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The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

By John Boyne

Chapter Seventeen

 Mother Gets Her Own Way

Over the course of the next few weeks Mother seemed increasingly unhappy with life at Out-With and Bruno understood perfectly well why that might be. After all, when they'd first arrived he had hated it, due to the fact that it was nothing like home and lacked such things as three best friends for life. But that had changed for him over time, mostly due to Shmuel, who had become more important to him than Karl or Daniel or Martin had ever been. But Mother didn't have a Shmuel of her own. There was no one for her to talk to, and the only person who she had been remotely friendly with - the young Lieutenant Kotler - had been transferred somewhere else.

Although he tried not to be one of those boys who

spends his time listening at keyholes and down chimneys, Bruno was passing by Father's office one afternoon while Mother and Father were inside having one of their conversations. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but they were talking quite loudly and he couldn't help but overhear.

'It's horrible,' Mother was saying. 'Just horrible. I

can't stand it any more.'

'We don't have any choice,'  said Father. 'This is

our assignment and-'

'No, this is your  assignment,'  said Mother. 'Your

assignment, not ours. You stay if you want to.'

'And what will people think,' asked Father, 'if I permit you and the children to return to Berlin with­ out me? They will ask questions about my commitment to the work here.'

'Work?' shouted Mother. 'You call this work?'

Bruno didn't hear much more because the voices were getting closer to the door and there was always a chance that Mother would come storming out in search of a medicinal sherry, so he ran back upstairs instead. Still, he had heard enough to know that there was a chance they might be returning to Berlin, and to his surprise he didn't know how to feel about that.

There was one part of him that remembered that

he had loved his own life back there, but so many things would have changed by now. Karl and the other two best friends whose names he couldn't remember would probably have forgotten about him by now. Grandmother was dead and they almost never heard from Grandfather, who Father said had gone senile.

But on the other hand he'd grown used to life at Out-With: he didn't mind Herr Liszt, he'd become much friendlier with Maria than he ever had been back in Berlin, Gretel was still going through a phase and keeping out of his way (and she didn't seem to be quite so much of a Hopeless Case any more) and his afternoon conversations with Shmuel filled him with happiness.

Bruno didn't know how to feel and decided that whatever happened, he would accept the decision without  complaint.

Nothing at all changed for a few weeks; life went on as ,normal. Father spent most of his time either in his office or on the other side of the fence. Mother kept very quiet during the day and was having an awful lot more of her afternoon naps, some of them not even in the afternoon but before lunch, and Bruno was worried for her health because he'd never known anyone need quite so many medicinal sherries. Gretel stayed in her room concentrating on the various maps she had pasted on the walls and consulting the news­ papers for hours at a time before moving the pins around a little. (Herr Liszt was particularly pleased with her for doing this.)

And Bruno did exactly what was asked of him and

caused no chaos at all and enjoyed the fact that he had one secret friend whom no one knew about.

Then one day Father summoned Bruno and Gretel into his office and informed them of the changes that were to come.

'Sit down, children,' he said, indicating the two large leather armchairs that they were usually told not to sit in when they had occasion to visit Father's office because of their grubby mitts. Father sat down behind his desk. 'We've decided to  make a few changes,’ he continued, looking a little sad as he spoke. 'Tell me this: are you happy here?'

‘Yes, Father, of course,’ said Gretel.

'Certainly, Father,' said Bruno.

'And you don't miss Berlin at all?'

The children paused for a moment and glanced at each other, wondering which one of them was going to commit to an answer. 'Well, I miss it terribly,' said Gretel eventually. 'I wouldn't mind having some friends again.'

Bruno smiled, thinking about his secret.

'Friends,' said Father, nodding his head. 'Yes, I've often thought of that. It must have been lonely for you at times.'

'Very lonely,' said Gretel in a determined voice.

'And you, Bruno,' asked Father, looking at him now. 'Do you miss your friends?'

'Well, yes,' he replied, considering his answer care­

fully. 'But I think I'd miss people no matter where I went.' That was an indirect reference to Shmuel but he didn't want to make it any more explicit than that.

'But would you like to go back to Berlin?' asked Father. 'If the chance was there?'

'All of us?' asked Bruno.

Father gave a deep sigh and shook his head. 'Mother and Gretel and you. Back to our old house in Berlin. Would you like that?'

Bruno thought about it. 'Well, I wouldn't like it if you weren't  there,' he said, because  that was the chance.

