to make us cut down all the forest to fuel it. You've got to help!
He listened for a response but none came.
He tried again, shouting more loudly this time, Dad, Dad, can you hear me? You've got to help us. Dad!
There was a sound of movement from the master bedroom. A door opened slowly and they heard the Father ask with a yawn, Did somebody call me?
Yes! Dad, it's me. Come and help us quickly! Stepmother's gone mad and you have to stop her before she ruins everything. Tell her she can't lock us in and that we're not going to turn our house into a horrible stew factory! She won't believe me that she can't do it but I told her you'd put her straight.
What stew factory? I haven't heard anything about a stew factory. Darling, are you down there? Are you so bored of me already that you've started concocting wild plans to keep yourself amused? the Father replied jokingly. And with a tone in his voice the children didn't recognise, he added, Why don't you just come back upstairs and I'll promise not to be so boring this time?
Of course, my treasure, I'm coming right back, the Stepmother purred in reply. The children have been having nasty nightmares so I'd just like to stay here and comfort them a little bit longer. I'll come and give you hand with your concerns as soon as I can.
Ok, but don't keep me waiting too long. I'm missing you already, he cooed back.
You see, said the Stepmother, as she turned back to the children, what a weak man! I don't doubt that in a few days he'll even have forgotten that you exist altogether.
So children, I'm afraid you don't have any choice, you have do what I say or you'll have nowhere to live and nothing to eat. And it really would make things a lot easier if you'd just accept that and stop making such a fuss about it all. I'm off to see to your father now but if I hear even the slightest squeak out of any of you before the builders arrive, I'll be back down those stairs faster than you can say Milton Friedman. Understood?
The children nodded grudgingly. But as soon as the Stepmother had gone back upstairs, their faces showed their true feelings of horror and defiance. Whispering, they swore to each other that they would never give in to her but would constantly strive to put a stop to her evil ways and redeem their house and their Father, no matter what she did to them in the process.
By the end of the first week, however, their resolve was almost broken. They had never imagined such hardship and misery could exist as they experienced in those first few days. The men had arrived with chainsaws on Monday afternoon, and together with the children, had set straight to work in the forest, hacking through the ancient trunks with terrifying ease. When Friday came, they congratulated each other on a job well done, gloating that it had taken a thousand years for the trees to reach their splendid heights but it had taken them only five days to chop every one down. It had been the children's task to pick all the nuts and berries in the forest before the men came with their axes, and to drag each fallen trunk to the side of the house, ready for burning. They suffered not only physically, from exhausting their tiny bodies from five in the morning to one at night, but mentally too, as each day they were further tormented by the knowledge that they were helping to devastate the beautiful forest, which had fed and protected them all their lives.
Meanwhile, the builders had spent the week transforming the house beyond recognition. Where once had stood a modest chimneypiece, gently puffing out a pale waft of smoke, there now towered above the skyline five enormous extraction pipes, spewing out thick black columns of filthy waste. In place of the garden, there stood an assortment of vast metal constructions, which would act as warehouses, assemblage rooms and refineries. Perhaps the biggest shock to the returning children, however, was seeing how dramatically the inside of their house had altered. Instead of opening the door onto their warm and welcoming living room, the children were confronted by a gleaming metal lift, which gave them a selection of seven levels to choose from, ranging from Top Floor to Basement 5th. Written next to the button for Basement 5 was a message from the Stepmother directing the children to select that level and await further instructions there.
We'll do no such thing! We're going straight to our bedrooms to get the first good night's sleep we've had for a week, growled the children defiantly. And they pressed the button next to Top Floor. Instantly, a bell rang and a red light flashed Enter 20-digit Password. The children looked at each other in dismay, realising it would take more than a lifetime for them to guess the correct combination of 20 digits. Not to be deterred, however, they pressed the button next to ground floor, reasoning that once there, they would be sure to find some way of getting up to their rooms. Again, the bell sounded and the red light flashed its demand. Dejectedly, they tried all the other buttons and discovered, to their horror, that only Basement 5 didn't require an entry password. They had no alternative but to go there and wait for the Stepmother to tell them the next part of her wicked plan.
