Instead she looked almost relieved.

‘He bought that compass at a flea market before you were born,’ she said.

‘He was convinced it was a bargain because the case came apart.

I told him a broken compass was only useful to a man who liked puzzles.’

The story startled a laugh out of me.

To me the object had become a symbol of danger and inheritance, almost larger than Walter himself.

Helen remembered it as a cheap purchase and an argument on a Saturday morning.