Back to The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
By John Boyne
| Chapter 5 Audio |
Out
Of Bounds
At All
Times And
No
Exceptions
There
was only
one thing
for it
and that
was to
speak
to
Father.
Father
hadn't left
Berlin in
the car
with them
that morning.
Instead he had
left a
few days
earlier, on
the night of
the day
that Bruno
had come
home to find
Maria going
through his
things, even
the things
he'd hidden
at the
back that
belonged to
him and
were nobody
else's business.
In the
days following,
Mother, Gretel,
Maria, Cook,
Lars and
Bruno had
spent all
their time
boxing up
their belongings and loading
them into
a big
truck to
be brought to
their new
home at
Out-With.
It
was on
this final
morning,
when
the
house
looked
empty and
not like
their real
home at
all, that
the
very last
things they
owned were
put into
suitcases
and an
official car
with red-and-black
flags
on
the
front had
stopped at
their
door
to
take
them
away.
Mother, Maria
and Bruno
were the
last people
to
leave the
house and
it was
Bruno's belief
that Mother
didn't realize
the maid
was still
standing there,
because as
they took
one last
look around
the empty
hallway where
they had
spent so
many happy
times, the
place where
the Christmas
tree stood
in December,
the place
where the
wet umbrellas
were left
in a
stand during
the winter
months, the
place where
Bruno was
supposed to
leave his muddy
shoes when he came
in but
never did,
Mother had
shaken her
head and
said something very strange.
'We
should
never
have
let
the
Fury
come
to
dinner,' she
said. 'Some
people and
their
determination to
get ahead.'
Just
after
she
said
that
she
turned
round
and
Bruno
could see
that she
had tears
in her
eyes, but
she
jumped when
she saw
Maria standing
there,
watching her.
'Maria,'
she said,
in a
startled tone
of voice.
'I
thought you
were in
the car.'
'I was
just leaving,
ma'am,' said
Maria.
'I didn't
mean-' began
Mother before
shaking
her
head and starting
again. 'I
wasn't trying
to
suggest-'
-------------------------
must
not have
known the
rule about
not interrupting
Mother, and
stepped through
the door
quickly and ran
to the
car.
Mother had frowned
but then
shrugged, as
if
none of
it really
mattered any
more anyway.
'Come on
then,
Bruno,' she
said, taking
his hand
and locking
the
door behind
them. 'Let's
just hope
we get
to come
back
here someday
when all
this is
over.'
The
official
car
with
the
flags
on
the front
had
taken them to a train station, where there were two tracks separated by a wide platform, and on either side a train stood waiting for the passengers to board. Because there were so many soldiers march ing about on the other side, not to mention the fact that there was a long hut belonging to the signalman separating the tracks, Bruno could only make out the crowds of people for a few moments before he and his family boarded a very comfortable train with very few people on it and plenty of empty seats and fresh air when the windows were pulled down. If the trains had been going in different directions, he thought, it wouldn't have seemed so odd, but they weren't; they were both pointed eastwards. For a moment he considered running across the platform to tell the people about the empty seats in his carriage, but he decided not to as something told him that if it didn't make Mother angry, it would probably make Gretel furious, and that would be worse still.
Since
arriving at
Out-With and
their new
house,
Bruno
hadn't seen
his father.
He had thought
perhaps he
was in
his bedroom
earlier when
the door creaked
open, but that
had turned
out to
be the
unfriendly young
soldier who
had stared
at Bruno
without
any warmth
in his
eyes. He
hadn't heard
Father's booming
voice anywhere
and he
hadn't
heard
the heavy
sound of
his boots
on the
floor
boards
downstairs. But
there were
definitely people
coming
and going,
and as
he debated
what to
do for
the
best he heard a
terrific commotion
coming from downstairs
and went
out to
the hallway
to look
over the banister.
Down
below he
saw the
door to
Father's office
standing open
and a
group of
five men
outside it,
laughing and
shaking hands.
Father was
at the
centre of
them and
looked very
smart in
his freshly
pressed uniform. His
thick dark
hair had
obviously been
recently lacquered
and combed,
and as
Bruno watched
from above
he felt
both scared
and in
awe of
him. He
didn't like
the look of
the other
men quite
as much.
They certainly
weren't as
handsome as
Father. Nor
were their
uniforms as
freshly pressed.
