‘Have you asked Papa’s friend whether you could make a jacuzzi in her sink?’ Louis asked her.
‘No, Meg and Papa are still in the kitchen, talking,’ Millie complained, dipping the first plastic doll into the water. ‘I went downstairs but they were almost whispering, and then Papa told me to go and unpack.’
‘Great. So we are staying here all week.’
Millie turned from her doll-bath to look at him. ‘Why? Don’t you like it here?’
‘We don’t even know her,’ Louis said grumpily.
Millie turned back to the basin. ‘You’re always in a bad mood when we have to meet new people.’
‘Am not.’
‘Yes you are. Papa says it’s because you’re shy. Except when you’re dancing. Then you want everybody to look at you.’
‘Do not!’
‘Yes you do. When you start doing your spins and backward walkovers and body-popping stuff, everyone looks at you, even Maman. It’s not fair.’
After a dinner of spaghetti bolognese, they watched two DVDs back-to-back in the lounge while Meg and Dad stayed in the kitchen to do the washing up, then Dad suggested they all have yet another early night. This time no one protested. Having been up since five, even Max looked exhausted.
‘And tomorrow? What are we going to do tomorrow?’ Millie demanded excitedly, jumping up and down.
‘Er – well, we’ll see,’ Dad answered vaguely.
But although Louis was thankful that the day was over, he found it impossible to sleep in the sagging, creaky bed, and soon began to toss and turn, unable to find a position that was bearable for more than a few seconds. Max fell asleep almost immediately, which irritated him all the more.
The next morning, Louis woke late, the sun already high in the sky. Max’s bed was empty, and when he padded out onto the landing, he could hear the sound of voices in the kitchen below. He had a quick shower, pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and braced himself before stepping into the kitchen. Dad was not there, and Meg was at the cooker frying eggs and bacon in a pan; Max and Millie were seated at the table, chatting noisily.
‘Good morning, Louis!’ Meg greeted him. ‘Did you sleep well?’
Louis mumbled good morning and slid into a chair beside Max.
Breakfast was torturous. Meg served him bacon and eggs, which he could barely swallow. There was no hot chocolate, no proper bread – only sliced brown stuff that tasted like cardboard. Max and Millie seemed delighted by their greasy breakfast and ate masses. Meg asked them about school, about their friends, about life in France, and Max and Millie didn’t stop talking, delighted to have such a captive audience. Finally, Louis put down his fork and said, ‘Where’s Papa?’
‘Your dad’s gone to sort out some things this morning,’ Meg replied, ‘but he said he’d be back before lunch.’
They spent the rest of the morning watching DVDs. Meg went out to the rental shop to get them the films they wanted, but she wouldn’t let them come too. Millie played with the cat in the garden and it seemed like ages before Dad came back, but when he did, he was smiling.
‘All sorted?’ Meg asked, flashing him a knowing look.
‘All sorted,’ Dad replied. ‘Come outside, everyone. I’ve got something to show you.’
They traipsed out after him into the street. Parked in front of the house was a car – a large blue car with several dents and a chipped front light. But it had a wide back seat and a vast boot.
‘Wow!’ Max exclaimed. ‘What make is it?’
‘A Peugeot,’ Dad replied, looking pleased with himself. ‘It’s got a low mileage and apart from the bodywork, it’s in good shape. Shall we give it a spin?’
‘Yes please, yes please!’ Millie cried.
They all piled in, Meg in the front and the three of them in the back, and went for a drive around London, and saw the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace – although Dad wouldn’t let them out of the car. On their way back they picked up a Chinese takeaway for lunch, and everyone seemed in really high spirits until Meg suddenly said, ‘Millie, I’d really like to cut your hair.’
They were all seated round the kitchen table, finishing the last of the egg fried rice, and Millie put down her spoon and her eyes grew wide. ‘Why?’ she asked, her voice shrill with outrage.
‘Because it’s really very pretty, but I think it would suit you better if it was a bit shorter. Like in a bob, for instance.’
‘What’s a bob?’ Millie wanted to know.
Meg demonstrated on her own hair.
‘Ew, that’s like a boy’s,’ Millie protested.
