Without Looking Back, Page 2

  Max started talking about the latest match of his favourite football team, and a film he’d been to see last week at the Odéon. Louis suddenly realized that Papa looked tired. He had more lines on his face than Louis remembered, and although he was smiling and nodding at Max with enthusiasm, he looked distant. Then Papa caught Louis’ eye and winked.

  ‘How’s my dancing boy?’

  Louis smiled. ‘Good. I’ve got another competition next weekend in Rouen, on a proper stage and everything. Madame Dubois is going to take me. Luc and Aurélie are coming too. Maman can’t make it, so will you come?’

  ‘Of course! Have you managed to nail the triple turn yet?’

  ‘Yes, and my ballet’s got pretty good now. Madame Dubois has been really pushing it because she says it’s the basis of all forms of dance.’

  Max made a snorting noise. Louis glared at him. ‘It’s not funny! Ballet’s really hard – you have to be so strong. It’s a sport just like football.’

  ‘Madame Dubois told Maman that Louis is better than all the girls in his class,’ Millie pitched in. ‘She says he’s a natural at ballet.’

  ‘Are you not too intimidated by the girls?’ Papa asked Louis with a smile.

  ‘No, they’re all right. Anyway, I’m not the only boy in the class – Luc does it too.’

  They walked through the quiet streets of Rueil in the late-afternoon sunshine, Papa carrying Millie’s rucksack over his shoulder. When they reached his flat on the third floor of an old stone house that stood on the corner of Rue de Rivoir, Millie went charging down the narrow hallway to the kitchen and Papa set her rucksack down by the door. The flat still looked exactly the same as when Papa had first moved in over a year ago. It still had that slightly musty, closed-away smell and, apart from a portable TV, a laptop and a hastily erected clothes rail, contained none of Papa’s belongings at all.

  In the kitchen, Millie mixed chocolate powder into cold milk, Max switched on the telly and rocked back on one of the kitchen chairs with his trainers up on the table, and Louis helped Papa unpack the three shopping bags on the sideboard. A baguette and a carton of orange juice, a lettuce, some tomatoes, and two frozen pizzas. Louis was surprised. That wasn’t nearly enough food to last them all weekend. Max ate like a horse and Millie lived on biscuits. And Louis knew for a fact that Papa’s fridge would be completely empty and the dustbin crammed full of ready-meal packets.

  ‘Are you taking us away somewhere for the weekend, Papa?’

  Papa looked startled for a moment. Then he cleared his throat, raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Yes, yes – how did you guess?’

  Millie put down her spoon, splashing chocolate milk onto the table. ‘EuroDisney?’ she breathed, her eyes wide.

  ‘No, darling, not EuroDisney, not this time.’

  Millie’s face fell.

  ‘But somewhere else. Somewhere – different.’

  ‘Where?’ Millie demanded. Max’s gaze shifted from the television screen. Even he suddenly seemed interested.

  ‘Um – well – I’m not going to tell you,’ Papa said. ‘It’s going to be a surprise.’

  Millie clapped her hands together. ‘I love surprises! When, Papa? Today? Are we going to stay there overnight? Will there be a swimming pool?’

  ‘We’re going to leave tomorrow,’ Papa said, turning on the oven and unwrapping the pizzas. ‘Early. Very early. So I want us to have dinner now and then go to bed. We’re going to skip goûter and have pizza and salad instead. Then we’re going to hit the sack at eight.’

  ‘Are you joking?’ Max’s eyes widened in outrage. ‘I can’t go to sleep at eight!’

  ‘What sack?’ Millie wanted to know. ‘Why do we have to hit a sack?’

  ‘It’s an expression,’ Louis told her. ‘It means go to bed.’

  ‘Go to bed?’ Millie squawked. ‘Papa, you always let me stay up till Max and Louis go to bed!’

  ‘It’s still light at eight o’clock, Papa,’ Louis protested.

  Their father held up his hands. ‘Everyone calm down,’ he said, his voice uncharacteristically loud. ‘We’re all going to bed at eight. Everyone. Even me. It’s not up for discussion. We have to get up very, very early tomorrow morning for this surprise visit. And none of you will enjoy it if you haven’t had enough sleep.’ He dropped his hands and put the pizzas in the oven. He suddenly looked exhausted.

