She had some of her own money in her pocket for a new notebook, too. This was easier. She chose a pale blue one, and it was half price, so she also got herself a pen with smooth indigo ink.

By now it was getting late, and Max had promised not to be long, so she hurried home through the dark familiar streets. She said goodbyes as she ran: to the tree with a trunk like a face, to the shop with the best pain au chocolat, to her favourite house with its poppy-red shutters, to the distant Eiffel Tower that came in and out of sight as she ran, to her school playground and the post office and the cinema and the statue of an angel with the face all rubbed off.

As she raced round a corner into the Avenue de la Pompe, five minutes from her house, the soft street lamps were suddenly replaced by harsh blue light, flashing on and off. There was a cluster of police cars, and police offers were standing around importantly, and hurrying in and out of a grey hulk of a building. The building was just like all the others on the street, but it seemed somehow extra familiar – and then Max realized, with a shock, that it was the vault from the news, the one with the diamonds so important that they had to be locked away and not looked at.

She was very curious to know what was going on, but the way that the police officers were making notes and muttering into walkie-talkies reminded her of her mother tidying, and she thought she had better not ask questions. For a minute she lingered, trying to pick up clues, but a policewoman noticed and shooed her away. So she left the pulsing blue, and ran home double-fast to make up for lost time. There wasn’t time for chocolat and the attic before dinner, so she scribbled her notes hastily at the kitchen table:

Something going on again at the big vaults on Avenue de la Pompe. Lots of police and everyone looking very worried. A theft? No one would tell me. I have bought a new brown travelling case with creamy silk on the inside and tomorrow I leave for ISTANBUL.

While she was scribbling, her great-aunt called to check that there were no problems, and to say again how pleased she was, and to remind Max’s mother to make sure that Max had packed enough jumpers and was definitely going to wear the horrible hat and had snacks for the journey and so on. The tinkling of her voice sounded kind.