the unceasing efforts of local brigades。 The worst scene was kept until last： a half…demolished street； army vehicles blocking one end； an inferno engulfing a row of terraced houses； fire…engines； ambulances； blankets； discarded clothing covering huddled corpses yet to be collected。 A vicious multi…racial mob having been forced to retreat some two hundred yards； still shouting； hurling missiles； which were parried by riot…shields。 Half…bricks； broken tiles； anything。 No gunfire； though。 So far the rioters had not been able to obtain weapons。 They had relied upon numbers； but in the end they had been driven back。 Volatile leaders urged the hordes to stand their ground。 There were promises of guns； and already crude fire…bombs had devastated much property…bottles half filled with petrol or paraffin； burning rags for fuses。 Many of the blazing houses belonged to the people themselves。 They did not care； they would fight on until the city was razed to the ground。 The army would not be able to hold them in the end。
The television reporter was shielded behind a reinforced Champ； a relic of the same model used in the campaign against Rommel…with a Rolls…Royce engine which was why it was still in use。 The camera crew； however； were forced to expose themselves to the dangers of the missile…throwing crowd to obtain the most spectacular and horrific of the day's events on film。 The reporter…a stubble of beard on his chin； eyes red…rimmed； clothing smoke…stained…raised his voice in an effort to make himself heard。
'Rioting began early yesterday evening； and continued throughout the night。 This is just one of many similar cases。 Troops； firemen and ambulances have fought an unceasing battle。 In this area alone it is estimated that the number of dead exceeds fifty； the wounded many more。 Military casualties have been slight； but it's clear that these mobs have no intentions of letting up； and the cost of damage is already into millions of pounds。 Tonight there will be no sleep for either troops or auxiliary forces。 However； in the city centre itself； today life has continued fairly normally； given the conditions。 Most office…workers have reported for work as usual； and public transport has been operating satisfactorily。 But； after another night of terror； it is doubtful whether many muters will venture into the city tomorrow。 Gerald Watson； News at Ten； Birmingham。'
Monday； 11。30 p。m。 Canverdale made another broadcast。 In the calmest voice he could muster； he advised muters to stay out of the cities on the following day。 He added； hopefully； that soon the army and police would have everything under control。
The moment he was off the air he fitted a cigarette into the long holder； applied the flame with a shaking hand； and drew the smoke deep into his lungs。 If there was one thing he detested it was having to lie deliberately。 The truth was that in many areas the troops and police were being forced back。 The tide had turned； and a backwash of bloody terror was swamping Britain。
Already a military escort waited outside for the evacuation of Downing Street。 Canverdale was well aware that his next broadcast would be made from a secret underground headquarters in Hertfordshire。
Chapter 14
On Monday night Coyle returned home； and Anne reluctantly went back to her parents。 Just for a few hours out of the precious few left。
Jane and Sarah were seated before the small electric fire in the living…room； and both looked up as he entered。 Their forced smiles meant nothing more than an acknowledgement。 They had guessed he would e。
Sarah prepared a snack which none of them really wanted； but they must pretend to eat something in the midst of this forced family reunion。 Nobody spoke； but the silence was worse than any backlash of words； and Coyle wondered how they would get through the long evening ahead。 The television was out of action； of course； and his transistor radio was still at the office。 He knew Sarah had one in her room； but that was not really a solution to their problem。
He took upon himself the chore of washing the dishes； simply as something to do。 The thought of the long night frightened him。
At half…past eight the front…door bell rang； and Sarah went to answer it。 From the kitchen he recognised the voice of the caller…the Reverend James Mortimer。
The vicar had e on a mission of solace。 It was a valuable diversion； Coyle decided； as he made some coffee。 He hoped that Mortimer would not refer to his presence at the munion service。 The memory was distasteful to Coyle； because in his own mind he felt he had capitulated to everything he had opposed in the past。 No longer could he claim openly to be an atheist。 He had knelt and asked God for deliverance along with everybody else。 Jane and Sarah probably despised him for it； and perhaps Mortimer thought he had won a long battle； and converted yet another to his fold。 Coyle winced at the thought。
'Superintendent Rollason telephoned me。' Mortimer drank coffee even slower than he consumed tea； with constant stirrings； purely a habit because he did not take sugar。 'The authorities will keep the crowds out of the church tomorrow。 Just for the service； of course。 I want to leave it a family affair just for you。 The population of this town are not interested in your grief。'
Jane and Sarah looked at Coyle。 He dropped his gaze。 There would be no reconciliation…that was obvious。 Their last outward show of unity would be a bereavement。 After that it was all over。
The vicar left an hour later。 Sarah came back from seeing him out； kissed her mother briefly； ignored her father； and went upstairs to her room。
At ten o'clock Coyle suggested that they too go to bed。 They would need every bit of rest they could get to prepare for the morrow。 He was somewhat surprised when Jane followed him upstairs。 They undressed。 It was a sort of brother and sister affair as though both were being forced to use the same room。 She turned away from him as she took her clothes off…unwilling even to allow him a brief glimpse of her naked breasts。
She was in bed before him； on the far side； facing the wall； her back towards him。 He switched off the bedside light； and climbed in beside her。 He could tell by her breathing that she was still awake； and he contemplated slipping an arm around her； one small gesture of fort； perhaps understanding。 He thought about it for a minute； decided against it； and turned over。 Back to back。 Their marriage was finished； all right； and he realised there was nothing he could do to save it。 He told himself that he had no regrets。
Margaret Houston was surprised when； for the second evening in succession； her husband did not go out。 A small flame of hope kindled inside her and she made a half…promise to herself to visit the hair…dressers's the following day。 Perhaps she could start a diet； too。 Since her husband's affair began； she had let herself go； seeking solace in the pany of the children； eating the foods she enjoyed most； heedless of calories。 She had no intention of finding another man； even if David left her for good。 Nobody could replace him。
She had seen Sarah Coyle about town。 Attractive； a young body； but it could not be any more willing than her own。 But now David had stayed at home for two evenings。 Sullen； certainly； but that gave Margaret encouragement。 The affair bore all the signs of having e to an end。 Perhaps Sarah had found a younger lover…a real boyfriend。 Margaret was determined to seize the opportunity。 She would win David back again。
At least it was nice to go upstairs to bed together。 He did not make love to her on the Sunday night； but she did not expect it。 It would take time to get back together again。
Deep within him； David Houston smouldered with hatred。 That stupid little bitch…all he had given her； too。 That was all she had wanted from him。 Her wardrobe was full； so was her jewellery box。 That made her no better than a prostitute； as surely as if she solicited on the streets。 Damn her； he was well rid of her； but his eager sexual appetite w