“What will we do, Hansel?” I whispered. “They say that once you start work in the factories, the only way out is through maiming or death, and I have no desire to experience either. And what of your scholarship to university? A mind such as yours must not be wasted in such toxic labour.” Even at the age of thirteen, Hansel’s genius had been pointed out to professors from the finest academy in the city, and he had a standing invitation to enter its halls free of charge once he was of age. I was no dunce myself in academic pursuits, but my intellect paled in comparison to my brother’s.
Hansel stroked my hair. “Do not fear, Gretel,” he said. I snuggled closer, the better to feel the comforting vibrations of his voice in his chest. “Where there is danger, there is always opportunity. I will find a way to bring us home safely.”
Through the thin walls, I imagined I could hear the scratch and hiss of a match being struck alight and the bubble of melting narcotics. Father’s and Valda’s voices came to us, muted and incoherent, devolving into the animalistic sounds of lovemaking. They provided a curious counterpoint to the noises from the busy thoroughfare one storey below us; various vehicles, powered by steam or alchemy, hooted or chugged or fizzed along the street, and even at that hour, vendors still announced their wares in clamorous tones. We fell asleep in our chaste embrace to this profane lullaby.
___
Father shook us awake before dawn and bustled us out into the street with little discussion. He had shaken off his usual lethargy, taking long, loping strides with which we struggled to keep up, and tugging constantly at the hem of his jacket. I was almost grateful for the pace he set, for it went some way to warding off the cold.
I was unaccustomed to being abroad in the darkness; long, flickering shadows cast by the gas lamps disoriented me, giving the illusion that we were travelling beneath the branches of a chill and menacing forest. And Father took us on a route so circuitous, within the hour I was hopelessly lost. Hansel, however, took a keen interest in his surroundings, and more than once he paused on the pretext of tying his laces or removing a stone from his boots, all the better to more properly observe them. His lips moved almost imperceptibly as he recited a litany of directions to himself, thus committing them to memory.
However my mind’s eye had pictured the façade of Great Uncle Gerhard’s factory, the reality surpassed it in grotesqueness. It squatted on the outskirts of the city like a gargantuan toad of steel and stone. Chimneys and exhausts jutted haphazardly from the edifice and spewed forth clouds of noxious fumes. Father regarded it for a moment and sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that seemed to originate from the depths of his soul.
“My dear children,” he murmured, each hand on one of our shoulders, “if there were any other way…”
Hansel shrugged off his hand and turned to face him. “Never mind, Father,” he said with a trace of a sneer, “I’m sure Great Uncle Gerhard will take good care of us.” And with that, he strode off, trailing me behind him.
___
The interior of the factory resembled a demonic kindergarten. Scores of thin and filthy children scurried over massive machines and constructions as if it were a playground, darting tiny hands in and out of furiously churning devices or deftly avoiding blasts of scalding steam. If it weren’t for the looks of grim concentration on their faces, and the occasional whip-bearing adult lashing the backs of those who tarried at their work, it might have been all a big, risky game. The deafening noise of the machinery and the stench from the melange of chemicals overwhelmed my senses, and I swayed on my feet. Hansel steadied me with a hand under my elbow.
One sad-faced urchin led us to the overseer, a short man of middling years with a sparse beard and cruel eyes. He laughed when Hansel mentioned Great Uncle Gerhard, who was nowhere to be seen.
“If I had a penny for every child who told a similar tale, I wouldn’t need to spend my days babysitting you snot-nosed brats,” the overseer said. “Let’s say you really are the Master’s kin. If he cared about you, do you think he would put you to work in this hell hole?” A child a little younger than me scurried by, and the overseer snagged him by the collar of his shirt, causing him to stumble and choke.
“Arndt, take these two wretches to the dyeing vats and show them what to do. Mind that you show them well, or any mistakes they make will come out of your hide as well as theirs.”
Arndt looked barely well enough to stand, let alone toil all day in a factory. His skin stretched too tightly over spindly limbs, and was patterned with burn scars in various stages of healing, many of which leaked a thick, yellowish discharge. The overseer released his grip on his collar. The boy did not speak, but jerked his head in a “follow me” gesture and set off with surprising speed through the labyrinth of machinery. It was all I could do to keep my footing and maintain the pace.
Arndt took us to the rear of the factory where a row of enormous vats sat atop furnaces into which several soot-stained children shovelled coal. Arndt clambered up a ladder at the side of the first vat and perched upon a broad wooden plank that ran over the vat’s open mouth and extended from one side to the other. He beckoned impatiently for us to follow. We climbed up to join him, taking care not to touch the sides of the vat, which radiated a malevolent heat.
“This ‘ere’s what we call the ‘royal red’,” Arndt explained, his sticklike legs dangling over the vat, “’cos royalty is just about the only lot what can afford it. Once the cloth in here is dry and cured, the colour won’t ever fade.” He pointed down between his feet. Two giant paddles slowly churned the vat’s contents. It looked like an immense tub of blood, the occasional fold of cloth brought into view by the paddles like pieces of flesh.