Nor were their voices
so booming
or their
boots so
polished. They
all held their
caps under
their arms
and seemed
to be
fighting with
each other
for Father's attention. Bruno could
only understand
a few
of their
phrases as
they travelled
up to
him.
•
'...
made
mistakes from
the moment
he got here.
It got
to the
point where
the Fury
had no
choice but
to
..
.'
said one.
•
'...
discipline!' said another.
'And efficiency.
We
•
have lacked
efficiency since the
start of
'forty-two
and
without that
..
.'
•
'...
it's
clear, it's
clear what
the numbers
say. It's
•
clear, Commandant
...'
said the
third.
•
'.
.
.
and
if
we
build another,'
said the
last,
'imagine what we
could do
then
...
just
imagine
•
.
I'
•
It
..
··
•
Father held
a hand
in the
air, which
immediately caused
the other
men to
fall silent.
It was
as if he was the
conductor of a
barbershop quartet.
•
'Gentlemen,' he
said, and
this time
Bruno could
•
make out
every word
because there
had never
been a
man born
who was
more capable
of being
heard
from one
side of
a room
to the
other than
Father. 'Your suggestions and
your encouragement
are very much
appreciated. And
the past
is the
past. Here
we have
a fresh
beginning, but
let that
beginning start
tomorrow. For
now, I'd
better help
my family
settle in or there will
be as
much trouble
for me
in here
as there
is for
them out
there, you
understand?'
•
The men
all broke
into laughter
and shook
Father's hand.
As they
left they
stood in
a row
together like toy
soldiers and
their arms
shot out in
the same
way that
Father had
taught Bruno to
salute,
the palm
stretched flat,
moving from
their
chests up
into the
air in
front of
them in
a sharp
motion
as they cried out
the two
words that
Bruno
had
been taught
to say
whenever anyone
said it
to
him.
Then they
left and
Father returned
to his
office,
which was
Out Of·Bounds
At All
Times And No
Exceptions.
Bruno
walked slowly
down the
stairs and
hesitated for
a moment
outside the
door. He
felt sad
that Father
had not
come up
to say
hello to
him in
the hour
or so
that he
had been
here, but
it had
been
explained
to him
on many
occasions just
how busy Father was and
that he
couldn't be
disturbed by
silly
things
like saying
hello to
him all
the time.
But the
soldiers
had left
now and
he thought
it would
be all
right
if he
knocked on
the door.
Back
in Berlin,
Bruno had
been inside Father's
office on
only a
handful of
occasions, and
it was usually because he
had been
naughty and
needed to
have a
serious talking-to.
However, the
rule that
applied to
Father's office
in Berlin
was one
of the
most
important rules
that Bruno
had
ever
learned and he
was not
so silly
as to
think that
it would
not
apply here
at Out-With
too.
But
since
they
had
not
seen each
other in
some days,
he thought
that no
one
would mind
if he
knocked now.
And
so he
tapped carefully
on the
door. Twice,
and
quietly.
Perhaps
Father didn't
hear, perhaps
Bruno didn't
knock
loudly enough,
but no
one came
to the
door,
so
Bruno knocked
again and
did it
louder this
time,
and as
he did-
so he
heard the
booming voice
from inside call out, 'Enter!'
Bruno turned
the door
handle and
stepped inside
and assumed
his customary
pose of
wide-open eyes,
mouth
in the
shape of
an
0
and
arms stretched
out
by
his sides.
The rest
of the
house might
have been
a
little dark and
gloomy and
hardly full
of possibilities
for
exploration but this
room was
something else.
It
had a
very high
ceiling to
begin with,
and a carpet
underfoot that
Bruno thought
he might
sink
into.
The walls
were hardly
visible; instead
they were
covered with
dark mahogany
shelves, all
lined with
books, like
the ones
in the
library at
the house in
Berlin.
There were
enormous windows
on the
wall
facing
him, which
stretched out into
the garden beyond,
allowing a
comfortable seat
to be
placed in
front of
them, and
in the
centre of
all this, seated
behind
a massive
oak desk,
was Father
himself, who
looked up
from his
papers when
Bruno entered
and
broke into
a wide
smile.
'Bruno,' he
said, coming
round from
behind
the
desk and
shaking the
boy's hand
solidly, for
Father was
not usually
the type
of man
to give
anyone a
hug,
unlike
Mother and
Grandmother, who
gave them
a
little
too often
for comfort, complementing
them with
slobbering
kisses. 'My
boy,' he
added after
a moment.
