The World's Worst Mothers (22 page)

www.worldsworstmothers.eek

21 June

Hey, Sophie and Emily, how's it going?

We got home in one piece, and my father looked pretty cheesed off when my mother told him he'd been taken in by a robot! Claimed he'd always thought this Aunt Anna was a bit strange, but since he has always found my mother's family impossible (especially Great-aunt Adelheid with her stupid viola), he didn't think anything of it.

Bruno

PS: Sophie, you can tell Nicholas I had to bury the crab in the garden, it just stank too much.

1 July

Dear Bruno,

Our trip home was anything but good. My mother ran out of petrol – again! Typical. The mother school doesn't seem to have done her any good. Yesterday, she was planning to cook a pizza for me and my friend for lunch. In the middle of it, it occurred to her that she had to pick up her shoes from the shoemaker. And while she was at the shoemaker's, she remembered that we were out of milk. When Charlotte and I arrived home from school, the fire brigade was at the door, because smoke was belching out of the kitchen window. Charlotte thought it was funny. I didn't.

But she did learn one thing: how to iron. She irons all the time. Even the towels. Can you believe it? Are you still boxing?

Emily

5 July

Hi, Emily

Am I still boxing? You'd better believe it! My mother has got it into her head that I am to be the next Muhammad Ali. I have to train every day, and she watches and tells me what I am doing wrong. Next week I have to go to a boxing camp, where they take it really seriously. I mean, I do like boxing, but it really gets on my wick the way my mother is so into it. I won't be online again until I get back. Fingers crossed I get through it without a black eye or a broken nose.

Have you heard from Sophie lately?

Enjoy the rest of the hols,

Bruno

17 July

Hey, there, everyone,

Couldn't write before, because we were on a cycling trip. Not at the North Sea, just along the River Elbe. My mother really took it badly when I told her I was going to have to repeat the year at school, but at least she didn't moan on about it.

That would nearly have been better than all these questions about how I am and whether I feel neglected. And she keeps following me around.

We didn't tell my stepfather that Aunt Anna was fake. My mother didn't want him to find out about the school for mothers. She was too embarrassed. The official story is that she went to one of those health farm places, and George says she looks really relaxed.

I have to go. Nicholas wants me to help him build a sandcastle. We have to do it while my mother is out, because otherwise she keeps banging on about how we have to dampen the sand and smooth the edges and all this stuff. ‘I got an A in sandcastle building,' she says every time.

Best of luck!

Sophie

19 July

Hey, people, stumbled across this site. My mother was in this mother school too! But she hasn't improved much. She was only home when she sent Aunt Anna packing. After she looked after me so well the whole time. I think she was jealous, because I got on so well with her.

And, get this, she keeps reading my diary on the sly. Any ideas about how to make her stop? I'd be very glad to hear from you.

Nadine

21 July

Just write something that will make her realise you know she reads it. Then she'll be really embarrassed.

Best, Emily

23 July

Hi Emily,

That was a great idea. I wrote, ‘Dear Mum, I know you are reading this, and I find it totally mean. If you don't stop, I will tell Dad that your new dress was not a bargain at all, but cost 500 euro.' She swore she'd never read my diary again. But just to be sure, I bought one with a lock.

Enjoy what's left of the holidays,

Nadine

24 July

Hey everyone,

I just wanted to check who won the World's Worst Mothers competition. I took part in it, but I never heard another word. And now I see your mothers all went to this school for mothers. Can I send my mother there too?

Dragon Monster

Hey Dragon Monster,

Do you remember Chiara? We chatted before, but my name isn't really Chiara, it's Sophie. And I'm not fifteen, only thirteen.

The school for mothers doesn't exist any more. It's a long story.

Sophie

28 July

Hey everyone!

Guess who I saw today in a shop window on the Kudamm in Berlin? One of our Aunt Annas. I don't know which one, but I recognised her immediately, even though she had all this cool gear on instead of her stupid apron. Wonder what happened to the others? Let me know if you know anything.

