Jake, sunk in the depths of gloom, thought he was hallucinating when the great white face with the white eye peered through the glass at him. But he found the perfect stride and was safely over. While Rupert was in Aachen at the end of July, she flew out to Germany, leaving the children with the long-suffering Crispin. He was fifty-two, thirty years her senior, probably a disgusting old man in her eyes.
Billy couldn’t bear to look at her any more. He could buy a dozen broken-down wrecks for that. She’d been so sick with the baby and felt so tired, and after a tidal wave of Rupert’s female fans sent her fly Billy looked up and found Rupert staring at Janey with an erection like a steeple.
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