‘You know, Meg used to be a hairdresser,’ Dad chipped in. ‘I’m sure she would make it look really lovely, Millie.’
Millie looked reluctant. ‘But it’s taken me ages and ages to grow it this long. I’ve got the longest hair in the whole class!’
‘But long hair is hot and uncomfortable in the summer. And your hair could be so pretty. If I gave you a bob it would be even curlier and would frame your face and make you look like a little pixie!’
Millie hesitated, clearly torn between pleasing Dad’s friend and keeping her long hair.
‘Then when we’ve done that we could go out and buy you some butterfly clips which would look really nice in short hair,’ Meg said.
That did it. ‘OK.’ Millie glanced shyly at Dad for approval. He beamed.
While Millie and Meg were in the upstairs bathroom, Dad turned to Louis and Max. ‘That’s put me in the mood for a bit of a shake-up!’ he declared suddenly. ‘Why don’t we all smarten ourselves up a bit? I think I’ll get rid of my moustache. Max, why don’t I take you to the optician’s for those contact lenses I’ve been promising you?’
Max’s face lit up. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, and your hair could do with a cut too.’
‘I want to have a brush cut,’ Max said. ‘But Maman won’t let me.’
‘Well, now’s the time!’
Max looked worried. ‘She’ll kill me . . .’
‘I’ll tell her I made you do it! Come on, let’s see what Meg thinks. Louis? Fancy a brush cut?’
‘No way,’ Louis said.
‘Come on! If we’re all having haircuts, you’ve got to do something as well,’ Dad persisted. ‘How about a different colour then? Brown?’
Louis stared at him. ‘Are you crazy?’
‘Let Meg give you a trim at least. Your hair really is too long, Louis. You’re beginning to look like a girl.’
Louis gaped at him, hurt, but Dad just smiled. ‘Come on then, Max. Let’s go to the optician’s.’
‘Cool!’ Max exclaimed.
They left Louis sitting at the table and banged out of the house. Louis sat among the dirty plates and empty plastic containers and rested his chin on his hands. He knew he was being a spoilsport but he just couldn’t get his head around this sudden change in Dad. The last-minute surprise holiday, disappearing for hours without them, the close friend they knew nothing about, and now this. Was he trying to seriously anger Maman? Yes, that must be it: Try and take my children away from me and I will get them to do all the things you’ve forbidden. Now Max would probably come back with an earring.
Max didn’t come back with an earring, but did come home wearing brown contact lenses, and after a very short crew cut from Meg, his hair seemed to have turned brown too, and he was barely recognizable. True to her word, Meg went out with Millie and bought her a huge assortment of butterfly clips, which pleased Millie no end – and the bob did suit her. Louis had no choice but to let Meg ‘trim’ his hair, but she ended up cutting it much shorter than she said she would, into a spiky modern style that Louis instantly hated. Dad shaved off his moustache and Meg gave him a crew cut too, and then he dyed his greying hair brown and everyone agreed that he looked ten years younger. Then it was time for dinner and Dad made pancakes and cracked jokes and suddenly appeared to be in the best mood he had been in for days.
But the next day
he woke them up at half past five in the morning and told them to hurry and get dressed. They were going on the last lap of their journey.
Chapter Four
THEY HAD BEEN driving for hours. Max was in the front seat, trainers up on the dashboard, music blaring in his earphones. Millie was asleep, her head lolling against the strap of her seatbelt, her short hair curling across her cheek. There had scarcely been time to say goodbye to Meg – Dad had bundled them into the car while she had stood in her dressing gown, blinking in the doorway. But before getting into the driver’s seat, Dad had hugged her hard and whispered, ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’ Now it was almost eight in the morning and a pale, watery dawn had broken through the clouds above them. They had long since left London behind, and the rows of terraced houses had been replaced by rolling fields dotted with sheep, the motorway stretching out in front of them, bleak, grey and endless.