  There was silence. Max’s eyes swivelled back to the television screen. ‘It’d better be worth it,’ he muttered.

  ‘It will be worth it, Max, I promise.’

  ‘Why do we have to leave so early?’ Millie wanted to know.

  But Papa just went over to the sink to wash the vegetables and after a while they realized he wasn’t going to reply.

  After dinner, Max went into the living room to lie on the carpet and play with his PS3 – the PS3 that Papa had bought him last month but Maman wouldn’t allow him to keep at home. Millie went into the boxroom to unpack her overnight rucksack and Louis followed her, lying down on her bed and switching on Max’s GameBoy. Millie was just hanging up one of her dresses when Papa appeared in the doorway and said quite sharply, ‘Don’t unpack now, Millie. We’ll need all our things with us for the trip and we won’t have time to pack again in the morning.’

  ‘Really?’ Millie sounded surprised. ‘Do we need everything?’

  But Papa had already gone back to the kitchen. Millie obediently took her dress off the hanger again and put it back in her rucksack. She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at Louis. ‘Do you think he’ll let me unpack my nightie at least?’

  Louis glanced reluctantly up from the GameBoy. ‘Yes, but don’t do it now – take it out at bedtime.’

  ‘I thought bedtime was now.’

  Louis glanced out of the window at the evening sun in disbelief. ‘Maybe he was just joking . . .’ He was doubtful though. Papa looked both tired and on edge. He had held himself back from snapping at Millie earlier, Louis could tell . . . Suddenly, a thought like cold water washed through Louis’ brain. It frightened him so much he thought he was going to be sick. He sat up on Millie’s bed.

  ‘What?’ Millie looked at him, faintly startled. When he didn’t reply, she said to him, ‘What’s the matter, Louis? Your face has gone all pale.’

  ‘Nothing,’ Louis said, dropping the GameBoy and getting up off the bed. ‘I just need the loo, that’s all.’

  Apparently satisfied, Millie went back to combing the hair of her new Barbie doll, the one that Papa had bought her last time they’d been to visit. Louis carefully closed the bedroom door behind him and walked quickly down the corridor towards the kitchen. Halfway there, he stopped. The kitchen door was closed, which was unusual. Muted strains of expiring aliens came from the open living-room door. Louis approached the kitchen on tiptoe.

  ‘No, Annette, I haven’t told them yet,’ Papa was saying in French. ‘We only got back home an hour ago. I want to let them settle in first!’

  Silence. Louis leaned cautiously against the kitchen door and pressed his ear to it.

  ‘No, that’s not what this weekend is about! This weekend is about having fun with my kids, damn it!’

  Another long silence. Louis could imagine his mother speaking at the other end of the phone, her angry voice like rapid fire.

  ‘We’ve already discussed this, and I thought we agreed that I would be the one to tell them!’ Papa almost shouted.

  Another silence.

  ‘Then just give me a chance, will you? They’ve only been here for an hour! Thanks to you, this is the last weekend I’ll have with them. Will you let me break the news to them gently at least?’

  Papa said something else, but it was drowned out by the pounding of Louis’ heart. He stepped back from the door, fighting for breath.

  By the time he heard the receiver slam down, Louis’ palms were damp and he could feel a cold sweat breaking out across his back. He took a deep breath and forced his hand up to turn the door handle, wishing his arm hadn’t sta
rted to shake.

  Papa was still sitting at the kitchen table, the phone was back in its cradle and he was massaging his forehead with his fingers, his face red and creased. Louis closed the kitchen door and leaned against it; Papa looked up. ‘Loulou, d’you think you could give me a hand with—’ And then he broke off. ‘What’s the matter?’ He started to get up.

  Louis slowly began to shake his head, and felt his eyes filling with tears.

  ‘Louis . . .’ Papa froze, almost comical in his half-standing, half-sitting position. ‘Louis – oh, Christ, you were listening?’

  He nodded, holding his breath in an attempt to ward off the tears.

  ‘Louis . . .’ his father said again, moving out from behind the table and coming towards him. ‘Don’t – don’t— Listen, I don’t want the others to know yet.’

