The Boy at the Top of the Mountain by John Boyne Read Free Book Online Page A

don’t think so.’
    ‘Then what does she do? How does she earn a living?’
    ‘She’s a housekeeper.’
    ‘A
housekeeper
?’ asked Josette.
    ‘Yes. What’s wrong with that?’
    ‘There’s nothing
wrong
with it, Pierrot, per se,’ she replied, having read this phrase recently in a book and been determined ever since to find an opportunity to use it. ‘It’s a little
bourgeois
, of course, but what can you do? And what about the family whose house she takes care of – what type of people are they?’
    ‘It’s not a family,’ said Pierrot. ‘It’s just one man. And he said it was fine with him as long as I’m not noisy. He’s not there very often, my aunt said.’
    ‘Well,’ said Josette, pretending to be indifferent but secretly wishing that she could go with him, ‘you can always come back, I suppose, if it doesn’t work out.’
    Pierrot thought about this conversation now as he watched the scenery fly past, and felt a little uncomfortable. It did seem strange that his aunt had never got in touch in all these years – after all, she had missed seven birthdays and Christmases during that time – but of course it was possible that she hadn’t got on with Maman, particularly after everything that had happened between Beatrix and Pierrot’s father. He tried to put his concerns out of his mind for now, however, and closed his eyes for a little snooze, only opening them again when an elderly man entered the carriage to take the fourth and final seat. Pierrot sat up straight, stretched his arms and yawned as he glanced across at him. The man was wearing a long black coat, black trousers, a white shirt and had long dark curls on either side of his head. He obviously had some difficulty walking too as he used a cane.
    ‘Oh, now this is too much,’ said the lady opposite, closing her newspaper and shaking her head. She was speaking German, and something in Pierrot’s head realigned itself to recall the language that he had always spoken with his father. ‘Really, can’t you find anywhere else to sit?’
    The man shook his head. ‘Madam, the train is full,’ he said politely. ‘And here is an empty seat.’
    ‘No, I’m sorry,’ she snapped, ‘but this just won’t do.’
    And with that she stood up and left the carriage, marching down the corridor while Pierrot looked around in surprise, wondering how she could possibly object to someone sitting with them when there was a place available. The man looked out of the window for a moment and sighed deeply, but didn’t put his case on the rack above, even though it was taking up a lot of space between them.
    ‘Would you like some help with that?’ asked Pierrot. ‘I can put it up there if you like.’
    The man smiled and shook his head. ‘I think you would be wasting your time,’ he said. ‘But you’re very kind to offer.’
    The woman now returned with the conductor, who looked around the carriage and pointed towards the old man. ‘Come on, you,’ he said. ‘Out. You can stand in the corridor.’
    ‘But the seat is empty,’ said Pierrot, who assumed the conductor thought that his mother or father was travelling with him and that the old man had taken their seat. ‘I’m alone.’
    ‘Out. Now,’ insisted the conductor, ignoring Pierrot. ‘On your feet, old man, or there’ll be trouble.’
    The man said nothing and stood up, planting his cane carefully on the ground as he picked up his suitcase and, with great dignity, navigated his way slowly through the door.
    ‘I’m sorry about that, madam,’ said the conductor, turning to the lady when the man was gone.
    ‘You should be watching out for them,’ she snapped. ‘I have my son with me. He shouldn’t be exposed to people like that.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, and the woman snorted in disgust, as if the entire world was conspiring to frustrate her.
    Pierrot wanted to ask her why she had made the man leave, but he found her a frightening presence and thought that if he said