“The details I don’t know.”

“So you’ve got no work?”

“No work, and no pay.”

“But today they’ve paid you.”

Papa bowed his head. “No, they didn’t pay us.”

Maisie looked at Danny again. This they understood. No money meant no food for any of them. Danny looked scared. Maisie wanted to cry.

“They must pay you,” Mama whispered. “You worked all week, they have to pay you.”

“They’ve no money,” Papa said. “That’s what bankrupt means, it means you owe people money and can’t pay them.”

“But Mr. Pilaster is a good man, you always said.”

“Toby Pilaster’s dead. He hanged himself, last night, in his office in London. He had a son Danny’s age.”

“But how are we to feed our children?”

“I don’t know,” Papa said, and to Maisie’s horror he began to cry. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said as the tears rolled into his beard. “I’ve brought you to this awful place where there are no Jews and no one to help us. I can’t pay the doctor, I can’t buy medicines, I can’t feed our children. I’ve failed you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He leaned forward and buried his wet face in Mama’s breast. She stroked his hair with a shaky hand.

Maisie was appalled. Papa never cried. It seemed to mean the end of any hope. Perhaps they would all die now.

Danny stood up, looked at Maisie, and jerked his head toward the door. She got up and together they tiptoed out of the room. Maisie sat on the front step and began to cry. “What are we going to do?” she said.

“We’ll have to run away,” Danny said.

Danny’s words gave her a cold feeling in her chest. “We can’t,” she said.

“We must. There’s no food. If we stay we’ll die.”

Maisie didn’t care if she died, but a different thought occurred to her: Mama would surely starve herself to feed the children. If they stayed, she would die.