Jake looked around him with dazed, gin-clouded eyes.
Everything seemed unclear and strange. The heat in the kitchen dizzied him so that voices echoed in his ears. The smoke choked him. The light hanging from the ceiling was turned on but, as the bulb was wrapped in newspaper to dim its strength, most of the light came from between the chinks of the hot stove. There was a red glow on all the dark faces around him. He felt uneasy and alone. Singer had left the room to visit Portia’s father. Jake wanted him to come back so that they could leave. He walked awkwardly across the floor and sat down on the bench between Marshall Nicolls and John Roberts. ‘Where is Portia’s father?’ he asked. ‘Doctor Copeland is in the front room, sir,’ said Roberts. ‘Is he a doctor?’