Hearts of Gold (24 page)

‘I don’t think we’d better go too far down this road,’ he said huskily pulling away from her. ‘Not here. Not in daylight.’ He buttoned her blouse and jacket. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, looking into her eyes, ‘I could take you home this way tonight after dinner, or better still invite you to my rooms.’

She thought of what Laura had said. “Are you sure you’re not having me on about you and Andrew?”

Was that the way to become an indispensable part of a man’s life? Because if it was … ‘I’d like that,’ she agreed softly.

He smiled as he reached for the starting handle. He’d always dwelt on the differences between Bethan and the other girls he’d spent time with. But there were similarities too. And it was reassuring to know that once warmed up a Welsh chapel girl wasn’t that far removed from her London counterpart after all.

The boxing booth was warm, humid and airless beneath the thick canvas walls and ceiling. The atmosphere within was gloomy in the half light, heavy with unhealthy excitement and the fetid smell of stale, male sweat. Andrew paid the shilling admission fees for himself, Trevor, Laura and Bethan to ensure they’d get a seat on the benches. Those who paid sixpence were fortunate if they got standing room that allowed them to see over the heads of the ex-professional and amateur boxers who’d laid claim to the prime area around the ring.

‘Can you see Eddie anywhere?’ Bethan asked Laura anxiously.

‘Once we’re on the benches we’ll get a better view.’ Trevor wrapped his arm protectively around Laura’s shoulders. ‘This really is no place for women.’

‘And why not?’ Laura demanded, spoiling for an argument after the stresses and strains of the afternoon.

‘If you’re serious about marrying this lady you have to learn that anything a man can do a woman, particularly this woman,’ Andrew pointed at Laura with his wallet as he pushed it back into his inside pocket, ‘can do better.’

‘Not boxing,’ Trevor said firmly.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Andrew mused airily. ‘Would you fancy going three rounds with Squeers?’

Bethan giggled as a sudden, very real image of Squeers in boxing shorts and vest sprang to mind.

‘The moment we’ve all been waiting for, gentlemen … and ladies.’ Jim Dekker himself stepped into the ring. He bowed towards Laura and Bethan and the bench where Doris and Daisy were still sitting. ‘The supreme challenge and the supreme purse of the day. A single, crisp five pound note for any man brave enough to step into the ring with Dekker’s champion. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a round of applause for Daring Dan Darcy.’ He swung round and a tall, well-built man climbed into the ring behind him. Holding his gloved hands high to the shouts and applause of the crowd, Daring Dan took his bow.

‘God, how the mighty have fallen,’ Trevor murmured under his breath.

‘Blasphemy.’ Laura nudged him in the ribs.

‘It’s starting,’ Andrew warned Trevor. ‘Another month and you’ll be wearing a ball and chain.’

‘What did you mean about the mighty falling?’ Bethan asked, nervously scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Eddie as she took her seat.

‘Ever heard of Dan Farrell?’ Trevor replied.

‘No. Should I have?’

‘Five years ago he was the best. Tipped for world champion. And that’s him now.’ Trevor nodded towards the ring, where Dan had stripped off his robe and was flexing his biceps.

‘What happened?’

‘Could be any one of a number of things. Drink, high living …’

‘Women?’ Andrew suggested innocently.

‘Are you going to hit him, Bethan, or shall I?’ Laura enquired frostily.

‘Vicious too,’ Andrew continued to tease Trevor.

‘Come on, lads, don’t be shy,’ Jim Dekker shouted. ‘First man to stay on his feet for three rounds with Daring Dan takes the pot. Five pounds. Who’ll be the first taker? Five pounds for ten bob entrance fee.’

‘Oh no you don’t, Dekker,’ Joey shouted. ‘You don’t pull that one. Not in this town. It’s five not ten bob.’

‘Trying to put an honest man out of business, Joey?’ Jim bit back humorously.

‘Fair’s fair,’ someone in the crowd heckled.

‘It’s always been five bob,’ Joey retorted sharply.

‘Fair’s fair,’ the same man chanted.

‘Show me your challenger,’ Jim answered. ‘And I’ll show you what’s fair.’

‘Here.’ Joey pushed Eddie’s hand up, and Bethan started almost falling off the bench.

‘That your brother?’ Andrew asked, trying to size up Eddie’s chances.

‘That’s my brother.’ Bethan fought back the tears that welled into her eyes.

‘Seeing as how he’s a nipper, Joey, I’ll allow him a try at five bob,’ Jim Dekker conceded. ‘Over here, lad.’ He pointed to the peg where contenders could hang their clothes.

