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The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
By John Boyne
Chapter 8 Audio |
The
two people
Bruno missed
most of
all from
home were
Grandfather and Grandmother.
They lived
together in
a small
flat near
the fruit
and vegetable
stalls, and
around the
time that
Bruno moved
to Out-With,
Grandfather was almost
seventy-three
years old which, as
far as
Bruno was
concerned,
made him
just about
the oldest
man in
the world.
One afternoon
Bruno had
calculated that if
he lived
his entire
life over
and over
again eight
times, he
would still be
a year
younger than
Grandfather.
Grandfather
had
spent
his
entire
life
running
a
restaurant in
the centre
of town,
and one
of his
employees
was the
father of
Bruno's friend
Martin
who
worked there
as a
chef. Although
Grandfather
no
longer cooked
or waited
on tables
in the
restau rant himself, he
spent most
of his
days there,
sitting at the bar
in the
afternoon talking
to the
customers,
eating
his meals
there in
the evening and
staying until
closing
time, laughing
with his
friends.
Grandmother never
seemed old
in comparison to
the other
boys' grandmothers.
In fact
when Bruno
learned just
how old
she was
-
sixty-two
-
he
was amazed.
She had
met Grandfather
as a
young woman after one
of her
concerts and
somehow he
had
persuaded her
to marry
him, despite
all his
flaws.
She had
long red
hair, surprisingly
similar to
her
daughter-in-law's, and green
eyes, and
she claimed that was
because somewhere
in her
family
there
was Irish
blood. Bruno
always knew
when a
family party was
getting into
full swing
because
Grandmother
would hover
by the
piano until
some one sat down
at it
and asked
her to
sing.
'What's
that?' she
always cried,
holding a
hand to
her chest
as if the very
idea took
her breath
away. 'Is
it a song
you're wanting?
Why, I
couldn't possibly. I'm afraid,
young man,
my singing days
are far
behind me.'
'Sing! Sing!' everyone at the
party would
cry, and
after
a suitable
pause
-
sometimes as long
as ten
or twelve seconds
-
she
would finally
give in and turn to
the young
man at
the piano
and say
in a
quick and humorous
voice:
'La
Vie en Rose,
E-flat minor.
And try
to keep
up
with the
changes.'
Parties at
Bruno's house
were always
dominated
by Grandmother's
singing, which
for some
reason
always seemed
to coincide
with the
moment when
Mother
moved from
the main
party area
to the
kitchen,
followed by
some of
her own
friends. Father
always stayed
to listen
and Bruno
did too
because
there was
nothing he
liked more
than hearing
Grandmother
break into
her full
voice and
soak up
the applause
of the
guests at
the end.
Plus,
La
Vie en
Rose
gave him
chills and
made the
tiny hairs
on the
back
of his
neck stand
on end.
Grandmother liked to
think that
Bruno or
Gretel would follow her
onto the
stage, and
every
Christmas and
at every
birthday party
she would
devise a
small play
for the
three of
them to
perform
for Mother,
Father and
Grandfather. She wrote
the
plays herself
and, to
Bruno's way
of thinking,
always gave herself the
best lines,
though he
didn't mind
that
too much.
There was
usually a
song in there
some
where
too-
Is
it a
song you're
wanting?
she'd
ask
first
-
and an
opportunity for Bruno
to do
a magic
trick
and for
Gretel to
dance. The
play always
ended with Bruno
reciting a
long poem by
one of
the Great
Poets,
words which
he found
very hard
to under
stand
but which
somehow started
to sound
more and
more beautiful
the more
he read
them.
But that
wasn't the
best oart
of these
little oroductions. The best
part was
the fact
that Grandmother made
costumes for Bruno
and Gretel.
No matter
what
the role,
no matter
how few
lines he
might have
in
comparison to
his sister
or grandmother,
Bruno always
got to
dress up
as a
prince, or
an Arab sheik,
or even
on
one occasion
a Roman gladiator. There
were crowns,
and
when
there
weren't
crowns
there
were
spears. And
when there
weren't spears
there were
whips
or turbans.
No one
ever knew
what Grand
mother
would come
up with
next, but
a week
before Christmas
Bruno and
Gretel would
be summoned
to her home on a daily
basis for
rehearsals.
Of course
the last
play they
performed had ended
in
disaster and
Bruno still
remembered it
with sadness,
although he
wasn't quite
sure what
had
happened to
cause the
argument.
A week
or so
before, there
had been
great excitement
in the
house and
it had
something to
do with
the fact
that Father
was now
to be
addressed as 'Commandant' by
Maria, Cook
and Lars
the butler,
as
well as
by all
the soldiers
who came
in and out
of
there
and used
the place
-
as
far as
Bruno could
see
-
as if it were
their own
and not
his. There
had been
nothing but
excitement for weeks.
First the
Fury and
the
beautiful blonde woman
had come
to dinner, which
had brought the
whole house
to a
standstill,
and
then it
was this
new business
of calling
Father
'Commandant'.
Mother had
told Bruno
to congratulate Father and
he had
done so,
although if
he
was
honest with
himself (which
he always
tried to
be)
he wasn't
entirely sure
what he
was congratulating him for.
On Christmas Day Father
wore his
brand-new
uniform, the starched
and pressed
one that
he wore
every
day now,
and the
whole family
applauded
when
he first
appeared in
it.
It
really
was something
special. Compared to the
other soldiers
who came
in
and
out of
the house,
he stood
out, and
they seemed
to
respect him
all the more
now that
he had
it. Mother went up
to him
and kissed
him on
the cheek
and
ran a
hand across
the front
of it,
commenting on
how
fine she
thought the
fabric was.