When the lift finally reached the depths of Basement 5, and the door opened to reveal the room, the children knew instantly that this was going to be their sleeping quarters, and their hearts sank even further. It could hardly be called a basement: a cupboard would have been a more accurate description. Against the back wall, there were seven beds, or rather seven hutches, stacked on top of each other, and the only way all the children could squeeze into the room at the same time, was if they each got into their hutch straight away. Struggling hard to hide his tears of exhaustion and horror, the eldest child urged his siblings to go to sleep and forget about the past week, reassuring them that everything would look better after a good night's rest.
Four hours later, however, they were woken by the sound of a siren. It continued until they were all fully awake, and was followed by their Stepmother's voice, as clear as if she had been in the room.
Good morning, children. I'm glad you've settled in so well to your new surroundings, and hope you're feeling refreshed and excited about your first day of work. The children groaned to each other and made faces of loathing. I don't want to hear any more complaints, and you can take those disgusting expressions off your nasty little faces, too. Oh yes, I can see and hear everything you do and say. Naturally, I took the trouble to install the most up-to-date cameras and listening devices on all the floors. It cost a little more than I expected but the banks charmingly obliged to lend me the money. So you'd better start pulling yourselves into shape because I won't tolerate any more of that kind of insolence.
Every day, the siren will sound at 5am. You will have ten minutes to get up and report to your station, where your section foreman will be waiting for you. The four younger ones will work on the factory floors, starting with the youngest in Basement 4, and going up by age. The other three will be escorted from the ground floor lift to Industrial Zone 1, where they will work in the refineries and assemblage rooms. There will be two fifteen minute breaks, one for lunch and one for supper. You will return to your beds at 1am. I think that covers everything. It goes without saying that you are all expected to work to the best of your abilities, which I know are not as meagre as you pretend they are. Have a nice day.
*
So the children went to work, without saying a word or even looking at each other, not trusting their faces to hide their revulsion. And the Stepmother's predictions proved true. By the end of the first year, the factory was producing enough stew not only to feed the entire town but also several neighbouring villages too. All that could be found in the local shops was the Stepmother's stew. The townspeople had quickly grown accustomed to relying on the ready-made stew, which saved them the time they would otherwise spend buying ingredients or cooking. Within a few months, they had started buying only stew, and before the year was out, all the other food suppliers had gone out of business. Everything was in place to make the Stepmother the richest person in the county and able to fulfil her dream of turning the town into a humbling city.
But she wasn't a rich woman. She'd left one thing out of her otherwise masterful plan: her own weak nature. In order to overcome the initial suspicion of the local shop owners and creditors, she had begun to throw enormous parties on the Top Floor, to which she'd invited all the townspeople and persuaded them with fine foods and overflowing champagne to enter into deals with her. Encouraged by her initial successes, these parties grew to be more and more lavish affairs, starting early in the afternoon and carrying on until late in the morning, so that all the revellers would wake with such bad heads that they would swear to themselves never to go to another party again. And yet, there wasn't a single person in the town who would refuse an invitation to the big house, should they get one. By the time all the shopkeepers and creditors had been won over, the Stepmother's reputation as the best party-giver in the county was firmly established, and her readiness to give them had become equally well ingrained.
Every morning, she and the Father would also wake and curse their hangovers but, increasingly, their favourite remedy came to be a shot of whisky, followed by another, and that by another Before long, they were both spending the day so drunk they could hardly get out of bed. Occasionally, however, when she was lucid enough to feel bored, she would go round each level of the factory to check on what the children were doing. Hardly able to put a sentence together by this stage, she was even less able to listen to one, and before the children had finished explaining themselves, she would explode with frustration and beat them until they were crumpled on the floor, before returning to her feathered nest and drunken husband.
At the end of the year, seeing the wretched state his siblings had been reduced to, the eldest child decided he would find a way to get the neighbours' attention even if the effort killed him. He was certain that as soon as his old friends' parents heard about their plight, they would come to their aid straight away, and he knew that if he could run fast enough during one of his breaks, he could get to one of his friend's houses before the foreman noticed he was missing.
One day, therefore, after waiting for the foreman to give the sign for the break and go out for a cigarette, the eldest child snuck out the door behind him and, summoning up all his energy, sprinted as fast as he could towards his friend's house. He knocked on the door and his friend's mother opened it straight away. She was horrified by the sight of the pathetic creature standing before her on her doorstep, panting, his chest hollow and his clothes hardly holding together, and she wondered to herself how she could ever have let her nice boy play with such a tearaway.
