Ella was busy telling the museum kids about her life back in Holloway, when she’d been living in Waitrose. It had been fine so far, like telling a great adventure, but he knew what was coming next and tried not to listen. He’d heard this story before. Many times. It didn’t get any better the more he heard it. He hated sadness. He sang a song inside his head, trying to blot it out. At the same time his fingers quickly bundled his blue chips up into a ball and started making something else, something bigger and more complicated so that his attention wasn’t on Ella.

The girl called Zohra was staring intently at Ella. She had long dark curly hair and big brown eyes. She was leaning forward, her fork forgotten in her hand.

‘We used to call him Small Sam,’ Ella was explaining, ‘because there were two other Sams. I even think of him as Small Sam, even though he’s my own brother and he was older than me.’

‘How old is he?’ Zohra asked.

‘Nearly ten.’

‘What happened to the other Sams? Are they still with you?’

‘No. Big Sam died ages ago, and Curly Sam died on the way here. We were attacked by diseased monkeys in the park. They escaped from the zoo.’

‘Diseased monkeys?’ Zohra looked like she was trying not to laugh. ‘You’re joking.’

‘No. It was horrible. They got Josh, and Joel died as well. Godzilla used to be his dog, Joel’s dog. We look after him now.’

‘So what happened to your brother then, what happened to Small Sam?’

‘Grown-ups got him. They took him away in a sack. We were playing in the car park behind the shop.’ Ella went quiet; tears welled in the corners of her eyes, then rolled down her cheeks as if racing each other.

Zohra put her arms round Froggie, who was sitting next to her.

‘I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to Froggie,’ she said, holding him tight. ‘Not my little brother.’

Froggie pushed her away.

‘Oi, leave me alone,’ he said, his mouth full of food. ‘You’re worse than Mum.’

This only made Ella cry more. ‘It’s not fair,’ she said. ‘Why did they have to take my brother? He looked after me. He was only small, but he looked after me.’

‘Is he dead then?’ said Froggie.

Ella looked at him and sniffed. Froggie reminded her a little of Sam. She nodded quickly.

‘Are you sure?’ Froggie pressed on.

‘No,’ said Ella. ‘We never saw him get killed, but they took him, a load of mean grown-ups. How could he survive? Sometimes – sometimes I wish he was still alive, that somehow he escaped. That he’s out there now looking for me. But I know it’s just a dream. Lots of kids have died and they don’t never come back. So why should Sam?’