The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

off the ground. In the centre, between the wooden telegraph poles, it lifted quite easily and a boy as small as Bruno could easily fit through.
    Shmuel watched him do this and backed away nervously. ‘I have to go back,’ he said.
    ‘Some other afternoon then,’ said Bruno.
    ‘I’m not supposed to be here. If they catch me I’ll be in trouble.’
    He turned and walked away and Bruno noticed again just how small and skinny his new friend was. He didn’t say anything about this because he knew only too well how unpleasant it was being criticized for something as silly as your height, and the last thing he wanted to do was be unkind to Shmuel.
    ‘I’ll come back tomorrow,’ shouted Bruno to the departing boy and Shmuel said nothing in reply; in fact he started to run off back to the camp, leaving Bruno all on his own.
    Bruno decided that that was more than enough exploration for one day and he set off home, excited about what had happened and wanting nothing more than to tell Mother and Father and Gretel – who would be so jealous that she might just explode – and Maria and Cook and Lars all about his adventure that afternoon and his new friend with the funny name and the fact that they had the same birthday, but the closer he got to his own house, the more he started to think that that might not be a good idea.
    After all, he reasoned, they might not want me to be friends with him any more and if that happens they might stop me coming out here at all. By the time he went through his front door and smelled the beef that was roasting in the oven for dinner he had decided that it was better to keep the whole story to himself for the moment and not breathe a word about it. It would be his own secret. Well, his and Shmuel’s.
    Bruno was of the opinion that when it came to parents, and especially when it came to sisters, what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

Chapter Thirteen

The Bottle of Wine
    As week followed week it started to become clear to Bruno that he would not be going home to Berlin in the foreseeable future and that he could forget about sliding down the banisters in his comfortable home or seeing Karl or Daniel or Martin any time soon.
    However, with each day that passed he began to get used to being at Out-with and stopped feeling quite so unhappy about his new life. After all, it wasn’t as if he had nobody to talk to any more. Every afternoon when classes were finished Bruno took the long walk along the fence and sat and talked with his new friend Shmuel until it was time to come home, and that had started to make up for all the times he had missed Berlin.
    One afternoon, as he was filling his pockets with some bread and cheese from the kitchen fridge to take with him, Maria came in and stopped when she saw what he was doing.
    ‘Hello,’ said Bruno, trying to appear as casual as possible. ‘You gave me a fright. I didn’t hear you coming.’
    ‘You’re not eating again, surely?’ asked Maria with a smile. ‘You had lunch, didn’t you? And you’re still hungry?’
    ‘A little,’ said Bruno. ‘I’m going for a walk and thought I might get peckish on the way.’
    Maria shrugged her shoulders and went over to the cooker, where she put a pan of water on to boil. Laid out on the surface beside it was a pile of potatoes and carrots, ready for peeling when Pavel arrived later in the afternoon. Bruno was about to leave when the food caught his eye and a question came into his mind that had been bothering him for some time. He hadn’t been able to think of anyone to ask before, but this seemed like a perfect moment and the perfect person.
    ‘Maria,’ he said, ‘can I ask you a question?’
    The maid turned round and looked at him in surprise. ‘Of course, Master Bruno,’ she said.
    ‘And if I ask you this question, will you promise not to tell anyone that I asked it?’
    She narrowed her eyes suspiciously but nodded. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘What is it you want to know?’
    ‘It’s about Pavel,’ said Bruno. ‘You know him, don’t you? The man who comes and peels the vegetables and then waits on us at table.’
    ‘Oh yes,’ said Maria with a smile. She sounded relieved that his question wasn’t going to be about anything more serious. ‘I know Pavel. We’ve spoken on many occasions. Why do you ask about him?’
    ‘Well,’ said Bruno, choosing his words quite carefully in case he said something he shouldn’t, ‘do you remember soon after we got here when