All That Glitters (28 page)

‘Joey!’

‘Don’t Joey me.’ The old man ignored Eddie’s objection and Jenny’s blushes. ‘I know you better than you know yourself, boy. Time to get off to the dressing room and start bandaging those fists.’

‘Don’t worry, Eddie. Jenny’ll be safe with me.’ William clamped his hand on Jenny’s arm. His grip was like iron, but she managed a smile as Joey dragged Eddie away.

‘You don’t think I should be here either, do you?’ Jenny asked as William pushed her ahead of him through the throng.

‘That depends on two things.’

‘What?’

‘What you intend to do now you’re here.’

‘And the other?’

‘Why you’re out to catch Eddie.’

‘Haydn, can you …’

‘Sorry, Rusty, busy,’ Haydn lifted his foot on to a chair and laced his tap shoe.

‘With your scruffy little usherette?’ She moved in behind him, effectively blocking the exit from his dressing room.

‘I’m teaching her to dance.’

‘I could have forgiven you if you’d gone off with Mandy, or even one of the girls from the Variety, but a nonentity like her!’

‘I’m teaching her to dance,’ he repeated.

‘I know your dancing lessons. You used to give them to me, remember?’ She ran her fingers lightly over his flies. When she tried to unhook the buttons, he caught her hand and held it fast.

‘This time it is just dancing lessons, Rusty. She’s a kid. She lives with my family.’

‘And you’re using her to avoid me.’

‘If that’s what you want to think.’ He lifted his foot down from the chair, and turned to face her. She stood her ground. Crossing her arms she leaned against the doorpost.

‘Is this your way of saying ‘‘Thank you very much, Rusty, but it’s over?’’’

‘It couldn’t have lasted.’

‘Not for ever, but with loving care we might have made it to the end of the week.’

‘I’m sorry. It’s the town. It’s not like any other.’

‘Because it’s your home town, and you have relatives breathing down your neck?’

‘Something like that. And then there’s the business. People talk, your husband -’

‘For God’s sake Haydn, I’ve never expected much from you, but I did hope for honesty. Don’t play the hypocrite with me. Not now. Not after everything that’s passed between us. Like last Sunday afternoon,’ she whispered, her voice husky with unshed tears.

Her restraint was more than he could bear. ‘Look, we can’t talk, not here. Perhaps after the show.’ He remembered Eddie’s fight. ‘Tomorrow, I’ll ask Chuckles to give me some time off from rehearsals.’

‘You should have asked him last Monday when you decided to dump me.’

‘I didn’t …’

‘Then what is this? I thought we had something going between us. Something that deserved more than the “you can dress now and go on your way” treatment.’

‘Rusty, what can I say? I am sorry. Truly.’

‘Do you know what hurts, Haydn? When I met you I really thought you were different. That you hadn’t been corrupted by the “sod the world and everyone else” attitude that infects this whole rotten world of Variety. I thought when you said something you meant it.’

‘I did.’

‘You might have before we hit your home town.’

‘Tomorrow-’

‘Forget tomorrow, Haydn. It should be easy enough. After all, you’ve forgotten everything else.’ She eyed Jane coldly as the girl came rushing down the corridor, cap askew, hands full of confectionery for the girls. ‘And as a parting gift I’ll give you some free advice. Stick to the relatives. You may not like them, but they’re a safer bet than waif-like orphans. You’ve used her to get rid of me, Mandy and whoever else you’ve been fooling around with, but if I were you, I’d be asking at what price. You may find out it’s a lot more than you’re used to paying.’

‘Trouble?’ Jane asked as Rusty retreated into her dressing room and slammed the door.

‘Nothing I can’t handle. Want a lesson?’ he asked abruptly.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d want to give me one after last night.’

‘Last night was then, this is now. You free?’

‘Yes,’ she answered, wary of his mood.

‘So’s the stage. Let’s go.’

‘Keep your head down,’ William commanded, as he frogmarched Jenny down the aisle towards the front row of seats where Charlie and Evan were already sitting.

‘I’m sorry I’m not invisible,’ she bit back sarcastically.

‘So am I. Women attract too much attention in a place like this for my liking.’

‘Hello, Mr Powell, Charlie.’

‘Jenny.’ They acknowledged her then resumed their conversation. Their indifference hurt even more than the open hostility of William and Joey Rees.

‘I take it you’ve never been to a boxing match before?’ William asked as he pushed her into a seat alongside Evan’s.

