Free Beneath the Earth by John Boyne Page A

I hadn’t been able to look her in the eye for many years for her bedroom was on the other side of the wall to mine and when I was fourteen she took me aside on the street and said that she could hear everything I was doing in there when I went to bed, that I was a filthy little so-and-so and if I didn’t stop I’d go blind and she’d tell my mother the reason why. It made me happy to see how wrinkled her face had become.
    â€˜It comes for us all, doesn’t it?’ she said.
    â€˜What does?’ I asked.
    â€˜Death.’
    â€˜I suppose so,’ I replied. ‘It might be your turn next.’
    â€˜Or yours,’ she said. ‘
Be on the alert then, for you do not know the day nor the hour
. Matthew. Chapter 25. Verse 13.’
    â€˜That’s a cheerful thought,’ I said.
    â€˜I suppose you’ll be selling the house now?’ she asked anxiously.
    â€˜I hadn’t given it much thought,’ I said. ‘I’ll have to speak to Audrey, of course. It belongs to both of us.’
    â€˜You won’t be letting it out, will you?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘As I said, that is a conversation which has yet to take place.’
    â€˜Do you remember William Hart, Mrs Hart’s son from number thirteen?’
    â€˜I do,’ I said. ‘Vividly.’ William Hart was a tough little bastard who had bloodied my nose on more than one occasion during my formative years and, at my tenth birthday party, had threatened to urinate in my ear if I didn’t give him my brand-new Spirograph. He had a dog, an incredibly violent mongrel that answered to the name of Princess Margaret-Rose, who was mortal enemies with my own dog, Chester, although they did, of course, occasionally fornicate with each other. Not too different to humans in that regard, I suppose.
    â€˜Well, when she died, William rented the house out.’ She glanced around in case she might be overheard and lowered her voice as she pulled me so close that I could see the dusty moustache that rested above her upper lip. ‘To a Pakistani family, if you please,’ she told me. ‘They’re very nice, of course. I’d have nothing bad to say about any of them but still. You wouldn’t do something like that, would you?’
    â€˜When Audrey and I decide,’ I assured her, ‘you will be the first to know.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ she said, apparently relieved by this assur ance. ‘Of course I’m not racist,’ she added. ‘You know that, Pierce, don’t you?’
    â€˜I do, of course.’
    â€˜I just don’t like Pakistani people. Or Indians. Or Sri Lankans. Or anyone from that part of the world, if I’m honest.’
    â€˜I understand,’ I said, although I didn’t.
    â€˜You know, he’s one of them now.’
    â€˜Who’s one of what?’ I asked, confused.
    â€˜William Hart,’ she told me. ‘He’s one of them.’
    â€˜He’s a Pakistani?’ I asked. ‘How on earth did he manage that?’
    â€˜No, don’t be ridiculous,’ she said, slapping my arm and laughing. ‘How could that ever happen? No, he’s a homosexual.’ She lowered her voice even more so it was almost a whisper. ‘Don’t say anything. It wouldn’t be fair on him.’
    Arthur had come to the end of his song by now and I could see him walking towards me with two glasses of champagne in his hands, a curious choice I thought for a wake.
    â€˜Mrs Burton,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I can’t believe you’re still alive.’
    â€˜Oh you!’ she said, blushing like a schoolgirl.
    â€˜Mrs Burton was just telling me that William Hart is a Pakistani now,’ I said.
    Arthur frowned and scratched his face, as if he felt there was a joke in there somewhere but he couldn’t get to the bottom of it.
    â€˜I’ll love you and leave you,’ said