Without Looking Back (11 page)

‘Quarter past twelve. You were sleeping like the dead. Dad said not to wake you.’

‘Has everyone had breakfast?’

‘Ages ago. Dad’s taken Millie out to lunch. He’s going to try and explain things properly to her and ask her what she wants to do.’

Louis sat up, suddenly fully awake. ‘You mean she gets to choose too?’

‘Of course,’ Max replied. ‘What did you think?’

‘I thought . . .’ Louis hesitated. He didn’t really know what he’d thought. That they were all going to make a decision as a family perhaps? ‘What if Millie decides she wants to go back and we decide we want to stay here?’ he
queried. ‘How is Dad going to make Millie promise never to tell anyone back in France where we are? She’s crap at keeping secrets.’

‘Dad said if any of us choose to go back, he’ll move,’ Max said. ‘Like that there won’t be any secret to keep. Nobody will actually know where he’s gone.’

Louis pressed his fists against his closed eyelids, struggling to make sense of it all. His brain seemed to be enveloped by a thick fog this morning, and Max’s chirpy demeanour on the other side of the room wasn’t helping. ‘So you mean, if Millie decides to go back to Paris and we decide to stay here, then we’ll have to disappear with Dad again and never see Millie or Maman?’

‘Only till we’re sixteen,’ Max said lightly. ‘Then we can do what we want.’

‘All right for you,’ Louis said grumpily. ‘That’s only a year and a half away.’

‘Four years isn’t that long either,’ Max added.

‘Yes it
is
bloody long!’ Louis suddenly shouted. ‘If I don’t see Millie for four years, she’ll be nearly a teenager before I see her again! And if I don’t see Maman for four years – do you have any idea how worried she’ll be?’

‘Relax, Louis,’ Max said infuriatingly. ‘She knows we’re with Dad. He left her a letter. So she knows we’re perfectly safe. She even knows we’re in England – that’s
why you came across the missing person’s poster. Dad just can’t figure out why there’d be a poster in the Lake District . . .’

Louis’ mind suddenly flashed back to the phone call to Pierre.
Papa took us on holiday. We’re in a place called the Lake District
. He felt his heart skip a beat. ‘Don’t you think Mum has a right to know where we are?’

‘No. Why should she? She was the one who was trying to stop us from seeing Dad, remember? Anyway, she’s so busy with her clients and that new idiot she’s dating, she probably won’t even notice we’ve gone.’

Louis glared at him. ‘Oh, this is just because you hate Charlot, isn’t it?’

Max shrugged. ‘It’s only a matter of time before that schmuck moves in and starts forcing us to call him
Papa
.’

Louis went back to rubbing his eyes again and Max turned to the computer. Suddenly, Louis dropped his hands and stared across at his brother.

‘What?’ Max said uncomfortably.

‘You’ve chosen, haven’t you?’ Louis said.

‘So what if I have?’

‘You’re staying here with Dad, aren’t you?’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Max replied defensively. ‘This place is heaps better than Paris. And if it means never
having to go back to the Lycée . . .’ He gave a little laugh. ‘My God, it’s a dream come true!’

‘Don’t you think Dad’s going to make you go to school here in September?’

‘Yeah, but over here they have A levels instead of the Baccalauréat – just two or three subjects instead of ten! And Dad’s already said I can do my GCSEs by distance learning if I prefer.’

‘Oh, great,’ Louis said acidly. ‘So you’re basing your decision uniquely on the education system.’

‘No. It’s also because I want to live with Dad. He looked after us when we were little. He was always the one there for us. I’ll miss Mum, sure, but she’s never really around, is she? And when she is, all she does is criticize. Anyway, I’ll be able to see her again in a year or so.’

‘And Millie? What about if Millie goes back? What about if I go back?’

‘Millie won’t go back,’ Max said. ‘You know how crazy she is about Dad.’

‘Ha!’ Louis shouted. ‘That’s where you’re wrong! Millie will go back! You’ve forgotten about Trésor!’

But when Millie came back with Dad after lunch, her face was pink and puffy and she went straight up to her room and closed the door. Dad sat at the kitchen table, his face grey. ‘I never meant to put her through
that, I never meant to put her through that,’ he said.

Louis felt like shouting,
Well then, you should have thought about that before kidnapping us!
but didn’t. Dad was clearly going through hell. He couldn’t handle Louis’ rage too.