'Hello, Father,'
said
Bruno
quietly, a
little
overawed by
the splendour of the
room.
'Bruno, I
was coming
up to
see you
in a few
minutes, I promise
I was,'
said Father.
'I just
had a
meeting to
finish and
a letter
to write.
You got
here safely
then?'
'Yes,
Father,' said
Bruno.
'You were
a help
to your
mother and
sister in
closing
the house?'
'Yes, Father,'
said Bruno.
'Then
I'm proud
of you,'
said Father
approvingly. 'Sit down,
boy.'
He
indicated a
wide armchair
facing his
desk and
Bruno
clambered onto
it, his
feet not
quite touching
the
floor, while
Father returned
to his
seat behind
the
desk
and stared
at him.
They didn't
say anything
to
each
other for
a moment,
and then
finally Father
broke the
silence.
'So?'
he asked.
'What do
you think?'
'What do
I think?'
asked Bruno.
'What do
I think of what?'
'Of
your new
home. Do
you like
it?'
'No,' said
Bruno quickly,
because he
always tried
to
be honest
and knew
that if
he hesitated
even for
a
moment
then he wouldn't have
the nerve
to say
what
he
really thought.
'I think
we should
go home;
he
added
bravely.
Father's
smile
faded only
a
little and
he glanced
down
at his
letter for
a moment
before looking
back up
again,
as
if
he
wanted
to
consider
his
reply
carefully. 'Well,
we are
home, Bruno,'
he said
finally in a gentle voice.
'Out-With is our
new home.'
'But
when can
we go
back to
Berlin?' asked
Bruno,
his
heart sinking when
Father said that. 'It's
so much
nicer
there.'
'Come, come,'
said Father,
wanting to
have none
of
that. 'Let's
have none
of that,'
he said.
'A home
is
not
a building
or a street or
a city
or something
so
artificial as bricks
and mortar.
A home
is where
one's
family
is, isn't
that right?'
'Yes'
but-'
'And
our
family
is
here, Bruno.
At
Out-With.
Ergo,
this must
be our
home.'
Bruno
didn't understand
what
ergo
meant, but he
didn't need
to because
he had a
clever answer
for Father.
'But Grandfather
and Grandmother
are in
Berlin,' he
said. 'And
they're our
family too.
So this
can't be
our home.'
Father
considered this
and nodded
his head.
He waited
a long
time before
replying. 'Yes,
Bruno, they
are. But
you and
I and
Mother and
Gretel are
the most
important people
in our family and
this is
where we
live now.
At Out-With.
Now, don't
look so
unhappy about
it!' (Because
Bruno was
looking distinctly
unhappy about
it.) 'You
haven't even
given it
a chance
yet. You
might like
it here.'
'I
don't like
it here,'
insisted Bruno.
'Bruno
..
.'
said Father
in a
tired voice.
'Karl's not
here and
Daniel's not
here and
Martin's not here and there are no
other houses
around us
and
no
fruit and
vegetable stalls
and no streets and
no
cafes
with tables
outside and
no one to
push you
from
pillar to
post on
a Saturday
afternoon.'
'Bruno,
sometimes there
are things we
need to
do
in life
that we
don't have
a choice
in,' said
Father,
and
Bruno could
tell that
he was
starting to
tire of
this
conversation. 'And
I'm afraid this
is one of them.
This
is my
work, important
work. Important
to our
country. Important to
the Fury.
You'll understand
that some
day.'
'I
want to
go home,'
said Bruno.
He could
feel
tears
welling up
behind his
eyes and
wanted nothing
more
than for
Father to
realize just
how awful
a
place
Out-With really
was and
agree that
it was
time
to
leave.
'You
need to
realize that
you
are
at home,'
he said
instead, disappointing Bruno. 'This is
it for
the fore
seeable future.'
Bruno
closed his
eyes for a
moment. There hadn't
been many
times in
his life
when he
had been
quite
so
insistent on having
his own
way and
he had
certainly never
gone to
Father with
quite so
much
desire
for him
to change
his mind
about something,
but
the idea
of staying
here, the
idea of having
to live in such a
horrible place
where there
was no one at
all to play with,
was too
much to
think about.
When he opened
his eyes
again a
moment later,
Father stepped
round from
behind his
desk and
settled himself
in an armchair beside
him. Bruno
watched as
he opened a
silver case,
took out
a cigarette
and tapped
it on
the desk
before lighting
it.