“But it’s dead poisonous in this state, and you have to take care it’s prepared right, else the first person to wear it will get awful sick. Your job is to watch the paddles, make sure they keep turning and don’t jam up. If they do, take these,” – he handed us each a long pole, the bottom two-thirds of which was stained crimson – “and move the cloth around a bit. But careful, mind, ‘cos you don’t want it to tear. That’s usually enough to get it moving again. If it ain’t, you might have to give the cogs a bit of a clean out.” He lay flat on the board and dangled his top half precariously over the edge, pointing at the exposed gears near the top of the thick metal rod to which the paddles were affixed. “You want to be quick while’s you does it, ‘cos if your fingers are still in there when it starts moving, you’ll lose ‘em. And the bosses don’t want to see that kind of red in the mix.” He smirked unkindly. “They must’ve liked the look of you two or somefink, ‘cos this is what you’d call a plum post. Not much to do most of the time ‘cept watch the red.”
The board on which we sat vibrated gently from the paddles’ movement. The odour that arose from the vat was pungent and unnatural, and made my head swim in a not entirely unpleasant way, and the gentle, repetitive swish of the paddles through the liquid was hypnotic. I teetered on the brink of the board, almost welcoming the compulsion to slip into the warm, vermillion waters below…
Arndt’s gaze was sharp, his voice sharper, and it snapped me back to awareness with a jolt. “One more thing – whatever happens, do not fall in. Of all the ways to go in this place – and I’ve seen a few – that’s the worst.”
An angry shout rose up from the floor. Arndt cast an apprehensive glance at the foreman below, and without a further word, hastened down the ladder. Hansel kept a careful eye on the man’s retreating back.
“We may no longer be attending school, sweet Gretel,” Hansel said, “yet there is still the opportunity for a chemistry lesson. Did you notice the generous quantities of chemical substances stored about the factory?” I nodded.
“I recognize the symbols emblazoned on their containers,” he continued, “although I wager most of the young workers here do not. Did you also notice that some are carefully stowed on opposite sides of the building? Why do you think that is?”
“I assume it is so there is little chan
ce of them inadvertently coming in contact with each other.”
“Well done, dear sister! You shall go to the top of the class. Now, if you will excuse me, I will take this opportunity while none of the supervisors are watching to go make some mischief.” He pressed close to me and whispered in my ear. “When I return, do not hesitate – just take my hand and run.” No sooner had he delivered his cryptic message than he was down the ladder and slipping amongst the machines.
I kept one eye on the vat beneath my feet as I tried to track Hansel’s movements from my elevated vantage point, growing more and more apprehensive as I awaited his return. For the most part, he kept himself well hidden from the overseers, scooting across the factory floor behind their backs and ducking down behind barrels or boxes or bolts of cloth before they could turn. Every now and again he was not quite quick enough; then he would make a great show of lifting a box and moving purposely on an imaginary errand, and the man would turn his bored gaze elsewhere. He traversed the building, side to side and back to front and looping back on himself. To a casual observer his path would appear random and meaningless, but in his journey I sensed complexity and purpose.
The plank on which I sat bucked and shuddered, threatening to tip me into the toxic soup below. The paddles had become fouled with fabric, and strained against their bonds. I thrust the pole into the vat of dye and tried to untangle the snarl. Weighed down with liquid, the cloth was too heavy for me to shift, and I feared that if I put more of my body weight behind the pole, I might overbalance and fall to an untimely and gruesome death.
“Oi! You there! Put your back into it, you lazy slattern!” A supervisor stood at the bottom of the ladder and brandished a whip at me. “Don’t make me come up there, or –“
His next words were drowned out by a booming explosion that set the board shaking anew. A great cloud of greenish smoke billowed up from near the factory’s centre. Several smaller explosions followed in an almost synchronized fashion, and panicked cries and agonized wails filled the air. I prostrated myself upon the plank and buried my face in my hands.
A gentle tug on my ankle roused me from my terror-induced stupor.
“Gretel! Let’s go!” It was Hansel, his voice muffled by a cloth wrapped about his nose and mouth as a makeshift filter. He tossed me a similar length of cloth and gestured to me to fasten it about my face, then gently encouraged me down the ladder. Even if the smoke were not too dense to see through, I was rendered virtually blind, the gases stinging my eyes until they watered uncontrollably. All about, foremen and workers coughed and retched and howled with pain, and the distinct crackle and heat of advancing flames menaced us. But Hansel’s sense of direction was unerring as he led us through the devastation, out a service door, onto the street and into sweet, life-giving, fresh air.
___
“It was a horrible accident, Father. We were lucky to escape with our lives. And I fear that there is nothing left of Great Uncle Gerhard’s factory.” Hansel kept his eyes respectfully downcast, yet he turned his head slightly towards me and tipped a wink that Father could not see. In truth, we had not stayed long enough to see what had befallen the factory, but Hansel had assured me that the chain of chemical reactions he had set in motion would virtually guarantee its destruction.
