Faded Glory (26 page)

“Seconds out!” shouted the referee. “Round four!”

It was obvious that Livermore, with his vision impaired, was now going for a knock-out. Danny struggled to avoid the massive hooks and crashing uppercuts that his opponent was now throwing, and ended up on the ropes with a head full of stars. His head was just beginning to clear when Livermore came in for the kill.

Livermore’s sight may have been clouded by his own blood, but his aim was true. Danny swayed like a punch bag as Livermore rained blow after blow on him. He was defenceless, lost and broken.

“He’s blown it, Tommy!” Danny dimly heard Cohen shout. “Between you and them drugs, this is down to you, you’ve fucked him up!”

Danny’s vision was blurred, every ounce of strength drained from his body. He felt like he was in a dream. The noise of the crowd seemed distant, almost as if it was in the next building. Everything was happening in slow motion.

Through his exhaustion, Danny was aware of Patsy throwing in the towel, bringing the contest to an end. He let Patsy lead him back to his corner.

The referee took Livermore’s hand as the Master of Ceremonies announced: “Ladies and gentlemen, the fight was stopped by Watson’s corner! Your appreciation for the winner and title contender, Billy Livermore!”

With very few exceptions, the crowd rose to its feet, cheering as Billy was carried shoulder-high around the ring. Danny felt almost invisible.

“Please show your appreciation for the brave loser, Danny Watson!” cried the Master of Ceremonies.

A few cheers rang out, but they were drowned by boos. Overcome, Danny sank to his knees and rested his head on the canvas. He was done.

*

Lenny could accept Danny losing, but to lose in the fourth without putting up a fight? That was difficult to take.

He made a quick exit from the post-mortem now taking place in Danny’s room. He needed to find a telephone and call Albert with the bad news.

As he waited for the phone box, Lenny tried to think of ways he could soften the blow. Both Danny’s loss and the way that he lost would upset Albert.

The minute the phone was free, Lenny checked his watch. Ten-thirty. Perfect. Albert would just be finishing his shift. He put his money in and dialled the Live and Let Live.

“Hello?” said a voice on the other end.

“It’s Lenny. Can I speak with Albert?”

“I ain’t seen him. Hang on, I’ll ask behind the bar.”

Lenny faintly heard “Anyone seen Albert?” against the tinkling of a piano and a rendition of
The Lambeth Walk
at full swing in the background.

“Who’s that?” Maria barked.

“It’s Lenny, Maria. Can I speak to Albert? I got some news.”

Maria sighed. “I hope it’s good news. He’s only in bloody hospital.”

“No,” gasped Lenny. “What happened?”

“He was trying to save a kid from being run over and got hit himself, silly sod.”

Lenny was almost lost for words. “Where is he?”

“Whitechapel. What’s the news?”

Lenny pulled himself together. “It’s all right, don’t worry,” he said.

Putting the receiver down, he stared at the wall in disbelief.

“You finished mate?” said a grumpy voice behind him in the foyer. “There’s people waiting here.”

Lenny came out of the box. He felt numb, helpless. His best friend was in hospital and he was miles away. In a matter of seconds, the bad news had got a whole lot worse.

Lenny slowly made his way back to Danny’s changing room. He could hear the euphoria echoing along the corridor from Livermore’s entourage. He stopped, listened and thought. Should he tell Danny and Patsy about Albert? The news would put an even bigger dampener on the night.

In the changing room, Lenny sensed the hostility from Cohen. Costa’s customary champagne sat unopened on a table. Danny’s loss had taken its toll physically; mentally the boy looked shot as well. Patsy sat beside Danny, his face like stone.

“You were a bloody disgrace out there, Danny,” Cohen was hissing. “A fucking joke.”

Danny looked blearily up at Lenny. “I’m sorry Len,” he whispered. “I messed up.”

Lenny decided the time to tell Danny about Albert should wait. Pouring more rain on the kid’s parade right now would be wrong.

“Tell Albert I’m sorry I let him down,” Danny groaned.

“Just wasn’t your night, man.” Lenny backed towards the changing-room door. “See you back in London, all right?”

Walking away through the rain, Lenny thought of the irony of the situation. While Livermore was on top of the world, the world was on top of Albert.

The last train back to London had left. Lenny’s only option was to get to Piccadilly station bright and early and catch the early-morning train home.

SEEING the Sunday papers at the reception desk the next morning, Lenny grabbed several and turned to the back pages.

