Noah Barleywater Runs Away by John Boyne Read Free Book Online Page B

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    ‘My shoes?’ said Noah, looking down at his feet and seeing nothing unusual there. ‘How on earth can you tell what time I left home by my shoes?’
    ‘Look at the soles,’ said the old man. ‘They’re still a little wet and there are small blades of grass stuck to them, although they’re beginning to dry now and are flaking off all over my floor. It means you must have been walking through grass not long after the dew had fallen.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Noah, considering this. ‘Of course. I’d never have thought of that.’
    ‘When you’ve gone through as many pairs of shoes as I have, you tend to take an interest in other people’s footwear,’ said the old man. ‘It’s a little quirk of mine, that’s all. A harmless one, I hope. Anyway, that being the case, perhaps you’d like to eat something? I don’t have much in but—’
    ‘I’d love to,’ said Noah quickly, his face lighting up. ‘I haven’t had anything to eat all day.’
    ‘Really? Don’t they feed you at your house then?’
    ‘They do,’ he replied after a slight hesitation. ‘Only, the thing is, I left home before breakfast.’
    ‘And why would you do that?’
    ‘Well, there was nothing in the house,’ said Noah, lying.
    The old man stared at Noah as if he didn’t believe a word of it, and the boy felt his face begin to grow red. He looked away and caught the eye of one of the puppets on the wall, who immediatelyturned his own head away, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of a boy who told lies before lunch.
    ‘Well, if you’re starving,’ said the old man finally, ‘I suppose I’d better feed you. Why don’t you follow me upstairs? I’m sure I can find something up there that you’ll enjoy.’
    He walked towards one of the corners of the shop, extending his right hand before him, and the moment he did so, a handle appeared in the wall and he twisted it, opening a door which led immediately to the foot of an ascending staircase. Noah’s mouth fell open in surprise – he was sure that door hadn’t been there a moment before – and he looked from it to the old man, and back to it, and back to the old man, and back to it again. In fact, this could have gone on for much longer if the old man hadn’t put a stop to the madness.
    ‘Well?’ he asked, turning round. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
    Noah hesitated for only a moment. From as far back as he could remember he had been told that it was a foolish boy who went into strange corridors with people he didn’t know, especially when no one knew that he was there in the first place. His father had always told him that the world was a dangerous place, although his mother said he shouldn’t frighten the boy and he just had to remember that not everyone who appeared to be nice really was.
    ‘You seem hesitant,’ said the old man quietly, as if he was reading the boy’s mind. ‘You’re right tobe. But I assure you, there’s nothing to worry about here. Not even my cooking. I passed through Paris many times when I was a younger man and learned a few tips from one of the greatest chefs of his day, and if I say so myself, I can scramble an egg with the best of them.’
    Noah wasn’t entirely sure whether he was doing the right thing or not, but the rumblings of his own stomach echoed those of the clock, which was now staring at him with murderous intent, tapping a foot impatiently on the counter. Overwhelmed by hunger, he nodded quickly and ran forward, following the old man through the open door.
    Inside, he found himself standing at the foot of a very narrow staircase and, like the puppets in the shop, the steps and the walls were all made of wood. There was a series of intricate carvings along the handrail and he touched them with his fingers, enjoying the sensation of the grooves against his skin. They were very even, as if they had been cut carefully into the wood and then smoothed down with a plane to prevent any accidental splinters. To Noah’s surprise, the