After his initial surprise, Father was genuinely pleased and relieved to have us home again. Valda, of course, only had thoughts for the pecuniary loss of the earnings we could no longer provide. At first she raged, but soon fell silent, regarding us with acute speculation that was more intimidating than her wrath. I shuffled uncomfortably before her scrutiny, although it was not her attention that concerned me. Once we had escaped the factory and I had found myself whole and safe, my first impulse was to plunge back in to help the poor wretches still trapped inside, or at the very least alert the authorities to come to their assistance. But Hansel would have none of it.
“Were the positions reversed, would any of them have spared a thought for us? I think not,” he had said. I had to concede that he was right, yet his callousness was disturbing, and the other children’s fates weighed heavily on my conscience.
“Come, dear hearts,” Father said, drawing us into an embrace. “We have little to offer for supper, but at least you will have a safe place to lay your heads tonight. Tomorrow we will set about finding you alternative employment.”
“Yes,” said Valda. “Yes, we shall.”
___
It took Valda a day and a half to make good on her promise.
“I have secured you both a position with my former employers,” she said. “There are no machines there, no dangerous substances, no inanimate objects that might hack off your limbs or poison your lungs.” She spoke in a taunting, sing-songy voice, as if they were petty concerns that only cossetted babies might fear.
“No.” Father’s tone was flat, his arms folded firmly across his chest. “They will not go to that place.” It was a rare show of fortitude on his part, and for a moment I saw him as I had when I was a very young child – as a hero, broad-shouldered and fearless and omnipotent. Hansel and I watched them take the measure of each other; I was equal parts intrigued at the unusual conflict and terrified at imagining the nature of Valda’s former profession. After sending us to the horror that was Gerhard’s factory, how heinous must this new place be if Father considered it worth defying his beloved Valda to save us from it?
Valda’s lip curled. “And why not? It was good enough for you to go there, on more than one occasion. Or have you forgotten how we first met?”
“I have not forgotten,” he said softly. “But this is different. They’re just children.” His voice held a hint of plaintiveness, and I sensed a minute giving of ground.
Valda snorted and waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’ll only be doing housekeeping duties - cooking and cleaning and suchlike, and running errands for Madam….at least, to start with. After all, they will not be children forever.” The last words landed on Father like barbs; he flinched under their blow. Yet he remained unconsenting.
But our stepmother had one card left to play, and when I saw it fall from her hand, I knew our cause was lost. She slowly closed the gap between Father and herself, her hips swaying beneath her thin shift, then wound her bony body about his like a cat seeking affection. Slipping a hand under his shirt to caress his bare flesh, she stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. His mouth fell slack and his eyelids fluttered closed as if he were cast under the influence of a powerful mesmerist; I wondered, not for the first time, if she were not indeed secretly versed in the dark art of witchcraft.
“Very well,” he said at last. “But it must only be temporary. As soon as we are able, we will fetch them back.”
“Of course, my darling,” she cooed. She turned, pressed her back to his belly and drew his arms about her like a cloak. In her triumphant smile we read the awful truth.
They would never bring us home.
___
This time Valda did not allow Father to escort us, but had them send a carriage to fetch us. It was an austerely elegant conveyance, its sleek lines devoid of windows and ornament and painted a glossy black, and was drawn by two equally glossy black horses. I had never seen live horses so close up; only the very wealthy kept them. With the almost metallic sheen of their coats and the plumes of vapour streaming from their flared nostrils, I could almost fancy them as elaborate automatons.
Valda had a hushed conversation with the carriage driver, a man of considerable stature who was dressed as plainly yet impeccably as his charges. He drew a small bundle wrapped in twine and brown paper from the inner folds of his coat and handed it to her.
“That evil bitch,” Hansel growled, uncharacteristically obscene. “She’s selling us!” He backed away, drawing me with him, but the driver lunged with surprising agility to grab us both by the arms. His massive hands easily encircled our biceps and held us as securely as iron cuffs.
“Oh no you don’t, younglings,” he said. �
��You now have a substantial debt to pay.” He hoisted us both effortlessly into the carriage and slammed the door shut. The carriage rocked gently as the driver presumably took his seat at the front, and his soft tsk tsk, signalling the horses to walk on, filtered through the padded walls. The lurch of the carriage rolling forward took me unawares, and I fell to the floor. I was awash with panic, but Hansel merely leaned back against the soft, black velvet cushions and closed his eyes.
“Get some rest, Gretel,” he said, “and save your strength for when we stop.”
“You have a plan, I assume?” I asked. Eyes still closed, he nodded.
“And my only requirement in this plan is to run when you tell me?”
He opened one eye and gave me an impish grin. I sighed and picked myself up. All my life, Hansel had been my protector and saviour, my wisest counsel and my best friend. I had no reason to believe he would not prevail now. I did as he advised, even going so far as to recline on the seat. Despite my fear, the plush furnishings and the swaying, somnolent movement of the carriage soon sent me into a fitful slumber.
___
I had no idea how much time had elapsed when I awoke. The carriage had stopped, and a lifetime of compliance had me doing my best to rub the grit from my eyes and compose my hair and clothing into that befitting an obedient servant, despite the fact that Hansel and I had no intention of fulfilling our “obligations”. We sat in anticipation for what seemed like an age until the door finally opened and we were hauled, blinking and disoriented, into the sunlight.
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