Noah Barleywater Runs Away by John Boyne

staircase did not go directly up, as it did in his own house, but around in circles, so he could barely see the old man as he turned in front of him, for they were only within sight of each other for a couple of steps at a time.
    They climbed and climbed, going round and round and round, until Noah began to wonder just how high they could possibly go. From the outside,it hadn’t looked as if there was more than one storey on top of the shop itself, but it seemed to be going on and on interminably.
    ‘There’s an awful lot of stairs to climb,’ said Noah, his voice wavering a little as he tried to catch his breath. ‘Don’t you get tired walking up and down them every day?’
    ‘More tired than I used to, certainly,’ admitted the old man. ‘Of course, when I was younger I could run up and down these stairs a thousand times a day and never worry about it. But things are different now. It takes me a lot longer to do everything. There are two hundred and ninety-six steps, actually. Or two hundred and ninety-four. The exact same number as there are in the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I don’t know if you’ve been counting.’
    ‘I haven’t,’ said Noah. ‘But which is it, two hundred and ninety-six or two hundred and ninety-four?’
    ‘Well, both actually,’ said the old man. ‘There are two fewer steps on the north-facing staircase than there are on the south-facing, so it really depends on how you make your approach. You’ve been to Italy, I presume?’
    ‘Oh no,’ said Noah, shaking his head. ‘No, I’ve never been anywhere. In fact, this is the furthest I’ve ever been away from home.’
    ‘I spent some very happy times in Italy,’ replied the old man wistfully. ‘I actually lived quite near Pisa for a time, and every morning I would race to thetower and run up and down the steps to keep fit. Happy memories!’
    ‘You seem to have been to a lot of places,’ remarked Noah.
    ‘Yes, well, I enjoyed travelling very much when I was young. I couldn’t keep my legs still. It’s all different now, of course.’ He turned round and looked at the boy. ‘But I think you’re getting tired of climbing, aren’t you?’
    ‘A little,’ admitted Noah.
    ‘Well, then,’ said the old man, ‘maybe we should stop here.’
    The moment he said this, Noah heard the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs behind him and he held his breath nervously, for he was sure that no one else had been downstairs. He turned round, half afraid of who or what might appear, and then gasped, pressing himself against the handrail as the door through which they had left the ground floor came running past him, puffing and panting, its cheeks red with embarrassment.
    ‘Apologies, apologies all,’ said the door, pressing itself firmly into the wall in front of him. ‘I got talking to the clock and quite lost track of time. He never stops when he gets going, does he?’
    ‘That’s quite all right, Henry,’ said the old man, reaching out and twisting his handle. ‘I’m afraid I can’t afford a second door at the moment,’ he added, turning and looking back at Noah with an apologetic smile. ‘So I have to make do with just theone. It’s terribly embarrassing, but business has been rather slow these past few decades.’
    Noah didn’t know what to say to this, and stood on the staircase for rather a long time before shaking himself out of his surprise and staring through Henry into a small kitchen, which was both clean and messy at the same time, if such a thing is possible. Looking down at the floor, however, he was astonished to see that there were only about a third as many floorboards as were needed, great gaps appearing between each one, large enough to swallow an eight-year-old boy, and he peered through them but could see nothing below except a great darkness. This was quite unexpected as there had been nothing untoward about the ceiling on the ground floor.
    ‘Well, shall we go in?’ asked the old man, stepping