Danger at Dead Man's Pass Page 5
‘Danke schön,’ Hal said, hoping it sounded right, and Lina smiled as she left. To his embarrassment, his stomach growled loudly, and he put his hand over his belly.
‘Are you hungry?’ a voice whispered at his ear.
‘Gahhh!’ Hal nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun round to find Herman standing right behind him. ‘You frightened me!’ he snapped, and Herman slunk backwards towards the door.
‘Don’t go.’ Hilda ran to him and took his hand, pulling him to Ozan’s bed and sitting him down. ‘I’m Hilda, your cousin.’
Herman rewarded her with a timid smile. ‘I came to say hello.’ His voice was rasping, and his chest wheezed as he breathed in.
‘I’m sorry I shouted at you,’ Hal said. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Herman is stealthy, like a cat,’ Ozan said, sounding impressed.
‘If you’re hungry,’ Herman said, ‘I will ask Lina to send up snacks to the playroom?’
‘I am a bit hungry,’ Hal admitted.
‘Me too,’ agreed Hilda.
‘Go to the room at the end of the hall,’ Herman said, hurrying to the door. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
The playroom was the only room in the apartment that wasn’t blue. It was white, and it looked lived in. Although toys and games were stacked neatly on shelves, there was Lego scattered on the floor in front of the TV.
Hal and Hilda dropped on to the two sofas, but Ozan sat down on the floor beside the Lego and began pressing the bricks together.
Herman came in carrying a bowl of crisps. ‘What are you making?’
‘Die Rakotzbrücke,’ Ozan replied, and then for Hal’s benefit added, ‘It’s a famous bridge.’
‘That’s specific.’ Hal was intrigued. Without instructions, he only ever made brightly coloured square houses or space vehicles.
‘Ozan is always specific,’ Hilda said, rolling her eyes.
‘You will be glad that I am when I invent a robot that saves lives one day, or design a bridge –’ he held up the Lego – ‘that crosses into another dimension and—’
Hilda turned away from her brother, cutting him off. ‘Herman, I heard you playing the piano when we arrived. You are very good.’
‘I was practising.’ Herman’s pale cheeks flushed pink at the compliment. ‘When Mama has dinner parties, she likes me to play to her guests.’
‘Is she going to make you play to us?’ Hal asked, horrified on his behalf.
‘Do you want us to get you out of it?’ Ozan offered.
‘It’s OK.’ Herman smiled at their concern. ‘It makes Mama happy.’
‘Does everyone speak English in Germany?’ asked Hal, amazed that Herman could do it so well at the age of nine.
‘Does no one speak German in England?’ Ozan replied, laughing.
‘We’re not taught it at my school,’ Hal admitted.
‘Ozan and I go to an international school. Mama is Turkish and Papa is German, so we speak both languages at home. At school they use English, but I also speak French and Spanish.’
‘You’re multilingual?’ Hal felt inadequate.
‘I don’t speak French and Spanish very well,’ Ozan said, ‘but I make up for it with the universal languages of maths and science.’
Hilda groaned.
‘I’m tutored at home,’ Herman said. ‘I’ve always been taught English.’
‘Learning languages is like decoding secret messages,’ said Hilda. ‘It’s fun. When I grow up, I’m going to be a translator like Mama.’
‘When I get home, I’m going to ask for German lessons,’ Hal said.
‘What kinds of things do you like?’ Ozan asked.
‘I’m into . . .’ Hal wanted to tell them he loved drawing and travelling. ‘Sport.’
‘What do you play?’ Ozan asked, immediately interested.
‘Football. I play for the school team,’ Hal said, remembering what Uncle Nat said about sticking to the truth. ‘I’m a midfielder.’
‘I can’t do much sport because of my asthma,’ said Herman.
Lina entered with a tray of four mini burgers in buns and a plate of pickles, and they all cheered. She handed it to Herman, winked and left.
‘Hey, Kotzbrocken, was machst du?’ A lanky young man, not capable of growing more than a fuzz of facial hair, was lounging against the door frame.
‘What did he say?’ Hal asked Ozan quietly.
‘He said, What are you doing, you lump of puke?’ Ozan replied under his breath.
‘Ar-Arnie,’ Herman stuttered.
