John Boyne - The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

‘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 foreseeable 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 grandfather, knew what was best for me and that I was always happiest when I just accepted that. Do you think that I would have made such a success of my 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 something 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 I have not reacted to any of this. But the moment has come when you will simply have to accept that-’