My Husband's Son - Deborah O'Connor Page 0,109

with sleep. This was my chance. I waited for a few minutes and then, desperate not to wake him, I slid out from under his arm and eased myself off the bed. Pulling up my tights and pushing down my skirt, I was about to go to the bathroom when I remembered my phone. It would be useful.

Stretching my hand underneath the cabinet, I patted the carpet until my fingers brushed up against its smooth, rounded corners. Sliding it and the rest of my things into my handbag, after one last look at Tommy I crept over to the bathroom and opened the door.

Barney was sitting on the floor. I put my finger to my lips and came inside.

‘Tommy is tired and so he’s decided to have a nap,’ I whispered, bolting the lock behind me. ‘He said that while he’s asleep he wants me to take you to the shops and get you a toy. He said you deserve a special treat.’

Barney’s face lit up.

‘He did?’

‘Yep.’ I beckoned him forward. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

He got to his feet and was about to come towards me when he seemed to think better of it.

‘I don’t know. Tommy said it was important we stay in the hotel room until Mum gets here. He said I wasn’t even allowed to play in the corridor.’

‘He must have changed his mind,’ I said, lunging for his arm. I had no time for this. Tommy could wake at any moment. But I wasn’t quick enough for him. Ducking his shoulder down and away from my grasping hands, he jumped backwards, towards the loo, and crossed his arms.

‘No, thank you very much,’ he said, lowering his eyes. ‘I’m going to stay put.’

I lunged again and again he dodged away, my fingertips skimming the edge of his sleeve. Frustrated, I raised my palm to my forehead and, thinking I was going for him, he recoiled into the farthest corner of the bathroom.

Trying to signal that I’d meant him no harm, I held up my hands in surrender. But it was too late. He appraised me warily.

I thought of Tommy, asleep on the bed. How much longer before he rattled the handle on the bathroom door and shouted curses through the wood? I knew I had to make a run for it, and soon, but there was no way I was leaving without Barney.

Cutting through the panic clogging my brain, I assessed my options. Dragging him out against his will was going to be physically impossible. That meant I needed to get him to come of his own volition. I was trying to figure out how I might go about achieving this when I felt some of Tommy’s wetness seep out of me and onto my knickers.

The morning’s bran flakes rose in my throat, the milk rancid on my tongue. Trying not to vomit, I took some short shallow breaths and reached in my bag for Lauren’s compass. The second my fingers made contact with the solid metal disc my nausea began to subside. Rubbing my thumb over its thistle engraving, I popped the catch and, after opening the lid a fraction, I clicked it back shut. And then I did it again and again, the action helping to calm my jumbled thoughts. Feeling better, I was about to return it to my bag when I realised Barney was looking at me curiously. Moving slowly, so as not to startle him, I re-popped the pull-fit catch and this time I tilted the dial towards him. He watched the needle pivot on its axis, his eyes wide.

‘Ever seen one of these before?’

Nothing.

‘Would you like to hold it?’ I offered it out to him.

Twitchy with indecision, he looked from me to the compass, torn between fascination and instinct: to keep safe in the corner or to come forward for a better look?

‘It’s very old,’ I said, clicking the lid shut. ‘A hundred years ago it belonged to a sea captain.’ I twirled the small loop handle, demonstrating its ratchet-and-pawl burr. I used to tell this same story to Lauren. ‘He used it to help escape from pirates who wanted to steal his gold and whenever he got lost it would help him to find his way home.’

Uncrossing his arms, he took a few, tentative steps over to where I stood. Again, I offered it out to him. Worried this was some kind of trick, he leant forward, taking care not to get too close, and snatched it from me. Weighing

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