  Blinking back tears, Louis cupped his hands over his nose and mouth as Papa came forward to grip him tightly by the shoulders. ‘Louis, listen – listen to me. Nothing’s been decided yet. Maman may still change her mind. I’m going to appeal against the decision. I’m going to fight this – I’m going to fight this, I promise you.’ He gave Louis a small shake. His eyes looked desperate, imploring.

  ‘Please, Louis, I really want to wait a bit before I tell the others. I want to enjoy some of this weekend with you without having it hanging over all of us. Don’t cry, my darling. It’s going to be all right – I promise you it’s going to be all right.’ His fingers dug into Louis’ shoulder blades.

  Louis pressed his hands to his face and sniffed hard.

  ‘That’s it,’ Papa said desperately. ‘Come over to the sink and wash your face.’

  Louis splashed cold water onto his face while Papa hovered nearby. As he was drying himself with a damp tea towel, he heard the kitchen door open behind him.

  ‘Millie!’ Papa exclaimed with false cheer. ‘Have you found your Barbie set? Let’s go and see what hairstyle you’ve given her.’

  There was a pause, during which Louis rubbed his face hard with the tea towel, carefully keeping his back to the door.

  ‘Wait, Papa,’ Millie was saying as Papa presumably tried to usher her out of the kitchen. ‘What’s the matter with Louis?’

  ‘Nothing!’ Papa exclaimed too loudly. ‘He just got a—some . . . some soap in his eyes while he was helping me with the washing-up. It’s fine, it’s all rinsed out now. Where’s Max?’

  ‘In the salon.’

  ‘Let’s go and see if he wants to play a game, shall we?’

  ‘What game?’ Millie asked, distracted, and their voices disappeared down the hall.

  Louis lowered the tea towel and inhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the sink. He could hear Millie trying to persuade Max into a game of Cluedo. Waves of adrenaline still coursed through his body and it was an effort not to start crying again, but he knew that he mustn’t. If he gave the game away now, Millie would sob all night and Max would shut himself in his room and play loud music for the rest of the weekend. But the news took his breath away. He couldn’t believe that Maman had won the court case and they were only going to be allowed supervised visits with Papa at some ‘family centre’ from now on. He couldn’t believe that this was the last time they would be coming to Papa’s flat, the last time they would be going on a trip together. Maman had said that the supervised visits would only be until Papa had got his life back together again, but the doctor had told Papa he might have to be on anti-depressants for the rest of his life. How would they ever be able to talk to Papa with some stranger sitting in the corner of the room and listening in? It would all be an act, it would all be artificial – they would have to edit everything they said and soon Papa would become a stranger and they probably wouldn’t even be able to remember how to speak English any more . . . Suddenly, Louis hated his mother. She kept saying that it was for their own good, that she hadn’t trusted Papa since the time he had taken an overdose of sleeping pills and collapsed while they were staying at his flat, but Louis didn’t really buy it. She knew how much better he was now. He hadn’t fallen apart in front of them for ages. She was still angry with him for falling in love with that woman from work. She just wanted revenge.

  ‘Louis, come and play, pleeease!’ It was Millie, calling from the living room. Grabbing a piece of kitchen towel from the roll, Louis blew his nose fiercely, rubbed his eyes a final time and then, taking a calming breath, walked slowly along to the living room.

  ‘I’m Miss Scarlet, Max is Colonel Mustard, Papa’s Reverend Green, so who do you want to be?’

  They were all seated on the floor around the Cluedo board, waiting for him. Louis knelt down to join them. ‘Professor Plum, of course,’ he said, forcing a smile.

  Half an hour later, when Max discovered that the murder had been committed by Mrs Peacock, with the lead pipe, in the conservatory, Papa said, ‘All right, folks. Let’s start getting ready for bed.’

  ‘I’m not in the slightest bit tired!’ Max exclaimed. ‘Oh, come on, let me finish my game!’

  ‘I already said it wasn’t negotiable, Max,’ Papa said sharply. ‘I want everyone to have showered and brushed their teeth in exactly twenty minutes. I’m going to finish the washing-up,’ and he left.

  On her hands and knees, Millie was carefully putting the pieces away, humming to herself, unbothered by the ridiculously early night and just happy she was getting to go to bed at the same time as everyone else. Max threw himself onto the sofa and switched on his PS3.

