The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas by John Boyne Page B

better think about something special for dinner.’
    ‘Oh my,’ said Mother, her eyes moving back and forth quickly as she started to think of all the things that needed doing.
    ‘Who’s the Fury?’ asked Bruno.
    ‘You’re pronouncing it wrong,’ said Father, pronouncing it correctly for him.
    ‘The Fury,’ said Bruno again, trying to get it right but failing again.
    ‘No,’ said Father, ‘the— Oh, never mind!’
    ‘Well, who is he anyway?’ asked Bruno again.
    Father stared at him, astonished. ‘You know perfectly well who the Fury is,’ he said.
    ‘I don’t,’ said Bruno.
    ‘He runs the country, idiot,’ said Gretel, showing off as sisters tend to do. (It was things like this that made her such a Hopeless Case.) ‘Don’t you ever read a newspaper?’
    ‘Don’t call your brother an idiot, please,’ said Mother.
    ‘Can I call him stupid?’
    ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
    Gretel sat down again, disappointed, but stuck her tongue out at Bruno nonetheless.
    ‘Is he coming alone?’ asked Mother.
    ‘I forgot to ask,’ said Father. ‘But I presume he’ll be bringing her with him.’
    ‘Oh my,’ said Mother again, standing up and counting in her head the number of things she had to organize before Thursday, which was only two evenings away. The house would have to be cleaned from top to bottom, the windows washed, the dining-room table stained and varnished, the food ordered, the maid’s and butler’s uniforms washed and pressed, and the crockery and glasses polished until they sparkled.
    Somehow, despite the fact that the list seemed to grow longer and longer all the time, Mother managed to get everything finished on time, although she commented over and over again that the evening would be a greater success if some people helped out a little bit more around the house.
    An hour before the Fury was due to arrive Gretel and Bruno were brought downstairs, where they received a rare invitation into Father’s office. Gretel was wearing a white dress and knee socks and her hair had been twisted into corkscrew curls. Bruno was wearing a pair of dark brown shorts, a plain white shirt and a dark brown tie. He had a new pair of shoes for the occasion and was very proud of them, even though they were too small for him and were pinching his feet and making it difficult for him to walk. All these preparations and fine clothes seemed a little extravagant, all the same, because Bruno and Gretel weren’t even invited to dinner; they had eaten an hour earlier.
    ‘Now, children,’ said Father, sitting behind his desk and looking from his son to his daughter and back again as they stood before him. ‘You know that there is a very special evening ahead of us, don’t you?’
    They nodded.
    ‘And that it is very important for my career that tonight goes well.’
    They nodded again.
    ‘Then there are a number of ground rules which need to be set down before we begin.’ Father was a big believer in ground rules. Whenever there was a special or important occasion in the house, more of them were created.
    ‘Number one,’ said Father. ‘When the Fury arrives you will stand in the hall quietly and prepare to greet him. You do not speak until he speaks to you and then you reply in a clear tone, enunciating each word precisely. Is that understood?’
    ‘Yes, Father,’ mumbled Bruno.
    ‘That’s exactly the type of thing we don’t want,’ said Father, referring to the mumbling. ‘You open your mouth and speak like an adult. The last thing we need is for either of you to start behaving like children. If the Fury ignores you then you do not say anything either, but look directly ahead and show him the respect and courtesy that such a great leader deserves.’
    ‘Of course, Father,’ said Gretel in a very clear voice.
    ‘And when Mother and I are at dinner with the Fury, you are both to remain in your rooms very quietly. There is to be no running around, no sliding down banisters’ – and here he