Page 41 of Pressure Head

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I sniggered, spluttering water. “That good, are you?” Then I yawned. “Sleepy.”

“I’m not surprised. You lie down, and I’ll get you a blanket. And a bucket, if I can find one, just in case.”

“Don’t go.” I had to tell him something. It was really important. Couldn’t remember what it was, but I had to tell him. I grabbed his arm. “Phil?”

“Yeah?”

I blinked at him. “I’m not Polish. Not even a little bit.”

“Well, I’m sure England’s vastly relieved we can justly claim you for our own. Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, Mum.” I closed my eyes. Just as I was about to drift off, I thought I felt the touch of his lips on my forehead. “Love you too,” I muttered.

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