Free The Last Days of Disco by David F. Ross

ah’m goin’ tae Belfast in a few weeks.’ Gary stared more intently as if he could now visualise himself on a patrol away over on the other side of this black stretch of freezing water.
    ‘A few ae the boys have been talkin’ about it doon in London. They’ve said it’s no actually that bad. We might be goin’ tae the Bogside, just mainly doin’ foot patrols an’ helpin’ the polis wi’ searches an’ that.’ It was clear that this wasn’t going to be a two-way conversation, but Gary pressed on in his well-intentioned attempts to inform and placate his sister. He was now nervous and he sensed that Hettie knew it.
    ‘We’re a deterrent tae the bampots. The foot patrols can maintain contact wi’ local folk an’ it makes us seem more human an’ no whit aw the Republican propaganda would want them tae think.’
    Hettie had never heard her brother talk like this before. It seemed like he was using words he had learned from an Army training manual; repeated so often that he had brainwashed himselfwith them. Gary had never been a respecter of Queen and country before, and Hettie couldn’t understand why he was now.
    ‘Ye ken, Hets, after ah went doon tae London … once ah’d been there for about six months, ah just wanted tae have somethin’ tae belong tae. There wisnae any work, an’ ah’d been caught sleepin’ rough in the park twice. There’s loadsa guys ah kent for a wee while; aw ended up on the rent at Euston. Ah could see maself goin’ the same way. Last time ah got picked up, it was the polis guy that told me tae go tae the Army recruitment station. Even gave me a few quid tae get cleaned up an’ that. Came back two days later wi’ a shirt and a tie as well. Best thing that coulda happened tae be honest.’
    Hettie was still sitting with her knees pulled up, hiding her face – and the fact that she was now gently sobbing – from Gary.
    ‘The Army’s been really good for me. Ye said so yerself. The barracks are a’right an’ ah’ve got good mates now. Everythin’s goin’ well for me.’ He stood up. ‘Don’t you worry about me. Belfast’ll be a breeze, man.’
    Gary wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t want his last day for six months to be remembered as one when he had upset Hettie. But he needed to tell her that a tour of duty in Belfast was looking likely. It was one of the main reasons for suggesting they spend the day together. This couldn’t be something that he’d write in a letter from the comparative safety of his cramped London barracks.
    ‘Come on, H. Ah’ll race ye back tae the Forum Café. The fish suppers are on me, eh?’ He suspected she was crying, but didn’t want to see it. So he burst away up the hill and over the rolling dunes, only looking back when he knew he wouldn’t be able to witness the hurt he’d caused her.
Yer a fuckin’ coward, Cassidy
, he thought to himself. The bombs and bullets of County Fermanagh would surely be easier to cope with than the tears on his sister’s face, but this had just been the rehearsal before the main act. Gary still had Ethel, his hypertensive mum, to face.

PART II

INITIAL EXCHANGES
    Llew Gardner, journalist for Thames TV
‘Prime Minister, how long do you wish to go on being Prime Minister?’
Mrs Margaret Thatcher, the Prime Minister
‘Until I’m tired of it.’
Llew Gardner
‘How long will that be?’
Mrs Margaret Thatcher
‘Oh, I don’t get tired very easily.’
     
    18 th February 1982
Interview for Thames Television’s
TV Eye

5
THERE’S AN OLD PIANO …
18 TH FEBRUARY 1982: 2.35AM
    â€˜Well, whit dae ye think? Ah thought that went a’right.’
    â€˜Ah
think
you’re fuckin’ mental if ye think ah’m doin’ that again.’
    Two friends sat on a Kilmarnock pavement after their first mobile DJ experience, reflecting on an evening of unexpected surrealism. Two halves of the same coin: Bobby Cassidy – optimistic entrepreneur – relentlessly
heads
up;