Fiddling with his watch, Louis suddenly noticed it was Tuesday. He was startled. Somehow he had thought it was still the weekend, albeit a very long one, and he was taken aback to realize he had already missed a whole day of school. Pierre would be wondering where on earth he was, especially if he had rung Dad’s flat at the weekend and got no answer. Then again, Pierre would probably have rung the house and got onto Maman by now, and she would have explained everything to him. England was an hour behind France, so right now Maman would be on her way to work; Pierre would be arriving at school, no doubt envying Louis his sudden holiday. Tuesdays were a bummer. They had double maths in the morning, followed by physics and chemistry and then a long coach ride and an afternoon of horrible swimming in a chlorine-stenched pool. Nonetheless, Tuesdays remained his favourite day of the week, because after school he had his street-dance class.
Millie stirred and opened her eyes and then sat up with a start, looking around wildly. Then she seemed to remember where she was, for she sat back against the seat, blinking sleepily. ‘Papa – Daddy – I need to go to the loo,’ she said.
He glanced down at his watch. ‘OK, we’ll stop for breakfast at the next exit.’
When they got out of the car, they were met by a chill wind and a splattering of rain. Louis’ muscles felt cramped, there was a stale taste in his mouth and his head felt foggy. They walked across the windy car park to the toilets and then into a large, bright, noisy food hall. Dad let them have whatever they wanted so they all ordered burgers and chips and tucked in hungrily. Dad ordered a ham sandwich but ate less than half of it.
‘How much further?’ Max asked.
‘Another two hundred miles or so.’
‘What’s that in kilometres?’ Max persisted.
‘What’s that in hours?’ Millie added.
Dad rubbed his eyes, looking tired. ‘Three hours, if we’re lucky,’ he said.
Millie gasped dramatically.
‘So where are we going then?’ Louis asked. ‘Surely you can tell us now.’
Dad sighed. ‘You’ll see when we get there, Louis.’
Max rolled his eyes. It seemed he was tiring of this surprise thing too.
After breakfast, when Dad suggested they get back in the car and ‘press on’ with the journey, he met with howls of protest.
‘All right, all right,’ he said quickly. ‘Let’s go for a wander and stretch our legs.’
At the end of the car park was a long strip of grass overlooking the motorway. Millie went skipping down it, looking for daisies. Max found a partially deflated football and kicked it over to Louis. They began a makeshift game, using their jackets as goalposts, and even managed to persuade Dad to join in.
‘Not fair! Whose side are you on?’ Louis shouted as Dad kicked the ball between his goalposts.
‘I’ll have to be the third team,’ Dad said, laughing.
‘No, wait,’ Max said. ‘We’ll get Millie. Then it can be two against two. Millie!’ he shouted.
‘Bags me be with Dad,’ Louis said quickly.
‘No way! Millie has to be with Dad – Dad’s too good!’ Max protested.
‘I’m flattered,’ Dad said, practising his goal-scoring.
‘Millie!’ Max yelled. ‘Come and play!’
‘I’m busy! I’m making a daisy chain!’ she called back.
‘You can be on Dad’s team!’ Max shouted.
She hesitated for a moment, then put down the daisy chain and came running over. ‘But you have to let me get the ball, you have to let me get the ball!’
They started the game, Max and Louis against Dad and Millie. Dad got stuck in, and despite her size, Millie was like a bullet, accustomed to being roped into games of football with her older brothers. Louis felt chuffed that Max had wanted him on his team and the two of them did their best to outplay Dad and Millie, who were both prone to bending the rules. Millie liked to engage in rugby-type tackles, throwing herself round the legs of her opponent and knocking him to the ground, and at one point there was a real rugby scrum, with them all piling on top of Dad. When they were too out of breath to run any more, they decided to have a penalty shoot-out. Louis went in goal, and while Dad and Millie were arguing over who was going to take the ball, he did a couple of backflips. He felt happier than he had in days. Perhaps this holiday was going to be a success after all.
Back in the car, Millie soon fell asleep again, grazes and grass stains covering her elbows and knees. Dad had the French radio on very low and Max was plugged into his iPod again . . .
After a while Louis realized he must have dozed off, because quite suddenly the sun was high, blazing down from a massive stretch of blue sky. He sat up groggily to look out of the window and saw that they were surrounded by the most extraordinary scenery – green and brown mountains and, in the distance, the shimmering water of a vast lake.
