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whereas they’d beg to store their butter in your mouth if fridges didn’t exist. Come on, do it—I’ll pretend I’m your foreign penfriend.”
    Gemma started shaking a little bit, but I poked her in the ribs and she leapt forwards and landed right next to the two instrument-holding students.
    â€œHey,” she mumbled, “how’re things?”
    â€œWho are you?” replied the boy in a voice that made it sound like meeting us was only slightly better than kissing a dung beetle.
    â€œGemma. I’m in the orchestra,” she said. “I play the cello. This is my penfriend Sesame . . . er, I mean . . . Sashimi.”
    â€œSashimi?”
    â€œYes. She’s Japanese.”
    The two students stared at me in mild disbelief, for which I don’t blame them. There’s a reason Gemma isn’t Cambridge’s number one self-made-supersleuth.
    â€œAnyway,” said Gemma, “me and her, I mean she and I, were wondering if perhaps you know where Jenna Jenkins is.”
    â€œWhy?” the boy asked.
    â€œBecause,” replied Gemma in a strained voice, “because . . . well, Sashimi wants to . . . er . . . invite her to Japan . . . to dance . . . at the Emperor’s annual Yule ball.”
    I rolled my eyes so forcefully that I managed to get a glimpse of my own brain.
    â€œListen, I think I know what you’re playing at,kids,” said the girl. “You’ve heard that Jenna’s disappeared, and you thought you’d have a little detective game. Am I right?”
    Gemma said, “Yes.”
    I said, “Ie!” which means “no” in Japanese, but no one understood.
    â€œWell, I’m sure you’ve got better things to be doing with your time,” said the girl. “Jenna simply decided to leave Cambridge, everyone here is sure of that. Too much pressure, too much competition. Nothing mysterious at all.”
    â€œWho’s replacing her?” asked Gemma.
    â€œHer understudy, Stacy Vance. That’s what understudies are for.”
    The boy checked his watch. “OK, Shauna, we’d better go. And you too, Gemma, if that’s your real name. It’s time.”
    Forgetting that I was Japanese, I erupted, “Wait a minute—Stacy Vance? What’s she like? Does she have a murderous sort of personality?”
    The girl burst out laughing and turned back. ‘You’ve got the wrong suspect there, love. Stacy and Jenna are best friends. Stacy’sabsolutely distraught that Jen’s disappeared. She’s been looking for her all weekend.”
    And they vanished into the wings.

    I paced to and fro for a while, wondering if Stacy Vance could have chopped Jenna Jenkins into tiny cubes and drowned them in the river Cam just to get to play her part, but eventually I made my way to the huge concert hall. From the orchestra pit rose the screeches and whines of the violins and cellos. I hate string instruments. The sound gets inside your head like it’s sawing through your brains. I don’t tell Gemma that. She was inside the pit, scraping her bow against the strings like all the others. She winked at me, and I blinked back for want of winking ability.
    â€œWhat are you doing here, young lady?”
    I turned around. It was a student about as tall as me and as big as me, but with a bow tie, and who looked vaguely familiar.
    â€œI’m friends with Gemma Sarland.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe one there with the pearl earrings and shameful Mr. Men knickers.”
    â€œWhat? Where?”
    â€œThere. She’s wearing a skirt, you’ll have to take my word for it.”
    â€œAnd who are you?”
    â€œMy name is Sesame. How about you, pray?”
    â€œEdwin. I’m the producer.” He looked at me mysteriously as if to unlock some invisible trapdoor on my forehead. “Go and sit