The prize? Everything that was written in the notebook. That notebook was a distillation of the future. That notebook was filled with things Louis dreamt of experiencing, promises of joy – of ‘cool stuff’, as he put it. That notebook was a promise of life.

The how? I was going to fulfil my son’s dreams, experience them for him, make audio and video recordings and share them with him. I was going to take a solemn oath to do so. I couldn’t go back, and I couldn’t let him down. I didn’t know whether there was a set order, and I wanted everything to be spontaneous. So I would have to discover the programme, bit by bit.

The goal? That my son would say, Shit, I can’t have my mum doing all that instead of me. And for him to open his eyes.

I shuddered. I got up and looked out of the window, at the sky. Was I going mad? In the space of a few seconds, I had dispelled the dark clouds hanging over my son. But the blackness was dense, the outcome uncertain. Louis might never come back, I knew that. I began to cry silently, motionless. My determination was probably absurd, but I couldn’t resign myself to letting my son go, without having enabled him to fulfil all his childhood dreams.

How much time did I have left? Less than a month, now. I’d already lost precious days. It was more than time to start this desperate race for life.

I turned the first page and found out what lay in store for me.

I was going to leave my comfort zone, I knew. I was ready.

For Louis. But a little for myself too.

8

25 Days

Tokyo’s a Very Long Way

After a sleepless night, I packed my suitcase and booked a flight to Tokyo at an exorbitant price. The only seats available were in business class, but, given my lawyer’s latest update on the negotiations with Hégémonie, I could even have treated myself to first.