The Great Escape (22 page)

‘Well, all right, then,’ he said, undeniably surprised. ‘Brussels it is. I’ve never been there, and we can explore together. I’ll book a ferry. We’ll go,
what, day after tomorrow?’

‘Yes. That’s brilliant. Thanks, Dad.’

‘I’m going to ring Bill and tell him the news. He’ll need some new assistants, if we’re not around.’

‘OK.’ Millie disappeared upstairs and shut her door. Max flew out from under the bed. ‘Did you hear all that?’

He nodded, and raced round her legs like a demented kitten. Then he remembered the ferry and sobered up. Not that he minded the water so much this time. He was going home.

Two days later, Max stowed safely inside her bag, Millie and her dad breezed through customs, who happily cared far more about cats coming
into
the country than going
out, and not very much about those. Max didn’t enjoy the Channel any more the second time than he had the first, but at least this would be the last trip across it he had to make.
Millie’s dad drove them to Brussels and they checked into their hotel. It was mid-afternoon.

‘Where do you want to go first?’ asked her dad.

This time, Millie was ready. Max had prepared her with information about useful tourist sites near his home.

‘Can we go to the Horta Museum?’

‘Sure. What is it?’

‘Horta was an Art Nouveau architect. It’s supposed to be great.’ She brandished a guidebook at him. ‘It’s on Rue Américaine. That’s not too far to
walk.’ And it was two minutes from Max’s house.

‘I didn’t know you were interested in Art Nouveau,’ said her dad, as they began to walk up the vast Avenue Louise.

‘Well, I’m a very mysterious child,’ she said.

‘You really are,’ he said, squeezing her shoulder as they went.

Ten minutes and only one wrong turning later (helpfully signalled by Max shoving a paw into Millie’s ribs), they were on his road. The plan was to stop at the Église
Sainte-Trinité, a church right by Max’s house, wander in with her dad, wait till he was looking at something, and then sneak outside and say goodbye to Max. Millie was simultaneously
excited that the plan was in action and distraught that she would soon lose Max. But she couldn’t let her dad see any of this. She tried not to think about it at all, but, inevitably, all she
could think about then was not thinking about Max. She thought about how much she missed her friends when they just went on holiday for a few weeks, and could barely stop herself from crying at the
thought of losing her best friend for ever.

They had spent their last day together yesterday, and had gone to say goodbye to Jake and Ben. Max had promised to keep in touch with them, too.

It seemed only moments ago that they had said goodbye to the boys, and now they were down to their last few minutes together.

‘Let’s go in here, Dad,’ she said. ‘It’s baroque.’ She had no idea what that meant, but it was, according to the guide, a useful fact about the church, and
she had to get her dad inside. He looked puzzled, but wandered in and began to look around the interior. Millie slipped back outside, opened her bag, and let Max out.

‘Here you go,’ she whispered. ‘Home.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, as she hugged him. ‘We’ll meet again, Millie, I promise. And soon.’

She nodded, knowing that if she said anything, she’d cry, and that that would be even harder to hide from her dad.

‘I have to go.’

‘You’ve got my address. And the phone number,’ Max checked, but he knew she had written them down carefully the night before. ‘And my email.’ Millie had set him up
an account, too. ‘And I have yours.’ He had committed them firmly to memory.

Millie kissed the top of his head, ruffled his fur, and put him down.

‘
A bientôt
,’ he said.

‘See you soon,’ she replied, blinking hard.

She hurried back indoors and, before her eyes could adapt to the darkness, straight into the arms of her father. He looked at her carefully.

‘Why don’t you see him home?’ he said. ‘Say goodbye properly.’

Millie looked at him in astonishment. If her dad became any more unexpected, she might have to start paying more attention to him.

‘Dad?’

‘Go on, before you miss him. I’ll come along in a few minutes, check his family aren’t too weird. Well, no weirder than ours, anyway.’

Millie reached up and hugged him. And then she ran out of the church.

‘Max!’ she shouted. ‘Max!’

‘Shhh,’ hissed the cat, reappearing beside her like a shadow. ‘Your dad will hear. What is it?’

‘Max, isn’t it?’ said her dad, walking out behind them.

It was the first and last time in their acquaintance that Millie saw the cat entirely lost for words.

‘Yes,’ she said, for him. ‘This is Max. Max, this is my dad. Turns out we’re not the only ones keeping secrets.’

‘You do seem to have got my daughter into some awful habits,’ said Millie’s dad mildly.

‘Er,’ said Max. ‘Hello. Yes, sorry about that. It was just burglary, really.’

‘Hush,’ said her dad, smiling. ‘I don’t want to hear any more. I’ll only worry.’

‘How long have you known?’ asked the cat rather weakly.

‘Saw your eyes under Millie’s bed. That was the first night in our house, wasn’t it?’ he answered. ‘And then a couple of days later, that woman at the lab asked me
and Bill if we’d seen a missing cat. I don’t really believe in coincidences.’

‘Why didn’t you mention it?’ asked Millie.

‘You needed a summer project,’ her dad said. ‘And I thought this would be more interesting than cleaning windows, so I left you to it. I figured you’d call me if you
needed help, or you got out of your depth.’

Millie and Max looked at each other, thinking it was probably best if he never knew the details.

He looked directly at Max. ‘I didn’t know for sure that you were one of the talking ones, like that marmalade-coloured nightmare on the news, but it seemed a good bet. And I know my
daughter well enough to assume you wouldn’t be a nightmare. Now,’ he continued. ‘Your family, Max? Can we meet them?’

‘Of course,’ said Max. ‘It will be my pleasure. It’s this way.’ And he trotted in front of them, not caring at all that people might think it looked odd.

Millie’s dad put his arm across her shoulders, and the two of them followed Max up the street.

Natalie Haynes is a writer and broadcaster. She is the author of
The Ancient Guide to Modern Life
, a book on Classics and the modern world, and
The Amber Fury
, a
novel for adults. She has judged the Women’s Prize for Fiction (2012), The Man Booker Prize (2013), and the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize (2014). She writes for
The Independent
,
The Guardian
,
The Times
and
The Observer
. She also makes documentaries for Radio 4 about the classics, zombies, and occasionally about urban chicken-keeping.

She used to have cats, but now doesn’t have a garden. As soon as she does, she will have cats again.