Arnie sloped into the room and grabbed two mini burgers from Herman’s plate, stuffing them into his mouth at the same time, and chewed with his mouth open, surveying the four children as if they were stray dogs.
Sitting forward and smiling sweetly, Hilda said, ‘Hello, Arnie, I’m Hilda. We’ve decided to speak English because Harrison doesn’t know German.’
‘Herzlich willkommen, Engländer,’ Arnie snorted, but he switched to English. ‘Don’t eat too many of these.’ He picked up the other two burgers on the plate. ‘Dinner is six courses, and we don’t want to upset Clara, do we?’ He stuffed the burgers into his mouth, opened it wide so they could all see the chewed-up food, then walked out.
Hal looked at Herman. ‘That’s your brother?’
‘Half-brother,’ Herman wheezed through gritted teeth.
CHAPTER NINE
A DREADFUL DINNER
Agong summoned them to dinner and the hungry children scurried down the stairs, bumping into Hilda and Ozan’s dad.
‘Papa, meet Harrison,’ Hilda said, grabbing Hal’s arm.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Oliver smiled warmly at Hal, winking almost imperceptibly as he shook his hand, to show he understood who he really was. Oliver Essenbach was fairer than his brother Milo, whom Hal had met on the Highland Falcon. He had a neat beard, glasses, and there was a twinkle in his hazel eyes, which made Hal instinctively like him.
He herded the children to the dinner table, where Uncle Nat, the baron, and his wife Alma were already seated.
‘Harrison, come and give your great-aunty a big hug,’ Alma said, getting to her feet. ‘I haven’t seen you since you were a baby.’ She enveloped him in a cuddle of white cashmere cardigan and lavender perfume, whispering, ‘Thank you for coming,’ in his ear. When she smiled, Alma Essenbach had a habit of lifting her shoulders, which, despite her greying curly mane, made her seem girlish.
Hal was pleased to find he’d been seated between Uncle Nat and Ozan.
‘How’re you settling in?’ Uncle Nat asked him as he sat down.
‘Good,’ Hal replied, as Lina entered with the first course.
Throughout the meal, Arnie was insufferable. He would take one mouthful of a dish and proclaim it over-seasoned, or tasteless, saying he was unable to eat it. Hal, Herman, Ozan and Hilda knew his stomach was full with their mini burgers. Clara ignored Arnie’s rudeness, which made him behave more outrageously. Eventually the baron intervened, commenting that a gentleman should know how to enjoy fine cuisine and compliment their host, whilst shooting a withering look at Arnie who sat up straight and ate the rest of his food in a sulky silence.
Clara asked Uncle Nat about life on the island of Muck, and he explained apologetically that growing up tending to pigs, goats and chickens had made him long for an urban life, and as soon as he’d got old enough, he’d moved to Edinburgh.
‘My brother has the soul of a farmer,’ Alma said, ‘but it’s hard work and not for everyone.’
‘Precisely,’ Uncle Nat agreed, then deftly changed the subject. ‘Wolfgang, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what are the arrangements for travelling to the funeral? Can I be of any assistance?’
‘We take the family train tomorrow to Schloss Kratzenstein. The funeral home is taking care of Alexander. People will be able to pay their last respects in person, at the house, on Sunday. The funeral is of course on Monday.’ The baron put his hand over Clara’s and smiled sadly.
‘He is at home,’ Arnie said moodily. ‘His family home.’
‘There is a long-held family tradition,’ the baron said, ignoring Arnie, ‘that the Kratzensteins are buried in their mausoleum on the estate.
The German government has rigid rules about funerals, but, as a person of influence, I was able to secure the permissions needed to proceed with the funeral in the traditional way, in accordance with the family’s wishes.’
Clara frowned, looking puzzled.
‘The mausoleum is near the peak of the Brocken.’ Alma shuddered. ‘The funeral train gave me nightmares when I was a girl.’
‘Funeral train?’ Hal prompted, hoping she’d say more.
‘It carries the family’s dead to the mausoleum. The Kratzensteins don’t use a hearse or a black carriage – they use the funeral train.’ She lowered her voice. ‘In defiance of the curse.’
‘What curse?’ Hilda whispered, leaning forward.