Please, he gasped, do you think I could come in for a bit? I need your help.
Why, what's wrong?She snapped, unwilling to let his dirty feet spoil her newly polished floor. You can tell me from there, I'm listening.
And the child, looking around him all the time, terrified lest someone should come looking for him, quickly explained everything that had happened at the Big House since his mother had run off. So please, he finished if you could only let me and my brothers and sisters come to stay for a bit until the mayor does something to stop Stepmother, you would really be saving our lives. He looked hopefully up at her. But he was disappointed to see that she was looking at him with cold eyes and a hard stare. She hadn't appreciated his talk of shutting down the factory and stopping the production of the stew, which she and her family had come to rely on. She liked even less the idea of having to take care of seven more children, and by doing so give herself a reputation as an easy option for anyone having problems with their parents. Goodness only knew how many little blighters she'd end up having to take under her wing as a result!
Now just you listen, young man, she cautioned, I'm not going to help you, and nor is any other self-respecting person in this town. I know you probably resent your Stepmother because she's taken your Mother's place but that's no reason to go exaggerating about the way she treats you. Who has ever been known to complain about owning a factory? It's ridiculous, there's any number of folk in this town who'd sell everything they own only to be able to have a stake in a business as successful as that. Besides, that old house of yours was long in need of a good once over, it's been going to rot for years. She wasn't just irresponsible, your Mother, she was a bad housekeeper too. No, I'd be grateful, young man, that your Father's finally found someone who knows what's best for you all, and what's more, how to provide it. I haven't noticed him complaining much or lifting many fingers to help feed you all.
And as for your bruises, well, from what I've heard, it's not any wonder that your Stepmother's been giving you a bit of a knock about. A factory doesn't run by itself, you know, and if a clip round the ear every so often is what it takes to get you lazy little kids to do any work around the place and stop your grumbling, then it's probably no bad thing. I'd have beaten my two black and blue by now if they'd been as awkward as you ungrateful lot. Money doesn't grow on trees, you know. Somebody has to find a way to put food on the table, and it's not always pretty how they have to go about doing it. So just you run along home and see if it doesn't all work out once you start showing your Stepmother a bit of gratitude for a change. And with that, she closed the door in the eldest child's face, so hard that he fell over.
The other six children never saw their brother again. They couldn't think what had happened to him until, one day, two men came to take his bed away and told them that he had disappeared.
*
Within the next couple of years, the stores of nuts and berries, which the children had gathered and stored in the freezers, finally ran out. The Stepmother had planned to replant the forest with new bushes but, without the trees to protect it, the soil had dried up and its nutrients had blown away. After every planting, only one straggly bush would survive, if any at all, and the land remained barren and desolate. Infuriated by having to pay other people to provide her with nuts and berries, not to mention wood to fuel the machines, the Stepmother took to drinking twice as much as before and her tempers became even fouler. But her drunken fog was never thick enough to hide the red writing on the monthly bank balances, which grew more and more startling as her debts started mounting well into the millions. Although she had raised the price of stew so high that poor families had to try and make a batch last two weeks instead of one, and had begun to dilute the mixture so that she wouldn't have to buy so many nuts and berries, she spent far more on giving parties and buying technology to keep the children in line than she could ever hope to make in profit.
One evening, the Father stumbled drunkenly into the study, where the Stepmother was sitting looking at the balances, three empty bottles of whisky by her side. She had been working herself into an increasingly terrible rage as she tried to think of another excuse to wheedle more money out of the creditors, and when the Father grabbed her clumsily round the waist, she exploded with fury.
And you're no help! She yelled at him.Here I am, slaving day and night just to put a decent meal on the table every night for you and your children. Yes, your children, you haven't thought about them in a while have you? And what do I get for my pains? A drunken oaf of a husband, who only gets out of bed to go to the toilet, and guzzles away every last penny I manage to scrape together. Well, it can't go on like this! She went to the window, opened it wide and turned back to the Father, beckoning him with her finger. Her voice softened, Darling, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me just now. It's just these bills, I suppose, they do get to me so. Why don't you come over here and let me make it up to you? There's a beautiful moon in the sky, let's gaze at it together awhile.
