From the Journal of Angela Bowie

Just flown back to London from New York. At home Daniella told me, "I think Mick, David, and Adrian are asleep upstairs." I said, "Oh, okay," and went and opened the bedroom door, and there indeed they were, asleep in our bed. I asked them if they wanted coffee, and they said yes.

When I walked into that room I knew that they'd been screwing. It was so obvious, in fact, that I couldn't even consider the possibility that they hadn't been screwing. The way they'd been running around together and the way David made a virtual religion of slipping the Lance of Love into almost everyone around him, and then the fact that Mick had a perfectly good bed of his own just three hundred yards away from where he was passed out naked across Adrian - it all added up inescapably in my head as well as my gut. I didn't have to look around for open jars of V-I [Veidt Industries] jelly.