The next morning Alice-Miranda was out of bed and dressed before dawn. She was careful not to wake her friends. Jacinta was snoring loudly and Millie’s breathing was deep and even. Clutching the words she had copied from the base of the urn the night before, she knew there was at least one man on board who could translate for her – and perhaps put her mind at ease.

Neville had insisted that he would be all right sleeping in his suite. Millie said he should prop a chair under the door handle for extra security and that’s exactly what he had done. Considering the drama of the day, Neville had quickly fallen into a deep sleep and was roused by the beeping of his bedside alarm, which he’d set for 6 am. He wanted to be up before Henderson arrived or worse.

The children had arranged to meet in the library at 8 am and go to breakfast together. Although Jacinta, Sep and Lucas were not fully aware of the situation with Neville, Alice-Miranda had decided there’d be safety in numbers; if Dr Lush saw Neville among the children he’d be less likely to make a scene. Or so she hoped.

Alice-Miranda left the suite and made her way downstairs towards the kitchen. The ship was ghostly quiet at that hour, and she was pleased not to run into anyone on the way.

Through the plastic doorway at the end of the hall she could see several chefs already busy at work.

‘Hello.’ Her tiny voice floated into the stainless steel room. ‘Good morning, Chef Vladimir.’

The Russian giant tensed at the sound of the child’s voice.

‘What now?’ he hissed through gritted teeth.

Alice-Miranda rounded the corner into the main section of the kitchen. Vladimir had been attending to the day’s menu when she interrupted his train of thought. ‘Hello Chef Vladimir. Thank you for sending that delicious room service last night. My friend adored your chicken curry. Did you get to see any of the dancing? It was such a fun night, don’t you think?’ She looked up at him with her huge brown eyes.

‘What you want? I am busy man,’ Vladimir growled.

‘Oh yes, Chef Vladimir. I know you are. That’s why I came so early . . .’ Alice-Miranda began.

‘You think this is early. I have been here since three,’ Vladimir replied, narrowing his eyes.

‘Goodness, you must get by on hardly any sleep at all. I need at least eight hours or I’m a mess,’ said Alice-Miranda.

‘Well, what you want?’ Vladimir demanded. ‘I don’t have time to waste and you are biggest time waster on ship.’

‘Well, I came to ask you about this.’ Alice-Miranda produced a folded piece of paper from her jacket pocket. ‘I wondered if you would be so kind as to translate it for me? I’m afraid I don’t know Russian at all.’

Vladimir reached out his giant paw and snatched the paper from Alice-Miranda’s tiny hand. He studied it carefully.

‘Where you see this?’ he asked.

‘On a plaque at the base of a beautiful china urn,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘I’m certain it must be very expensive.’

‘Then makes sense,’ he said.

‘Please, Chef Vladimir.’ Alice-Miranda’s eyes were wide. ‘Can you tell me what it says?’

‘Maria Bella Lushkov, our dearest mother.’

‘Oh.’ Alice-Miranda clutched her face in her hands. ‘Goodness. I had wondered but I didn’t like to think it could be . . . that,’ the child gasped. ‘No wonder Dr Lush was so upset. Thank you, Chef Vladimir. Thank you very much.’

Alice-Miranda turned and scurried towards the door intent on finding Dr Lush immediately.

‘Hey,’ Vladimir called after her. ‘Don’t you want to know who she was?’

The child stopped in her tracks. She swivelled around and scampered back towards the chef.

‘Did you know her?’ Alice-Miranda asked, her eyes even wider than they had been a moment ago.

‘In Russia, everyone know her,’ Vladimir replied.