A horrible voice in his mind taunted him then – what if he was more like mad Rufus, the one who’d ruined everything? He pushed the thought aside, and kept it at bay by testing his knowledge of the tunnels, trying to memorise every twist and turn, till sleep finally arrived.

By the time he woke next morning, Winter had already been out, bringing back two hot pastries from the kind baker who always took pity on her. They ate them and drank deeply from the stream flowing through the underground cavern, filling water flasks to take along on their day’s travels. Joe felt like they were explorers preparing for an expedition: they had map-making tools, a wrapper of dried fruit and the compass from his shipwreck kit. Holding it now, he realised it wasn’t just any sailor’s compass, but the one that had always belonged to his father. He looked down at the circular worn metal case that just fitted in the palm of his hand, watching the needle spin and shiver, seeking north.

Another memory rose up, like a tentacle, pulling him under:

His father had found him playing with his compass one day, years ago. Joe didn’t know what the shiny thing was. He just liked the way the pointer moved. He laughed as he shook it, turning it over and over in his hands.

‘Hey, Joe.’ His father took it gently from him. ‘It’s not a toy.’

‘Why not?’ Joe asked, disappointed.

‘Look, let me show you.’ His father’s eyes twinkled blue 82like the sea, telling Joe he wasn’t in trouble. ‘This little needle always points north,’ he said. ‘So you line it up like this.’

Joe watched.

‘Over there, where the sun rises?’ Nestan pointed. ‘That’s east – see? – the compass knows it too. That’s south, where the sun is now …’ He pointed again, shading his eyes from the strong sunshine. He showed Joe all the cardinal points in turn. ‘So this little compass is your friend. It won’t let you get lost, even when you can’t see the sun.’

But I did get lost, Joe thought, swallowing a lump at the back of his throat. He missed his parents so much, it hurt. It was a physical pain in his chest, making it hard to breathe. All his life, his father had taught him patiently, given him everything he needed. Even now, with this shipwreck kit, Nestan was still providing all the tools he needed. And how had Joe repaid him?

He’d repay him by staying hidden, he reminded himself. He’d stay hidden until he’d tamed his anger, till he was sure he was nothing like his ancestor Rufus, till he’d done some­thing to earn back his parents’ broken trust.

‘Joe?’ Winter’s voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah,’ he muttered. ‘Just remembering. You know?’

She did seem to know. She understood these tidal waves of loss that could sweep in and leave you gasping. She put one hand on his arm and squeezed gently. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ she said, leading the way with her lamp. 83