She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day. ” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen.
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