'I
remember when
I was a
child,' said
Father,
'there were certain
things that
I didn't
want to
do,
but when
my father
said that
it would
be better
for everyone
if
I did
them, I
just put
my best
foot forward
and got
on with
them.'
'What kinds
of
things?'
asked
Bruno.
•
'Oh, I
don't know,'
said Father,
shrugging his
shoulders. 'It's
neither here
nor there
anyway. I
was
just
a child
and didn't
know what
was for
the best.
Sometimes, for
example, I
didn't want
to stay
at
home
and finish
my schoolwork;
I wanted
to be
out
on
the streets,
playing with
my friends
just like
you
do, and
I look
back now
and see
how foolish
I
was.'
'So
you know
how I
feel,' said
Bruno hopefully.
'Yes, but
I also
knew that
my father,
your grand
father,
knew what
was best
for me
and that
I was
always happiest
when I just accepted
that. Do
you
life
if I
hadn't learned when
to argue and
when to
keep my
mouth shut
and follow
orders?
Well,
Bruno? Do
you?'
Bruno looked
around.
His
gaze landed
on the window in
the corner
of the
room and
through it
he
could
see the
awful landscape
beyond.
'Did you
do something wrong?' he
asked after
a
moment.
'Something that
made the
Fury angry?'
'Me?' said
Father, looking
at him in surprise.
'What
do you
mean?'
'Did
you do
something bad in
work? I
know that
everyone says
you're an
important man
and that
the Fury
has big
things in
mind for
you, but
he'd hardly
send you
to a
place like
this if
you hadn't
done some thing
that he
wanted to
punish you
for.'
Father laughed,
which upset
Bruno even
more;
there
was nothing
that made
him more
angry than
when
a grown-up
laughed at
him for not
knowing
something, especially when he
was trying
to find
out
the
answer by
asking questions.
'You don't
understand the
significance of such
a
position,' Father said.
'Well,
I don't think you
can have
been very
good
at
your job
if it
means we
all have
to move
away
from
a very
nice home
and our
friends and
come to
a
horrible place
like this.
I think you
must have
done
something wrong and
you should
go and
apologize to the Fury
and maybe
that will
be an
end to
it. Maybe he'll forgive
you if
you're very
sincere about it.'
The words
were out
before he
could really
think
about whether
they were
sensible or
not; once
he
heard
them floating
in the
air they
didn't seem
like entirely
the kind
of things
he should
be saying
to Father,
but there
they were,
already said,
and not
a thing he could
do to
take them
back. Bruno
swallowed nervously
and, after
a few
moments' silence,
glanced back
at Father,
who was
staring at
him stony-faced. Bruno
licked his
lips and looked
away. He felt
it would
be a
bad idea
to hold
Father's eye.
After
a
few
silent
and
uncomfortable
minutes
Father stood
up slowly
from the seat beside him
and walked back behind
the desk,
laying his
cigarette on
an ashtray.
'I
wonder
if
you are
being very
brave,' he
said
quietly after a
moment, as
if he was
debating the
matter in
his head,
'rather than
merely disrespectful. Perhaps that's
not such
a bad
thing.'
'I
didn't
mean-'
'But you
will be
quiet now,'
said Father,
raising his
voice
and interrupting
him because
none of
the rules
of
normal family
life ever
applied to
him.
'I
have
been
very considerate of your
feelings here,
Bruno,
because
I know that
this move
is difficult
for you.
And
I have listened
to what
you have
to say,
even
though
your youth and
inexperience force you
to
phrase
things in
an insolent
manner. And
you'll notice that
Ihave
not reacted
to any of this.
But the
moment has
come when
you will
simply
have to
-
accept
that-'
'I don't
want to
accept it!'
shouted Bruno,
blinking
in surprise
because he
hadn't known
he was
going
to shout
out loud.
(In fact
it came
as a
complete
surprise to
him.) He
tensed slightly
and got
ready
to make
a run
for it
if necessary.
But nothing
seemed
to be
making Father
angry today
-
and
if
Bruno
was honest
with himself
he would
have admitted that Father
rarely became
angry; he
became
quiet
and distant
and always
had his
way in the
end anyway- and rather
than shouting
at him
or chasing
him
around the
house, he
simply shook
his head
and
indicated
that their
debate was
at an end.
