Ignoring the thoughts still swimming around and around in my mind like goldfish in a bowl, I make my way down for breakfast. Of course, Thorne is not there. On the snowy-white tablecloth a vast spread has been laid out. Croissants, Danish pastries, muffins, jams, biscuits, juices, cold meats. James arrives to ask if I would like a cooked full English breakfast. I tell him I am not hungry I will just help myself to black coffee and a croissant.

“Very good,” he says with a nod, as he picks up the coffee pot and fills the cup in front of me.

I smile at him. “Thank you.”

“I’ve been instructed to inform you that Mr. Thorne is expecting you to attend a luncheon at the Ritz in London with him. The car will leave at 12.20.”

My eyebrows fly upwards. This must be the big unveiling of Thorne’s secret new AI that James is referring to. Why is he taking me there? A lowly thief that he does not trust. All his peers, the press, anyone of any importance in the AI and robotics world will be there. I know Elon Musk is attending and so are the big guns from Google.

James wishes me a good day and silently departs.

I stare at the mini jars of jam on the table. How curious. There is even a rose petal jam from Esfahan in Iran. I pick it up and read the label. The petals are picked at dawn so they are not faded by the sun. He wants me to go with him. Whatever lies behind his reason, he wants me with him. The thought of him wanting me on his arm in public thrills me, but I try to push away that rush of excitement.

I unscrew the little jar and spread the rusty-colored jam on my croissant. It is too sweet. I discard it and carrying my cup of coffee walk over the enormous bay window. In the distance, I can see a man crouched on the ground. He must be one of the gardeners. He stands and kicks at the ground, and a dog runs up to him. My stomach contracts and the coffee cup in my hand rattles.

Oh, Momo!

“Mama.”

“What?”

“There’s no food in the house, and I’m hungry.”

Mama turns away from staring at the urn of Papa’s ashes and seems surprised. “Oh! You’re hungry?”

Ever since the funeral all Mama has done is sit in Papa’s favorite chair and stare at his urn. I heard Madame Bernard say that it was a kind of quiet madness. A madness designed to keep her sane. Her mind is struggling to make the world habitable again.

Of course, I don’t understand what all that means, but the word mad is very worrying. I’m even afraid to go to school. One night when she was drunk on the last of Papa’s whiskey, she said “Be happy, Chelsea, he’s not dead at all. I promise you, he’s just playing a trick on us. I think he has another woman in a different town. But he’ll come back to us.”

“But, Mama, his ashes are in the urn.”

“Those are not his ashes. You know how big Papa was. He could never fit into that urn.”

I believe her, until Monsieur Lemarie tells me that all human beings become that small when they are cremated.

Now, Mama looks around blankly. “Well, why don’t you go to Monsieur Lemarie’s house? His wife always has something cooking in the oven.”

“Mama, will you come with me?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

She turns away from me. “No. You better enjoy your time with them. We’re going back to London next week.”

“What?” I gasp.

“Yes, I can’t afford to live here anymore. I’ve already had my eviction notice. I’ve got you now so the government will have to house me.”

“But what about Monsieur Lemarie?”

“What about him? He’s nothing to us,” she shoots back.

“But what about my school?”

“Well, you’ll go to school in England, won’t you?”

I shift from foot to foot, thinking. Two men came and bought Papa’s car last week. “How will we get there?”

“I have enough for the bus.”

“Will they let Momo get on the bus?”

My mother turns to look out of the window. Winter is nearly over and the snow is melting. “No, we can’t take Momo with us. They’ll probably stick us in a bed and breakfast to start with and pets are not allowed. I think it will be best if we’ll leave Momo with Monsieur Lemarie.”

“No, Mama. No,” I cry, my eyes filling with tears.

She glares at me suddenly, her eyes cold and hard. “Are you being stubborn again, Chelsea Appleby? Have you not learned your lesson yet? Remember what happened the last time you were stubborn? Your own father was murdered in the woods. The next time something will happen to me. Then what will you do? Hmmm?”