‘Don’t you know?’ Arnie sneered. ‘Kratzenstein men are cursed to die unnatural deaths, before their time.’ He sat back. ‘I could die tomorrow.’ He looked sombrely at Herman. ‘And so could you.’
Clara clapped her hands over Herman’s ears. ‘That’s not true.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Arnie stuck his chin forward, wearing an expression of defiance. ‘What about Uncle Manfred? He was only a few years older than me when he died. And how do you explain what happened to my father?’ He shook his head. ‘Strange things are taking place at the Kratzenstein house.’
‘What strange things?’ Hal asked, and he wasn’t the only person who leaned forward to hear the answer.
‘The house is haunted,’ Arnie replied. ‘I’m not the only one who thinks it. Opa does too. The witch is coming for him.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Uncle Nat said, trying to be reassuring.
‘There was a night of storms in January, and we were woken by a crashing noise. In the morning, Opa’s portrait – the one that hangs in the long gallery with the other family pictures – was face down on the floor, the frame smashed.’
‘A picture hook probably gave way,’ Oliver suggested, but Arnie shook his head.
‘We’ve seen her.’
‘Seen who?’ Hal asked.
‘The witch who cursed the Kratzensteins.’
‘Who has seen her?’ Uncle Nat asked.
‘All of us. Mama, Me, Opa and Connie.’
‘Who’s Connie?’ Hal asked.
‘Opa’s nurse. She went for a hike in the mountains, but on her way home through the woods an icy fog descended and she lost her path and came into a clearing. She saw the guts of a rodent on a rock, and beyond them the hooded figure of a woman holding up a bloody knife.’
Hal put his fork down, suddenly losing his appetite.
‘There are no such things as witches,’ said the baron.
‘There are in Wernigerode,’ Alma replied quietly.
‘What happened next?’ Hal asked.
‘That is the strangest thing. The witch took a step back and vanished.’ Arnie flicked his fingers out. ‘Connie said she became mist.’
‘People don’t just vanish,’ Ozan said nervously, looking at his dad.
‘A trick of the weather,’ the baron said, ‘and an overactive imagination.’
‘She was casting a spell,’ Arnie insisted, ‘to bring Dad to Dead Man’s Pass, so that she could kill him.’
A high wailing sound came from Herman, who had his eyes screwed tightly shut and his hands over his ears.
‘Arnold!’ Clara snapped. ‘That’s enough.’ She moved her chair closer to Herman and put her arms round him.
‘Yes, let’s change the subject,’ Uncle Nat agreed. ‘I’m sure the nurse was mistaken in what she saw. There will be a logical explanation.’
‘But I’ve seen the witch too,’ Arnie said defiantly. ‘Twice!’
‘Did she try and get you?’ Ozan asked.
‘The first time I saw her, I was helping Aksel clear the tracks in Dead Man’s Pass. Sometimes the snow causes rockfalls. I was bent over, throwing stones clear of the tracks, when I got a crick in my neck. I looked up and saw a woman in a grey hood above us on the mountain. She was watching us. I blinked and she was gone.’
‘The witch!’ Ozan said.
‘It could have been anyone,’ Hilda said, unimpressed.
‘A few weeks later, I was returning home from visiting friends. It was late and dark. I didn’t want to go through the woods, so I followed the railway line through Dead Man’s Pass. I was walking fast, but over the sound of my breath and my footsteps I heard a strange chanting. I stopped to listen. It was a woman’s voice, speaking a language I did not know. She sounded as if her mouth was full of marbles. I crept closer to the sound and saw the skull face in the pass glowing with a ghostly light.’ Herman gasped at this. ‘I couldn’t see anyone, but I moved closer to where the strange chanting was coming from . . .’ His voice became a whisper and they leaned towards him. ‘And then I felt a terrible chill in my heart, like it had been stabbed with ice, and the chanting fell silent.’ His eyes were wide. ‘I sensed someone behind me. I spun round and . . . Rrrroooaaarrrrr! ’ Arnie lurched forward, howling.
Hal jumped.
Herman screamed and Clara gasped.
Hilda jumped to her feet and Ozan cried out, moving backwards so fast he fell off his chair.
Arnie’s howls dissolved into peals of laughter.
‘Arnold, that was very childish,’ the baron scolded gently.
‘You should have seen your faces.’ Arnie pointed, unable to stop laughing. ‘You were terrified!’
