The Legacy (56 page)

Freedom had trailed around without much interest, but when he saw the gym his eyes lit up. There were parallel bars, horizontal bars, electric - yes, electric -cycling machines, and even a riding machine that rocked backwards and forwards as if you were on a real-life bucking bronco. There were also rowing machines, fencing masks and foils, boxing gloves and punchbags. Ed and Freedom stood and stared, awestruck.

The steward turned back the bedcovers and opened some of the many wardrobes and dressing-table drawers to show Evelyne. He also told them about the full-time nursery with a nanny to take care of the child at night if the passengers had not brought servants with them. He hovered for a while, then proffered a crumpled piece of paper and asked if Freedom would autograph it for him. He was so pleased, he didn’t even wait for a tip.

Freedom lay back on the bed and smiled, ‘Happy …? You like it?’

From the massive funnels of the Aquitania the hooter sounded, the ship was about to sail. They went up on deck and waved to no one, just the disappearing docks.

That evening, the dining room was a hubbub of noise as they took their seats, and Freda’s mouth watered as she peered shortsightedly at the menu. It was written in French and confused everyone else, but Freda prattled away, iTurbot poche en sauce fenouil, epinards, pommes frites… oh, la la, rouget grille beurre diable… darlinks, it’s just divine … noisettes d’agneau Maltaise, ris de veau, cotelettes de volatile aux haricots panaches … It is fantastic, darlinks.’

Ed settled for the lamb cutlets, Freedom a steak, and Evelyne, after a long explanation from Freda, chose fish. They started with caviare served on crisp toast with finely chopped onions and egg yolks. They were mightily impressed, and Freda’s exuberance and obvious delight in everything was very infectious.

Freedom insisted Ed .accompany him to the menswear shop where the pair of them were measured for black tie and tails. Ed did try to prevent the expenditure, but Freedom laughed, asked him how much Dempsey had received for a single fight. ‘You know, lad, it were more than five hundred, and bugger me yer right. You’re gonna take that title, so mister, bring that shirt with the nice pearl buttons and one for the champ here.’ The more Ed talked of how much Dempsey had made, the more expansive he became, smoking a Havana cigar, flicking the ash on the assistant’s head as he pinned up six inches on his new trousers.

They had all been invited to dine with Sir Charles, and Freedom and Ed cut quite a dash in their penguin suits as they strolled along the deck to Sir Charles’ opulent stateroom. Seeing everyone shaking hands with his champion, admiring him as they sauntered along, rubbed off on Ed. He was having the time of his life.

Freda and Evelyne followed their men, arm-in-arm, laughing at the contrast between Ed with his waddle and Freedom with his cocksure stride, towering above Ed.

Sir Charles was equally enthusiastic, warmly welcoming them to his suite. ‘Here he is, everyone, this is my champion.’

As usual, Sir Charles had invited a roomful of elegant guests. The dinner was very formal with four waiters hovering to look after them. Freda insisted on speaking French to the waiter who served her, which nonplussed him as he came from Bradford.

Freedom was being very attentive to the attractive blonde woman on his right. Evelyne excused herself, saying she must see to her child, and the gentlemen rose, half-heartedly. Freedom seemed unaware she had left.

On her way back to her cabin Evelyne stood for a while watching the dark sea. Strains of music drifted up from the ballroom and slowly she began to waltz along the deck - one, two three, one, two three … she stopped to sit in a deckchair. Suddenly the lovely, balmy night was too good to miss.

She heard Freedom’s voice and rushed to the rail to look over and call to him to come and sit with her. She could see him, with the blonde on his arm, strolling along the deck below her with some of the other dinner guests, towards the ballroom. Evelyne had never felt so jealous in her life. She wanted to go down and dance with him, but she couldn’t. She was fat and ugly while the blonde was so beautiful and slim, not pregnant, not so tall.

She watched Freedom’s progress, inching down the steps to get a better view. There was applause, and there he was, bowing and smiling. A waltz was being played and Evelyne could see him with his arms wrapped around a small woman. She was beginning to feel furious when the couple did a twirl and she could see that he was hugging Freda in his arms. They danced towards the open deck, and Evelyne stepped into the concealing shadows on the stairs. Their voices could be heard clearly below her.

‘Oh, oh, I am so dizzy, darlink.’

