Into one of these he waded and rolled and rolled, despite her commands. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. Took and ran away when she got herself with child. ‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. Would you mind drawing them back?” Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains.
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