And the Father, relieved to find himself back in his wife's good books, cheerfully went over to join her by the window. As soon as he was leaning a little way out, however, the Stepmother grabbed him by the legs and toppled him out the window. He fell with a resounding thud, never to move again.
The Stepmother ran straight to the mayor to report that her husband had had a terrible accident, and after comforting her until her tears were dry, he considerately offered to take care of all the necessary arrangements. When the neighbours came to offer their sympathy, the Stepmother played the part of the bereaved widow admirably, and they left shaking their heads, wondering how such a worthy woman could have put up with such a drunken and irresponsible husband.
For the children, the news of their Father's death was the last straw. They didn't believe for a second that it had been an accident, knowing full well the depths of cunning cruelty the Stepmother could sink to. Recognising that things would only get worse the longer they stalled, they agreed it was time to put an end to their Stepmother's tyranny once and for all.
Knowing from experience that the best time to talk to each other was just before the morning siren, when the Stepmother would undoubtedly be collapsed in a drunken heap, the children snatched a few minutes together every morning and managed to piece together a plan for luring her to her death. And as soon as they had finalised the details of the plan, they put it into action.
As predicted, the Stepmother was delighted when she caught the youngest child stopping to have a break during the evening shift, glad of the opportunity to vent her hangover on an easy target. She made her way unsteadily down to Basement 4, revelling in the prospect of giving him a good piece of her mind. Once there, however, she was appalled to find all six children waiting for her, armed with shovels, and looking at her with expressions of pure hatred. Too drunk to be able to react quickly, the children encircled her easily and after giving her a hit on the head with their shovels, they pushed her into the nearest processor, which effortlessly prepared her for addition to the stew.
Overwhelmed by what they had done, and the realisation that finally they were free, the children hugged each other jubilantly, got into the lift, and ran around outside until they were almost mad with joy. The townspeople, hearing the children's voices for the first time in years, came to see what was going on. Instead of trying to explain anything to them, however, the children told them to break into the Top Floor and find the stacks of video tapes that would describe better than they could the years of ugly goings on in each factory station.
Indeed, not only did the townspeople find in the tapes enough proof of the Stepmother's brutality towards the children to condemn her to a lifetime behind bars, they were also horrified to discover evidence of everything that had taken place on the Top Floor over the past years. The Stepmother had initially installed cameras there to keep a watch on her husband but she had soon found the recordings of parties an increasingly helpful mechanism for persuading people round to her ways, should they prove to be awkward. Unfortunately for her post-humus reputation, however, the cameras had also witnessed the Father's fatal accident. So when the children eventually admitted to the townspeople what they had done to their Stepmother, no one was sorry to hear it or could find it in their hearts to condemn them. Instead, they praised the children's courage and fortitude, and wept with them over the unjust loss of their beloved brother.
*
The children had almost forgotten that such happiness existed as they experienced during the following week. With the help of the townspeople, they reoccupied the Top Floor and converted it back into the cosy home they had long ago known it to be. By the following Monday, everything was in its proper place again and the children were just about to go out to the woods and replant the forest, when there was a loud knock at the door.
Thinking it would be one of the neighbours come to bring them some more food, the eldest child told her siblings to put the kettle on, and opened the door. To their surprise, however, standing in the doorway were a man and woman whom none of them had ever seen before. They were dressed in well-fitting black suits and each held in their right hand a smart black briefcase with gold buckles. Without waiting for an invitation, the visitors glided into the room, sat down at the table and briskly took out a series of documents from their briefcases.
Please, do sit down, the man offered, as if it were his house. My colleague and I are from the CDCA, the Central Debt Collection Agency. We heard about your mother's sorry - your Stepmother's unfortunate death and we'd like to offer our condolences. Furthermore, it's our duty to inform you that you are now responsible for paying back the family's debts. He spread the documents on the table in front of the children. As you can see, your family has been borrowing money for several years now and the debt has amounted to quite a pretty sum. Nobody expects you to pay back the whole amount for quite a while but the creditors are anxious lest you fail to keep up-to-date with repayment of the interest due. So, if you'd just like to sign in the box, then we'll start making arrangements for repaying the interest on the past month before it becomes overdue.
But. but, stammered the eldest child, it was only Stepmother who borrowed money. Our Father didnt have anything to do with it and we certainly didn't want her to borrow it. Why do we have to pay it back when it was only used for her awful parties and to find new ways to make us unhappy?