Bethan watched Haydn follow Eddie to the corner of the booth. Then she saw her father push his way through the crowd towards the boys. The bookie who fixed the odds on the fights and made the real money for Dekker eyed Eddie carefully as he stripped off his suit, shirt and tie. He was wearing his shorts under his trousers.

‘I never realised Eddie was so skinny, Beth,’ Laura whispered in a voice that carried above the hubbub of noise.

‘Neither did I.’ Bethan paled as she compared her brother’s underdeveloped figure with that of the seasoned boxer who was preening and parading in the ring.

The bookie, hat pushed back on his head at a rakish angle, sidled up to Andrew. ‘Enjoying yourself, sir?’ he enquired.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Andrew replied with an amused glance at Trevor.

‘Men of substance like yourselves,’ he touched his hat to Trevor, ‘tend to enjoy the sport a little better if they’ve a small matter on the outcome. If you know what I mean?’

‘We know what you mean,’ Andrew muttered under his breath, putting the poor man out of his misery. ‘What are the odds?’

‘Ten to one against the youngster pulling it off, sir.’

Andrew took out his wallet. ‘Tenner on the challenger, all right?’ he asked, folding a note into the bookies palm. The man glanced at Eddie to check his prognosis. He nodded and slipped his hand into his pocket.

‘I want to put some money on too.’ Bethan fumbled in her handbag.

The bookie looked anxiously around the booth at all the heads tall enough to be policemen. Andrew put his hand into his wallet again. ‘Fiver for the lady.’

‘Andrew …’

‘Pay me later.’ He pocketed the slips the bookie handed him. The man moved on past Trevor, who handed him a pound from the people sitting behind them. Bethan stared at Haydn and Eddie, willing them with all her might to look at her. But as her

Father reached them they went into a huddle with Joey, the crowd closed in and they were lost to view.

‘We’re in the wrong business,’ Andrew observed as he watched the bookie circle the booth. ‘He must have taken the best part of fifty pounds in the last five minutes.’

‘He’ll be in the wrong business if Bethan’s brother wins,’ Trevor replied. ‘Is he good, Bethan?’

‘I don’t know.’ Worried about the five pounds that Andrew had handed over so glibly and that she had no hope of repaying if he lost, she couldn’t bring herself to think about his prospects. ‘If the way he talks is anything to go by, he’s brilliant.’

‘Believing in yourself is half the battle with a boxer,’ Trevor commented.

‘You know a lot about boxing all of a sudden.’ Laura eyed Trevor suspiciously.

‘Used to box in medical college.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘Now why should I joke about something like that?’

Ignoring the bickering Andrew closed his hand over Bethan’s. ‘They stop these things long before anyone gets really hurt,’ he asserted quietly.

‘I’ve seen just how careful they are,’ she answered scathingly ‘Eddie’s been beaten to pulp in the gym once. Perhaps it would be different if he could get a steady job. It’s not as if he hasn’t tried, but his efforts don’t seem to get him anywhere, and now he sees this as a way out.’

‘It might prove to be just that. That old boy with him looks as though he knows what he’s doing. I’m sure he wouldn’t put your brother in the ring if he didn’t think he stood a chance.’

‘But Eddie’s much smaller than the man he’s going to fight.’

‘That can be an advantage.’ Trevor leant towards her. ‘Think of Jimmy Wilde.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen, give a big warm Pontypridd welcome to Eddie Powell.’ Dekker shoved Eddie into the centre of the ring. ‘He’s one of your own. From the Graig.’ The crowd went crazy. Shouting, cheering, cat calling and stamping as if it was the Saturday penny rush in the pictures.

Bethan looked past Eddie and saw the bookie who’d taken Andrew’s money standing alongside her father and Haydn. Both had their hands in their trouser pockets. If Eddie went down they’d be in the pawn shop with the new suits, her costume and the jewellery she’d inherited from her grandmother tomorrow.

A very tense Eddie returned to his corner. Haydn pushed on his gloves. Joey laced them. The final knot was tied. Jim Dekker waved him forward. Eddie gave one quick last conscious look at Joey who stood, towel slung over his shoulder, behind his corner.

Dekker spoke, but Bethan didn’t understand a word he said. The atmosphere swirled, a hot black whirlpool pierced by flashing red arrows. At the centre was Eddie, alone, skeletally thin. Dekker moved backwards. A bell clanged and Dan and Eddie raised their gloves.

