it in his hand, he ran his fingers over the smooth diameter, relishing the tiny components.
‘You can have it, if you want,’ I said as he waved it around, astonished at the needle’s ability to keep pointing in the same direction.
The compass still held aloft, he stopped and looked at me, disbelieving.
‘Do you want it?’
He tipped his head, his eyes greedy.
‘OK then,’ I said slowly. ‘It’s yours to keep.’ He grasped the compass to his chest and gave his hips an excited, victory wiggle. ‘There’s just one condition. You have to come with me, now.’
‘But Tommy –’
‘Never mind that,’ I said, trying to keep him focused on the prize in hand. ‘Do you want it or not?’
He traced his finger around the edge of the glass dial. I held my breath. If this didn’t work then I was out of ideas. Keeping his gaze fixed on the compass, he gave a single nod.
‘Good,’ I said, fighting the urge to snatch it back. The compass belonged to Lauren, not Barney. I told myself I’d get it from him later, once we were safe. Herding him over to the door, I dropped my voice to a murmur.
‘We don’t want to disturb Tommy, so we need to be quiet,’ I said, bracing myself to go back into the bedroom.
Blood roaring in my ears, I curled my fingers around the handle, opened the door and peered round the corner. Tommy was still passed out on the bed where I’d left him, his penis flaccid against his thigh.
Guiding Barney out of the bathroom and over towards the main door, I pressed down on the handle and was about to usher him over the threshold when I saw him draw back his finger, ready to spin the handle on top of the compass. I tried to stop him, but I wasn’t fast enough and soon the air was filled with its clicking, metallic whir. Immediately, Tommy’s snore stuttered. I kept going, hoping we’d got away with it. But then he coughed. He was waking up. There was no time to waste.
Shoving Barney into the corridor, I grabbed his hand and ran.
‘Help!’ I shouted, hammering every hotel room door we passed. ‘Please, somebody, help us!’
With an increasingly confused Barney at my side, we were halfway down the corridor when one of the first doors I’d banged on opened and a man squinted out.
‘Thank God,’ I said, dragging Barney back towards it.
I went to go inside, but the man put out his arm, blocking my way. I looked past him, into the hotel room. The air was hazy with cigarette smoke. I could make out a group of men sitting on chairs, a TV blaring in the corner. One of the men had his back to me. Wearing a striped black-and-white football shirt, he was leaning back against his chair, his hands interlaced behind his head. Gold sovereign rings covered his fingers. The action had made his football shirt rise up. I lowered my gaze to the flabby midriff, bulging out and over the back of the man’s jeans. Keith.
Barney seemed to clock him at the same time. He smiled and went to take a step forward.
‘Wrong room,’ I said, grabbing Barney’s arm and dragging him away before he could alert Keith to our presence.
‘Wait,’ he said trying to go back the way we came. ‘I want to show Keith my new compass.’
I held his arm firm and continued on down the corridor, looking back to make sure we weren’t being followed. The bloke who had answered the door was standing there watching us go, more bemused than concerned. Good. He hadn’t recognised Barney. Still, as soon as he relayed the source of the disruption to the others in the room, Keith might smell a rat. If that happened, he might try and make pursuit.
Ahead, I saw a sign for the fire exit. Ignoring Barney’s protestations, I kept guiding us forward. There was still no sign of Tommy, but as soon as he came round he’d come looking, and when that happened I didn’t want us to be waiting for the lift. The fire doors would take us down the stairs and, hopefully, out to someone I could ask for help.
We rounded the corner and were almost at the fire exit when I saw the chain. Illegally looped around the handles of the push-bar doors, it was held together with a small padlock.
I tried pushing on the doors anyway. If I could get them to open even a