'So you'd prefer to stay here with me?'

'I'd prefer all four of us to stay together,' he said, reluctantly including Gretel in that.  'Whether  that was in Berlin or Out-With.'

'Oh, Bruno!' said Gretel in an exasperated voice, and he didn't know whether that was because he might be spoiling the plans for their return or because (according to her) he continued to mis­ pronounce the name of their home.

'Well, for the moment I'm afraid that's going to be impossible,' said Father. 'I'm afraid that the Fury will not relieve me of my command just yet. Mother, on the other  hand,  thinks  this  would   be   a  good  time for the three of you to return home and reopen the house, and when I think about it .. .' He paused for a moment and looked out of the window to his left -the window that led off to a view of the camp on the other side of the fence. 'When I think about it, perhaps she is right. Perhaps this is not a place for children.'

'There are hundreds of children here,' said Bruno, without really thinking about his words before saying them. 'Only they're on the other side of the fence.'

A silence followed this remark, but it wasn't like a

normal silence where it just happens that no one is talking. It was like a silence that was very noisy. Father and Gretel stared at him and he blinked in surprise.

'What do you mean there are hundreds of children

over there?'  asked Father. 'What do you know of what goes on over there?'

Bruno opened his mouth to speak but worried that he would get himself into trouble if he revealed too much. 'I can see them from my bedroom window,' he said finally. 'They're very far away of course, but it looks like there are hundreds. All wearing the striped pyjamas.'

'The striped pyjamas, yes,' said Father, nodding

his head. 'And you've been watching, have you?' 'Well, I've seen them,' said .Bruno. 'I'm not sure if that's the same thing.'

Father smiled. ‘Very good, Bruno,’ he said. ‘And you're right, it's not quite the same thing.'

hesitated again and then nodded his head, as if he had made a final decision.

    'No, she's right,' he said, speaking out loud but

not   looking   at  either   Gretel   or  Bruno.   'She's absolutely right. You've been here long enough as it is. It's time for you to go home.'

And so the decision was made. Word was sent ahead that the house should be cleaned, the windows washed, the banister varnished, the linen pressed, the beds made, and Father announced that Mother, Gretel and Bruno would be returning to Berlin within the week.

Bruno found that he was not looking forward to this as much as he would have expected and he dreaded having to tell Shmuel the news.

Chapter Eighteen

 Thinking Up the Final Adventure

The day after Father told Bruno that he would be returning to Berlin soon, Shmuel didn't arrive at the fence as usual. Nor did he show up the day after that. On the third day, when Bruno arrived there was no one sitting cross-legged ,on the ground and he waited for ten minutes and was about to turn back for home, extremely worried that he would have to leave Out-With without seeing his friend  again,  when  a dot in the distance became a speck and that became a blob and that became a figure and that in turn became the boy in the striped pyjamas.

Bruno broke into a smile when he saw the figure coming towards him and he sat down on the ground, taking the piece of bread and the apple he had smuggled with him out of his pocket to give to Shmuel. But even from a distance he could see that his friend looked even more unhappy than usual, and when he got to the fence he didn't reach for the food with his usual eagerness.

'I thought you weren't coming any more,' said Bruno. 'I came yesterday and the day before that and you weren't  here.'

'I'm sorry,' said Shmuel. 'Something happened.'

Bruno looked at him and narrowed his eyes, trying to guess what it might be. He wondered whether Shmuel had been told that he was going home too; after all, coincidences like that do happen, such as the fact that Bruno and Shmuel shared the same birthday.

'Well?' asked Bruno. 'What was it?'

'Papa,' said Shmuel. 'We can't find him.'

'Can't find him? That's very odd. You mean he's lost?'

'I suppose so,' said Shmuel. 'He was here on Monday and then he went on work duty with some other men and none of them have come back.'

'And hasn't he written you a letter?' asked Bruno. 'Or left a note to say when he'll be coming back?'

'No,' said Shmuel.

'How odd,' said Bruno. 'Have you looked for him?' he asked after a moment.

'Of course I have,' said Shmuel with a sigh. 'I did what you're always talking about. I did some exploration.'

'And there was no sign?' 'None.'

'Well, that's very strange,' said Bruno. 'But I think there must be a simple explanation.'

'And what's that?' asked Shmuel.

'I imagine the men were taken to work in another town and they have to stay there for a few days until the work is done. And the post isn't very good here anyway. I expect he'll turn up one day soon.'

