Black Night
Pat Walsh’s house, West Bridgford, Nottingham, the same night
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Big Pat Walsh walked out on to his balcony to take a better look at the commotion that was going on by the river. Just upstream before the Trent bent out of sight he saw a crowd of football fans. Forest, he could see from the red scarfs with the trees embroidered on them. Two men were having a fight and one hit the other so hard that he fell into the water, which turned red around him. His mates waded in to get him out, and tried to stem the flow of blood, which was pouring out of his nose. Pat smiled. He remembered fights at the Arsenal when he was a lad. It was something he’d enjoyed.
‘Are they after starting yet?’ Kathy called through. She was fussing in the kitchen over something.
Pat walked back in
