Gretel and the Dark by Eliza Granville Page A

–’
    ‘Is it food?’
    ‘He thinks so. It’s mostly bits and pieces of naughty children – sometimes even whole ones. His other name is
der Kinderfresser –’
    ‘I’m not frightened.’
    ‘Good.’ Greet makes a grab and I retreat again, shifting position as she shuffles round the table trying to reach me. ‘Would you like to hear more about the Child-guzzler?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Some people say he’s a monster from the planet Saturn. He’s dark and squat with a big hooked nose and a long black coat. His bottom lip is so big it flaps against his chest. His armsare very long so that he can reach into doorways and pull little people out. Long ago he did something very bad –’
    ‘What?’
    ‘So terrible that I’m not going to tell you. Anyway, I forget. Because of whatever it was
der Kinderfresser
was cursed to wander the Earth for ever and have no real home. He’s been walking for hundreds of years. At night he steals children who are still awake. And
fee fi fo fum
during the day he gobbles them up.
Slurp
,
slurp
, he sucks out their blood.
Crunch
,
crunch
,
munch
,
munch
, he breaks every bone in their skin.’ Greet pauses. ‘Quiet! Did you hear that sound?’
    ‘What sound?’
    ‘
Bumpety-bump-bump
, like a full sack being dragged along the ground.’
    ‘N–no.’
    ‘If you listen carefully there’s also a
clunkety-clunk
noise, for he’s worn out one of his legs with walking and has to make do with a wooden peg.’ Greet squats down and whispers. ‘That’s what he’s really after – a nice new leg.’ She pats my thigh. ‘So far none fits, but he keeps searching.’
    I whimper and start to curl into the smallest ball possible, but Greet has hold of me and is hauling me, feet first, out into the light, dispatching me towards the stairs with a sharp slap on my rear.
    Papa says he has found someone to take care of me during the day. I hold Lottie very tight and don’t say anything.
    ‘She’s promised to teach you a few handicrafts. Sewing. Knitting.’ He does a pretend smile. ‘That will be nice, won’t it?’
    This time he doesn’t try to make me take my thumb out of my mouth. He pulls a roll into small pieces and drinks fourcups of coffee before the lady comes. It’s the very old witch with the caterpillar eyebrows, the one who was sitting in the kitchen corner the day the plum syrup burnt my fingers. There’s no sign of the black cat but she’s all in black herself and she’s brought her magic wand, leaning on it so people think it’s a walking stick. I stare at the floor.
    ‘Say good morning to Frau Schwitter.’ Papa nudges me. ‘Krysta, where are your manners?’ He coughs apologetically. ‘I’m afraid my daughter is refusing to speak to anyone at the moment.’
    The witch laughs. ‘After raising seven children and twelve grandchildren, there’s nothing much I haven’t dealt with,
Herr Doktor
.’ She says nothing for a moment, but I can feel her staring. ‘Are you spellbound, Krysta?’
    One quick glance and I see that her eyes are small and very bright blue, shining out from among the wrinkles as if they don’t belong there. Her teeth are funny: a very long one each side and not many in between. As soon as Papa goes, she taps me with her wand.
    ‘There. Now tell me, Krysta, what is your doll’s name?’
    ‘Lottie.’
    ‘Ah, so at least we know the cat hasn’t got your tongue.’ She produces a ball of grey wool and unwinds a long length. ‘Come, we must keep ourselves busy. Today I’ll show you how to knit.’
    ‘Don’t want to.’
    ‘You can make a nice winter scarf for Lottie.’ Witch Schwitter pats the seat beside her. ‘Come and sit here.’
    ‘No.’ I take three steps backwards, but she starts winding up the wool, doing it widdershins, all the time keeping her eyes on my face, and it must be a pulling spell because my feet move forward without asking me first.
    ‘That’s better. Sit up straight. Watch carefully. This is how it’s done. First we