Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

Hammer’s trainer and corners were still trying desperately to revive him, shoving the crowds out of the ring. It was pandemonium as a sprawling mass of bodies fought to get out of the crush. The apparently lifeless body of Hammer was passed over heads and outstretched arms to give him air, get him out of the tent.

Evelyne clawed her way up over bodies and finally stood, screaming for David, searching frantically for him. She saw Freddy dragging benches aside and he shouted for help. It looked as though David had broken his leg.

Rawnie pushed and shoved, trying to follow Freedom, and felt her scarf being yanked off her head by an irate miner, who held it in the air.

‘Here’s one of the bloody gypos!’

Hands were all over her, pawing at her, ripping at her clothes. Dear God, why hadn’t she listened, why hadn’t she done as she’d been told? Rawnie scratched at the leering sweating faces.

With the help of two of the others, Evelyne and Freddy finally managed to get David outside. He was bent double in agony, teeth clenched. Freddy tried to calm him, giving orders to the hysterical women. The rest of their friends were gathering, calling out to each other, thankful they were safe. There was so much shouting and screaming going on that their voices were drowned.

Freedom jumped aboard the wagon where the waiting boys patted his shoulder and cheered. There were two men up front, and one of them flipped the horses’ reins and the wagon made for the exit. Motor horns were blaring, and now above the yells could be heard the distinctive bells of police cars as they approached the field. The horses kicked and rolled their eyes, and Freedom climbed up front to take the reins.

The guv’nor, Mr Beshaley, ran to the wagon, his face flushed.

‘Get out, get out fast, past the law, he’s dead, Hammer’s not come round, they think he’s dead — I’ll sort out the cash here, see you back at the camp.’

Beshaley saw Freedom immediately draw the horses back as if to get down. He banged on the side of the wagon.

‘Get out of here, all of you … Go go go!’

The horses were skittish because of the running, shouting people and the sound of the police bells. A crowd of miners was heading for the wagons, shouting to each other. They were going to overturn the gyppos’ carts. The wagon moved forward, cutting through the mob. Suddenly Jesse was running wildly towards them, waving his arms and pointing back at the tent. Freedom stood between the horses, heaving them back by their collars, handed the reins to one of the other men and jumped to the ground. Jesse’s panic-stricken face was streaked with dirt from the clods of earth the miners had started hurling at them.

‘She’s still in there, Rawnie, she went back in there, in the tent!’

Freedom looked back in horror. The boys tried to hold him back, but he just brushed them aside and took off with Jesse running at his heels, shouting as he went, ‘Get out, all of you, we’ll use Rawnie’s cart…. go, go, move.’

The wagon hurtled forwards, knocking three burly miners off their feet. They stepped out of Freedom’s way, wary of him as he raised his huge fists.

Freddy managed to lay David down on the back seat of his car, then ran to the driving seat. Evelyne held on to his arm.

‘He must go to the hospital, get him to a hospital.’ Freddy released her hand, ‘Get a lift home with one

of the others, you can’t come with us, I’m taking him

home, for God’s sake.’

Evelyne didn’t understand, and she was almost knocked over as Freddy drove the car out of the field.

She stared after them. The rest of their group was already moving out, their cars heading for the exits, and Evelyne ran towards an oncoming car with Tulip clinging to the running-board. The car drove straight past, leaving her standing there.

Freedom kept on the move, and when any miner approached him with clenched fists and abuse he growled like a mad dog, baring his teeth and snarling, and they stepped back.

‘Fix … bloody fix, man, you cheatin’ bastard!’

With one hand Freedom grabbed the man, hauled him up and threw him against a pole in the side of the tent.

‘You want to take over the fight, man?’

The man’s false teeth rattled in his mouth, and he held his hands over his face, terrified.

‘Anyone else? Anyone else …?’

They backed off and let him pass. Jesse was waiting at the torn tent flap and together they went inside.

EVELYNE searched the ground for her handbag. She put her hands to her head in despair. Her hat? She’d lost her new hat! At first she felt tearful, then her temper flared and she turned back. She’d not paid fifteen shillings for a new hat to lose it, never mind her handbag. Her hair had come down from the bun, tumbling around her shoulders, and she was being shoved from all sides, but she gave as good as she got. She stood taller than a lot of the lads she battled through. Having been brought up with three older brothers and having Hugh for a father helped. She rolled up the sleeves of her new suit, it was like the old days out in the yard of a Sunday when she was no more than nine years old. Dicken, Will and Mike were always fighting, and she’d joined in. Now she was as good as any man around her, and she punched and kicked her way through into the tent.

Jesse searched the dispersing crowd without luck, then he jumped up on Freedom’s shoulders, looking for the familiar red scarf, and saw it being waved around by a group of men by the side of the ring. He urged Freedom forward like a stallion.

Evelyne felt her hair pulled from behind, and swung her fist round, belting the gormless young boy on the nose.

‘Christ almighty, there’s a bloody Amazon in there, bach.’

The police had imposed some sort of order now, and they gathered around Hammer’s body with their notebooks out. His manager and trainer stood by, helpless. They kept looking at each other and then down at the massive bulk of Hammer at their feet.

The crowds were thinning out faster than before because the police were there and no one wanted to get booked. Hammer was carried to an ambulance and its crew worked desperately, massaging his heart and trying to resuscitate him. Eventually they were rewarded by a slight flutter of his chest, and he drew a faint breath.

Evelyne searched among the benches, lifting them up. She didn’t care about her suit, it was ruined anyway, but she wanted her handbag. It had more than three pounds and sixteen shillings in it, a new comb and mirror. Evelyne suddenly felt faint, oh God, she thought, my post office savings book! She didn’t care who saw her, she lifted her skirt and felt inside her bloomers, then she sighed with relief. Her precious savings — her legacy — was safe. Then her temper rose again as she remembered that her return ticket was also in the handbag.

She was now close to the ring. Its platform was on stilts, some six feet off the ground and was swathed in tarpaulins. Could her handbag have slithered beneath the ring? She pulled the fabric aside.

Underneath the ring, three lads held Rawnie down, her skirts around her head. A fourth was on top of her with his trousers round his ankles, while the others leered and encouraged him. Her face was scratched and bleeding, her mouth bruised and a tooth missing. She lay half-conscious mewing like a small, drowning kitten.

Evelyne let the tarpaulins fall back into place. ‘Go away,’ she told herself, ‘don’t get involved, get out of here, never mind the handbag, just get out, Evelyne Jones, and for God’s sake do it now!’ At the same time as the voice in her head was talking to her, someone else — not Evelyne, she was sure, but another person entirely — grabbed one of the broken bench legs and was under the boxing ring like a wildcat.