“Elise?”

“Dad?”

“Where are you?”

“At home. Safe. Where are you?”

“Notting Hill.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s fine. I’m on my way to Chelsea. Stay inside.”

“Grandmama?”

“I’m fine, darling. I’m watching Live BBC News. My goodness!”

“Mama?”

“Elise, minha filha”

“We’re fine, Mama. Is everyone okay?”

“Yes. Stay inside and call if anything happens.”

It wasn’t too bad when it was just looting. But when the cars and buildings are set alight… And people are being dragged bleeding from their cars… and when people wake up to find people in their own homes….

Solicitor sat at the PC late last while I called all of our family.

“Fuck! They’ve erupted in Birmingham too. Only a matter of time before Manchester and Liverpool are the same.”

“Croydon’s still burning. Where the fuck are the fire dept?”

Silence

“This is bad.”

Silence

We quietly watched the riots spill into the urban areas in London and other areas in England.

The online updates were quicker than the televised. Images of the burning buildings were on every news channel.

“Think of all the crimes that haven’t been reported.” Solicitor said thoughtfully. “Knife crime, gun crime, muggings, rape. None of that will even get processed. The emergency lines must be ringing off the hook, and it’s not like anyone can help.”

I shuddered at the thought.

We hardly slept last night. The news was on in the background.

Just before I drifted off I heard Solicitor mutter. “They need the army on the ground.”

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