There was a long, overpowering and oppressive silence in the pub. A few muffled conversations were taking place but, generally, few people spoke. At twenty-past eleven Ray Mercer cleared his throat and banged a glass on the bar to attract the attention of his customers. Most people didn’t react. One or two glanced up at him to see what the disturbance was before turning back to face the television set again. `Ladies and gents,’ Ray shouted, seemingly unconcerned at the lack of attention being paid to him. `I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think we need to keep drinking tonight. To hell with the law, we’re going for a late one. We’re staying open.’ Had Ray made that announcement on any other night his words would have earned him a round of applause and a standing ovation at the very least. Tonight, however, the reaction of his customers was unusually muted and subdued. A steady stream of drinkers continued to make their way quietly to the bar.