Yes, well I'm afraid we can't be responsible for what you're Stepmother chose to do with the money she was lent. It's clear that she wasn't the most admirable client possible, and with hindsight the creditors would probably not have been so willing to lend her the money. But the fact remains that they did, and that she entered into an agreement with them ensuring that your family would pay back whatever she borrowed. And pay it back you must.
And what if we can't?
There is no such word as can't. People always pay us back. We don't care how, and it's amazing how many new ways of raising money people can come up with once they put their mind to it. You'll just have to start being a bit more inventive.
It was more than the exhausted children could bear to hear. They burst into tears, shattered by the cruel injustice of the world around them.
The two visitors looked uncomfortable and shifted awkwardly in their seats, wishing desperately their boss had chosen the other two members of Department H to handle this troublesome case, and not them. They exchanged like-minded glances and the woman took the lead. In an effort to calm the children, she said in as comforting a voice as she could manage, Please try to understand, children, that we at CDCA are not bad people. We have your interests at heart. Just imagine what would happen if we didn't make sure everyone honoured their agreements, where would we all be then? Chaos, that's where! No one would trust anyone to pay them back and the movement of capital would come to a complete standstill.
As a gesture of good will, though, we're prepared to offer you a period of grace. We'll give you another month in which to come up with the money. But if you can't give it to us by the time we return, we'll have no option but to repossess this house and turn you out of doors. With that, they stood up, shook each child by the hand, and walked out as sleekly as they had come in.
As soon as the door was closed, the eldest child pulled herself together and promised her siblings she would find a way to raise the interest before the month was out. Putting on the best clothes she could find, she visited all the townspeople in turn and asked if they could lend them enough to tide them over until they could make the factory efficient enough again to support them. Some shook their heads with more regret than others, but all refused to help, pointing out that they were already worried enough about getting back their previous investments and couldn't risk sending any more good money after bad.
She returned home and sorrowfully told the news to her brothers and sisters, who gathered together in a forlorn huddle by the dying embers of the fire. She, however, went straight to the study and locked herself in, swearing she wouldn't come out until she had found a way of finding the money in such a short space of time. The next day, the other children set to work in the factory again and didn't stop from dawn till dusk as they tried to redouble their production of stew. Even though the townspeople already had enough on their shelves to last them through the month, they considerately bought a bit extra so that they could do their bit to help the beleaguered children. It wasn't enough, however, and when the last day of the month came the children counted all their money and gloom swept over them.
The eldest child, her forehead wrinkled from a month of uninterrupted agonising, her body thin and wasting, raised herself slowly from the desk and made to join her siblings in their common grief. She summoned up all her remaining strength, and was about to open the door, when suddenly there was a great bang behind her, and she jumped round in alarm to see what had happened. To her absolute astonishment, she saw standing before her an enormous matronly woman, dressed in brightly coloured clothes, and holding her arms out wide to welcome the girl in a huge embrace, a cloud of smoke vanishing from all round her.
Come here, my child, and let me comfort you. I know all about your troubles and I've come to help you. Her voice was so soft and her words so comforting that the eldest child quickly forgot her surprise and buried her head gratefully into the kindly woman's vast bosom and let the powerful arms enclose her with reassuring hugs.
Everything's going to be ok now, soothed the old woman. You don't need to worry any more. Listen to me carefully and you'll see how quickly we'll be able to wipe away that frown from your forehead forever.
My child, I am your Fairy Godmother, and I've been watching the misfortunes of you and your brothers and sisters for quite some time now. The representatives of the town's creditors are coming tomorrow and you barely have a penny of what you owe them. Worse still, there is no one left in this town who is prepared to lend your family money to help tide you over, so you are sure that tomorrow this house and factory, so recently regained, will be wrested away from you, and leave you destitute to wander the streets in search of a means to survive. But don't be angry, my sweet. It's natural that the townspeople are suspicious of lending money to you, given your family's track record. They have their families to think of too, and they can't go lending money without being able to get something back in return for it.
I, however, have no concern other than to help poor little mites like yourselves. And what's more I'm rich enough to do it! I have the money you need and I'm going to give it to you now so that you can pay back the creditors tomorrow and save your family from ruin.