In the afternoon, Max and Dad went out into the garden to erect a fence and Louis found himself tiptoeing up to Millie’s room. He listened outside her door. Silence. He lifted his hand and knocked. There was a muffled sound from within. Louis turned the handle and went in.

She was sitting on her bed, wisps of her unfamiliar short hair sticking to her pink cheeks, her face still wet with tears, clutching her doll to her chest. Louis closed the door, then sat down beside her and put his arm around her as she snuggled up against him.

‘Did Dad tell you?’

She nodded silently.

‘It was a horrible thing to do. But I think he did it because he loves us,’ Louis found himself saying.

‘I know that,’ Millie said. ‘I just wish he’d taken Trésor too!’

Louis started in surprise. ‘Is that why you’re crying?’

‘He was my favourite cat in the whole world!’ A loud sob escaped her.

‘What about Maman?’ Louis asked.

‘She doesn’t like him! She’ll probably give him away!’ Millie sobbed.

‘No, I mean what about not seeing Maman again? And all your friends at school? You won’t see them again either.’

‘I don’t care about them! I just care about Trésor!’

‘OK, but listen.’ Louis decided to try another tactic. ‘If you wanted to, you could go back to Maman and Trésor and all your friends in Paris. You don’t have to stay here. You could go back with me.’

‘But I don’t want to go back!’ Millie wailed. ‘I want to live here with Daddy!’

‘OK, Millie, listen.’ Louis tried to disentangle himself from the wailing wet ball and look into his sister’s eyes. ‘You have to choose. You have to choose between Trésor and Daddy.’

Millie stopped crying suddenly and sniffed hard. She looked at Louis. ‘Daddy said he would buy me a new kitten.’

Louis lay prone on the living-room couch, propped up on his elbows, staring down at the cushions. So that was it, he thought. He couldn’t believe it. Millie was going to be bought off with a cat, and Max was going to be bought
off with the promise of not having to go to school. OK, so perhaps that wasn’t entirely fair. Both Max and Millie were closer to Dad than to Maman. Damn it, they all were! But that didn’t mean he wanted to live on the run, in a strange country, speaking a strange language, going to a school where he knew nobody and would most likely be bottom of the class! He’d had a life in Paris! His best friend, Pierre, whom he’d known since he was four. His other friends, Luc and Henri, whom he’d known since primary school. His class at the Lycée, and of course his dance classes, where his teacher was giving him extra one-to-one lessons for free, and taking him to competitions up and down the country. How could Dad ask him to give all that up? How could he? But of course, he wasn’t.
It’s entirely up to you
, Dad had said. But now, if Louis decided he
did
want to go back, he’d be breaking rank, forcing them all to move house again just when they’d got this place halfway decent. And not only would he be losing his father, he’d be losing his brother and sister as well. Dad said he’d wanted to give them a choice. But what kind of choice did Louis have now?

THEY SAT AROUND
the kitchen table staring at each other in silence. Dad had a small pile of papers in front of him. He leafed through them nervously.

‘We’re from a small village called Yaté, in New Caledonia,’ he began. ‘You went to the Lycée Malvin in Yaté. It was a small school, only a hundred pupils, and you were in the same classes as you were in Paris. Try not to give any more details than that. Yaté is that tiny place we stayed at during our holiday two years ago. I’m banking on the fact that we won’t be meeting anyone from New Caledonia here in the Lake District. If by any chance you do, give them a wide berth.’

They nodded tensely.

‘Your mother and my wife, Brigitte Franklin, died six years ago, when Millie was just two. She died of breast
cancer. If anyone asks you for more details than that, I want you to say you’d rather not talk about it.’

More nods.

‘We came to England because I wasn’t happy with the education system in New Caledonia,’ Dad went on. ‘I wanted you to be brought up in the British education system and eventually go on to British universities, like I did.’ There was a pause. ‘The first thing we need to do is give you new names,’ he told them. ‘Because I’m Jonathan Franklin, you’ll all have to be Franklin too, but you can choose your first names.’

‘How did you get false ID?’ Max asked.

‘Meg started by searching birth records for a child who was born in approximately the same year as me but who had died,’ Dad said. ‘She then applied for a copy of the birth certificate. When I arrived in London I was able to use the birth certificate to apply for other forms of identification such as a driving licence and national insurance number.’

