Free Without Looking Back by Tabitha Suzuma Page B

Cluedo, and you came out of the kitchen and you’d been crying—’
    â€˜I wasn’t crying,’ Louis said quickly, but Max didn’t appear to hear him. His face darkened.
    â€˜So that’s why Dad’s moving to England? Because he lost the court case?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Louis said. ‘It doesn’t make sense. He said he was going to appeal. He promised, Max! Maybe the farmhouse really
is
just a holiday home. Maybe he wants to do it up so he can prove to Mum that he’s not ill any more and she’ll trust him to look after us . . .’
    But Max was looking away, shaking his head in disgust. ‘Don’t be so bloody naïve. He won’t be appealing if he’s moving to England. He must just be hoping to start his life over and meet some new woman—’
    â€˜You don’t know that!’ Louis felt his voice rising. ‘He wouldn’t do that! He would never give us up! He promised me – he said everything was going to be all right!’
    â€˜Those are just words,’ Max scoffed. ‘You were blubbing like a baby and he just wanted to shut you up—’
    Louis jumped to his feet and started to climb back up the hillside towards the bikes.
    Max started to follow him. ‘Hey, Louis, I’m sorry. Come on, calm down.’
    Louis ignored him and kept on going, digging his nails into the soft earth to aid his ascent, the growing burn in his calf muscles a useful antidote to the pain inside his mind.
    The next day, the beds arrived, and Louis and Millie helped Dad erect them in the bedrooms. They did Millie’s first, and when it was done, she was so pleased with it that she turned somersaults on the fresh bouncy mattress.
    â€˜I want to paint my walls pink,’ she declared, stretching out over her Barbie duvet cover.
    â€˜I think that could be arranged,’ Dad replied.
    â€˜Really? Oh, yippee! I want to call Maman and tell her about my new room. Can I call her now, Daddy?’
    Dad appeared not to have heard; he was collecting up his tools, ready to move on to the next room.
    â€˜Can I call
Mummy
?’ Millie repeated, appearing tothink her use of the French word was the reason Dad hadn’t replied.
    Dad picked up his toolbox and went next door to the boys’ room. Louis followed him, Millie skipping behind. ‘Can I, Daddy, can I, can I?’
    Dad put down his toolbox on Louis’ bed, the colour high in his cheeks. ‘Not now, Millie, she’ll be at work.’
    â€˜But Mummy’s always at work. She lets me call her at work – I’m allowed.’
    â€˜Only if it’s for something important,’ Louis reminded her.
    â€˜But this
is
important. I want to tell her about my new room! Oh please, Daddy!’
    â€˜We can’t call her yet, we haven’t got a phone installed,’ Dad told her.
    â€˜But on your mobile—’
    â€˜No, Millie, it’s too expensive.’ The tone of Dad’s voice signalled that the discussion was over.
    For a moment Millie looked upset, hurt even. Then she quickly recovered, remembering her new bed, and ran back to her room.
    Louis and Dad got to work on the second bed, Louis cutting open the cardboard boxes while Dad pored over the instructions. Louis lined up the wooden panels according to size and knelt on the carpet opposite hisfather, following his lead with the first set of screws. Louis used the electric screwdriver while Dad took the manual one, and once the screws were in place, they returned to the instruction leaflet, studying it together.
    â€˜I think we have to hammer in the dowels next,’ Louis said, picking up the handful of wooden pegs.
    â€˜OK, you do that while I screw the bolts into the blocks,’ Dad replied. ‘Where’s the electric screwdriver?’
    â€˜Here. Can you pass me the hammer?’
    â€˜Here.’
    For several minutes they worked in silence, the pounding of the