‘Of course,’ said Friday. Binky was such a good soul she couldn’t let him down.

  ‘We can fly out to Oslo straightaway,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Melanie,’ said Binky. ‘Thank you, thank you. I’m sure it will be all right if you and Friday come to help. And if it isn’t all right, I’ll feel much better if you’re here to talk to. Everyone is so cross with me. It’s horrible.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Friday. ‘We’ll get to you as quickly as we can.’

  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.’

  Friday enjoyed the train trip. It was painfully long, but they had to change trains in so many different countries at such strange hours of the day and night that it was never boring. There was a lot to see out of the window as they travelled from the Mediterranean climate of Italy with olive trees and vineyards, up into the Pyrenees and the spectacular mountains of Switzerland, then on into the forests and farmland of Germany, before eventually crossing a network of bridges through Denmark and up further into Scandinavia.

  Friday used the trip to learn some Norwegian. She knew most Norwegians spoke English very well, but she considered it only polite to learn as much of the language as possible when visiting a country. Friday also tried to find ebooks to download on Norwegian military law, but they were all in Norwegian. Plus, they were so complex she doubted even a fluent Norwegian speaker would be able to understand much of them.

  When their train finally arrived in Oslo, it was so early in the morning that it was still dark.

  ‘Where is Binky’s military base?’ asked Friday with a yawn. She was feeling very bleary-eyed. It was exciting to be in Norway, but it was four in the morning and Friday’s body clock wanted her to be in bed.

  ‘Bardufoss,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Where’s that?’ asked Friday.

  ‘One thousand, five hundred kilometres north of here,’ said Melanie.

  ‘What?’ asked Friday. ‘How are we going to get there?’

  ‘Taxi,’ said Melanie.

  ‘But . . .’ Friday was still half asleep and her brain was struggling to compute this information. ‘. . . It would take twenty-four hours to drive that far.’

  ‘I know,’ said Melanie. ‘That’s why we’re not driving. I’ve arranged a taxi-chopper.’

  Friday looked at her blankly.

  ‘A helicopter,’ said Melanie. ‘There’s a helipad on the roof of the station.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Friday. She forgot sometimes just how rich Melanie was.

  Friday did not care for helicopters. She’d been in them a few times. They were very loud and very shaky. Also, Friday knew too much about physics to enjoy the experience. She was well aware that even aeronautical engineers didn’t really understand why aircraft stayed aloft. She couldn’t enjoy riding in a vehicle that moved at 250 km per hour, 3 kilometres above the ground, and yet no one understood how it worked. She just spent the whole time acutely conscious of how close she was to death.

  They had been flying for over two hours before the sun began to rise and Friday could make out the countryside below. The vast expanses of dark forest looked like something out of a storybook where children got lost while leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. There was farmland, with the grass starting to yellow from the autumn frosts. And there were lots of fjords, rivers and lakes with water so deep it looked almost black.

  By the time the helicopter landed at Bardufoss, it had been a long journey.

  In this day and age of air travel, you can fly from one side of the planet to the other and walk out into the terminal to see the exact same shops, and the same terminal layout and the same car-hire companies outside. This journey had not been like that. Having travelled four thousand kilometres by train, and now helicopter, the distance travelled had felt very real. They had seen the landscape slowly change before them. As the helicopter landed, they were under no illusions – they knew they were arriving somewhere very different.

  A taxi (the car kind) took them from the helipad to the army barracks where Binky was being held. The barracks town of Bardufoss was both underwhelming and overwhelming at the same time. The countryside was staggeringly beautiful. Lush green forests lined the roads and, in the distance, there were beautiful snow-capped mountains. But the architecture was not what Friday had expected. It was very functional. Friday supposed it had to be, given the extreme cold weather for most of the year. But the 1970s style of the houses and public buildings was strangely like the state public school she had attended before Highcrest.

  Friday didn’t realise that they had arrived at the base at first, because it didn’t look like her idea of a military base. It was more like a summer camp. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Certainly more fencing and security. Aside from the uniformed guard at the entrance, it could have been a high school.

  Once they had signed in at the front office, Friday and Melanie were taken across to the guardhouse. They were shown to an interview room and after a short wait, Binky was brought in to talk to them. As soon as he stepped into the drab grey room, Melanie rushed forward to wrap him in a hug. ‘Oh, Binky, you look wonderful!’

  Binky had always been tall and athletic, but now he was positively giant. He had finally stopped growing at six foot four, but he was even more muscular than when Friday had seen him last. He had the lean look of someone who did a lot of exercise.

  ‘You look good too, Mel,’ said Binky. ‘Although even if you looked terrible, you’d look good to me, because I’m just that pleased to see you.’

  ‘Come and sit down and tell us all about it,’ said Melanie. ‘I’m sure Friday will be able to sort it out for you.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mel,’ said Binky. ‘It’s not like at school with the headmaster. These army officers are devilishly serious fellows. They won’t stand for malarkey at all.’