‘Where are we?’ he asked Dad.
‘This is the Lake District,’ Dad replied. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
‘Yes,’ Louis replied. He could scarcely believe they were still in England. ‘Is this where we’re going to be staying?’
‘Yes,’ Dad replied.
‘With another one of your friends?’
‘No, we’re renting a little farmhouse,’ Dad said. ‘It’ll just be the four of us.’
Louis smiled.
Sometime later, they turned off the road and onto a long bumpy dirt track that snaked its way across rough grassy hillside towards a small farmhouse, set half a mile back from the road. As they approached it in the juddering car, Louis saw that it was two storeys high, built of grey stone with a slate roof.
‘The house is a hundred years old,’ Dad explained, finally switching off the engine and getting out of the car. He took a deep breath and gazed around. ‘These two acres of land belong to it. Crikey, just look at all this space.’
As they followed him out, the air was very still, broken only by the faint twitter of birdsong. Max dug his hands into his jeans pockets and gave a low whistle.
‘Wow,’ Millie breathed softly. ‘Beautiful.’
Behind the farmhouse, the grassland rose gradually towards a towering peak. On the other side, several miles away, more green peaks pointed up towards a brilliant blue sky. Below them, a huge, inky-blue lake stretched out like a sheet of glass. A cluster of houses in the distance suggested a village. A cool wind lifted Louis’ hair and stroked his bare arms. He shivered. They had arrived in the middle of nowhere.
They quickly began to explore the premises, Millie running about in excitement. To the left of the house, a corrugated-iron door led to a vast barn, empty save for a few bales of hay and some bits of broken machinery. Inside the farmhouse, the small kitchen was dark and damp, all the surfaces were covered with dust, and there was an evil smell coming from the fridge. The narrow corridor was dark and cold and the brown carpet was in dire need of vacuuming. The living room was not much better: an old, disused fireplace and a sagging brown couch. A steep flight of stairs led up to a manky green bathroom with cracked tiles; then came a small study, followed by two decent-sized bedrooms, one co
ntaining a single bed, the other a double.
‘So I don’t get my own room,’ Millie realized, doing the maths.
Max shrugged, clearly unimpressed by the inside of the house. ‘Looks like only one of us gets their own bed.’
There was the sound of Dad’s feet on the stairs and he appeared, slightly breathless, carrying some bags. ‘Now don’t look so disheartened. The house has potential. We’ll just need to buy a few things, that’s all.’
‘But we’re only staying here for four days,’ Louis said. ‘What’s the point?’
‘The point is’ – Dad took a deep breath – ‘I want my children to be comfortable. Now, who’s got a pen and paper . . .?’ He rummaged in Millie’s rucksack. ‘Let’s make a list.’
‘Oh, can I do it? Can I do it?’ Millie grabbed the pen and paper from Dad’s hand. List-making was one of her passions.
‘OK.’ Dad sat down on the sagging mattress. ‘Let’s just start with the basics. We need cleaning products to get rid of all this dust. I think there’s a vacuum cleaner in the closet downstairs but I’ll need to check it works. Bed sheets – one double, one single. Pillows, one each – that’s four. Four pillowcases. One double duvet and duvet cover. Three single duvets and duvet covers.’
‘Why?’ Max asked. ‘We’ve only got two beds.’
‘Hold on, hold on,’ Dad said. ‘I’m just getting to that. Now, we’ll need two single beds—’
‘Two beds!’ Millie began to laugh. ‘We can’t buy beds, Daddy!’
‘Yes we can,’ Dad said quickly. ‘Meg has asked me to do the place up for her.’ His eyes shifted uncomfortably.
‘This is Meg’s place?’ Max wanted to know.
‘Her holiday home. Yes. Now, let’s move on . . .’
An unsteady feeling started in the pit of Louis’ stomach again. If Papa had rented a farmhouse for four days, why hadn’t he gone through a travel agency and got a place that was clean and already contained enough beds? It didn’t make sense. Beds took time to be delivered, and by the time they arrived, they would probably be on their way back to France.