Without Looking Back by Tabitha Suzuma

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 fewseconds. 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.
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜Your dad’s gone to sort out some things thismorning,’ 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.
    â€˜All sorted?’ Meg asked, flashing him a knowing look.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜Wow!’ Max exclaimed. ‘What make is it?’
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜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 inreally 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.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜What’s a bob?’ Millie wanted to know.
    Meg demonstrated on her own hair.
    â€˜Ew, that’s like a boy’s,’ Millie protested.
    â€˜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!’
    â€˜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