'I hope so,' said Shmuel, who looked as if he was

about to cry. 'I don't know what we're supposed to do without him.'

'I could ask Father if you wanted,' said Bruno cau­

tiously, hoping that Shmuel wouldn't say yes.

'I don't think that would be a good idea,' said Shmuel, which, to Bruno's disappointment, was not a flat-out rejection of the offer.

'Why not?' he asked. 'Father is very knowledgeable

about life on that side  f the fence.'

'I don't think the soldiers like us,' said Shmuel. 'Well,' he added with something as close to a laugh as he could muster, 'I know they don't like us. They hate us.'

Bruno  sat  back  in  surprise.  'l;m sure they  don't

hate you,' he said.

'They do,' said Shmuel, leaning forward, his eyes

narrowing and his lips curling up a little in anger. 'But that's all right because I hate them too. I hate them,' he repeated forcefully.

'You don't hate Father, do you?' asked Bruno.

Shmuel bit his lip and said nothing. He had seen Bruno's  father  on  any  number  of  occasions  and couldn't  understand  how such a man could have a son who was so friendly and kind.

'Anyway,' said Bruno after a suitable pause, not wishing to discuss that topic any further, 'I have something to tell you too.'

'You do?' asked Shmuel, looking up hopefully. 'Yes. I'm going back to Berlin.'

Shmuel's mouth dropped open in surprise. 'When?' he asked, his voice catching slightly in his throat as he did so.

'Well, this is Thursday,' said Bruno. 'And we're leaving on Saturday. After lunch.'

'But for how long?' asked Shmuel.

'I think it's for ever,' said Bruno. 'Mother doesn't like it at Out-With- she says it's no place to bring up two children - so Father is staying here to work because the Fury has big things in mind for him, but the rest of us are going home.'

He said the word 'home', despite the fact that he wasn't sure where 'home' was any more.

'So I won't see you again?' asked Shmuel.

'Well, someday, yes,' said Bruno. 'You could come on a holiday to Berlin. You can't stay here for ever after all. Can you?'

Shmuel shook his head. 'I suppose not,' he said sadly. 'I won't have anyone to talk to any more when you're gone,' he added.

'No,' said Bruno. He wanted to add the words, 'I'll

miss you too, Shmuel,' to the sentence but found that he was a little embarrassed to say  them. 'So to­ morrow will be the last time we see each other until then,' he continued. 'We'll have to say our goodbyes then. I'll try to bring you an extra special treat.'

Shmuel  nodded  but  couldn't  find  any words  to

express his sorrow.

'I wish we'd got to play together,' said Bruno after a long pause. 'Just once. Just to remember.'

‘So do I,’ said Shmuel.

'We've been talking to each other for more than a year and we never got to play once. And do you know what else?' he added. 'All this time I've been watching where you live from out of my bedroom window and I've never even seen for myself what it's like.'

'You wouldn't like it,' said Shmuel. 'Yours is much

nicer,' he added.

'I'd still like to have seen it,' said Bruno.

Shmuel thought for a few moments and then reached down and put his hand under the fence and lifted it a little, to the height where a small boy, perhaps the size and shape of Bruno, could fit underneath.

'Well?' said Shmuel. 'Why don't you then?'

Bruno blinked and thought about it. 'I don't think I'd be allowed,' he said doubtfully.

'Well, you're probably not allowed to come here and talk to me every day either,' said Shmuel. 'But you still do it, don't you?'

'But if I was caught I'd be in trouble,' said Bruno, who was sure Mother and Father would not approve.

'That's true,' said Shmuel, lowering the fence again and looking at the ground with tears in his eyes. 'I suppose I'll see you tomorrow to say goodbye then.'

Neither boy said anything for a moment. Suddenly Bruno had a brainwave.

'Unless .. .' he began, thinking about it for a moment and allowing a plan to hatch in his head. He reached a hand up to his head and felt where his hair used to be but was now just stubble that hadn't fully grown back. 'Don't you remember that you said I looked like you?' he asked Shmuel. 'Since I had my head shaved?'

'Only fatter,' conceded Shmuel.

'Well, if that's the case,' said Bruno, 'and if I had a pair of striped pyjamas too, then I could come over on a visit and no one would be any the wiser.'

Shmuel's face brightened up and he broke  into a

wide smile. 'Do you think so?' he asked. 'Would you do it?'

