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'And you'll be 。。。 going home afterwards？' She had to make an effort to voice her innermost fear。
He scratched his head thoughtfully。
'No privacy at either your place or mine。 Suppose we bring sleeping…bags and a blow…up mattress down to the office here？'
'Anywhere。' Her arms were around him； their lips crushed together。 'Just anywhere； Bob； so long as we're together。 Time's running out fast。 I want to spend every possible minute with you。'
Attendances at football grounds throughout Britain more than doubled on that Saturday afternoon following the PM's announcement。 Yet many sensed it was but a brief respite before anarchy menced。 One last spree。 And indeed there was trouble brewing at every ground before the ninety minutes were up。 No ardent fan likes to see his team defeated…especially when it could be the last match the club would ever play。 Ibrox was packed beyond capacity。 The disaster of the early seventies was forgotten； and police diverted to crowd control had not a hope of enforcing the attendance limit。 If they had tried to do so； the riots would have begun even before the game kicked off。 The old firm： Rangers versus Celtic。 Trouble was brewing； and it had to e to the boil。 A Final to end all Cup Finals。 The ultimate victors。 Only； in the end； everybody would lose； teams and supporters alike。
At Old Trafford safety…fences had a frail look about them； with sixty…five thousand King Kongs about to burst their chains and go on the rampage。 The hooligan element had already devised a human ladder by which followers could gain access to the pitch。 The bottom rungs would soon be crushed beneath the clambering stampede； but that was immaterial。
Londoners were willing to spill blood at Highbury； where an influx of Spurs supporters had infiltrated the home terraces。 And so it was； nationwide。
And all of this was preceded by a mad Saturday…morning shopping and drinking spree。 Money would soon be useless； so spend it now。 On anything。 To hell with the law； too。 No prison sentences would be pleted。
A total breakdown in the system was beginning…but sport must e first。 By midday Saturday decisions had been reached about a coalition government。 Canverdale was appointed Prime Minister； although it would not be announced until Monday morning。 Meanwhile； the rest of the world just watched and waited。
Police forces throughout Britain were stretched beyond their limits； even with help from the armed forces。 All leave was cancelled； and tanks occupied the entrances to Heathrow and major airports。 Still the crowds formed； laden with suitcases and hold…alls； huddling together。 But mechanics had rendered the huge standing aircraft temporarily immobile。
Trouble arose at Biggin Hill； when an angry group of owners of small private aircraft demanded their machines。 When an official informed them from a distance； by megaphone； that all flights had been suspended； this provoked outrage。 A dozen men with fully qualified pilots' licences marched out in a column towards their silent machines。 Suddenly a shot was fired over their heads by a young soldier； sweat pouring down his youthful face； praying to God that they would stop。 Fortunately； they did。 There was a huddled conversation； some arguments。 A few wanted to risk it； the majority decided against； so they returned to their parked cars。 There had to be other ways。
The Royal Navy was doing its best to close all seaports。 Their task was a much more difficult one than that of the Army or the RAF。 Destroyers formed a barrier across the harbour entrances of Dover； Southampton； and Portsmouth。 Only foreign ships were allowed to leave。 This meant a thorough search of all vessels； but no doubt a few stowaways made it safely。
But some smaller boats managed to leave from various points around the coastline with little trouble。 Aberdovey harbour； carnival…like with its multi…coloured sails throughout the summer； now presented a drab picture； one or two crafts bobbing restlessly at anchor。 The season was at an end； and most owners had towed their boats back inland for the winter months…a decision regretted by those enthusiasts who could have waited another couple of weeks。 But some had fled out to sea； small crafts riding low in the water； dangerously overloaded with children； pets； and valuables。 The ining tide brought many of them back； dozens of lifeless bodies strewn amongst the debris of capsized dinghies and driftwood。
Small parties of beachbers ignored the corpses。
Jewellery and rings were left untouched。 But occasionally an outboard motor was discovered； still attached to the remains of some small boat which had failed miserably in its mammoth task。 Then eager hands seized it； angry voices quarelled over who had sighted it first。 Sometimes there was a fight； before the victor hurried from the beach with his prize。 A hurried rebuilding would occupy his next few days； skilled or otherwise。 Then another attempt at crossing to the Irish shore。 It was a continual process： fleeing from death； dying in the process。
Britain was now in total isolation from the rest of the world。 Messages of sympathy flooded in from all parts of the globe； and offers of help were unceasing…but there was no time。 A whole country cannot be evacuated in a matter of ten days； so Canverdale adopted a policy of total impartiality： nobody would be allowed to leave。 He and his ministers would remain to share the fate of the British people。 Perhaps that gauge needle in Section Eight would drop back。 Canverdale believed in facing reality； but he was also an optimist。
That Saturday the towns were packed with a Christmas…like rush that lacked any atmosphere of festivity。 The stores exceeded all previous trading records； but there was no gaiety。 It was indiscriminate buying； almost in silence except for the jostling of bodies and the ringing of tills。 Wines and spirits were most in demand…for alcohol offered oblivion。
Football fans flocked into the towns； but the usual pre…match rampages were few and far between。 Instead there was a tension； a hint of terrible things to e； a build…up of frustration that would explode before the day was over。
By 2。15 p。m。 almost every means of access to football stadiums throughout the country had been officially closed。 But that made no difference to the crowds still queuing in the streets outside。 Officials and stewards watched helplessly as young and old clambered over the locked turnstiles or crawled beneath them。 Police made no move to intervene； except to break up one or two brawls。
Some early trouble began in the stands when season…ticket holders found their seats occupied by types who normally stood on the open terraces。 Despite 'no standing' signs； the gangways were packed with long…haired hooligans determined to support their more fortunate panions who had taken over the seating。 A well…dressed man with a large cigar was bodily thrown from his customary place in the Waterloo Road stand at Molineux； Wolverhampton…down into the enclosure below。 He suffered a fractured arm； and injured t