But that's incredible! That's fantastic!Cried the young girl, bursting with joy but unable to believe her ears. Why? I don't understand, how did we deserve such kindness?
Just call it my innate humanitarian instinct. You need my help, and I can give it. Look, here's a picture of all the other poor little souls I've taken under my wing. How can anyone see defenceless creatures like that and not be filled with a desire to intervene and show them the way to a brighter future?
Oh, Fairy Godmother, how can we ever thank you?
Oh, don't worry about that. Just be regular with your repayments and prioritise the interest you owe me before that owed to others.
Repayments? And interest? You mean you're giving the money to us as a loan? I'm sorry, I misunderstood.
Well, yes, I suppose technically it is a loan. I mean, I would need the money back at some point but so far in the future, and the monthly interest is so low that really you should think of it as a gift. Or, perhaps, as a demonstration of my esteem and affection for your family.
And what's more, I'm going to give you a magic formula that will not only enable you to pay me back regularly and quicker than you could ever have imagined but will also ensure you never have to worry about money ever again!
Never have to think about money again? I can't believe it! You truly are a Fairy Godmother! I still don't understand what we did to deserve such good fortune but I'm so happy I can hardly speak. What is this magic formula, can you tell it to me now?
Of course, my child, she said as she bent down and whispered in the little girl's ear.
Supply, Demand, and the Law of the Market? asked the eldest child, bewildered.Oh. It doesn't sound very magical. What do we have to do to make it work?
You have to listen to exactly what I say, and do everything I ask you to do. If you fail to do so, the formula won't work as it should. She went over to the door, locked it, and sat the girl down by the desk. So, my dear, are you ready to listen? Here's what you must do.
*
A year later, the Big House was even bigger than it had been before. In fact, it was so big that it spread into half the area where the splendid forest had once stood. The Fairy Godmother had lent the children an enormous amount of money, much more than they'd needed to cover the debt they already owed, but she'd told them to use it to convert their factory into an even more dazzling engineering feat than ever before, and had arranged a contract with an expert firm from out of town to come and build it. At first, the children were sad that their once beautiful house would be a smoke spewing stew factory forevermore, albeit it a magnificent one, and that they couldn't use the money to replant their old forest. But the Fairy Godmother soothed their worries, and reminded them that the magic formula would only work if they trusted what she said.
Supply was thus taken care of; the spectacular new factory could produce in a week more stew than the entire county could consume in a year. So in order to generate more profit than they could ever imagine, she had told them to concentrate on the next part of the formula, Demand. Instead of replanting their own forest, she reasoned, it would be more advantageous in the long term, to import the timber they needed, because they could buy it for less than the amount it would cost them to grow it, and by doing so, they would establish new trade links, which would open up further markets for their berry stew. Likewise, what good would it do to grow your own nuts and berries, when you could get them in larger quantities and more quickly from neighbouring counties? she had argued. And the children had nodded, because it sounded convincing when she said it, and the diagrams and graphs she showed certainly looked impressive.
At the end of the year, the Fairy Godmother returned as she'd promised she would. The children stopped their work to greet her as she emerged out of the car, dressed less flamboyantly than before, in tastefully chosen fine silks, with delicate fur lining.
Darlings, how wonderful to see you! She exclaimed, her arms thrown wide for a kindly embrace.Although you're not looking quite as well as I'd hoped to find you, I must say, she added with a look of concern, that some might have mistaken for disgust.
The children looked at each other in their dirty work clothes, and noticed for the first time that their limbs were still worryingly skinny, and their faces unnaturally pale. They muttered apologies for their disturbing appearance, and the eldest child tried to explain.
You see, Fairy Godmother, we probably are a bit unwell.We've been doing everything you told us to but we're still nowhere near paying off our debts, and we're hardly managing to keep up with repaying the interest. We're working so hard, day and night, and we definitely are making money but it never seems to be enough. We thought we would be able to have a break by now, and I definitely think we need it. Some of us, particularly the younger ones, are getting quite ill. I'm not sure how much longer we can go on like this. Are you sure the magic formula is working?
The magic formula always works, my child. But no one said it would be easy right from the start. No pain, no gain, that's what your mother taught you, isn't it? said the Fairy Godmother with a friendly chuckle.You just need to be patient and think how much better everything is going to be in the future.
