11Caught in a ray of the morning sun, the chandelier was a dazzling fountain of splintered lights. Ping gazed at it, marvelling at the decorative cut glass and numerous light bulbs. She had never seen a chandelier before. Had never been inside a house like this before. Cream-coloured curtains hung from ceiling to floor at the french windows that looked out on to the back garden with its swimming pool. The air in the dining room was cool. An air conditioner was giving out gusts of cool air. On the round dining table, that could easily sit ten, was breakfast laid for two. Her eyes travelled from the slices of brown toast on a white plate, the two gleaming knives on the table-mat, the dish of golden butter and two jars of marmalade and strawberry jam with a royal crest and a label that said,