‘Did you decide to frighten everyone,’ Uncle Nat said quietly, ‘to distract from the fact that you did see a woman that night, got scared and ran away?’
Arnie’s laughter died in his throat and Hal could see this was true.
Uncle Nat glanced at the baron, and Hal noticed they exchanged a look.
The rest of the dinner passed in a tense exchange of talk about nothing in particular. Hal’s fingers ached to draw. He wanted to sketch the arrogant angle of Arnie’s head, the worried lines around Alma’s kind eyes, the drawn features of beautiful Clara and the haunted Herman. He was desperate to talk to his uncle about the witch, but after dessert the children were instructed to go upstairs and get ready to bed.
As they got up to leave, Arnie stuck his tongue out at them.
‘Shouldn’t Arnie come with us?’ Ozan asked loudly. ‘He behaves like a child.’
‘Want to play a board game in the playroom?’ Hilda whispered as they climbed the stairs.
‘Can we play Catan?’ Herman looked delighted.
‘I’m tired.’ Hal faked a yawn. ‘I didn’t sleep well on the train last night. I’m going to go to bed.’ He wished them goodnight, but instead of going to the bedroom he went to the bathroom at the top of the stairs and locked the door.
Sitting on the toilet, he pulled out his pocketbook and drew the dinner party, all the while listening for the sound of adults going to bed. When he heard noises downstairs, he watched through a gap in the door, hoping to see Uncle Nat pass, but there was no sign of him, so he decided to go downstairs and look for him.
The dining room was dark and empty. Hearing a distant click, Hal went to the window, then opened the door on to the balcony, gasping as an icy wind slapped his face. Below him in the street, he saw a furtive figure silhouetted by a streetlight. Uncle Nat was walking fast, keeping to the shadows. Hal pulled out his pocketbook and drew his uncle hurrying away into the night.
CHAPTER TEN
ZUG KRATZENSTEIN
Hal overslept, waking to find the apartment in a flurry of activity. Everyone was getting dressed and packed. Oliver Essenbach appeared at the bedroom door just as Ozan flung his pillow at Hilda.
‘Ozan, now is not the time to pick a fight with your sister. The bus has arrived to take us to the station. Hurry you
rselves up and make sure you don’t leave anything.’
Hal sprang up and threw on his clothes. He stuffed his pyjamas into his suitcase and zipped it up.
‘Are you coming?’ Hilda said, dragging her bag past the foot of his bed.
‘I’ve got to speak to my un—’ Hal caught himself. ‘My dad. Be down in a second.’
‘Don’t forget your glasses.’ Ozan pointed to the bedside table.
‘I won’t,’ Hal replied, picking them up and putting them on, inwardly scolding himself for forgetting he was in disguise. He’d better not do that again.
Hurrying to Uncle Nat’s room, he found the door open. His uncle was standing with his back to the door, putting a pile of neatly folded shirts into his holdall. His copy of Faust was on the bed; the spine was cracked and a piece of paper stuck out of it, marking a page. With a lurch, Hal suddenly remembered that he still had the baron’s letter in his coat pocket. He whipped it out and slipped it into the inside pocket of Uncle Nat’s coat, which was hanging on the back of the door.
Clara’s moonlike face poked round the corner. ‘We’re all downstairs. It is time to board the bus to the station.’
‘We’re coming,’ Hal replied.
‘Ah, Harrison, are you packed?’ Uncle Nat zipped his bag and grabbed his coat. ‘Good. Let’s go.’
Hal needed to talk to his uncle. ‘Dad . . . About last night.’
‘We don’t have time to go into it now,’ Uncle Nat said in a low voice. ‘Let’s talk this evening, at Schloss Kratzenstein, when we have some privacy.’ He met Hal’s eyes and Hal nodded, though he thought he might burst from waiting.
Out on the pavement, Ozan and Hilda were bickering. Ozan had Hilda’s book and was threatening to read the last chapter out loud and ruin the ending. Hilda had jammed her fingers in her ears and was singing loudly. Herman, dressed in a thick black woollen coat that reached down to his knees, was watching them.
‘Guten Morgen, Arsch mit Ohren,’ Arnie said, striding past Hal and ruffling Herman’s hair.