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

takes those photos,’ said the girl, stopping when she saw what Pierrot was looking at.
    ‘Who?’ he asked.
    ‘The mistress. Now stop dawdling – the water’s getting cold.’
    Pierrot didn’t know what she meant by this, but followed her as she made her way down the staircase and turned left.
    ‘What’s your name again?’ she asked, looking back at him. ‘I can’t get it straight in my head.’
    ‘Pierrot,’ said Pierrot.
    ‘What sort of name is that?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘It’s just my name.’
    ‘Don’t shrug,’ she said. ‘The mistress can’t abide people who shrug. She says it’s common.’
    ‘Do you mean my aunt?’ asked Pierrot.
    The girl stopped and stared at him for a moment before throwing her head back and laughing. ‘Beatrix isn’t the mistress,’ she said. ‘She’s just the housekeeper. The mistress is . . . Well, she’s the mistress, isn’t she? She’s in charge. Your aunt takes her orders from her. We all do.’
    ‘What’s your name?’ asked Pierrot.
    ‘Herta Theissen,’ said the girl. ‘I’m the second most senior of the maids here.’
    ‘How many are there?’
    ‘Two,’ she replied. ‘But the mistress says we’ll need more soon, and when the others come, I’ll still be second and they’ll answer to me.’
    ‘And do you live here too?’ he asked.
    ‘Of course I do. Do you think I just popped in for the good of my health? There’s the master and mistress when they’re here, although we haven’t seen them in a few weeks now. Sometimes they come for a weekend and sometimes for longer, and then sometimes we might not see them for a whole month. Then there’s Emma – she’s the cook, and you don’t want to get on the wrong side of her. And Ute, the senior maid. Ernst, the chauffeur, of course. You met him last night, I expect. Oh, he’s wonderful! So handsome and funny and thoughtful.’ She stopped talking for a few moments and sighed happily. ‘And there’s your aunt, of course. The housekeeper. There’s usually a couple of soldiers on the door, but they change too often for us to bother getting to know them.’
    ‘Where is my aunt?’ asked Pierrot, already deciding that he didn’t like Herta very much.
    ‘She’s gone down the mountain with Ernst to pick up a few necessities. She’ll be back soon, I expect. Although you never know with that pair. Your aunt has a terrible habit of wasting his time. I’d say something to her about it, only she has seniority over me and would probably report me to the mistress.’
    Herta opened another door and Pierrot followed her in. A tin bath stood in the centre of the room, half filled with water, steam rising from the surface.
    ‘Is it wash day?’ he asked.
    ‘It is for you,’ said Herta, rolling up her sleeves. ‘Come on, get that nightshirt off and climb in so I can scrub you clean. God only knows what kind of dirt you’ve brought with you. I never met a Frenchman who wasn’t filthy.’
    ‘Oh no,’ said Pierrot, shaking his head and backing away, holding both palms out in the air to stop her getting anywhere near him. There was no way he was going to take his clothes off in front of a complete stranger – and especially not in front of a girl. He hadn’t even liked doing that in the orphanage, and there were only boys in the dormitory there. ‘No, no, no. Absolutely not. I’m not taking anything off. Sorry, but no.’
    ‘Do you think you have a choice in this?’ asked Herta, putting her hands on her hips and staring at him as if he was a member of an alien species. ‘Orders are orders, Pierre—’
    ‘Pierrot.’
    ‘You’ll learn that soon enough. Orders are given and we obey them. Every time and without question.’
    ‘I won’t do it,’ said Pierrot, growing red with embarrassment. ‘Even my mother stopped bathing me when I was five.’
    ‘Well, your mother’s dead – that’s what I heard. And your father jumped under a train.’
    Pierrot