'Of course,' said Bruno. 'It would be a great adventure. Our final adventure. I could do some exploring at last.'

'And you could help me look for Papa,' said Shmuel.

'Why not?' said Bruno. 'We'll take a walk around and see whether we can find any evidence. That's always wise when you're exploring. The only problem is getting a spare pair of striped pyjamas.'

Shmuel shook his head. 'That's all right,' he said. 'There's a hut where they keep them. I can get some in my size and bring them with me. Then you can change and we can look for Papa.'

'Wonderful,' said Bruno, caught up in the enthusiasm of the moment. 'Then it's a plan.'

'We'll meet at the same time tomorrow,' said Shmuel.

'Don't be late this time,' said Bruno, standing up and dusting himself down. 'And don't forget  the striped pyjamas.'

Both  boys  went  home  in  high  spirits that  after­

noon. Bruno imagined a great adventure ahead and finally an opportunity to see what was really on the other side of the fence before he went back to Berlin

- not to mention getting in a little serious exploration as well - and Shmuel saw a chance to get someone to help him in the search for his papa. All in all, it seemed like a very sensible plan and a good way to say goodbye.

Chapter Nineteen

 What Happened the Next Day

The next day- Friday- was another wet day. When Bruno woke in the morning he looked out of his window and was disappointed to see the rain pouring down. Had it not been for the fact that it would be the last chance for him and Shmuel to spend any time together - not to mention the fact that the adventure would be a very exciting one, especially since it involved dressing up - he would have given up on it for the day and waited until some afternoon the following week, when he didn't have anything special planned.

However, the clock was ticking  and there was

nothing he could do about it.  And  after  all,  it was only the morning and a lot could happen between then and the late afternoon, which was when the two boys always met. The rain would surely have stopped by then.

He watched out of the window during morning classes with Herr Liszt, but it showed no signs of slowing down then and even pounded noisily against the window. He watched during lunch from the kitchen, when it was definitely starting to ease off and there was even the hint of sunshine coming from behind a black cloud. He watched during history and geography lessons in the afternoon, when it reached its strongest force yet and threatened to knock the window in.

Fortunately it came to an end around the time that

Herr Liszt was leaving, and so Bruno put on a pair of boots and his heavy raincoat, waited until the coast was clear and left the house.

His boots squelched in the mud and he started to

enjoy the walk more than he ever had before. With every step he seemed to· face the danger of toppling over and falling down, but he  never  did  and managed to keep his balance, even at a particularly bad part where, when he lifted his left leg, his boot stayed implanted in the mud while his foot slipped right out of it.

He looked up at the skies, and although they were

still very dark he thought the day had probably had enough rain and he would be safe enough this after­ noon. Of course there would be the difficulty of explaining why he was so filthy later on when he returned home, but he could put that down to being a typical boy, which was what Mother claimed he was,  and  probably  not  get  into too  much  trouble.

(Mother had been particularly happy over the previous few days, as each box of their belongings had been sealed and packed into a truck for despatch to Berlin.) Shmuel was waiting  for Bruno when  he arrived, and  for the  first time  ever  he wasn't  sitting cross­ legged on the ground and staring at the dust beneath

him but standing, leaning against the fence.

'Hello, Bruno,' he said when he saw his friend approaching.

'Hello, Shmuel,' said Bruno.

'I wasn't sure if we'd ever see each other again -:­ with the rain and everything, I mean,' said Shmuel. 'I thought you might be kept indoors.'

'It was touch  and go for a while,'  said Bruno.

'What with the weather being so bad.'

Shmuel nodded and held out his hands to Bruno, who opened his mouth in delight. He was carrying a pair of striped pyjama bottoms, a striped pyjama top and a striped cloth cap exactly like the one he was wearing. It didn't look particularly clean but it was a disguise, and Bruno knew that  good  explorers always wore the right clothes.

'You  still want  to  help  me  find  Papa?'  asked

Shmuel, and Bruno nodded quickly.

'Of course,' he said, although finding Shmuel's papa was not as important in his mind as the prospect of exploring the world on the other side of the fence. 'I wouldn't let you down.'

Shmuel lifted the bottom of the fence off the ground and handed the outfit underneath to Bruno, being particularly careful not to let it touch the muddy ground below.

