He flipped the television off. From none of these could Jack ascertain what had become of Thames, or learn any particulars concerning the family at Dollis Hill, or of his mother. She floundered deep. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. “You forgot to take the safety off! You idiot! You can’t do anything right!” His other hand wormed out of the folds of Sheila’s enormous body. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s.
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