John Boyne - The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

‘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 carefully. ‘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 truth.

‘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 mispronounce 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.’ He 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.

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 cautiously, 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 of 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. ‘I’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.’