Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

‘Oh, don’t you see, don’t you understand …’ Whatever reaction she anticipated, something akin to her own horror, never came. Instead Freedom lay back and started to laugh, a deep, throaty laugh. She stood up, stark naked, and kicked him, shouting. How could he laugh, how could he? He caught her foot and brought her crashing down beside him. She tried to fight him off, but he was so strong it was useless. He rolled on top of her, grasping her wrists above her head, holding them tightly, ‘Tell me everything about him. Let me know everything. Am I like him? Tell me, tell me.’ ‘Are you not afraid — that we have the same blood?’ He released her arms, caught her to him so tightly she could hardly breathe, ‘Blood to blood, Evie, we are closer, closer, do you not see that?’

His acceptance of the fact that they were even closer, bonded by blood, was at first frightening to Evelyne. Then his mood caught her, and to her amazement she found herself laughing with him.

‘No one must know, Evie, they’d not understand.’ He had no need to tell her that, she knew it, and even her fears for the child of such close blood were dispersed. They picked up their sleeping baby son and held him between them, and he opened his eyes and stared up into the two adoring faces.

‘Our son is near pure Tatchey. He’ll have the powers, Evie, and look at his strong body.’

To their delight, Edward gurgled and laughed up at them, and at that moment there was magic in the night, the red flames from the fire flickering on their naked bodies.

Later, while Evelyne slept, Freedom took out a hunting knife and made a cut on his forefinger. He squeezed it until the blood formed a heavy drop, then crept to the baby’s cradle. He let the blood drip slowly on to the sleeping child’s forehead. The stain spread, forming a cross, and Freedom’s voice was a whisper as he buried the curse his mother, the clan’s dukkerin, had laid on Hugh Jones.

Life moved at a fast pace after that Christmas at The Grange. Freedom was still the undefeated British Heavyweight Champion, and British Empire Heavyweight Champion … he fought in Liverpool, Birmingham, Porthcawl, Edinburgh, and Manchester. Evelyne did not accompany him on these travels, but stayed at home in the East End. Freedom was a celebrity, money was not short, and Evelyne kept a close watch on the purse strings. Their house was well furnished, and some items had been passed on to Ed and Miss Freda, even Ed’s brother and sister-in-law Billy and Mary Meadows. The neighbours watched with avid interest as number twelve even had carpet laid all down the stairs. There was no jealousy, they were proud, and welcomed the distinction of having a champion living in their street.

Edward was almost two years old, a handsome child, tall for his age. He was very strong, and never still, so that it took all Evelyne’s time to keep an eye on him. He had a terrible temper, and threw such tantrums that their neighbours would say, ‘There goes that little bugger again.’ But they would smile, as everyone knew how the little lad adored his father. As soon as he saw his dad coming down the road, Edward would run out, arms outstretched and shouting with delight. Proud as Punch, Freedom would swing the lad up on to his shoulders.

Sir Charles kept a close but discreet watch over Freedom’s successful career. He was determined that ‘The Gypsy’ would try for the world championship. It was only a matter of time until a fight was arranged in America.

They were getting close when the news came that the great Dempsey, the man known as the ‘Manassa Mauler’, had lost his title to Gene Tunney. Sir Charles was delighted. Tunney now reigned as World Heavyweight Champion, and his reputation was on a par with Dempsey’s at his peak. The new champion appeared invincible and was taking on all challengers.

Ed Meadows arrived at number twelve, his face alight with excitement. ‘Where is he … Freedom!’

The moment Freedom looked up from the table he was building and saw Ed, he knew something big was on, ‘Is it America, Ed?’

Unable to speak, Ed clasped Freedom in his arms, and the two men danced around the kitchen.

Evelyne returned from shopping to find Freedom out and a dozen bottles of champagne on the table. When she took a quick look at the price, she had to sit down. She had to watch his spending all the time. When he went abroad, he always brought back lavish gifts and wouldn’t hear a word from Evelyne about the cost. Neither did he discuss the fights themselves with her, avoiding her questions with shrugs and laughs. His face was still ummarked so Evelyne never really knew what it took for him to get into the ring or, for that matter, what punishment he had taken.

Freedom came back with his arms full of turkeys and fruit.

‘Lord, man, what on earth have you been doing? I’ve already been to the shops.’

Putting everything down he caught her in his arms. ‘Ah, well, this is a farewell dinner, for the street, then you’d best pack your things. We leave for America and this time you’ll be with me, it’ll be the trip of a lifetime.’

Evelyne hugged him, ‘Is it the world championship?’

He swung her round, lifted her in the air, ‘Aye, it is, and I’m going to take it from Tunney.’

‘Well, you’d best put me down. Any more of this tossing me in the air and you’ll hurt the baby.’

Freedom lowered her gently and cupped her face in his hands. ‘We’ll take Edward with us, and I’ll take great care of thee …’ Suddenly what she had just said dawned on him … he yelped with joy. ‘Are you sure?’

Evelyne laughed and said she was more than sure, she was three months gone.

The excitement of packing and arranging for their departure made the weeks pass so fast Evelyne could hardly believe it when they arrived at Southampton Docks with Freda, Ed and a pile of luggage. There was their ship, their home for the next three weeks, looming so large it took everyone’s breath away. RMS Aquitania was majestic, dwarfing the small group at the dockside. It wasn’t a ship, it was a floating city.

A steward led them to their cabins, pointing out various features along the way. The restaurant, with an oak-beamed ceiling and leaded windowpanes, seated seven hundred people. A long gallery led to what could only be described as a high street, with shops that included ladies’ and gentlemen’s outfitters displaying all the latest fashions in lighted window displays. There was a huge main lounge at the end of the gallery — a glorious, stunning room, as large as a concert hall, thickly carpeted and with a magnificent domed ceiling. All the chairs and settees were upholstered in the finest fabrics. There was even a post and telegraph office, unlike any the bemused group had ever seen. Adjoining it was the library, a big, square room with hundreds of books, and there was no charge for borrowing them.

Freedom had trailed around without much interest, but when he saw the gym his eyes lit up. There were parallel bars, horizontal bars, electric — yes, electric — cycling machines, and even a riding machine that rocked backwards and forwards as if you were on a real-life bucking bronco. There were also rowing machines, fencing masks and foils, boxing gloves and punchbags. Ed and Freedom stood and stared, awestruck.

The steward turned back the bedcovers and opened some of the many wardrobes and dressing-table drawers to show Evelyne. He also told them about the full-time nursery with a nanny to take care of the child at night if the passengers had not brought servants with them. He hovered for a while, then proffered a crumpled piece of paper and asked if Freedom would autograph it for him. He was so pleased, he didn’t even wait for a tip.