'Go to
your room,
Bruno,' he
said in
such a
quiet
voice
that Bruno
knew that
he meant
business now,
so
he stood
up, tears
of frustration forming in
his eyes. He walked
towards the
door, but
before open ing it he
turned round
and asked
one final
question. 'Father?'
he began.
'Bruno,
I'm not
going
to-'
began
Father irritably.
'It's not
about that,'
said Bruno
quickly. 'I
just
have
one other question.'
Father
sighed but
indicated that
he should
ask it
and
then that
would be
an end
to the
matter and
no
arguments.
Bruno
thought
about
his
question,
wanting
to
phrase it exactly
right this
time, just
in case
it came out
as being
rude or
unco-operative. 'Who
are all those
people outside?'
he said
finally.
Father
tilted his
head to
the left,
looking a
little confused
by the question. 'Soldiers,
Bruno,' he
said. 'And
secretaries. Staff
workers. You've
seen them
all before,
of course.'
'No,
not them,'
said Bruno.
'The people
I see
from my
window. In
the huts, in
the distance.
They're all
dressed the
same.'
'Ah, those
people,' said
Father, nodding
his head
and
smiling slightly.
'Those people
...
well,
they're not people at
all, Bruno.'
Bruno frowned.
'They're not?'
he asked,
unsure
what
Father meant
by that.
'Well,
at least
not as
we understand
the term,'
Father continued.
'But you
shouldn't be
worrying about
them right
now. They're
nothing
to
do
with you.
You have
nothing whatsoever in common
with them.
Just settle
into your
new horne
and be
good, that's
all I
ask. Accept the situation in
which you
find yourself and everything
will be
so much
easier.'
'Yes, Father,'
said Bruno,
unsatisfied by the
response.
He
opened the
door and
Father called
him back
for a
moment, standing
up and raising an
eyebrow as
if he'd
forgotten something.
Bruno remembered the moment
his
father
made
the
signal,
and
said
the phrase
and imitated
him exactly.
He pushed his
two feet
together and
shot his
right arm into the air
before clicking
his two
heels together and
saying in as
deep and
clear a
voice as possible
as much
like Father's
as he
could manage-
the words
he said
every time
he left
a soldier's
presence.
'Heil
Hitler,'
he said,
which, he
presumed, was another way of
saying, 'Well,
goodbye for
now, have
a pleasant
afternoon.'
| Chapter 6 Audio |
Chapter
Six
Some days
later Bruno
was lying
on the
bed in
his
room,
staring at
the ceiling above
his head. The
white paint
was cracked
and peeling
away from
itself
in
a most
unpleasant manner,
unlike the
paintwork
in
the house
in Berlin,
which was
never chipped and
received an
annual top-up
every summer
when
Mother brought
the decorators in. On
this particular
afternoon he
lay there
and stared
at the
spidery
cracks, narrowing his eyes
to consider
what might
lie
behind
them. He
imagined that
there were
insects
living in
the spaces
between the
paint and the
ceiling
itself which
were pushing
it out,
cracking it
wide,
opening it
up, trying
to create
a gap
so that
they
could
squeeze through
and look
for a
window where
they
might make
their escape.
Nothing, thought Bruno,
not even
the insects,
would ever
choose to
stay at
Out-With.
'Everything
here
is
horrible,'
he
said
out
loud,
even though there was
no one
present to
hear him, but somehow
it made
him feel
better to
hear the
words stated
anyway. 'I
hate this
house, I
hate my
room and
I even
hate the
paintwork. I
hate it all.
Absolutely everything.'
Just
as he
finished speaking
Maria came
through the
door carrying
an armful
of his
washed, dried
and ironed
clothes. She
hesitated for
a moment
when she
saw him
lying there
but then
bowed her
head a
little and
walked silently
over towards
the wardrobe.
'Hello,'
said Bruno,
for although
talking to
a maid
wasn't
quite the
same thing
as having
some friends
to talk
to, there
was no
one else
around to
have a
con versation with
and it made
much more
sense than
talking to
himself. Gretel
was nowhere
to be
found and
he had
begun to
worry that
he would
go mad
with boredom.
'Master
Bruno,' said
Maria quietly,
separating his
vests from
his trousers
and his
underwear and
putting them
in different
drawers and
on different
shelves.
'I
expect you're
as unhappy
about this
new arrangement as I
am,' said
Bruno, and
she turned
to look
at him
with an
expression that suggested
she didn't
understand what he
meant. 'This,'
he explained,
stttmg up
and
looking
around.
