Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

‘Now, now, yer know what I mean! He’s in the spare room and, well, yer see, one night’s love-makin’, Evie, is equivalent to about a six-mile run — d’yer understand me now? Conserve ‘is energy.’

Evelyne repeated what Ed had said to Miss Freda. She patted her hair looking at her dumpy little husband, ‘Well, I wish he’d do a bit of training. I don’t know what’s come over him of late, I think it’s nerves, either that or he’s been taking your Freedom’s vitamins.’ Ed, unaware that they were whispering about him, paced up and down. Evelyne kept her face straight as she looked back at Freda. ‘I don’t think it’s vitamins, Freda. It’s that floating nightdress with all the swansdown he brought you from New York, makes you look the image of Fay Wray.’

Freda giggled as Ed gave them a grunt, and walked out. ‘Well darlink, if that’s true, he’s King Kong. Tonight I’ll put my flannel nightie on, that’ll finish him off”, always has before …’

The two women giggled and looked through all the film magazines Ed had bought. Evelyne had to put her hand over her mouth as she caught Freda looking at herself in the mirror. She had made up her mouth with a cupid’s bow and obviously thought she really did look like Fay Wray, or Clara Bow. She pursed her lips and batted her thickly mascara’d eyelashes. ‘Oh, I just don’t know what I am going to wear for the fight, have you thought about your outfit, Evie?’

Evelyne’s good humour evaporated. Her stomach turned over — just for a few moments she had forgotten about the fight. There were only three days to go … ‘Oh God, Freda, it’s not long now, not long.’

They both turned to the calendar where the dates were marked with crosses. Those few days slipped by fast.

On the day of the big fight Freedom left early with Ed. They all hugged him and wished him well. He kissed his son, and waved to them all as the car disappeared down the drive. The villa felt very quiet without him and Ed, and the day seemed to stretch endlessly ahead for Freda and Evelyne.

Jack Sharkey and Freedom faced each other at the weighing-in. Freedom had learnt fast — he out-stared Sharkey, glared for the press cameras and whispered that he was going to wipe the floor with Sharkey. He held up his fist for the photographers.

In the stiflingly hot dressing room, the thunder of the crowd could be heard. Ed bandaged Freedom’s fists, and Dempsey came in, raising his clenched fist to Freedom in salute. Sir Charles, Tex and Kearn also made an appearance, Sir Charles bringing a crowd of visiting English aristocracy who all wanted to meet Freedom. Finally, Ed ordered everybody out and banged the door shut.

The seconds were sweating with nerves as they checked their equipment — the buckets, sponges, gumshield, plasters and towels. ‘.

Having finished bandaging Freedom’s right hand, Ed gestured for him to lift his left. When he was wrapping the cloth tightly between Freedom’s fingers, Freedom asked. ‘They in their seats yet, Ed? Is she here?’

Ed gave the nod to one of the seconds to check that the women were there, and he came back saying they were, and that the excited Edward was standing up in his seat waving a rattle. Having finished the bandaging, Ed started to massage Freedom’s shoulders. He could feel the tension and kept up a steady flow of chatter, easing the stiffness from the muscles. ‘Now remember the rules, Freedom. Make sure if e goes down you get over to the neutral corner fast as your legs’ll carry yer. That’s the law, they won’t start the count until you’re in the neutral.’

Freedom cuffed Ed good-naturedly on the chin. Before every single bout Ed went on like this, as if Freedom didn’t know. Ed was keeping an eye on the clock — it was almost time. They waited for the referee to come in and inspect the bandages. At last he arrived and checked each hand meticulously, then patted Freedom’s shoulder. ‘I’ll go over it in the ring, but I like to have a private word before the bout, understand me? Okay, you break when I tell you, no low punches, no holding. And remember, if either man goes down, you must return to the neutral corner for the count. I will not count until the fighter is in the corner — understand? We got judges each side of the ring, their decision is based on the effectiveness of your punches, they want nice, clean, forceful punches … Okay, right, we go in ten minutes, and good luck.’

Ed began to tie on the gloves, still talking in his soft, non-stop way. ‘Remember yer get points for aggression, so go in there ter win. Sustain the rounds, don’t pussy-foot up there, get in an’ take ‘im. This is the big one and the most important to date, so I want you in there ter win, you wiv me? You wiv me? Yer goin’ ter knock ‘im out, and yer goin’ ter get that title, yes? Yes, yes?’

Freedom slapped Ed’s open palm and yelled back, ‘Yes yes yes!’

There was a knock on the door and they were told to stand by. Ed pulled the robe around Freedom’s shoulders and double-checked that the corner men had everything ready. After one last look, he winked and they went out through the door.

The stadium was packed to capacity and the thunder of the crowd’s noise drowned out Ed’s pep talk. At the opposite entrance stood Sharkey, hopping from one leg to the other, waiting for the signal to enter the ring. A fanfare started up and the audience rose to their feet as the band played the ‘Victory March’.

Edward was jumping up and down in his — seat, not really understanding what was going on but loving every minute of it. Evelyne’s heart was thudding, and she felt the baby kicking inside her. The heat in the stadium was overpowering and the noise like thunderclaps overhead. Freda held Evelyne’s hand tight, both their palms sticky from nerves.

The crowd roared as Freedom entered the ring, hemmed in by Ed and the seconds, with eight attendants to keep back the well-wishers’ outstretched hands.

‘Ladies and gentlemennnn … in the left-hand corner, the British Heavyweight Champion Freedom Stubbs, wearing the black shorts. Weighing in at two hundred and two pounds. In the right-hand corner, Jack Sharkey, from New York City, weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds!’

Not a single one of the ringmaster’s words about Sharkey was heard, the crowd rose with a deafening cheer, flowers were thrown and feet thudded on the wooden stands.

The two boxers met in the centre of the ring, while the band played first the ‘Stars and Stripes’, then ‘God Save the King’. The referee was introduced, to whistles and cheers, and the boxers retired to their corners.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, there will be twenty rounds of two minutes each round.’

The judges took their bows and went to their seats, flowers and streamers were removed from the ring, and the gong was held up for display. Slowly the stadium grew quieter and quieter as they waited expectantly for the bout to begin.

Freedom glanced quickly over at Evelyne and smiled. She wanted to cry out, reach out to him and touch him. His hair, oiled to keep it off his face, was tied back in a leather thong, and his eyes, brows and cheeks were smeared with Vaseline. The gumshield was put into place and he sat poised and ready.

Sharkey delayed getting his gumshield in, talking to his trainer. The gong clanged loudly, and both men were up and moving to the centre of the ring. The seconds were out, taking the stools with them. Freda was shouting, ‘Come on Freedom, come on Freedom …’

The boxers were well-matched, and it was not until round four that the crowd began to settle down. The two men were in close, jabbing, punching, trying to find each other’s weaknesses. It was a good, clean fight when suddenly a punch that Evelyne didn’t even see made Freedom’s whole body buckle, and he fell to his knees. The crowd went wild. Ed waved his towel, screaming at the top of his voice, and climbed into the ring. There was almost a fight between Ed and the referee, two judges conferred and Freda was on her feet screaming along with everyone else in the front rows. ‘Foul…Foul…Foul…!’