Half an hour later, Friday and Melanie were at Firenze Santa Maria Novella, the main railway station in Florence. Melanie had tried to arrange a flight to Oslo, but there had been a volcanic eruption in Iceland, so there were no flights going in or out of Scandinavia. The quickest way to get to Norway now would be by train. It was a thirty-two-hour trip from Florence. If they didn’t miss any connections, they should be able to get there by the morning of Binky’s trial.

Sneaking out of the convent had been easy. The nuns were asleep, and, since it was the last night in the city for the school group, the vast majority of the students had snuck out for a final gelato. Even Mrs Cannon herself had snuck out. So Friday and Melanie didn’t have to make much effort to conceal themselves as they left with all their luggage.

While they waited for their first train, Friday rang Ian from a public phone on the platform. He didn’t pick up.

‘No one answers mobile phones,’ said Melanie. ‘You should send him a text.’

‘I can’t text this,’ said Friday. ‘He’s not going to believe it. He’ll think I’m running away.’

‘Are you running away?’ asked Melanie.

‘No,’ said Friday. She didn’t sound 100 per cent convinced herself.

‘There’s nothing wrong with running away,’ said Melanie. ‘Not if you’re being chased by a bear or a chainsaw-wielding psychopath.’

‘Ian isn’t a bear and he doesn’t have a chainsaw,’ said Friday.

‘No, but for you relationships are just as terrifying,’ said Melanie. ‘Your family are so disinterested and negligent you have a raging fear of abandonment.’

‘I’m not running away,’ said Friday firmly.

‘Ahuh,’ said Melanie. ‘I’m sure you believe that. But there’s no need to try to fool me just because you’ve fooled yourself. Running away is much maligned in popular culture when, really, in a lot of cases it’s the most sensible thing to do.’

‘I thought you wanted me to go to Spain and be with Ian,’ said Friday.

‘Oh no,’ said Melanie. ‘I want you to marry Ian, ask me to be bridesmaid, have six children and live happily ever after. But you’re only fifteen. That’s a long-term plan. You can’t just go off with him now. Right now, running off to another country and driving him insane is probably better for the long-term good of your relationship.’

‘That makes no sense,’ said Friday.

‘Love never does,’ said Melanie. ‘That’s why I understand it much better than you. I’m not held back by being sensible.’

Friday tried Ian’s number again, but it just rang out.

‘It’s because you’re calling from a pay phone,’ said Melanie. ‘He doesn’t recognise the number. He probably thinks you’re a cold caller trying to sell him a cheaper electricity plan.’

‘I’ll try Bernie,’ said Friday, putting in more coins and dialling her uncle.

‘You know you could just get a mobile phone,’ said Melanie.

‘I don’t like them,’ said Friday. ‘The government can use them to track you.’

‘Paranoid, much?’ asked Melanie.

‘No, paranoia is an unjustified suspicion and mistrust of others,’ said Friday. ‘My suspicion and mistrust is entirely justified. Having a SWAT team burst in to your dorm room and drag you out in the middle of the night does make you conscious of the government’s power to monitor your location.’

‘Yes, but sometimes it might be handy for you to be tracked,’ said Melanie. ‘Like when Ian wants to send you a dozen red roses, and he needs to know your address.’

Friday didn’t respond, because Uncle Bernie had picked up. ‘Hello?’

‘It’s me, Friday, your niece,’ said Friday.

‘Where are you?!’ asked Bernie. ‘I came by the convent to check on you and they said you’d gone. Your teacher, Mr Maclean, seemed to be having some sort of breakdown about it. He kept muttering about sabotage and everyone working against him.’

Friday put her hand over the receiver to speak to Melanie. ‘You see, that is an example of paranoia.’

‘No,’ said Melanie. ‘Mrs Cannon is definitely working against him.’

‘Where are you?’ asked Uncle Bernie.

‘At the train station,’ said Friday. ‘We’ve got to make a detour to help Binky.’

‘You were offered a job with Interpol this afternoon,’ said Uncle Bernie. ‘You can’t just take off on a day trip.’

‘It’ll probably take longer than a day,’ said Friday. ‘Binky is in Norway. It’s going to take us a day and a half just to get there. Then we’ve got to sort him out and come back again. It’ll be at least five days.’

‘Oh no, this is Binky,’ said Melanie. ‘I’d allow two to three weeks.’

‘Governor Offredi is going to kill me,’ said Bernie.

The pay phone was still whirring. The digital screen said Friday only had two euros of credit left. ‘I’ll explain it all later.’ She started talking quickly. ‘I was actually calling to talk to Ian. Is he with you?’

Uncle Bernie sighed. ‘I see. I’m just a messaging service between two lovestruck teenagers. All right, hang on . . .’

They could hear Uncle Bernie walking through his apartment. It seemed to take an age for him to find Ian. Friday watched on the digital screen as her credit ticked away.

‘Friday?’ said Ian. He sounded perplexed.

‘I’ve only got fifty euro cents’ worth of credit left, so I haven’t got much time to talk,’ said Friday. ‘I’m going to Oslo.’

‘In Norway?’ asked Ian.

‘Yes,’ said Friday.

‘So that’s it?’ said Ian. ‘You’re saying “no”?’

‘What?’ said Friday.

Melanie was tugging on her sleeve and mouthing, ‘hurry up!’

‘You’re not coming to Spain?’ said Ian.

‘Oh no,’ said Friday. ‘I mean no to the no. I’m still going to Spain. Just not right now. I’m going to Oslo because Binky is in trouble.’

Ian sighed. ‘There’s always someone in trouble.’

‘Yes, and this time it’s Binky,’ said Friday. ‘He’s being court-martialled. I can’t let him down.’

‘You can’t let him down,’ said Ian.

‘What?’ said Friday. ‘You’re being childish.’

‘You’re running away,’ said Ian.

‘That’s not . . .’ began Friday. She didn’t get to say the word ‘fair’ before the phone went dead. Her money had run out. She rifled in her pockets for more change to call them back, but Melanie grabbed her arm.

‘You can continue your romantic tiff with Ian later,’ said Melanie. ‘We’ve got to hurry or we’ll miss our train.’