The coverage of the fight was full on. There were glowing reports for Livermore, but Danny was heavily criticised. The press felt he hadn’t been ready, and had let himself down. It didn’t make happy reading at all.

Lenny ate the egg and bacon served by the bed and breakfast owner: a strange man with a beard and a rather effeminate apron, who talked of wanting to be in Blackpool rather than in a backwater in Salford.

“They appreciate good service in Blackpool,” he sniffed.

Lenny checked out and bought a couple more papers to read on the journey. He was surprised how busy the train was. Down the corridor, he heard a couple of fight fans discussing the big fight.

“I lost money on that Watson, he was rubbish. ‘Definite title hope’? What a joke!”

“Future champion,” said another, laughing sarcastically. “He couldn’t box my old nan.”

Lenny kept quiet. He could hardly defend Danny after such a poor showing. Besides, by the time the train got to Crewe, Lenny had fallen asleep.

*

Back in London, Albert was making his usual complaints about the prison standards of the food. Minutes felt like hours in this place. He hated being cut off from the outside world. He wondered restlessly if Lenny had called the Live and Let Live with the result of Danny’s fight. He wondered if Lenny had got the message that he was in hospital.

After one final attempt at a spoonful of tasteless beige fodder, Albert fell asleep. It was easier to sleep in the day. The moans and groans from his co-residents seemed less ominous than in the night.

Albert felt a warm hand shake him awake.

“Wakey wakey, Albert,” said his motherly Jamaican nurse. “You need to take your pills. And I’ve got a nice surprise for you. Your friend is here to see you.”

As Albert blinked in the unforgiving fluorescent lights, he saw Lenny at the end of his bed, newspapers under his arm and a bunch of grapes in his hand.

“What you doing in here then?” Lenny asked.

“Bloody good question,” replied Albert, wincing. “Some tosser in a car knocked me arse over tit!”

Lenny laughed. “You look like someone from one of them Carry On films,” he said. “Look at you! One leg in plaster hoisted in the air, one arm in plaster in a sling round your neck, all topped off with that damn bandage round your head. You’ve been done up like a kipper, mate.”

“Like a beached whale,” agreed Albert. “You got the message from the Live and Let Live then? Tell me, how did Danny do?”

“You can see for yourself,” said Lenny, tossing the newspapers to Albert with a sigh. “Not so good.”

With some difficulty, Albert turned to the back pages. It made for painful reading, and not because of his cracked ribs. He read the damning reports one after the other, as Lenny and the nurse talked wistfully of the sun, nightlife and beaches in their faraway homeland of Jamaica.

Albert set the papers down. His heart felt as broken as his bones.

“That’s bad, Lenny,” he said. “He must be upset.”

“Yeah man,” said Lenny. “In the fourth round, it was like he never turned up. Now what about you?”

“I’ve got a broken leg, a broken arm, some broken ribs and this stupid bandage round me bonce. But apart from that, I’m fine.”

Lenny could no longer hold back his laughter. Albert was reminded of the phrase “It only hurts when I laugh” as his broken ribs warned him off joining in.

“How long you gonna be in here?” asked Lenny, regaining his composure.

“They say if I’m a good boy, I can hobble out in a few weeks.”

“That’s not so bad,” said Lenny. “Is there anything I can bring you? Anything you want me to do?”

“You could take my flat keys and feed Rocky. She must be starving,” said Albert.

“Anything else?”

“Some pyjamas,” said Albert, thinking. “Oh and I don’t like the food in here. Next time you come, bring us some fish and chips and a bit of bread pudding. I’ll give you the money.”

“No problem,” said Lenny. “You can have it on me.”

Shaking Albert’s good hand, Lenny winked at his new Jamaican lady friend and left.

Albert returned to the back pages.

“Danny Watson lost last night,” he told the man in the next bed a little glumly. “A technical knock-out.”

His neighbour grunted. He obviously had more on his mind than a boxing match. Taking the hint, Albert went back to the write-ups, reading them over and over again and shaking his head.

*

Danny and Patsy sat silently on the train back to Euston, studying the fight write-ups, punctuated by bacon sandwiches and watching the English countryside and towns roll by. A couple of kids had asked for Danny’s autograph, but Danny hadn’t felt up to signing anything and they had left. Patsy, suffering a serious hangover, seemed only capable of the odd grunt. Conversation was not an option.