'Thanks,' said Bruno, scratching his stubbly head

and wondering why he hadn't remembered  to bring a bag to hold his own clothes in. The ground was so ditty here that they would be spoiled if he left them on the ground. He didn't have a choice really. He could either leave them here until later and accept the fact that they would be entirely caked with mud; or he could call the whole thing off and that, as any explorer of note knows, would have been out of the question.

'Well, turn  round/  said Bruno, pointing  at his

friend as he stood there awkwardly. 'I don't want you watching me.'

Shmuel turned round and Bruno took off his over­

coat and placed it as gently as possible on the ground. Then he took off his shirt and shivered for a moment in the cold air before putting on the pyjama top. As it slipped over his head he made the mistake of breathing through his nose; it did not smell very mce.

'When was this last washed?'  he called out, and

Shmuel turned round.

'I  don't  know  if it's  ever  been  washed,'  said Shmuel.

'Turn round!'  shouted Bruno, and Shmuel did as he was told. Bruno looked left and right again but there was still no one to be seen, so he began the dif­ ficult task of taking off his trousers while keeping one leg and one boot on the ground at the same time. It felt very strange taking off his trousers in the open air and he couldn't imagine what anyone  would think if they saw him doing it, but finally, and with a great deal of effort, he managed to complete the task.

'There,' he said. 'You can turn back now.'

Shmuel turned just as Bruno applied the finishing touch to his costume, placing the striped doth cap on his head. Shmuel blinked and shook his head. It was quite extraordinary. If it wasn't for the fact that Bruno was nowhere near as skinny as the boys on his side of the fence, and not quite so pale either, it would have been difficult to tell them apart. It was almost (Shmuel thought) as if they were all exactly the same really.

'Do you  know what  this reminds  me of?'  asked

Bruno, and Shmuel shook his head. 'What?' he asked.

'It reminds  me  of  Grandmother,'  he  said.  'You remember I told you about her? The one who died?' Shmuel nodded; he remembered  because  Bruno had talked about her a lot over the course of the year and   had   told   him   how   fond   he   had                                                       been        of Grandmother and how he wished he'd taken the time to write more letters to her before she passed away.

'It reminds me of the plays she used to put on with Gretel and me,' Bruno said, looking away from Shmuel as he remembered those days back in Berlin, part of the very few memories now that refused to fade. 'It reminds me of how she always had the right costume for me to wear. You wear the right outfit and you feel/ike the person you're pretending to be, she always told me. I suppose that's what I'm doing, isn't it? Pretending to be a person from the other side of the fence.'

'A Jew, you mean,' said Shmuel.

'Yes,' said Bruno, shifting on his feet a little uncomfortably. 'That's right.'

Shmuel  pointed  at  Bruno's  feet  and  the  heavy

boots he had taken from the house. 'You'll have to leave them behind too,' he said.

Bruno looked appalled. 'But the mud,' he said. 'You can't expect me to go barefoot.'

'You'll be recognized otherwise,' said Shmuel. 'You don't have any choice.'

Bruno sighed but he knew that his friend was right, and he took off the boots and his socks and left them beside the pile of clothes on the ground. At first it felt horrible putting his bare feet into so much mud; they sank down to his ankles and every time he lifted a foot it felt worse. But then he started to rather enjoy it.

Shmuel reached down and lifted the base of the fence, but it only lifted to a certain height and Bruno had no choice but to roll under it, getting his striped pyjamas completely covered in mud as he did so. He laughed when he looked down at himself. He had never been so filthy in all his life and it felt wonderful.

Shmuel  smiled  too and  the  two   boys   stood

awkwardly together for a moment, unaccustomed to being on the same side of the fence.

Bruno had an urge to give Shmuel a hug, just to let him know how much he liked him and how much he'd enjoyed talking to him over the last year.

Shmuel had an urge to give Bruno a hug too, just to thank him for all his many kindnesses, and his gifts of food, and the fact that he was going to help him find Papa.

Neither of them did hug each other though, and instead they began the walk away from the fence and towards the camp, a  walk that Shmuel had done almost every day for a year now, when he had escaped the eyes of the soldiers and managed to get to that one part of Out-With that didn't seem to be guarded all the time, a place where he had been lucky enough to meet a friend like Bruno.

It didn't take long to get where they were going. Bruno opened his eyes in wonder at the things he saw. In his imagination he had thought that all the huts were full of happy families, some of whom sat outside on rocking chairs in the evening and told stories about how things were so much better when they were children and they'd had respect for their elders, not like the children nowadays. He thought that all the boys and girls who lived here would be in different groups, playing tennis or football, skipping and drawing out squares for hopscotch on  the ground.