‘But what about us?’ Louis asked. ‘We can’t just pinch the birth certificate of some random dead baby. We need to have the same surname as you.’

‘Meg has a friend who is able to provide false documents,’ Dad replied. ‘When you’ve chosen your
names, he will make up birth certificates and school reports for you.’

Louis, Max and Millie looked at each other. ‘We get to choose our own names?’ Millie piped up.

‘Within reason,’ Dad added with a little smile. His eyes looked tired.

‘Does it have to be an English name?’ Max asked.

Dad nodded. ‘I think English or Irish would be best.’

‘What about Hunter?’ Max suggested.

Dad managed a chuckle. ‘Keep thinking.’

‘I want to be called Katie,’ Millie said.

‘Spelled how?’

‘K – a – t – i – e.’

‘Katie Franklin. OK, that works,’ Dad said. ‘Louis?’

‘Lewis,’ he said.

‘That’s Louis in English.’

‘I know. I don’t want to change my name.’

Max shot him a look.

‘OK, fine. I don’t know – Liam, then. That’s English, isn’t it?’

‘Liam Franklin. OK . . . Max?’

‘Joshua,’ Max said with a grin. ‘But you can call me Josh.’

Dad wrote out their new names on a piece of paper, along with a summary of their past. He left them to learn
it off by heart while he drove into town to email Meg their new names so that she could supply them with the relevant documents. A strange sense of unreality settled over them as they lay around the room, trying to memorize the details of their new identity.

After a few minutes Max gave a laugh. ‘This is so cool,’ he said. ‘It’s like something out of
Alias
.’

‘It isn’t a game.’ Millie glared at him. ‘If we make a mistake, Dad could go to prison!’

‘Sorry, Katie,’ Max said, biting back a smile.

But Millie was also trying not to smile. ‘That’s all right, Josh,’ she said.

Louis said nothing, and read through the details of his new life for a fourth time. I used to be called Louis Whittaker, he thought to himself. I had a sister called Millie and a brother called Max. I used to live in a big house in Paris. I used to go to a school called Le Lycée Maraux and I was top of my class in most subjects. My best friend was Pierre Duchard. I used to help him in class. I used to go to his house to eat chocolate biscuits and play on his computer. I used to do three dance classes a week and compete in competitions all over the country. I used to speak French every day. Now I don’t know who I am any more. I have a name that means nothing to me – Liam Franklin. I have short hair. I’m
only allowed to speak in English. I live with my father, Jonathan, my sister, Katie, and my brother, Josh. I no longer live in a big city in France but among hills and lakes outside a tiny village in England. And my mother is dead.

After dinner that evening, Dad kept them at the kitchen table. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘I want to do a final run-through. This has got to be watertight, do you understand? Watertight. All it takes is one slip-up and people will start asking questions. In a small place like this, news travels fast.’

They nodded. Dad’s face had a tense, hard look Louis couldn’t remember seeing before.

Dad looked at Millie. ‘What’s your name?’ He asked her.

‘Katie,’ she answered promptly.

‘What’s your surname?’

‘Franklin.’

‘Spell that.’

‘F – r – a – n – k – l – i – n.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘New Caledonia.’

‘Where in New Caledonia?’

‘Yaté.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘It’s about, um – eighty kilometres south of the capital,’ Millie faltered fractionally.

‘And what’s the capital?’

‘Nouméa.’

‘Nou
me
a,’ Dad repeated, changing the pronunciation. ‘Say it again in an English way. Nou
me
a.’

‘Nou
me
a,’ Millie said, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Dad turned to Max. ‘Where’s your mother?’ he demanded.

‘She died,’ Max replied.

‘When? How?’

‘She died six years ago of breast cancer.’

‘And your dad?’

‘He’s an accountant,’ Max said smoothly. ‘He moved us over here because he was fed up with the school system in New Caledonia.’

‘What’s your father’s name?’ Dad turned sharply to Louis.

‘Jonathan Franklin,’ Louis replied.

‘What are your brother and sister called?’

‘Katie and Josh.’

‘Where did you used to go to school?’

‘At the Lycée Malvin in Yaté.’

Dad sat back and exhaled slowly. ‘OK,’ he breathed. ‘OK, OK, OK.’

‘Dad,’ Millie said softly. ‘If we get caught, would you go to prison?’

Dad seemed to hesitate. Then he said, ‘It’s a possibility. But we won’t get caught. We’ll just be very, very careful.’