Now, as you know, all I aim to do is put a smile on your little faces, and wipe those sad frowns from your brows. So when I thought you might experience a few initial hitches and that you'd need some extra help in getting the magic formula truly underway, I decided to get busy.I've been travelling far and wide, penetrating the remotest corners of the world, and using my magic to make friends for you wherever I go, and I've returned with the next stage of the solution to your troubles.
It just so happens, that a few years ago I came across a far northern county where the land is fertile, the earth is soft and the rivers are fast flowing. It's the perfect place for growing wood, and when I showed the inhabitants what a wonderful forest they could have if they wanted, they set to work planting seeds straight away.
Now, knowing that you're looking for as many ways of saving money as possible, I went to visit that county again, and told them that I knew a big factory that was looking for the cheapest supplier of fuel. It didn't take much to persuade them that their county would benefit enormously from chopping down their forest and turning it into timber for good customers like you. So now they're doing so and they're hoping to sell their wood to you for a much cheaper price than you currently get it.
That's great news, clapped the eldest child, much relieved, although she couldn't help feeling slightly guilty that they'd helped chop down another beautiful forest.
It is, replied the Fairy Godmother. But of course, my children, don't let us forget that you are still behind on your repayments, and it doesn't even look like you'll manage to pay me back the interest you owe from the year, so your problems aren't exactly over yet. I'm going to lend you enough money to cover the outstanding interest, and help you get ahead for the next year, but in return, you have to promise that you'll work even harder than you have been, and that you'll make sure you save what you can at home. Save a penny, save a pound, that's what I believe, she said, with a heartening grin, as she cuffed the youngest child on the chin. We'll see that profit margin rise before long, won't we?.
The children looked less than convinced. They weren't entirely sure that they could work any harder, even if they'd wanted to, and they looked at their bedraggled bodies and asked themselves what kind of savings they could make when the only money they spent was on doctors' fees.
Now, there's no need to look so downcast. Really, if I didn't know you better I'd say you were being rather ungrateful, said the Fairy Godmother with a cautionary tone in her voice. But I do know that you're all going through a difficult time right now, and that the situation is particularly hard for the youngest members of your family. So I'll tell you what, I'll give you some extra money and you're to use it to build a fabulous bedroom for the younger ones, one with a nice sunny view and beds so comfortable even kings could sleep in them. That should cheer them up, shouldn't it?.
And so saying, she pulled an enormous wad of notes from her bag. She counted out as much as she was owed, put that amount back in the bag, and slapped the rest on the table with a beaming smile. Having then stooped to kiss each child on the cheek and pat them comfortingly on the head, she picked up her things and swanned out the room, stopping briefly at the door to remind the children that she would visit again next year to help get things going for the next part of the formula.
The children looked at the money on the table and smiled at each other reassuringly. None of them let on that they were secretly wondering what good a sunny room would do them if they had to spend all daylight hours in a factory basement.
*
True to her word, the Fairy Godmother returned in a year's time. An elegant stiletto led the way out of the red sports car, and the Fairy Godmother's well-dressed body followed. She smiled a serene smile and waved a hand.
Children, hello! Marvellous to see you as usual, she said briskly.But my god, you look even worse this year than you did last year. What have you been doing? And where are the rest of you? There were six last time I counted and now there are only three? Does nobody care anymore when their beloved Fairy Godmother comes to visit?.
No, no, it's not that, said the eldest child quickly. We're really very sorry, and the others send many apologies; they were very sad not to be able to come and see you. It's just that we've been doing what you said, cutting back on our expenses and working extra hours, and it seems to have made things worse. My two youngest siblings started to get even more sick than they already were, because of the extra strain on their bodies, but because we couldn't pay their doctors' fees, they became very bad indeed. In fact, they're now so ill that they can't get out of their beds, and that means that the rest of us have to work even harder to get everything done and fulfil the quotas. So my other brother couldn't come because we can't afford to let the machines stop for even five minutes and he had to stay to keep them going. She paused for breath.
You see, the year started well but then our berry suppliers told us that all the berry farmers had had a bad harvest and they had to put the prices up massively.
Yes, I heard about that, it's true, cut in the Fairy Godmother absent-mindedly.Unfortunate, no doubt.