Bethan gripped the edge of her seat as they circled one another warily around the canvas-covered boards. The champion was playing with Eddie. Even Bethan with her limited knowledge of boxing could see that. A sudden right – a left – another right – Eddie dodged them as fast as they came. Then came a resounding whack which cracked through the air like a whiplash. She closed her eyes tightly and bit her bottom lip until she could taste salt blood.

The crowd booed.

She opened her eyes. Blood was streaming from a cut high on Eddie’s right cheekbone. He stumbled. She cried out. He threw a wild punch. By sheer fluke it landed on Dan’s unguarded left jaw. The tension in the booth grew to explosive dimensions as the champion closed in.

Fists pummelled into naked flesh; close punches jabbed into Eddie’s ribcage. Dekker shouted. The clinch broke and the crazy dance began all over again – circling, shadow boxing, feinting, circling … 

Andrew prised Bethan’s fingers from the bench. She gripped his hand fiercely, digging her nails into his wrist. Eddie threw a punch that again connected with Dan’s jaw. Dan retaliated with a blow that landed high above Eddie’s eye. Blood spurted joining the flow from the cut on Eddie’s cheek. Fresh stains were added to the rust coloured spots that spotted the canvas floor.

‘Why won’t someone stop it?’ Bethan pleaded impotently. Her fingers were knots of pain she was barely aware of.

Smiling triumphantly, Dan swayed drunkenly on his feet. Half blinded by his own blood Eddie threw all his strength into a left targeted at the same spot he’d attacked throughout the bout. The crowd roared as it hit home. There was a crack followed by a dull thud. Bethan couldn’t bear to look. She clung to Andrew, burying her face in his tweed-covered shoulder.

The sound of a child’s number chant filled the air.

‘One … two … three … four …’

She blocked out the sound. Eddie was bleeding. From his head.

She recalled all the punch-drunk boxers she’d seen. Harry Mander, Joey Rees … 

‘It’s safe to look if you want to. The first round’s finished and your brother’s still on his feet.’

She peered over Andrew’s arm. White and trembling. Eddie was sitting on a three-legged stool in the corner of the ring. Joey held a wet towel over his eye. Haydn had handed him a water bottle and he was swilling his mouth out and spitting into a bucket that her father held in front of him.

‘You shouldn’t have bet so much money,’ she breathed without looking at Andrew.

‘The odds were too good to miss.’

‘Your brother,’ Trevor patted her hand. ‘He’s good.’

‘He is?’

‘You don’t know?’

The bell rang and Andrew gripped her fingers. The insane dance began again, only this time the punches were flung wider, but not by Eddie. He kept himself taut, compact. Presenting a small, flitting target that darted around the ring – a flea teasing a floundering rat. Bethan cried out and crushed Andrew’s hands fiercely. But time after time Dan aimed a punch and time after time he hit thin air. The blood rushed to Dekker’s face as he struggled to contain his irritation.

Eddie’s right shot out of nowhere, hitting Dan soundly on the jaw. The crack of the impact was followed by a crash as Dan’s head hit the canvas.

The bell rang. No one noticed it was half a minute early.

‘I’m taking you outside,’ Andrew whispered rising from the bench.

‘No,’ she hissed.

‘You can’t stand much more of this. You’re as white as a sheet.’

‘I couldn’t bear not being able to see.’

‘I didn’t know you could through closed eyelids.’ The sarcasm was lost on her.

Dekker and two of his fighters were working vigorously in their corner trying to revive Dan with wet towels and vinegar.

Joey crouched in front of Eddie, mouthing last minute instructions. Her father looked up at the crowded benches, saw her and bowed his head towards Eddie. Eddie nudged Haydn and they all waved.

‘Who’s that with your brother?’ Andrew asked.

‘The tall dark one is my father,’ she said proudly, ‘the fair one is my other brother.’

‘Close-knit family. Where’s your mother?’

‘At home making tea for my uncle,’ she answered automatically, not really registering what he’d asked.

‘The minister?’ he persisted, trying unsuccessfully to divert her attention.

The crowd growing restless, heckled, booed and stamped their feet, drowning out any further chance of conversation. Sensing trouble in the air, Dekker signalled to the timekeeper. The bell rang. Bethan clutched Andrew and screamed in horror as Dan flung himself forward and threw his whole weight into a blow aimed at Eddie’s head. Her brother ducked, and the booing faded. She was aware only of a blackness tinged with red and a distant roar that pained her ears.

‘He’s won,’ Andrew shouted. ‘He’s won. Your brother, Bethan. He’s won!’

She struggled to focus.