He had thought that there would be a shop in the centre, and maybe a small cafe like the ones he had known in Berlin; he had wondered whether there would be a fruit and vegetable stall.

As it turned out, all the things that he thought might be there - weren't.

There were no grown-ups sitting on rocking chairs on their porches.

And the children weren't playing games in groups. And not only was there not a fruit and vegetable stall,  but  there  wasn't  a  cafe  either  like there  had

been back in Berlin.

Instead there were crowds of people sitting together in groups, staring at the ground, looking horribly sad; they all had one thing in common: they were all terribly skinny and their eyes were sunken and they all had shaved heads, which Bruno thought must have meant there had been an outbreak of lice here too.

In one corner Bruno could see three soldiers who seemed to be in charge of a group of about twenty men. They were shouting  at  them,  and  some  of the men had fallen to their knees and were remaining there with their heads in their hands.

In another corner he could see more soldiers standing around and laughing and looking down the barrels of their guns, aiming them in random directions, but not firing them.

In fact everywhere he looked, all he could see was two different types of people: either happy, laughing, shouting soldiers in their uniforms or unhappy, cry­ ing people in their striped pyjamas, most of whom seemed to be staring into space as if they were actually asleep.

'I don't think I like it here,' said Bruno after a

while.

'Neither do 1,' said Shmuel.

'I think I ought to go home,' said Bruno.

Shmuel stopped walking and stared at him. 'But Papa,' he said. 'You said you'd help me find him.'

Bruno  thought  about  it. He  had  promised  his

friend that and he wasn't the sort to go back on a promise, especially when it was the last time they were going to see each other. 'All right,' he said, although he felt a lot less confident now than he had before. 'But where should we look?'

'You  said  we'd   need  to  find  evidence,'      said Shmuel, who was feeling upset because he thought that if Bruno didn't help him, then who would?

'Evidence, yes,' said Bruno, nodding his head. 'You're right. Let's start looking.'

So Bruno kept his word and the two boys spent an hour and a half searching the camp looking for evidence. They weren't sure exactly what they were looking for, but Bruno kept stating that a good explorer would know it when he found it.

But they didn't find anything at aU that might give them a clue to Shmuel's papa's disappearance, and it started to get darker.

Bruno looked up at the sky and it looked like it might rain again. 'I'm sorry, Shmuel,' he said eventu­ ally. 'I'm sorry we didn't find any evidence.'

Shmuel nodded his head sadly. He wasn't really surprised. He hadn't really expected to. But it had been nice having his friend over to see where he lived all the same.

'I think I ought to go home now,' said Bruno. 'Will you walk back to the fence with me?'

Shmuel opened his mouth to answer, but right at that moment there was a loud whistle and ten soldiers

- more than Bruno had ever seen gathered together in one place before- surrounded an area of the camp, the area in which Bruno and Shmuel were standing.

'What's  happening?'       whispered  Bruno.  'What's

going on?'

'It happens sometimes,' said Shmuel. 'They make people go on marches.'

'Marches!' said Bruno, appalled. 'I can't go on a march. I have to be home in time for dinner. It's roast beef tonight.'

'Ssh,' said Shmuel, putting  a  finger to his  lips.

'Don't say anything or they get angry.'

Bruno frowned but was relieved that all the people in striped pyjamas from this part of the camp were gathering together now, most of them being pushed together by the soldiers, so that he and Shmuel were hidden in the centre of them and couldn't be seen. He didn't know what everyone looked so frightened about - after all, marching wasn't such a terrible thing - and he wanted to whisper to them that everything was all right, that Father was the Commandant, and if this was the kind of thing that he wanted the people to do then it must be all right.

The whistles blew again, and this time the group

of people, which must have numbered about a hundred, started to march slowly together, with Bruno and Shmuel still held together in the centre. There was some sort of disturbance towards the back, where some people seemed unwilling to march, but Bruno was too small to see what happened and all he heard was loud noises, like the sound of gun­ shots, but he couldn't make out what they were.

'Does the marching go on for long?' he whispered because he was beginning to feel quite hungry now. 'I don't  think  so,'  said  Shmuel.  'I never  see the

people after they've gone on a march. But I wouldn't

imagine it does.'