‘No.’

‘If you don’t like what you see, crawl under your seat. Don’t draw any attention to yourself, and whatever you do, don’t scream, especially when Eddie’s boxing. If you do, you could put him off his stride, and then-’

The voice of the ringmaster boomed through the microphone, drowning out the end of William’s sentence.

‘And then?’ Jenny whispered below the roar of the crowd as the first pair climbed into the ring.

‘And then he could get really hurt.’ William flashed her a warning look that made her wonder if Haydn had said anything to William about the threats she’d made, if not to Eddie.

Jenny sat through seven sickening, blood-spurting, bone crunching exhibition boxing bouts, with her eyes closed and her fists clenched in her lap. The only merciful thing about the rounds was their length. Every fight was limited to four two minute rounds. At the interval William left her with a stern injunction not to move. On his return he dropped a programme into her lap.

‘You can read that instead of sitting with your eyes closed. If you hold it up at the right angle, you could even use it to block your view of the ring.’

She flicked through the pages. Tucked away among the advertisements for Goronwy Brothers butchers, Brooks hairdressers, and the Ruperra Hotel, ‘home of good beer and boxing’, she found brief biographies of the boxers. There was even a photograph of Eddie next to his: bare-chested, gloved fists raised high in front of a punchball.

Introducing Eddie Powell (Graig, Pontypridd) 20 years of age. 6’2° tall. 12st 10lb of fighting blood and muscle.

A quiet unassuming boy. Prefers not to talk about fighting. Born and bred in Pontypridd and under the care of his trainer and mentor, the well-known ex-welterweight champion Joey Rees.

A gifted amateur who has never lost a fight. On the brink of turning professional. Is it too much to say that this boy will put Wales on the map again? That today we have a champion who will take our minds back to the period of the late Freddy Welsh, ‘Peerless Jim Driscoll’, and other champions who are fortunately still with us – Jimmy Wilde and Frank Moody.

I venture to say that Eddie Powell will take his place amongst the champions and share the pride and admiration that we, in Wales, gave to his predecessors.

‘Without a woman hanging on to his coat tails, Eddie could go far,’ William commented drily, as he looked over her shoulder at what she was reading.

The ringmaster climbed into the ring. Cigarette packets were stowed away as he spoke into the microphone once more. The crowd roared as the two fighters flanked by their trainers walked the length of the aisle. It was the first time Jenny had seen Eddie in his boxer’s strip of red and white silk dressing gown and shorts. Bucket, sponge and stool in hand, Joey took possession of the outside corner in front of Charlie and Evan’s seats. The referee, a small wizened ex-lightweight, beckoned to the two protagonists. He spoke to them, looking for all the world like a dwarf sandwiched between two giants, but Jenny could see that Eddie’s attention was fixed on the crowd, not on what the referee was telling him. He was scanning the front rows feverishly, obviously hoping to catch a glimpse of his family – and perhaps even her. Before she could make a move, William held up one hand while keeping the other firmly clamped on her upper arm, effectively pinning her down in her seat.

A hush descended. The fighters went to their corners and shed their gowns. Jenny shuddered when she saw the black and purple sparring bruises on Eddie’s chest. She’d made love to him. Knew what it felt like to have him lying naked next to her. She had caressed his face, every inch of his arms, back, thighs – but she knew his body only through touch. The stockroom had been as black as pitch, and the twilight gloom of the copse in Shoni’s had been more romantic than illuminating. Next time – and she knew now that there would be a next time – they would make love in the light, so she could kiss every one of those bruises.

Eddie turned his back and there was a sharp hissing intake of breath next to her, as well as a few ribald comments from the men around them.

‘He said he fell against a tree in Shoni’s,’ Joey said to Evan.

‘A tree with bloody sharp nails.’ William looked down at Jenny’s hands.

She was glad when the bell rang a few seconds later. A resounding cheer echoed to the rafters. William’s cry of ‘Come on, Eddie!’ was taken up by dozens of men as the two fighters circled one another warily on the canvas. Dizzy with excitement and fear for Eddie, she sat on the edge of her seat. The scene around her dissolved into a thick grey mist. Only Eddie remained, outlined in sharp relief against a wavering void, his black curly hair and dark eyes shining in contrast to his pale skin. He looked beautiful – strange that word should come to mind; she had never thought of any man as beautiful until now. Beautiful – and with the swollen gloved fists of his opponent raised against him, vulnerable – and her lover.