  ‘But Binky,’ said Friday, ‘you’re not a malarkey type of guy.’

  ‘I know,’ said Binky. ‘That’s what I thought too. But I did get hit in the head, so I was a bit addled. I may have acted out of character. Who knows?’

  ‘Head injuries don’t cause personality transformations,’ said Friday. ‘Take me through what happened, and I’ll see if I can sort it out.’

  ‘Well, for the last two months I’ve been stationed on the island of Svalbard,’ said Binky.

  ‘Really?’ said Friday.

  ‘An island, that sounds nice,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Svalbard is in the Arctic Circle,’ said Friday.

  ‘That sounds not so nice,’ said Melanie.

  ‘It’s another fifteen hundred kilometres north of the mainland of Norway,’ said Friday. ‘It’s really cold. If you think of all those movies that come out at Christmas time about Santa and his workshop, it’s that kind of climate.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Binky. ‘It does get a bit nippy. But the army give us really top-notch coats, and if you still get cold, eventually you lose the ability to feel, and then it’s not too bad.’

  ‘There are only two things on Svalbard – coal mines and the Global Seed Vault,’ said Friday. ‘So, unless there is a secret installation there, I’m guessing your job was to guard the Seed Vault?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Binky.

  ‘Why would anyone need to guard seeds?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Because they’re really important,’ said Friday. ‘Any nation in the world can lodge a deposit of seeds there as a secure backup. It’s in case war or disease destroys their agricultural infrastructure.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Melanie. ‘But I’m still imagining the seed rack at a garden centre, and I’ve never seen one of those under armed guard.’

  ‘I know these days everyone likes to think about buying smartphones and smart watches and ridiculously overpriced sneakers,’ said Friday. ‘But we can literally live without all those things. We can’t live without food. Being able to grow food is super important. If food supply collapses, the whole of civilisation collapses.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Binky. ‘The Norwegians are very proud to have the Global Seed Vault. It’s on Svalbard because they had an old coal mine and they realised it was the coldest tectonically stable hole in the world.’

  ‘So how did you end up face down in the snow?’ asked Friday.

  ‘They say I left my post,’ said Binky.

  ‘Did you?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Binky. ‘There were two of us on duty and we’re meant to stay inside the guard post. To be honest, it’s so cold outside that staying inside is really the nicest thing to do. But periodically, one of us has to go out and walk the perimeter of the facility to check everything is okay.’

  ‘And that’s what you did?’ asked Friday.

  ‘No,’ said Binky. ‘That’s what Jonas did.’

  ‘Jonas was the other person on guard duty?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Yes,’ said Binky. ‘No one likes Jonas. That’s why he’s on Svalbard. Everyone in Norway has to do two years of national service in the army, so there are a lot of fellows who really don’t want to be there. Jonas is one of them. Everybody got fed up with him. They sent him to Svalbard to finish out his term where he couldn’t cause trouble.’

  ‘Why did they send you to Svalbard?’ asked Melanie. ‘Did people find you hard to work with?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ said Binky. ‘I’ve been getting on well with everyone and having a lovely time in the army. I like all the outdoors stuff. I don’t often understand what’s going on, or why we’re doing things, but I’m just a corporal, so I don’t need to. I just do as I’m told. They like it when you do as you’re told.’

  ‘So how did you end up in Svalbard?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Well, you know Ingrid’s father?’ said Binky.

  ‘The King of Norway? Yes, we know him,’ said Friday.

  ‘Well, he is really beloved here,’ said Binky. ‘Everyone likes to make him happy. And no one has ever actually said anything to me . . . but I have noticed how, every time I go to Oslo to visit Ingrid, a couple of days later, I get posted somewhere more . . . I don’t know the word for it . . .’

  ‘Horrible?’ guessed Friday.

  ‘I wouldn’t like to say that,’ said Binky. ‘I’m tremendously grateful to serve Norway and be given an opportunity to earn the king’s respect. But I have been sent to a series of extremely challenging posts. My last mission was to the border of Russia, where my orders were to build a latrine.’

  ‘Toilets are important,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Certainly,’ said Binky. ‘But they already had a latrine. It was very nice. I’m not sure why they needed another one. And before that, I was stationed at the Arctic Warfare Learning Academy.’

  ‘That sounds interesting,’ said Friday.

  ‘Yes, soldiers from all around the world go to train there,’ said Binky. ‘They learn how to operate in extreme cold. It was my job to act as the operation objective.’

  ‘What did that involve?’ asked Friday.

  ‘They would drop me in the middle of the wilderness and I had to evade capture,’ said Binky.

  ‘Were you good at that?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t the type of thing you want to be good at,’ said Binky. ‘If I got captured, they’d take me back to the barracks, where it was warm and there were hot meals. If I didn’t get captured, I had to survive out in the wilderness for days. It was a bit like fox hunting . . . if I was the fox, and the hunters had all the latest military equipment.’