The Darker the Night by Martin Patience

Author:Martin Patience
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Birlinn

Chapter 16

The sun blinded Fulton as he emerged from the dark underbelly of the Caledonian Railway Bridge onto the corner of Renfield Street. It was around ten in the morning. The pubs were yet to open but there was a mood of mindless violence in the air. It felt as if people were walking quicker than normal, heads down, anxious to avoid giving a look that could provoke a nasty reaction. Eye contact is everything in Glasgow. If you see a guy walking down the street at midday in slippers and his dressing gown, look at him, by all means, but for God’s sake don’t make eye contact. It is on such encounters that Glasgow’s reputation is made.

Strolling along Argyle Street, Fulton lost count of all the beefy cops in stab vests, fingering their truncheons with a little too much affection. Their itchy fingers knew that heads were going to get smashed, bones were going to get broken, and blood was about to flow. The youngest among the ranks were secretly looking forward to the rammy. All police leave had been cancelled, reinforcements were being sent up from the north of England, and rumours abounded that the army would be deployed. Publicly, London had ruled out such a move, knowing it would be accused of imposing martial law. The official line from Downing Street remained that the referendum would go ahead as scheduled.

The police were guarding all the shops whose windows had been smashed the previous night. Sales staff were sweeping up tiny shards of glass, which blanketed the pavement like ice. Fulton saw dozens of shoeboxes scattered across the street. Quite a few kids would be trying on new trainers that morning. Meanwhile, joiners were hurriedly hammering plywood over shop fronts.

Fulton was still stewing over Davy Bryant’s role in the Millar video being leaked. But he had to give it to his pal, he could read a situation better than most. He was bang on about the eruption of violence. As Fulton turned left onto Queen Street, he started to hear the gathering storm. There were thousands of protesters in George Square. The call to save the Union had attracted the city’s staunchest elements. Chief among them were hundreds of members of the Orange Order wearing black suits, orange sashes and white gloves. Fulton spotted a few of them tussling with the police who were confiscating their ceremonial swords. In a corner of the square, a marching band was playing ‘The Sash’ and a band of lager louts were belting out its lyrics. Nearby a man was holding up an effigy of Susan Ward with a noose around her neck. The placard read: ‘Russian Whore’. That was one of the politer offerings on display but it was a sentiment shared by most of the crowd. Amid the din of the flutes and drums and chants of ‘God Save the Queen’, a rent-a-gob politician on the back of a flatbed truck stacked with speakers was exhorting the crowd to attack

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