Emily

28 July

I read in the newspaper today about a woman who was sent to a mental hospital because she kept on cleaning and cleaning. She stopped sleeping and eating. All she did was wash the floors. That has to be one of our ‘ladies' who has just gone a bit too far; would you agree?

Sophie

29 July

Dear Emily, Dear Sophie,

I'm just back from boxing camp. Had to leave early, actually. The coach threw me out! Well, not me, really – my mother. She totally got on his nerves. She kept explaining the rules of boxing to him, and telling him that he wasn't doing enough for me, and that I am
so
talented.

Now she's looking for a new coach for me, only I've really gone off boxing altogether!

Mothers are such hard work!

Bruno

Howdy, folks!

We're called Jan and Jonas and we had an Aunt Anna too. She just went away. But we'd love to have her back. And our father is sad too that she's not here any more. He really liked her. Much better than he likes our mother, who cooks weird things that you really need to chew hard. With Aunt Anna, we always had sausages and hamburgers and kebabs. Our mother cooks sausages now too. They don't taste nice, but on the other hand they are good for you. But we don't want healthy sausages.

We want Aunt Anna!

Jan and Jonas

4 August

Dear Jan and Jonas,

You should be glad you are rid of Aunt Anna. She was fake, electronic, a robot! I know what I'm talking about.

All best, Bruno

Dear Bruno,

We don't care what Aunt Anna is, we just want her back. Any idea where we could buy another one? We're saving up.

Jan and Jonas

You haven't a hope. The fellow who built the Annas was drowned.

Bruno

Dear Emily, Sophie, Nicholas and Bruno,

I'm getting in touch like this because it's the easiest way and I have something to tell you. I don't know much about this Internet thingy, but Sven-Ole is typing this for me.

Walther Wohlfarth has come back! His mother died, for real this time. She was walking along by the Elbe with that awful Pekinese and he wanted to get together with a mongrel. Anyway, she went to separate them with her stick, lost her balance and fell into the water. It wouldn't have been so bad, because there happened to be a boat nearby that came to her aid, but she kept yelling so much at the mongrel's master and gulping water as she did so that they couldn't rescue her.

After the funeral, Wohlfarth came back to Nordfall, but he did not come alone. He has Ramona Bottle with him, that weird Alfred and … the dog. It seems that Henry the Fourth has inherited the mother's whole estate. I hope our boss isn't going to put up with that. I mean, you can't just cut your son off without a penny.

Nobody knows what he is planning. It's all a big secret.

Oh yes, and another thing – Sarah has turned up. Hinnerk fished her out of the water. She looked fine and the whole time she was warbling, ‘I love you, you are a handsome man.' That's what Kruschke taught her, you remember. Hinnerk was charmed, because nobody had ever said anything like that to him before, but Swantje gave him such a hard time that in the end he sold Sarah to Lührsen. He's running these bunker tours now, and the doll tells the tourists all there is to know about the bunker and the secret passage. More and more trippers are coming to Nordfall every day. My husband has had to get new beach chairs. So Kruschke has brought us a bit of luck. There is no sign of him, by the way.

I hope your mothers are well, and you too. It really was a very exciting time that we had together.

Very best wishes from

Vibke Paulsen

PS And from me too, of course. I've ditched the stupid sheep, and now I am giving courses in sandcastle building. The tourists love it, and my jokes too, I might add. Do you know this one? How do you get a blonde to laugh on a Friday? You tell her a joke on Monday.

Keep well,

Sven-Ole

Ha ha ha. What a terrible joke! But thanks for getting in touch, Sven-Ole and Vibke Paulsen. That's mad about Wohlfarth, but we are not exactly grief-stricken, I have to say. And that fabulous villa in Blankenese now belongs to the stupid mutt. That's awful!