Bruno frowned. He looked up at the sky, and as he did so there was another loud sound, this time the sound of thunder  overhead,  and  just  as  quickly the sky seemed to grow even darker, almost black, and rain poured down even more heavily than it had in the morning. Bruno closed his eyes for a moment and felt it wash over him. When he opened them again he wasn't so much marching as being swept along by the group of people, and all he could feel was the mud that was c;;tked all over his body and his pyjamas clinging to his skin with all the rain and he longed to be back in his house, watching all this from a distance and not wrapped up in the centre of it.

'That's it,' he said to Shmuel. 'I'm going to catch a

cold out here. I have to go home.'

But just as he said this, his feet brought him up a set of steps, and as he marched on he found there was no more rain coming down any more because they were all piling into a long room that was surprisingly warm and must have been very securely built because no rain was getting in anywhere. In fact it felt completely airtight.

'Well, that's something,' he said, glad to be out of the storm for a few minutes at least. 'I expect we'll have to wait here till it eases off and then I'll get to go home.'

Shmuel gathered himself  very close to Bruno and looked up at him in fright.

'I'm sorry we didn't find your papa,' said Bruno. 'It's all right,' said Shmuel.

'And I'm sorry we didn't really get to play, but when you come to Berlin, that's what we'll do. And I'll introduce you to ... Oh, what were their names again?' he asked himself, frustrated because they were supposed to be his three best friends for life but they had all vanished from his memory now. He couldn't remember any of their names and he couldn't picture any of their faces.

'Actually,' he said, looking down at Shmuel, 'it

doesn't matter whether I do or don't. They're not my best friends any more anyway.' He looked down and did something quite out of character for him: he took hold of Shmuel's tiny hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

'You're my best friend, Shmuel,' he said. 'My best

friend for life.'

Shmuel may well have opened his mouth to say something back, but Bruno never heard it because at that moment there was a loud gasp from all the marchers who had filled the  room,  as the  door  at the front was suddenly closed and a loud metallic sound rang through  from the outside.

Bruno raised an eyebrow, unable to understand the sense of all this, but he assumed that it had some­ thing to do with keeping the rain out and stopping people from catching colds.

And then the room went very dark and somehow, despite the chaos that followed, Bruno found that he was still holding Shmuel's hand in his own and nothing in the world would have persuaded him to let it go.

Chapter Twenty

 The Last Chapter

Nothing more was ever heard of Bruno after that.

Several days later, after the soldiers had searched every part of the house and gone into all the local towns and villages with pictures of the little boy, one of them discovered the pile of clothes and the pair of boots that Bruno had left near the fence. He left them there, undisturbed,  and went to fetch the Commandant, who examined the area and looked to his left and looked to his right just as Bruno had done, but for the life of him he could not understand what had happened to his son. It was as if he had just vanished off the face of the earth and left his clothes behind him.

Mother did not return to Berlin quite as quickly as she had hoped. She stayed at Out-With for several months waiting for news of Bruno until  one day, quite suddenly, she thought he might have made his way home alone, so she immediately returned to their old house, half expecting to see him sitting on the doorstep waiting for her.

He wasn't there, of course.

Gretel returned to Berlin with Mother and spent a lot of time alone in her room crying, not because she had thrown her dolls away and not because she had left all her maps behind at Out-With, but because she missed Bruno so much.

Father stayed at Out-With for another year after

that and became very disliked by the other soldiers, whom he ordered around mercilessly. He went to sleep every night thinking about Bruno and he woke up every morning thinking  about  him  too.  One day he formed a theory about what might have occurred and he went hack to the place in the fence where the pile of clothes had been found a year before.

There was nothing particularly special about this

place, or different, but then he did a little exploration of his own and discovered that the base of the fence here was not properly attached to the ground as it was everywhere else and that, when lifted, it left a gap large enough for a very small person (such as a little boy) to crawl underneath. He looked into the distance then and followed it through logically, step by step by step, and when he did he found that his legs  seemed  to  stop working  right  - as  if  they couldn't hold his body up any longer - and he ended up sitting on the ground in almost exactly the same position as Bruno had every afternoon for a year, although he didn't cross his legs beneath him.

A few months after that some other soldiers came

to Out-With and Father was ordered to go with them, and he went without complaint and he was happy to do so because he didn't really mind what they did to him any more.

And that's the end of the story about Bruno and

his family. Of course all this happened a long time ago and nothing like that could ever happen again.

Not in this day and age.

The End