She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows. Was Ah Cum offering him an opportunity to warn Spurlock? But should he warn the boy? Why not let him imagine himself secure? The thunderbolt would be launched soon enough.
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