I'm great, by the way. My mother is totally back to normal. Only she doesn't nag me as much as she used to – now she lets Nicholas have it! He put a dead hedgehog in her bed recently, one he had scraped up off the road. It was half mummified, but its spines still prickled all the same. As you can imagine, my mother was not exactly over the moon about this.

The holidays are over now, which is sad, but my new class is fine. I still don't get maths, I have to admit. But Dragon Monster has promised to give me grinds. In exchange, I have to keep telling him all about our adventures on Nordfall. (If you are reading this, Julius, it's all true!)

Very best wishes,

from Sophie

(and of course from Nicholas too)

3 September

Hello all,

Listen, this mother-school business did do a bit of good. Wait till you hear the latest: my mother has taken up boxing! She just got so into it all that she started boxing herself. She's in training for her first contest this winter. My father was totally disgusted at first, but at this stage, he's come round and now he is quite proud of her! He even goes with her to her training sessions, to egg her on. I can hardly believe these are my parents. And the great thing is that my mother has no time now to be thinking about me and my talents. She isn't the slightest bit interested that I have taken up rowing.

Yes, that's right: I now get into a boat, of my own free will! What happened was, the cox in our school team wasn't available, so I said I'd give it a go. The weird thing is, I never get seasick when I'm doing it. So don't be surprised if you don't hear much from me, I'm really very busy these days.

Bruno

Dear Bruno, Dear Sophie,

I read something in the paper today that you will be interested in:

T
HE
W
ORLD'S
F
IRST
L
UXURY
H
OTEL FOR
D
OGS
O
PENS ON
N
ORDFALL
Walther Wohlfarth has given up his job as a creator of electronic toys and has found a new career: a hotel for high-society dogs. Every dog has its own room, but can meet other dogs if it feels like company. Dogs can romp in the dunes or gambol on the beach, all under strict supervision, of course. The hotel boasts a doggy hairdressing salon, which also incorporates a team of canine manicurists.

The hotel kitchen operates to the highest standards. ‘We can accommodate any dietary preferences,' says Mr Wohlfarth, the hotel manager, ‘and of course only the finest and freshest ingredients are used.'

It was his late mother, Margarethe Wohlfarth, widow of the well-known Hamburg industrialist, who gave Wohlfarth the idea of a doggy hotel. ‘She made me promise, on her deathbed, not only to look after her beloved Pekinese Henry the Fourth, but to see to the welfare of other dogs. Our motto is ‘Make your dog happy and you save the world.'

So far, it certainly looks as if the dog hotel is going to be a runaway success. The thirty-three rooms are booked up for months. There is a suite with its own butler, but that is reserved for Pekineses.

What do you make of that? My mother laughed herself silly when I read it to her. She says she can just imagine Ramona Bottle polishing the toenails of over-bred Fifis.

And by the way, she has a job. Not Bottle, my mother. She is doing the accounts for a local wine shop. The owner is just as chaotic as she is. You probably get like that if you have to spend all day tasting wine. I think she did a lot of overtime there when I was away in Majorca with my dad. She is in very good form anyway, and so am I.

What do you think of this idea? Suppose we all meet up again on Nordfall next summer? My mother says she'll come. If your mothers want to come, they can have a good time together, and if they don't behave themselves, we can threaten them with four weeks in Wohlfarth's mother – no, doggy – improvement school.

Love Emily

13 October

Hi everyone,

Look, this could be a lot of nonsense, but when we were shopping in Hamburg, me and Mum and Nicholas, we saw this man on the street, and I could swear it was Kruschke. OK, he wasn't quite so fat, and he was much better dressed, but I knew him by his glass eye, even though he was wearing sunglasses. When I looked back at him, he was standing there, staring at us. I got a right shock, I can tell you. My mother says I am imagining things, that Kruschke didn't look a bit like this fellow, and anyway he drowned. But Nicholas agrees with me – that it was the guy who was so mean to the toy monkey.

It doesn't really matter if Kruschke is still alive. He can't do anything to us or to our mothers now. That makes me feel good.
Really
good.

Sophie