Being here, it was as if all the volcano and earthquake stuff didn’t exist, as if life was just going on as it always had. But there was hardly anybody here, and on some of the surfaces there was a fine layer of pale grey grit, the same stuff that had come drifting out of the sky all over the city.

When she was done, she spent a while wandering around the Park itself. Just three miles from the city centre, it was like being in the country.

But, though the light was sharp, there was a stink of ash, or smoke, in the air, and an odd orange tinge to the sky, like smog.

After a few minutes, she went to find a taxi back to the city.

The taxi carried her over the Kingston Bridge, the big motorway bridge that crossed the Clyde.

The Clyde was low. Very low, surely lower, in fact, than just a couple of hours before. She could see watermarks in the banks, high above the rippling surface of the river itself.

She thought she could see the water recede further, in the couple of minutes it took to cross the bridge. She’d never seen anything like it. Some kind of tide?

She had the taxi drop her at George Square. From here she could walk up the hill along North Hanover Street to the Buchanan, the big mall at the end of Sauchiehall Street.

…There was a sound like an explosion. The ground rippled.

She was lifted up, thrown into the air, and landed flat, face down on the ground.

The air was filled with shrieking sounds. Car alarms.

Dazed and confused, Jenny tried to get up, cradling her bump. Her knees were grazed, bleeding, as if she was a ten-year-old kid.

The buildings around the Square were swaying. Some of them had collapsed — the masonry and brickwork and glass just seemed to explode outwards — and the air was brown with clouds of dust and smoke. A couple of buildings to the north were on fire, sending up pillars of black smoke.

On the horizon were flashes. Electricity generators shorting out, perhaps.

Now she could hear the wail of sirens, police cars and fire engines and ambulances. She could hear people screaming and shouting. They were emerging from what was left of the buildings, blinking in the sunlight, and then they began picking their way back into the ruins.

Another shock, that jerked her onto her backside on the tarmac.

There were pillars of black smoke all around the skyline now. An awful lot of fires.

The speed of it struck her. Everything had just come apart, shaken to bits, in a few seconds.

No traffic was moving. There wasn’t anything she could do to help. The Square was open, and she decided to stay where she was, far from the buildings; at least here she wouldn’t be crushed by falling bricks.