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long.’
    â€˜And then . . .?’
    â€˜I’ll go and find him.’
    â€˜You’ll go and find him? An ex-dictator?’
    â€˜He was only a friend of the ex-dictator. I won’t go and find him , obviously – I’ll find his son. The one who’s helping me.’
    And where I find Max, I find Dad, I thought to myself. But I didn’t say that out loud. Even Luke’s belief in me had its limits.
    â€˜He could be in South America, Peta, or China or Russia.’
    â€˜He could be in London. You never know.’
    â€˜ Honestly! What are the chances? You can be so . . .’
    It took him eleven minutes. Luke was brilliant on computers. I knew he’d be quick.
    â€˜I don’t believe it!’ he said, looking up from the screen. ‘Wahool does have a house in London.’
    â€˜Told you so.’
    â€˜You’re weird.’
    â€˜It’s just logic. London’s home to lots of dodgy rich people. It’s on the news all the time.’
    â€˜If you say so. But listen, he probably won’t be there. He’s bought himself a place in Miami too. And another one in the Cayman Islands, and an island off the coast of Italy.’
    â€˜An island ?’
    â€˜Literally. A whole island. It’s not big, but I bet it’s mega.’ Luke started trying to show me pictures, but I didn’t care.
    â€˜Tell me about the house in London.’
    He sighed. ‘He won’t be there, I promise you.’
    â€˜Tell me.’
    â€˜It cost fifty million pounds last year.’
    â€˜Fifty million?’
    â€˜That’s why it made the news.’ He scrolled back through his search results as I leant over to look. ‘It’s on some square. Eden, I think. Don’t go there, Peta, it’s pointless.’
    â€˜I’ll be back before you know it,’ I said, straightening up. ‘I’ll slip out from school tomorrow. You’ll hardly know I’ve gone.’
    â€˜Peta! No!’
    â€˜Tell Granny I’ve run off to see a boy band. If the worst comes to the worst, tell her I’m staying with my Auntie Eliza. But leave it a couple of days, OK? Give me a chance to find something out first.’
    He tried some more to stop me, but it was his own fault – he’d found the house for me. At last, there was something I could do. For the first time since Mum scattered those stupid ashes, I felt as if I was getting closer to the truth.

SEVEN
    I ’d run away to my Auntie Eliza’s before, just after Christmas, when Mum announced her engagement to ‘Rupe’. I’d spent three days in her flat near the O2 in London while she baked me brownies and listened to how upset I was. Not my proudest moment. I still had the old backpack I’d used – I’d kicked it under the bed when I got back, and not thought about it since.
    I pulled the backpack out now and looked it over. It was small and covered in a pattern of garden birds, but comfortable to wear, and waterproof. It would do for a day out in London tomorrow, looking up the Wahool house and going to Auntie Eliza’s to spend the night.
    Two days, Max Wahool had said. Two days of hiding. And meanwhile Dad was out there, and in trouble. If I could, I would go to him, just as I knew he’d have come for me. Besides, anything was better than sitting here, with the Wicked Queen outside my window.
    As I packed, it was as if Dad was in the room with me. I used to watch him get ready before he went on tour, or even if it was just us going camping, and he was always very precise about packing. All soldiers are. I think it’s the first thing they teach them in the army. Dad could fit the most enormous amount of stuff in the tiniest space, and it would never, ever get wet. Paper (you always took a pen and paper) went in sealed plastic pouches from the kitchen. Pills (you always took headache pills, so you could concentrate) went in pouches