Bruno was
particularly impressed
by all
the decorations
on the
uniform
and he
had been
allowed to
wear the
cap for a short period,
provided his
hands were
clean when he put it
on.
Grandfather
was very
proud of
his son
when he saw
him in his
new uniform
but Grandmother
was
the only
one who
seemed unimpressed.
After dinner
had been
served, and
after she
and Gretel
and Bruno
had performed
their latest
production, she sat
down sadly
in one
of the
armchairs and looked
at Father,
shaking her
head as
if he
were a
huge disappointment to
her.
'I wonder - is this where I went wrong with you, Ralf? she said. 'I wonder if all the performances I made
made you give
as a
boy led
you to
this. Dressing
up like
a puppet
on a
string.'
'Now, Mother,'
said Father
in a
tolerant voice.
'You know
this isn't
the time.'
'Standing
there in
your uniform,'
she continued, 'as
if it
makes you
something special.
Not even
caring what
it means
really. What
it stands
for.'
'Nathalie, we
discussed this
in advance,' said
Grandfather,
although everyone
knew that
when
Grandmother had something
to say
she always
found
a way
to say
it, no
matter how
unpopular it
might
prove to
be.
'You
discussed it, Matthias,'
said Grandmother.
'I
was merely the
blank wall
to whom
you addressed
your words.
As usual.'
'This
is a
party, Mother,'
said Father
with a
sigh.
'And it's
Christmas. Let's
not spoil
things.'
'I remember
when the
Great War
began,' said
Grandfather proudly, staring
into the
fire and
shaking his
head. 'I
remember you
coming home
to
tell
us how
you had joined
up and I
was sure
that you
would
come to
harm.'
'He
did come
to
harm, Matthias,'
insisted
Grandmother. 'Take
a look
at him
for your
evidence.'
'And
now look
at you,'
continued Grandfather,
ignoring her.
'It makes
me so
proud to
see you
elevated to
such a
responsible position
..
Helping
your
country
reclaim her
pride after
all the
great wrongs
that were
done to
her. The
punishments above and
beyond-'
'Oh,
will you
listen to
yourself!' cried
Grandmother.
'Which one
of you
is the
most foolish, I
wonder?'
'But,
Nathalie,' said
Mother, trying
to calm
the
situation down
a little,
'don't you
think Ralf
looks
very
handsome in
his new uniform?'
'Handsome?' asked Grandmother,
leaning for
ward and
staring at
her daughter-in-law as
if she
had
lost her
reason. 'Handsome,
did you
say? You
foolish
girl!
Is that
what you
consider to
be of importance
in
the world?
Looking handsome?'
'Do I
look handsome
in my ringmaster's
costume?'
asked Bruno,
for that
was what
he had
been wearing for
the party that
night
-
the red
and black
outfit of
a circus
ringmaster
-
and
he had
been very
proud of
himself
in it.
The moment
he spoke
he regretted
it,
however, for
all the
adults looked
in his
and Gretel's
direction, as
if they
had forgotten
that they
were
there
at all.
'Children, upstairs,' said
Mother quickly.
'Go to
your rooms.'
'But
we don't
want to,'
protested Gretel.
'Can't we
play
down here?'
'No,
children,' she
insisted. 'Go upstairs
and close
the door
behind you.'
'That's
all you
soldiers are
interested in
anyway,' Grandmother said,
ignoring the
children altogether.
'Looking handsome
in your
fine uniforms.
Dressing
up and
doing the
terrible, terrible
things you
do. It makes
me ashamed. But
I blame
myself, Ralf,
not
you.'
'Children,
upstairs
now!'
said
Mother,
clapping
her hands
together, and
this time they
had no
choice
but to
stand up
and obey
her.
But rather
than going
straight to
their rooms,
they
closed the
door and
sat at
the top
of the
stairs, trying to hear what
was being
said by
the grown-ups
down
below. However,
Mother and
Father's voices
were
muffled and
hard to
make out,
Grandfather's was
not
to be
heard at
all, while
Grandmother's was surprisingly
slurred. Finally,
after a few minutes,
the
door slammed
open and
Gretel and
Bruno darted
back
up the
stairs while
Grandmother retrieved her
coat
from the
rack in
the hallway.
'Ashamed!' she
called out
before she
left. 'That
a
son
of mine
should
be-'
'A
patriot,' cried
Father, who
perhaps had
never
learned
the rule
about not
interrupting your
mother. 'A patriot indeed!' she
cried out.
'The people
you have to dinner
in this
house. Why,
it makes
me sick. And
to see you
in that
uniform makes
me want
to
tear
the eyes from my
head!' she added
before storm
ing
out of
the house
and slamming
the door
behind
her.
Bruno
hadn't seen
much of
Grandmother
after
that
and hadn't
even had
a chance
to say
goodbye to ·her
before
they
moved
to
Out-With,
but
he
missed her very
much and
decided to
write her
a letter.
That
day he
sat down
with a
pen and
paper and
told her how
unhappy he
was there and
how much he
wished he was
back home
in Berlin.
He told
her about the
house and
the garden
and the
bench with
the plaque on
it and
the tall
fence and
the wooden telegraph
poles and
the barbed-wire
bales and
the hard
ground beyond
them and
the huts
and the
small buildings and the
smoke stacks
and the
soldiers, but mostly
he told
her about
the people
living there
and their
striped pyjamas
and cloth
caps, and
then
he
told her how
much he
missed her
and he
signed off
his letter
'your
loving grandson,
Bruno'.
Chapter 9 | The Boy in the Striped Pajamas |
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