“So they’ve finally brought it down, then.” — “It’s gone, has it?” — “That’s that, then.” They weren’t the only people who would be watching. It would be the same all over. A dog walker on the Village Green would have stopped by the telephone box, pausing – just for a moment – to take it all in. Shopkeepers along the Parade would have interrupted their customers, tilted their heads towards the windows, adjusting their angles to try and get a better view. He supposed that they might even have stopped playing bowls on the Green; his lip curled slightly at the realisation that the final fall of the Tower might have been the only thing significant enough to bring a halt to a game.
The sky was already tinged with the first hints of evening; scattered smears of a ruddy composition were painting