'Everything here. It's
awful, isn't
it? Don't
you hate
it too?'
Maria
opened
her
mouth
to
say
something
and
then closed it again
just as
quickly. She
seemed to
be considering
her response
carefully, selecting the
right words, preparing to
say them,
and then
thinking better
of it
and discarding
them altogether.
Bruno had
known her
for almost
all his
life
-
she had
come to
work for
them when
he was
only three
years old
-
and they
had always
got along
quite well
for the
most part,
but she
had never
showed any
particular signs
of life
before. She
just got
on with
her job,
polishing the
furniture, washing
the clothes,
helping with
the shopping
and the
cooking, sometimes
taking him
to school
and collecting
him again,
although that
had been
more common
when Bruno was
eight; when
he turned nine
he decided
he was
old enough
to make
his way
there and
horne alone.
'Don't
you like
it here
then?' she
said finally.
'Like
it?' replied
Bruno with
a slight
laugh. 'Like it?'
he repeated, but louder
this time.
'Of course
I don't
like it!
It's awful.
There's nothing
to do,
there's no
one to
talk to,
nobody to
play with.
You can't
tell me
that you're
happy we've
moved here, surely?'
'I
always
enjoyed
the
garden
at
the
house
in
Berlin,' said Maria,
answering an
entirely different question. 'Sometimes,
when it
was a warm
after noon, I
liked to
sit out
there in
the sunshine
and eat
my lunch
underneath the ivy
tree by
the pond.
The flowers
were
very
beautiful
there.
The
scents.
The
way the
bees hovered
around them
and never
bothered you if
you just
left them
alone.'
'So you
don't like
it here
then?' asked
Bruno. 'You think
it's as
bad as
I do?'
Maria frowned.
'It's not
important,' she said.
'What
isn't?'
'What I
think.'
'Well,
of course
it's important,'
said Bruno
irritably,
as if
she was
just being
deliberately difficult. 'You're
part of
the family,
aren't you?'
'I'm
not sure
whether your
father would
agree
with that,' said
Maria, allowing
herself a
smile because
she was
touched by
what he
had just
said.
'Well, you've
been brought
here against
your will, just
like I
have.
If
you
ask me,
we're all
in the
same
boat.
And it's
leaking.'
For
a moment
it seemed
to Bruno
as if
Maria
really was
going to
tell him
what she
was thinking.
She laid
the rest
of his
clothes down
on the bed
and her
hands clenched
into fists,
as if
she was
terribly angry
about something. Her mouth
opened but
froze there
for a
moment, as
if she
was scared
of all the things
she might
say if
she allowed
herself to
begin.
“Please tell
me Maria,” said Bruno.
“Because
maybe if
we all
feel the
same way
we can
persuade Father
to take
us home
again.'
She
looked away
from him
for a
few silent moments
and shook
her head
sadly before
turning back to face
him. 'Your
father knows
what is
for the best,'
she said. 'You
must trust
in that.'
'But
I'm not
sure I
do,' said
Bruno. 'I
think he's
made a
terrible mistake.'
'Then
it's a mistake
we all
have to
live with.'
'When
I make mistakes I
get punished,'
insisted
Bruno,
irritated by
the fact that the
rules that
always
applied to
children never
seemed to
apply to grown ups at all
(despite the
fact that
they were
the ones
who
enforced them).
'Stupid Father,' he added under
his
breath.
Maria's
eyes
opened
wide
and
she
took
a
step
towards him, her
hands covering
her mouth
for a
moment in
horror. She
looked round
to make
sure that
no one
was listening
to them
and
had
heard
what Bruno
had just
said. 'You
mustn't say
that,' she
said. 'You
must never
say something like that
about your
father.'
'I
don't see
why not,'
said Bruno;
he was
a little
ashamed
of himself
for having
said it,
but the
last thing
he was
going to
do was
sit back
and receive
a telling-off
when no
one seemed
to care
about his
optmons anyway.
'Because
your
father
is
a good
man,'
said
Maria.
'A
very good
man. He
takes care
of all
of us.'
'Bringing us
all the way
out here,
to the
middle of
nowhere, you
mean? Is
that taking
care of
us?'
'There are
many things
your father
has done,'
she
said.
'Many things
of which
you should
be proud.
If
it wasn't
for your
father, where
would I
be now
after all?'
'Back
in Berlin,
I expect,'
said Bruno.