She flushed in embarrassment, as she remembered the things he had done to her last night. Yet her embarrassment didn’t stop her from wanting to repeat the experience. Here Eddie was the centre of attention. Privately he was hers, and she couldn’t wait to put her mark on him. Possess him, completely and unequivocally. Love didn’t enter into the equation. Not when she remembered Haydn and his rejection of her. It was enough that Eddie was as important as Haydn in his own right, that he was handsome and wanted her. In possessing him she’d be the envy of half the girls in the town. Hostility from Eddie’s family seemed a small price to pay for that much gain.

Eddie was the first to throw a punch. It connected with his opponent’s jaw. The crowd roared as he closed in. The referee stopped the match and parted them. Seconds later it was Eddie who was reeling, blood pouring into his left eye from a split above his eyebrow. She screamed and gripped William’s arm.

‘Shut up before he hears you!’

Until William spoke, she hadn’t even realised she’d made a noise.

‘Damn it all, they’ve got to stop it. He can’t see.’ Evan gripped the sides of his chair, fighting the temptation to climb into the ring and stop the fight himself. Eddie bounced from foot to foot, throwing punches blindly as the blood continued to pour down his face.

‘He’s hurt.’ Jenny rammed her fist into her mouth and bit back her tears. ‘They have to stop it.’

‘There’s only a few seconds to the bell. You wanted to be here. Now you are, sit there and shut up. If you’d taken the trouble to get to know Eddie, you’d know he lives for boxing and nothing else.’

She wanted to shout that he cared for her too, but something held her back. Eddie did live for boxing. She hadn’t needed William to tell her that. But now she also knew, first hand, the kind of risk he was running. What if he got badly hurt? What if those handsome features ended up misshapen and broken, like those of the old boxers who sold the South Wales Echo on the Tumble? Men who could no longer talk, only mumble unintelligibly, so punch drunk no one could understand what they were saying. The bell signalled the end of the round. Joey was in the ring in an instant. He moved swiftly towards Eddie, who was trembling uncontrollably as blood continued to pour down his face on to the dark bruises that covered his chest.

‘Killer Daniels looks out of shape to me,’ William shouted to Evan over Jenny’s head. ‘Eddie should flatten him as soon as Joey sorts that eye out.’

Evan looked to Charlie, who shook his head doubtfully.

‘I don’t know,’ Evan muttered, tight-lipped. ‘Daniels has been quick enough on his feet until now. I’ve never seen Eddie so rattled in an opening round before.’

‘That’s what comes of bringing bloody women in to watch.’

William turned angrily on Jenny. ‘Eddie’s probably more worried about you watching, than himself fighting.’

‘You want me to go?’

‘You shouldn’t have come, but now you’re here the last thing I want you to do is upset Eddie by moving around and drawing attention to yourself. Just remember, Eddie can see and hear your every move from up there.’

Jenny shrank lower into her seat and watched Joey layer lengths of plaster above Eddie’s eye. The cut was a long one, and took a lot of stanching. Eddie rinsed his mouth out with water, Joey rammed the gum shield back between his teeth, the bell rang, the referee stepped forward and it began all over again.

William clamped his hand over Jenny’s mouth when Killer Daniels’s second punch connected with Eddie’s jaw. Choking on his fingers she tried to prise them away, but he was too strong for her. Then came Eddie’s retaliatory punch, swiftly followed by another, and another. Now it was Killer Daniels’s turn to reel. And he did, from one side of the ring to the other, Eddie closing in, hounding him from rope to rope. Raining blows down on his chest, his jaw, and with one final resounding crack, the side of his head. Daniels fell to his knees, then slowly, infinitely slowly amidst a reverential hush that descended over the hall, slumped forward, finally falling to rest face down on the canvas.

The hall rocked as the crowd sent up a deafening clamour. Men were on their feet shouting, waving their arms, clapping, wolf-whistling, cheering. The referee held up Eddie’s hand, the ringmaster was shouting something into the microphone that no one could hear. Joey climbed into the ring and put his arm around his protégé’s shoulders. But Eddie’s attention was fixed on the front row of seats. Disorientated, he turned from one side of the ring to another. William and Evan were on their feet. Shouting along with everyone else. He saw them first, then her. He spat out the gum shield on to the blood-soaked canvas. Joey stooped to pick it up.