The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

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 O 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.