'Working in
a nice house.
Eating your
lunch underneath the ivy
and leaving
the bees
alone.'
'You
don't remember
when I
came to
work for
you, do
you?' she
asked quietly,
sitting down
for a moment
on the side of
his bed,
something she
had never done
before. 'How
could you?
You were
only
three
Your father
took me
in and
helped me
when I
needed him. He
gave me
a job,
a home.
Food. You
can't imagine
what it's
like to
need food.
You've
never been
hungry, have
you?'
Bruno frowned. He
wanted to
mention
that
he
was feeling
a bit
peckish
right
now,
but
instead
he looked
across at
Maria and
realized for
the first
time that
he had
never fully
considered her
to be
a person with a life
and a
history all
of her own.
After all,
she had
never done
anything (as
far as he
knew) other than be
his family's
maid. He
wasn't even
sure that
he had
ever seen
her dressed
in anything
other than
her maid's
uniform. But
when he
came to
think of
it, as
he did
now, he
had to
admit that
there must
be more
to her
life than
just waiting
on him and his
family. She
must have
thoughts in
her head, just
like him.
She must
have things
that she
missed, friends whom
she wanted
to see again,
just like
him. And
she must have
cried herself
to sleep every night
since she
got here,
just like
boys far
less grown
up and
brave than
him. She was
rather pretty too,
he noticed,
feel ing
a little
funny inside
as he
did so.
'My
mother knew
your father
when he
was just
a
boy
of your
age,' said
Maria after
a few
moments. 'She
worked for
your grandmother. She was
a dresser
for her
when she
toured Germany
as a
younger woman.
She arranged
all the clothes for
her concerts
-
washed
them,
ironed
them,
repaired
them.
Magnificent
gowns, all
of them.
And the
stitching, Bruno! Like art
work, every
design. You
don't find
dressmakers like
that these
days.' She
shook her
head and
smiled at
the
memory as
Bruno
listened patiently.
'She made
sure that
they were
all laid
out and ready whenever
your grandmother
arrived in
her
dressing
room before
a show.
And after
your grand
mother
retired, of
course my
mother stayed
friendly with
her and
received a
small pension,
but times
were
hard then and
your father offered me
a job,
the
first
I had ever had.
A few
months later
my mother
became
very sick
and she
needed a
lot of hospital
care
and your
father arranged
it all,
even though
he
was
not obliged
to. He
paid for
it out
of his
own pocket because she
had been
a friend to
his mother. And
he took
me into
his household
for the
same reason. And when
she died he
paid all the
expenses for her funeral
too. So
don't you
ever call
your father stupid,
Bruno. Not around
me. I
won't allow
it.'
Bruno bit
his lip.
He had
hoped that
Maria would
take
his side
in the
campaign to
get away
from Out With
but he could see
where her
loyalties really
lay.
And
he had
to admit
that he
was rather
proud of
his
father when he heard
that story.
'Well,'
he said,
unable to
think of
something clever to
say now,
'I suppose
that was
nice of
him.'
'Yes,' said
Maria, standing
up and walking over
towards the
window, the
one through
which Bruno
could
see all
the way
to the
huts and
the people
in the
distance. 'He
was very
kind to
me then,'
she con
tinued quietly,
looking through
it herself
now and
watching the
people and
the soldiers
go about their
business far
away. 'He
has a
lot of
kindness in
his
soul,
truly he
does, which
makes me
wonder
...'
She
drifted off
as she
watched them
and her
voice
cracked suddenly
and she
sounded as
if she might
cry.
'Wonder what?'
asked Bruno.
'Wonder
what he
...how
he
can
..
.'
'How
he can
what?'
insisted Bruno.
The noise
of a
door slamming
came from
down stairs and reverberated
through the
house so
loudly
like a
gunshot
-
that
Bruno jumped
and Maria
let out
a small
scream. Bruno
recognized footsteps pounding up the
stairs towards
them, quicker
and
quicker,
and he
crawled back
on the bed,
pressing himself against the
wall, suddenly
afraid of
what was going to happen
next. He
held his
breath, expecting
trouble,
but it
was only
Gretel, the
Hopeless Case. She poked her
head through
the doorway
and seemed surprised to
find her
brother and
the family
maid
engaged in
conversation.
'What's
going on?'
asked Gretel.
'Nothing,' said
Bruno defensively. 'What do
you
want?
Get out.'
