Without Looking Back (2 page)

‘Max?’

‘Mm?’

‘If Papa wins the court case, does that mean we’ll be able to start seeing him as much as we want to?’ Louis asked.

‘No, only every weekend,’ Max replied.

‘But Papa said he was going to try and get joint custody,’ Louis protested. ‘I thought that meant three days here with Maman and three days with Papa, with a changeover day in between.’

‘That’ll never happen,’ Max said.

‘
Why?
’

‘Because . . .’ Max heaved a weary sigh. ‘Papa told me judges rarely agree to an equal split. They think it’s too disruptive to the kids to change house mid-week. The
most Papa can hope for is to have us every weekend instead of three days a month.’

‘And if Maman wins?’

Another sigh. ‘Louis, you know what will happen. Papa talked us through it all again last time we went to stay.’

‘But I’ve forgotten—’

‘If Maman wins, then Papa only gets supervised visits, one day a month.’

‘But I still don’t understand why—’

‘Because Maman has told the judge that Papa is mentally unstable.’

‘But she doesn’t really believe that?’

‘No, she doesn’t really believe that. But he lost his job because he just stopped going to work after the divorce, remember? He didn’t get out of bed for weeks. And she still hates him because he fell in love with that woman . . .’

Louis closed his eyes. ‘Yeah . . .’

There was a long silence. ‘Anyway’ – Max said suddenly – ‘even if she does win, I don’t care. In a year and a half I’ll be sixteen and I’ll be able to choose who I live with. Papa said I could go and live with him then and quit school and get a job if I wanted.’

‘Don’t go,’ Louis whispered.

‘I’ll still be able to come back and see you and stuff.’

Silence.

‘Maybe Papa
will
win,’ Max said.

There was no time to even open his history book the following morning. Louis had forgotten to set the alarm and was woken by Maman in her bed-hairdo, shouting at them to pack their weekend bags. At breakfast, Max tried it on with the ‘I-really-feel-ill-today’ routine and Millie cried because she couldn’t find her doll. Trying to apply her lipstick using her reflection in the door of the microwave, Maman told Max that if he hadn’t bothered to study for his test today he only had himself to blame, then told Millie that she was too old to cry about a doll.

‘Is Papa going to pick us up from school?’ Millie asked tearfully.

‘Yes.’ Maman closed her lipstick with a snap and started on her hair. ‘Remember to go straight to the gate after class. And if he’s late, just wait for him. You know what he’s like.’

‘Papa said he would take us to EuroDisney again this weekend!’ Millie suddenly remembered.

‘That’s enough Nutella, Millie.’

‘He did say that, didn’t he, Max?’ Millie persisted.

‘Probably,’ Max replied, spraying croissant crumbs across the table.

‘Yippee!’

‘Don’t come home on Sunday night saying you’ve still got homework,’ Maman warned.

In the back of the Mercedes, Max wangled the front seat even though it was Louis’ turn, and Millie was reunited with her doll amidst whoops of delight. Maman tapped her long, petal-shaped fingernails on the steering wheel in frustration as rivulets ran down the windscreen in front of a sea of red lights. ‘My first meeting’s at nine. This traffic is a joke!’ Suddenly, she glanced at Max and yanked out his earphones. ‘I told you not to take that iPod to school.’

‘But I want to have my music with me at Papa’s!’ Max protested.

‘Put it away in your rucksack then.’

Max did as he was told, grumbling under his breath.

‘Put your books away and take out a blank sheet of paper.’

Louis turned his head slowly to exchange wide-eyed looks with Pierre. There was a shocked silence from the class, followed by general shufflings and mumblings of discontent as textbooks were swapped for blank paper.
Head propped up on his hand in resignation, Pierre was staring sullenly down at the sheet on his desk. He hadn’t revised, Louis could tell. As Mr Armand began to write the questions on the board, Louis edged his sheet of paper towards the divide between the two desks and Pierre shot him a grin of thanks.

‘Do you want to come over to my house tomorrow to play Tomb Raider?’ Pierre asked him later in the playground. They were leaning against the wrought-iron gate and wondering whether they could be bothered to start up one last game of football before the bell rang.

‘No – it’s our weekend at Papa’s,’ Louis said.

‘Oh.’ Pierre pulled some mints out of his pocket, dug one out with his bottom teeth, then held out the stick to Louis. ‘Monday after school then?’

‘Sure, and I can ring you tomorrow and you can tell me what level you’ve managed to get up to,’ Louis said. ‘Papa lets us use the phone for as long as we want at his place.’

‘Cool,’ Pierre replied.

‘Papa, Papa!’ Millie dropped her school bag and went hurtling out of the gates. Papa held out his arms and swung her right up above his head. Her hair fanned out behind her; she squealed with delight, then wound her
arms about his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Papa stumbled forward, Millie still clinging to him like a limpet, and pulled Max towards him. Max grinned and took off his baseball cap and pulled it down over his father’s head.

‘Look at you!’ Papa was saying in English, tilting his head back to see out from under the peak of the cap. ‘Max, I can’t believe how much you’ve grown! You’re taller than me now! And how’s my Louis?’

‘I’m good, Papa,’ Louis replied, stepping forward to kiss his father. It felt strange to be speaking English again and the words felt uncomfortable in his mouth.

On the train that took them to Papa’s flat just outside Paris, Millie chatted nonstop about her good marks at school, her new friend Estelle, and how hard she’d been practising for her piano exam. She swung her legs as she talked, hitting the bottom of the seat with an irritating thump, her eyes dancing with excitement. She spoke in English, but substituted French words whenever necessary, speaking what Papa laughingly referred to as
Franglais
. Papa had always spoken English to them, right from when they were small and he used to stay at home to look after them while Maman went to work – he always said that growing up bilingual was one of the most useful gifts a parent could give a child. But ever
since Papa moved out over a year ago, they had been speaking English less and less, and what once was easy had begun to feel like an effort. Whenever Millie broke into French, Papa repeated what she had said in English, as if trying to put the English words back into her mind.

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?’