Chapter 1

One bun short

Every morning at five o'clock Bettina Bunce's dad took the buns out of the oven, and every morning at five o'clock and one minute Bettina counted them.

There were always forty-eight. Six rows of eight, golden on top, sticky with sugar, steaming so hard the windows went cloudy. Forty-eight buns, every morning, for eight years, which was as long as Bettina had been alive and counting.

On the morning this story begins there were forty-seven.

"Dad," said Bettina. "You've dropped one."

"I have not dropped one."

"Then you've eaten one."