Well, so we put our prices up too but that meant that fewer shops could afford to buy our stew anymore. Still, we thought everything would be all right until our wood suppliers told us that their whole forest and wood supply had been infected with a foreign disease, and that they had to destroy the whole lot. We tried to find another timber supplier but our old supplier had put everyone else out of business because they supplied wood so cheaply. So we had to find a company that's really very far away, and of course it costs a lot more to get it from them, so we're still no closer to balancing our budget, I'm afraid Fairy Godmother, and we badly need to borrow some more money because the interest we owe is just accumulating more and more, and we're actually nowhere near to paying off the original debts! Do you think you could help us just one more time? I'm sure it will get better next year.
The Fairy Godmother smiled slyly,Of course, my child, there's always more money. You shouldn't hesitate to ask. Once again, she pulled an enormous wad of notes from her bag, separated from the wad the amount the children owed her, put that back in her purse, and laid the rest on the table. It was still a large sum.
Now, children, I can understand why you feel so disheartened about this whole timber situation, and that your dependence on wood could become a big problem. But it just so happens that I have the solution. I'm going to lend you more money than you need again, so that you can convert your factory to run on coal.I've been helping some friends of mine open an extraction pit in an area they've had their eyes on for a long time, and now it's established, they're hoping to find customers for their coal. It will be very much cheaper for you to buy your coal from them than to bother with all these long-distance temperamental wood suppliers, so I'm sure you'll agree it's the best option.You definitely need to start dramatically reducing your costs of production, if you're ever going to get your debt back into manageable proportions.
I would also recommend you save on ingredients too, particularly if the berry suppliers have started to charge such high prices. You could, for instance, thin the stew down a bit with water. I'm sure no one would notice. Thinking more long term, however, I've been in touch with some farmers who are keen to try out a new brand of nut, which has been developed to grow to three times the size of the standard variety. If they go ahead and grow a year's harvest, they'll have more nuts than they'll know what to do with and they'll be able to charge a much lower rate than you currently have to pay. So that should also help make things a bit less tight for you.
But in the meantime, we need to do something about your family's health. I'm very sad to hear your younger siblings are so unwell. It's not much good halving your already meagre workforce right now, is it? Make sure you spend the rest of the loan on getting them whatever medical care they need in order to get back on their feet as soon as possible.
Right, I think that's about all, isn't it? I'm sorry I can't stay longer but
I've got to meet some terribly important people in a few minutes and my car
may be fast but it's not that fast, she joked affably. So, if you don't mind.
And without finishing her sentence, the Fairy Godmother got elegantly back into
her car and drove off.
She returned the next year, and wound down the blackened window of her Jeep
to greet the children. Only the eldest child came.
She was angry, and she looked the Fairy Godmother hard in the eyes.Before you say anything, Fairy Godmother, I'd like you to listen to what I have to say.
You may be wondering why it's only me that's come to meet you. Well, I'll tell you. Two of my siblings are ill in bed, one is in the factory keeping the machines going, and the other two are dead. It was too late to save them by the time the doctors came. I look appalling because during the past year things have not just got worse, they have become unliveable, and I need a convincing explanation for why you feel it necessary to put us through this dreadful plight.
Last year, we were again compelled to borrow more money from you than we knew was wise, given that the more we borrow, the further we get from paying off our original debts. But we still believed there was a chance we could get this factory running profitably, so that it generates the sort of unimaginable riches you've been promising us since the start. What happened this year, however, destroyed all our remaining hope and we no longer believe that your magic formula is ever going to work.
The conversion to coal went fine. We now have the smelliest and most disgusting factory in the world but we can put up with that if it's the only way to save our family from destitution. What we can't withstand is people betraying us from every angle. She looked away to hide the tears welling in her eyes but continued in a tone of defiance, Fairy Godmother, can you please explain this! At the beginning of the year, we went to renew our contracts with the shopkeepers but, to our amazement, they each told us that they wouldn't buy our stew unless we reduced our price.We tried to explain that we couldn't because we're struggling to make ends meet as it is, but they replied that unless we did as they asked, they would start buying their stew from elsewhere. We were completely stunned, not only that they could make such a threat, knowing how desperate out situation is, but also because we didn't realise that there were any other people who actually made stew.
So we started making enquiries and soon discovered that, since the price of stew rose last year, a certain somebody has been travelling from county to county, searching out