  ‘Papa’s going to get annoyed,’ Louis said.

  Max didn’t move.

  ‘Max!’

  He glanced up, his face angry. ‘This is totally unreasonable of him,’ he complained. ‘What difference does it make if we go to bed this early? We won’t be able to sleep anyway.’

  ‘We can try.’

  Millie jumped up. ‘Bags I get the bathroom first then,’ she said, running out.

  Max narrowed his eyes at Louis. ‘Why are you taking his side all of a sudden? What’s wrong with you anyway?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Louis looked quickly down at the carpet and began collecting up the Cluedo pieces that Millie had left behind.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Max said again.

  Louis looked up hotly. ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Liar. You’ve been crying. I can tell. Your eyes were all red when you came in.’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ Louis muttered hurriedly, busying himself with the Cluedo box.

  ‘Fine, don’t tell me then.’ Max turned back to his PS3.

  It was another hour before they finally all got to bed, and even then Max was still grumbling and playing his GameBoy underneath the covers. From the box room next door, they could hear the rise and fall of Papa’s voice as he read Millie a bedtime story, and the evening sunlight slanted through the half-closed shutters. Then Papa came in and sat down on the end of Louis’ bed.

  ‘Boys, are you packed?’

  ‘Yes.’ Max sounded fed up, as if he was tiring of this whole surprise thing already.

  ‘Yes,’ Louis said.

  ‘Are you sure? Even your toothbrushes? Have you checked the bathroom?’

  ‘You’re beginning to sound like Maman!’ Max protested, still playing his GameBoy. ‘We’re only going away for the weekend.’

  ‘I don’t want you to leave anything behind,’ Papa said. ‘Have you put out your clothes for tomorrow? I’m going to wake you at the last minute, so we’ll only have quarter of an hour to leave the house.’ He got up, went over to Max’s bed and tried to prise the GameBoy from his hands. Max hung on grimly, still fighting with the buttons, saying, ‘One more second, one more second, I’ve nearly killed him!’

  ‘Max . . .’ Papa began in a low, warning voice.

  ‘OK, OK!’

  Papa bent down to kiss him. Max grumbled and complained that there was no way in hell he was going to be able to fall asleep. Then Papa came over to Louis’ bed.

  ‘Night-night, Louis.’

  As Papa bent over him, Louis rea
ched up round his father’s neck and pulled him close. He breathed in his warm, slightly sweaty smell. He never wanted to let go.

  ‘It’ll be all right, Loulou,’ Papa whispered in his ear. ‘It’ll be all right. I promise.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘COME ON, EVERYONE, up, up!’ The overhead light snapped on, blinding them, and Louis groaned and pulled the duvet over his head. But within seconds, Papa was pulling it off him, right off him, and tugging his arm.

  ‘Come on, Louis, go and wash your face right now. Come on, come on!’ Papa’s voice was low, urgent, forcing Louis to get out of bed and try and open his eyes against the harsh artificial light.

  In Max’s bed, a battle was waging – Max trying to bury himself under the covers, Papa trying to drag him out.

  Louis staggered to the bathroom, started to pee, then opened his eyes fully to look out of the small bathroom window – and saw that it was still night.

  Millie burst in before he had even finished. ‘Hey!’

  ‘It’s today, it’s today, we’re going on a surprise trip today!’ she sang, turning on the tap and splashing her face vigorously.

  ‘It’s not even morning – look, it’s still dark outside,’ Louis said, flushing the toilet and joining Millie at the washbasin. He peered at the radio clock on the top of the medicine cabinet. ‘Papa was lying! It’s not morning, it’s three o’clock at night!’

  ‘It’s three o’clock in the morning, so he wasn’t lying, it is morning,’ Millie countered, drying her face on the hand towel. ‘Are we going to go out when it’s still dark? Ooh, this is like an adventure!’

  Suddenly, Max staggered in, his eyes still half closed, his hair on end. ‘Get out of here, children, unless you want to watch me do a poo!’

  ‘Oh, yuck!’ Millie squealed, racing out.

  Before following her, Louis turned to Max. ‘It’s three o’clock in the morning,’ he told him. ‘Where could Papa be taking us in the middle of the night?’

  But Max just sat on the edge of the bath and started to yawn.