Danny felt as if he had lost everything. Resting his head in his hands, he thought about Wendy and Ruby. What a tale he had to tell his little family.
Daddy just lost your future because he was stupid.
How disappointed Albert must be. Not because he lost, but by the way he lost.

The taxi dropped Patsy home and then drove on to Rosie’s house. Through his burning sense of guilt, Danny was surprised see bunting and a large white sheet draped over the front door saying:
WELCOME HOME DADDY
.

“Somebody’s popular,” the taxi driver remarked.

Danny paid the fare, unable to look away from the banner. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I think that’s me.”

The front door opened. Danny stared at Wendy, standing on Rosie’s door step with Ruby at her side.

“I took the bull by the horns,” said Rosie, looking pleased with herself. “Me and Wendy’s mum persuaded Wendy to come down here to welcome you back. I want to see you two kids back together, where you belong. You have Ruby to think of, Danny.”

“Don’t rush this, Rosie,” Wendy warned, her eyes on Danny. “I know what you’ve been through, Danny. I know that when you fight, you’re all alone. It don’t matter who’s in your corner and who supports you, the pressure is all on your shoulders. I’ve seen you battle to secure our future, but I’ve been battling too. I...” She stopped, looking upset.

Danny reached for her, but Wendy pulled back.

“Look at your face,” she said. “Did he hurt you?”

“I messed up, Wend,” he said, feeling broken. “I’m so sorry. I missed you both so much.”

He reached out to Ruby next. Ruby backed away behind Wendy’s legs.

“She doesn’t know you Danny, I’m sorry,” said Wendy. “I’m not sure that I do either.”

This hit Danny hard. He felt so ashamed, so inadequate.

“We’d better go,” Wendy said. She looked at Rosie, lurking in the hallway. “Your mum asked us to come over and welcome you back. Sorry you lost. Come on, Ruby darling.”

“Now Wendy,” Rosie began, “it don’t have to be like this—”

“I’m sorry,” said Wendy.

She put Ruby’s coat and hat on and they left. A piece of Danny went with them.

*

Lenny climbed the stairs to Albert’s flat and let himself in. He stood for a moment and looked around at Albert’s world. It seemed strangely empty without him. The well-worn armchair, the boxing belt and the photos on the sideboard seemed lonely.

Rocky swayed from side to side on her perch, copying her missing master’s voice. “Hello mate! Hello mate!” she screeched, delighted at the company.

Lenny found Rocky’s bird seed and, after blowing off the used husks, filled the budgie’s food tray to the brim. Rocky was hungry, and tucked in for all she was worth.

Changing the budgie’s water and cleaning out the cage, Lenny looked around the flat, looking to grab a couple of things from home to lighten Albert’s stay in hospital.

“Maybe if I take Albert something from home, he might feel a bit better. Like he’s not so much in hospital,” Lenny told Rocky.

The budgie responded with a manic fly-past, aiming for Lenny’s head. Lenny reacted like a big girl’s blouse, screaming and waving his arms about, and only calming down when Rocky settled on the lampshade.

Lenny looked around at Albert’s possessions. The glittering boxing belt would be too much to take, too ostentatious. He settled for a couple of photographs on the sideboard instead. Behind the photo frames, Lenny saw a book of birds and water fowl and, reckoning that Albert might be missing his ducks, he decided to take that too. It would be something for him to read.

With a last check, he settled the happy Rocky safely back in her nice clean cage and tapped on the bars.

“See you tomorrow, Marion,” he said.

Next up: fish and chips, and off back to Albert. Loading the booty into his newly acquired second-hand Austin Cambridge, Lenny headed to Whitechapel in search of fish and chips.

Lenny suspected that bringing fish and chips into a hospital might be frowned upon. Sticking the newspaper-wrapped cod, chips and a pickled onion (Albert’s favourite) up his jumper, and with the book and photos under his arm, he marched into the hospital.

Albert was sitting up when Lenny reached the ward.

“It’s good to see you, Lenny,” said Albert.

There was a melancholy quality to Albert’s voice. Lenny sensed that Albert, who had always felt invincible, now felt vulnerable, and didn’t like it.

As if by magic, Lenny produced the fish and chips from under his jumper. The two men looked at each other like naughty schoolboys and began to laugh. Albert’s chuckles were punctuated by a few ouches from the broken rib department, but Lenny was full on, tears running down his face as he sneaked the rations into Albert’s waiting lap and under the covers.