Without Looking Back Read Free Page A

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 started to shake.
    Papa was still sitting at the kitchen table, the phone was back in its cradle and he was massaging his foreheadwith 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