‘Aye, well, I had to have some excuse, Freda, that woman was hanging on my arm so I couldn’t leave.’ They leant on the rails, looking out at the sea. ‘Does the sea not remind you of my Evie’s eyes, Freda? Freda …?’

She had slithered down and was sitting on the deck, the champagne and wine too much for her. Freedom picked her up and put her over his shoulder. Evelyne put her hand over her mouth to stop herself giggling as the blonde lady appeared. ‘Oh, Mr Stubbs, don’t tell me you are leaving so early.’

‘I’m afraid so, ma’am, my partner here has overexerted herself

‘Oh, do come back, we are all going for a midnight swim.’

‘Aye, well, it’s a nice night for it.’

The blonde was joined by another woman and they watched Freedom stride off. ‘Oh, he’s so manly, Gertrude, and so strong, he really is.’

‘Now, now, Mabel, he’s a married man.’

The blonde giggled, twirled around. ‘That’s never stood in my way before, darling.’

Evelyne had heard enough. She bent over the railings and spoke to the astonished Mabel. ‘It had better stand in your way when it comes to my husband, miss, or you’ll get more than you bargain for.’

Mabel nearly fainted as Evelyne marched off down the deck.

When the time came to dock in New York, they stood together on the deck to watch as the huge ship eased its way into the harbour. Towering above them was the Statue of Liberty, and Freedom lifted Edward up on to his shoulders to see her. The ship’s hooters screamed and streamers and confetti scattered from the top decks while a band played; everyone’s excitement was at fever pitch. They had arrived in New York. Freedom slipped one arm around Evelyne, his face serious and his voice quiet.

‘When we go home, Evie, I’ll be world champion. I promise you.’

The wonders of America did not stop at the docks, A limousine was waiting to drive them to an airport, from which they were to fly by mail plane to Chicago. Even the garrulous Ed was stunned into silence. Sir Charles bent down to talk to them through the window of their car. ‘I’ll be flying with you, see you there … Ed, you’ve got the itinerary, the hotel booking and the tickets. Have to get a move on, the plane leaves in two hours.’

As they sped through the streets, they stared at the towering buildings in awe, but their sightseeing tour was short and they soon arrived at the small airstrip.

They had accepted the fact that they would be flying as if Sir Charles had said they were going by train, but when they saw the fragile aircraft on the landing strip it really sank in.

‘Oh, Ed, darlink, I think I am going to faint, I do. Are we really going up in that little thing?’

Freedom hugged Evelyne to him, ‘You scared, manushi?’

She shook her head, trying to keep hold of Edward who jumped up and down in uncontrollable excitement.

Sir Charles was elated to be flying, and as soon as they climbed on board he sat next to the pilot. Freedom held Evelyne’s hand, his son on his knee, and they looked out of the single, small window. They were a little frightened, and were not reassured by Sir Charles bellowing instructions to the pilot. The faithful old Dewhurst sat with his rosary in his hands, eyes closed and praying, all through the journey.

As they prepared to land, Sir Charles strapped himself into his seat, a glint in his monocled eye. ‘This is thrilling, absolutely thrilling.’

The plane bounced on to the landing strip, and they all turned a little green, but were thankful to be down and in one piece. Dewhurst’s knees gave way and he had to be helped down the stairs, constandy apologizing to Sir Charles.

‘Freda, I think I’m dying, oh God, I’m dying, my heart it’s my heart.’ Freda gave Ed a big hug and told him he could open his eyes; they had landed, everyone else had already left the plane.

‘Gawd ‘elp us, Freda, I feel as if I was still up in the clouds.’

Sir Charles had been driven into Chicago, leaving the others to wait for Ed and Freda with the longest car any of them had ever seen. It was silver, and the chauffeur wore a blue uniform. They climbed into the Cadillac limousine, and Ed flipped through the itinerary and instructed the driver to take them to the Lexington Hotel. Sir Charles, he noticed, had ‘The State’ suite in The Sherman Hotel. He still as always kept his distance, and Ed knew it would be costing more than all their rooms put together … but as His Lordship was footing the bill for the trip, it was his prerogative.

The journey into the city was almost as exciting as their voyage, once they had overcome their nervousness at travelling on the wrong side of the road. Immensely long cars whizzed by, drawing gasps of admiration. The chauffeur gazed at them through his mirror and when he spoke his accent made Freda giggle.