'Get
out yourself,'
she replied
even though
it was
his room, and
then turned
to look
at Maria,
narrowing
her eyes
suspiciously as
she did
so. 'Run
me a
bath, Maria,
will you?'
she asked.
'Why
can't
you
run
your
own
bath?'
snapped
Bruno.
'Because she's
the maid,'
said Gretel,
staring at
him. 'That's
what she's
here for.'
'That's
not
what she's
here for,'
shouted Bruno,
standing up and
marching over
to her. 'She's
not just
here to
do things
for us
all the
time, you
know. Especially
things that
we can
do ourselves.'
Gretel
stared at
him as
if he
had gone
mad and
then looked
at Maria,
who shook
her head
quickly.
'Of
course,
Miss
Gretel,'
said
Maria.
'I'll
just
finish tidying
your brother's
clothes away
and I'll
be
right with
you.'
'Well, don't
be long,'
said Gretel
rudely
-
because
unlike Bruno
she never
stopped to
think about the
fact
that Maria
was a
person with
feelings just
like
hers
-
before
marching off
back to
her room
and
closing
the
door
behind
her.
Maria's
eyes
didn't
follow
her but
her cheeks
had taken
on a
pink glow.
'I
still think
he's
made a
terrible
mistake,'
said
Bruno
quietly after
a few minutes
when he
felt as
if
he
wanted to
apologize for
his sister's
behavior but
didn't
know whether
that was
the right
thing to
do
or
not. Situations
like that
always made
Bruno feel
very
uncomfortable because, in
his heart,
he knew
that
there was
no reason
to be
impolite to
someone,
even
if they
did work
for you.
There was
such a
thing
as
manners after
all.
'Even
if you
do, you
mustn't say
it out loud,'
said Maria
quickly, coming
towards him
and looking
as if she wanted to
shake some
sense into
him. 'Promise
me you
won't.'
'But why?'
he asked,
frowning. 'I'm
only saying
what
I feel. I'm allowed
to do
that, aren't
I?'
'No,' she
said. 'No,
you're not.'
'I'm not
allowed to
say what
I feel?'
he repeated,
incredulous.
'No,' she
insisted, her voice becoming grating
now
as
she appealed
to him.
'just keep
quiet about
it,
Bruno.
Don't you
know how
much trouble
you
could
cause? For
all of
us?'
Bruno stared
at her.
There was
something in
her
eyes,
a sort
of frenzied
worry, that he
had never seen there
before and
that unsettled
him. 'Well,'
he
muttered, standing up
now and
heading over
towards the
door, suddenly
anxious to be
away from
her,
'I was
only saying
I didn't
like it
here, that's
all.
I
was just
making conversation while you
put the
clothes away.
It's not
like I'm
planning on
running
away
or anything.
Although if
I did I
don't think anyone
could criticize
me for it.'
'And
worry your
mother and
father half
to death?'
asked Maria.
'Bruno, if
you have
any sense
at all,
you
will stay
quiet and
concentrate on
your school
work
and do
whatever your
father tells
you. We
must
all
just keep
ourselves safe
until this
is all
over. That's
what
I intend
to do
anyway. What
more can
we do
than
that after
all? It's
not up
to us to change things.'
Suddenly, and
for no
reason that
he could
think
of, Bruno
felt an
overwhelming urge to
cry.
It
surprised even
him and
he blinked
a few times very
quickly so
that Maria
wouldn't see
how he
felt.
Although when
he caught
her eye
again he
thought
that
perhaps there
must be
something strange in
the
air
that day
because her
eyes looked
as if
they were
filling
with tears
too. All
in all,
he began
to feel
very
awkward, so he
turned his
back on
her and
made his
way
to the
door.
'Where
are you
going?' asked
Maria.
'Outside,'
said Bruno
angrily.
'If
it's any
of your
business.'
He had
walked slowly
but once
he left
the room
he
went more
quickly towards
the stairs
and then
ran
down
them at
a great
pace, suddenly
feeling that
if he didn't
get out
of the
house soon
he was
going to
faint away. And within
a few
seconds he
was outside and
he
started to
run up and down
the driveway,
eager to
do
something active,
anything that
would tire
him
out.
In the
distance he
could see
the gate
that led
to
the
road that
led to
the train
station that
led home, but the idea
of going
there, the
idea of running
away and being left
on his
own without
anyone at
all, was
even
more unpleasant
to him
than the
idea of
staying.
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