Without Looking Back Read Online Free Page A

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.
    At breakfast, only Millie looked awake, swinging her legs and chattering non stop about where they might be heading. She seemed to be hoping it might still turn out to be EuroDisney. She was dressed in her favourite newoutfit – the pink velvet trousers and sleeveless white top – and her hair was brushed away from her face and fastened neatly with a clip on the back of her head. Papa had had a hand in the hairstyle, Louis could tell. Max wore clean jeans, his usual football sweatshirt and matching baseball cap. His head, propped up on his hand, looked in danger of falling onto his plate. Papa stood at the table, uncharacteristically smart in khaki trousers, polished shoes and a dark-green v-neck, his hair wet and neatly combed back, displaying a receding hairline. He had already lined up their rucksacks by the front door and was conducting this breakfast military-style, cutting up the baguette and spreading the butter and pouring the hot chocolate, appearing to be trying to get them all to eat as much as possible in the shortest space of time. It was, in essence, breakfast in the middle of the night, and Louis was finding it difficult to get anything down. Papa himself wasn’t eating anything, Louis noticed, but he was already on this third cup of black coffee and his eyes seemed to be on fast-forward.
    When none of them could manage another mouthful, Papa cleared the table, put all the leftovers in the bin and told them to go to the loo while he took out the rubbish. When he returned, he went round the flat, turning off switches and checking under their beds and insistingthat Millie wore a jumper even though she pointed out that it was summer. Then they picked up their rucksacks and went down the staircase and out into the cold night air.
    The street was lamp-lit and deserted and Papa started walking very fast, and when Millie tried to ask a question, he told them that he needed them all to be quiet for a while. Two streets away, he approached a car parked at the kerb with its engine still running and a small light visible from inside. Papa threw open the passenger door and motioned for them to get in.
    It wasn’t a taxi, at least not a regular one, because it had no sign on the top of it. Millie started to say something, then stopped herself, and climbed in silently. Max hung back, fiddling with his iPod, and told Louis in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to sit in the middle.
    ‘Why do I always have to sit in the middle?’ Louis protested.
    ‘Tell Millie to sit in the