The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas Read Free Page A

said quietly, and Maria nodded and pointed towards a big bag that contained all his socks and vests and underpants.
    ‘If you sort that lot out, you could put them in the chest of drawers over there,’ she said, pointing towards an ugly chest that stood across the room beside a mirror that was covered in dust.
    Bruno sighed and opened the bag; it was full to the brim with his underwear and he wanted nothing more than to crawl inside it and hope that when he climbed out again he’d have woken up and be back home again.
    ‘What do you think of all this, Maria?’ he asked after a long silence because he had always liked Maria and felt as if she was one of the family, even though Father said she was just a maid and overpaid at that.
    ‘All what?’ she asked.
    ‘This,’ he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Coming to a place like this. Don’t you think we’ve made a big mistake?’
    ‘That’s not for me to say, Master Bruno,’ said Maria. ‘Your mother has explained to you about your father’s job and—’
    ‘Oh, I’m tired of hearing about Father’s job,’ said Bruno, interrupting her. ‘That’s all we ever hear about, if you ask me. Father’s job this and Father’s job that. Well, if Father’s job means that we have to move away from our house and the sliding banister and my three best friends for life, then I think Father should think twice about his job, don’t you?’
    Just at that moment there was a creak outside in the hallway and Bruno looked up to see the door of Mother and Father’s room opening slightly. He froze, unable to move for a moment. Mother was still downstairs, which meant that Father was in there and he might have heard everything that Bruno had just said. He watched the door, hardly daring to breathe, wondering whether Father might come through it and take him downstairs for a serious talking-to.
    The door opened wider and Bruno stepped back as a figure appeared, but it wasn’t Father. It was a much younger man, and not as tall as Father either, but he wore the same type of uniform, only without as many decorations on it. He looked very serious and his cap was secured tightly on his head. Around his temples Bruno could see that he had very blond hair, an almost unnatural shade of yellow. He was carrying a box in his hands and walking towards the staircase, but he stopped for a moment when he saw Bruno standing there watching him. He looked the boy up and down as if he had never seen a child before and wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do with one: eat it, ignore it or kick it down the stairs. Instead he gave Bruno a quick nod and continued on his way.
    ‘Who was that?’ asked Bruno. The young man had seemed so serious and busy that he assumed he must be someone very important.
    ‘One of your father’s soldiers, I suppose,’ said Maria, who had stood up very straight when the young man appeared and held her hands before her like a person in prayer. She had stared down at the ground rather than at his face, as if she was afraid she might be turned to stone if she looked directly at him; she only relaxed when he had gone. ‘We’ll get to know them in time.’
    ‘I don’t think I like him,’ said Bruno. ‘He was too serious.’
    ‘Your father is very serious too,’ said Maria.
    ‘Yes, but he’s Father,’ explained Bruno. ‘Fathers are supposed to be serious. It doesn’t matter whether they’re greengrocers or teachers or chefs or commandants,’ he said, listing all the jobs that he knew decent, respectable fathers did and whose titles he had thought about a thousand times. ‘And I don’t think that man looked like a father. Although he was very serious, that’s for sure.’
    ‘Well, they have very serious jobs,’ said Maria with a sigh. ‘Or so they think anyway. But if I was you I’d steer clear of the soldiers.’
    ‘I don’t see what else there is to do other than that,’ said Bruno sadly. ‘I don’t even think