‘You folks from England? Well, jeez, ain’t that great, I never been outta Chicago myself; that’s the state capitol we just passed.’

He asked them endless questions, while stealing glances at the ‘black guy’ with the long hair. He thought they looked pretty scruffy, but they must have dough to be staying at the Lexington.

When they arrived at the hotel, Ed realized he had no American dollars so he had to go to the hotel bank to change his English pound notes. Two porters carried their luggage into the hotel and the limousine drove off. They pushed through the revolving doors after the porters, Freedom lagging behind as he struggled with several pieces of hand luggage, including his kitbag. The mahogany reception desk was immensely long and at least eight uniformed bellhops rushed around in the lobby, which was crowded with guests and potted palms.

The manager looked through the glass-fronted door of his office and pursed his lips. He could see the new guests checking in and didn’t like what he saw. He made a quick call to the receptionist to tell the assistant manager to come to see him immediately.

. Ed couldn’t understand what was causing the delay. They were all very tired, and Edward had started to cry. Ed showed the receptionist the telegram confirming their rooms. He was beginning to get impatient as no one seemed in the slightest hurry to register them and hand over their keys.

The assistant manager, flushing beetroot red, hurried from the office, lifted the mahogany flap and slipped in behind the desk. ‘I’m afraid there has been some mistake. We only have one room booked, Mr Meadows. I cannot apologize enough, but I’m afraid the rest of your party will have to find accommodation elsewhere.’

Ed was confused as he crossed the lobby to Freedom and Evelyne to tell them of the situation. The little boy was really beginning to scream now, so Ed suggested that Freedom and Evelyne take his room; he and Freda could find another hotel. He returned to the reception desk and asked for the key for his companions to take the room.

‘I’m sorry, sir, that is not possible, I am afraid we cannot accept your companions, that is the hotel rule.’

What on earth was the man talking about? Ed’s protests grew louder and then, to his astonishment, the assistant manager pushed a card across the counter. Neatly printed on it were the words, ‘No coloureds or blacks to be allowed as guests of the Lexington Hotel.’

Ed stared at him, confused, then picked up the card and reread it. ‘What’s this got to do wiv us, for Gawd’s sake?’ Ed jabbed the manager with his finger and pushed the card forward, his voice rising as he demanded to know what was going on. He had personally sent a telegram to the hotel for two double rooms, one with a cot for a child, and now he was told there was only one room vacant and his friends couldn’t move into it. Sensing an impending explosion, the manager drew Ed quietly aside and repeated the hotel policy that no coloureds and no couples of mixed race were allowed in the hotel.

‘Mixed what? What you talkin’ about, mate, we ain’t black, what you think we are?’

The manager turned and flicked a look at Freedom, then turned back to Ed. Suddenly it was painfully clear, they thought Freedom was black. Indeed, because of the sunshine on the crossing, his dark skin was even darker. Ed spluttered and could hardly speak with rage. ‘He’s contender for the World Heavyweight boxing title, for Chrissake, he’s not black, he’s a gypsy! That don’t make him black.’

Freedom handed his son to Evelyne and began to cross the lobby towards Ed. The next moment the place was in an uproar, as Ed knocked out the manager with one punch. Ten minutes later they were on the pavement outside the hotel, Freda in tears and Ed so angry he could hardly speak.

‘We ain’t stayin’ in this dump, any of us, come on, we’ll get a taxi an’ see where there’s a better hotel.’

Freedom pulled the still furious Ed aside and asked what on earth had happened in there. Ed wouldn’t say, but he hailed a taxi and ushered them all into it.

They stopped at two more hotels and Ed went in alone to investigate, but at each one he was told, ‘No coloureds’. While he was in the second one the cabbie, who had been staring at Freedom, realized what was going on. ‘Most of da hotels around dis part of the city don’t take blacks. I know a place where maybe they’ll let you in, you want me to try there for ya?’ He hooked his arm along die back of the seat and looked enquiringly at the party in the back. They stared at him, not understanding what he was saying. He pointed to Freedom and repeated that there was a rule in the best hotels, no coloureds and no Indians. Some even refused Mexicans. A defeated Ed returned to the cab, and now that they all understood the predicament he blushed in shame for them. ‘I’m sorry, lad, I told ‘em all you wasn’t black, but they don’t believe me.’