A Castle in the Clouds by Kerstin Gier

Author:Kerstin Gier [Kerstin Gier]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781250300195
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.
Published: 2020-01-28T05:00:00+00:00

15

We could tell before we got to the laundry room that Pavel wasn’t alone: not even he could sing two parts of “Angels We Have Heard on High” in the original French. It sounded so beautiful and poignant—much more Christmassy than the plinky plonky international Christmas music upstairs in the bar—that I almost reached for Ben’s hand as we walked along the dimly lit basement corridor.

But I couldn’t do that, of course. I was still pissed off at him.

The acoustics in the basement were impressive, thanks to its vaulted ceilings. (They always made my voice sound at least twice as loud.) But even without that, this was a truly magnificent performance. Pavel was confidently singing the tune, as usual, in his powerful baritone, and over the top was a tenor voice, clear as a bell.

I stood still in the doorway, amazed. The tenor voice belonged to none other than Old Stucky, who was sitting with Pavel at the table that was usually reserved for little mending jobs like sewing on buttons or turning up hems.

A bottle of clear liquid stood between them, the bent, wizened old man and the tall, strapping younger one who was dressed, as always, in jeans and a vest. A couple of machines hummed in the background, and a candle stub cast a flickering light on the walls.

The sight of them, and the crystal-clear tones that filled the room as they sang “Gloria in Excelsis Deo,” brought tears to my eyes. How could such an old man have such a youthful, angelic singing voice?

Ben shot me a sideways smile. He was obviously familiar with the caretaker’s hidden talents.

“Comes as a bit of a surprise, doesn’t it?” he said as the last notes of the chorus faded away. “Old Stucky used to be a soloist with a boys’ choir.”

“Boowys’ chwayre,” Old Stucky corrected him, then added something else in his strong Swiss German dialect. The only word I could make out was “but.”

“But he decided to leave the city and come and live in the mountains. With the animals. Surrounded by nature,” Ben translated. “You can sing no matter where you live.”

“No matter where, no matter when!” Pavel had kissed us energetically on both cheeks and taken his package from Ben. Instead of opening it, he poured some of the liquid from the bottle into two large glasses and handed one to each of us. “Old Stucky is worrying about bad omens.”

“What bad omens?” I sniffed the liquid in my glass suspiciously. It smelled like my antibacterial face wash.

Old Stucky said something I couldn’t quite decipher.

“The moon is wearing a shroud.” Ben provided the translation again, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes in amusement as he spoke. “And the mountain ghost visited Old Stucky in a dream and warned him that something bad was about to happen.”

Old Stucky narrowed his eyes in agreement. “Tha moontin’ seynses et.”

“Oh.” I felt goose bumps creep up my arms.

“Please no superstitions on Christmas Eve. We drink pear brandy instead,” said Pavel.

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