The Legacy (60 page)

Ed cabled Freda and Evelyne that all was well - more than well, they were inching closer and closer to the title. He did not mention that Freedom was becoming hard to handle. He wanted to get Freedom out of New York. Even though he still worked out in the gyms, he was hitting the booze, and many a morning he was too hung over to train. At last Ed got a call to meet with the Golden Triangle. It seemed they had some good news for him.

The fight with Johnny ‘Rubber-legs’ Risco was on. Ed wanted Freedom to rest for at least a month, but Dempsey laughed at him, saying that in the days when he was in the booths he fought three or four fights a week, and he knew Freedom was raring to go. Against his better judgement, Ed agreed. The publicity campaign for the Risco-Stubbs fight was under way.

Freedom was working out when Ed told him the Risco fight was going ahead. He belted hell out of the punchbag, then clasped Ed joyfully to his sweating body. Ed did not mention the hours he had spent arguing with Sir Charles that it was too soon, that Freedom needed more rest.

Sir Charles had organized Freedom’s match with Risco only three weeks after his win on points at Madison Square, but Ed gave Freedom no hint of his misgivings. Right now, Freedom was confident, even over-confident. ‘This is it, I get through with Risco, there’s just Sharkey and the German to go, that title’s getting closer.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Just remember Sharkey’s still number two contender. He’s already wiped out Risco, so he’ll be watching you like a hawk.’

Freedom went back to the punchbag with renewed energy. Ed sized him up. He reckoned Freedom could take Risco, but Sharkey would be another matter. Sharkey was lighter than Freedom, but he was said to be unstoppable. He would fight the winner of the Stubbs-Risco bout and, if Freedom won, he would be a very tired boxer.

Sharkey’s only obstacle to the vacant throne was the big German, Max Schmeling. He was Germany’s international champion and a formidable contender. Schmeling was already at the top in the betting. He and Sharkey had noted the meteoric rise of the gypsy fighter and, as Ed suspected, both men calculated that Freedom would be a very tired man. They booked ringside seats for the bout, which was to take place in Chicago and was already a sell-out. Rumours began to circulate; the Golden Triangle had an interest in the gypsy - tired he might be, but he was beginning to draw crowds. Freedom, at first a rank outsider, now featured in the last lap for the vacant throne. The running was still Schmeling first, Sharkey second, Risco third. Having done extremely well, Freedom was now placed fourth.

Freda and Evelyne felt cut off, waiting for the results. Both understood the importance of Freedom’s fight against Johnny ‘Rubber-legs’ Risco. Evelyne would stand at the gate of the villa for hours on end hoping the Western Union boy would bring her a message. She couldn’t sleep for worry.

Freda, who usually tried to keep Evelyne calm, almost induced a miscarriage by screaming at the top of her voice. ‘He’s here? He’s coming! Evie, Evie, he’s got a, telegram!’

Evelyne’s hands were shaking as she tore open the envelope. She read it, then closed her eyes. ‘He’s won, Freda, he’s won!’

It had taken sixteen rounds for Freedom to get Risco down on the canvas. Down and unable to bounce back. Freedom was tired but jubilant, and Ed was beside himself. The throne was closer - his boy was now placed third.

Sharkey and Schmeling were impressed, but Sharkey was still more than confident. If the gyppo was tired before the Risco fight, now he would be exhausted. He put pressure on his promoters to push his fight with Freedom forward.

Dempsey and his partners celebrated when they received the news. Rickard increased the publicity with Sir Charles right alongside him and not afraid, as Dempsey joked, ‘to get his hand outta his pocket’. Having been unsure to begin with, they now all believed there was a chance. They brought out the ‘big guns’ and set about designing posters. Their boy, they were sure, had the ‘Golden Glove’.

ED was unusually quiet on the flight back to Miami. Freedom sat next to him, wearing dark glasses, his head resting on the back of his seat. He was exhausted.

Poor Ed had lost even more hair during their travels, forever worrying, and now he believed he had a gastric ulcer. Out of the corner of his eye, Freedom watched him take out a cigar, roll it in his fingers, put it back in his pocket and then take it out again. Fidget, fidget … Freedom laid his hand on Ed’s arm and quietly asked him the important question, ‘How long have I got, Ed?’

Ed stared out of the window, his stomach churning. He wasn’t sure whether it was the fight that caused it, or the realization that they had barely a month to prepare. Freedom hesitated only a moment when told. ‘Well, I said I wanted to fight, looks like Kearn and Rickard are coming up trumps.’

Ed was too much the professional to get excited. He knew it was too soon. Freedom needed more time to rest. ‘I think those two think they’re goin’ ter make another Golden Triangle with you at the apex instead of Dempsey. They’ll be behind this razzmatazz. You think you’ll be fit enough, lad?’

Freedom laughed, punched Ed’s shoulder and said he was ready. ‘Sir Charles’d step in if I wasn’t, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t let me fight if I wasn’t up to it, don’t worry, Ed.’

‘Sir Charles, lad, blows with the wind, that’s all I know. Right now he’s all over those two big Americans, talking of buying his own plane, God help us if he wants to take the controls.’

They strapped themselves into their seat belts as the pilot shouted that they were about to land. Ed’s face turned green. ‘Gawd, this is the bit I hate. S’all right getting up, an’ while yer up there, but comin’ down’s horrible.’

‘Yeah, it’s like fighting, Ed, no fun when you’re down.’

They landed safely and Ed fussed about their bags, worried they would lose the precious sets of gloves. Freedom shouted, ‘Ed! Ed, look, will you look at that, well I’ll be goddamned if that ain’t a sonofa-bitch!’

He was pointing to a huge billboard God only knew how many feet high, ‘stubbs versus sharkey.’ ‘Jeez, ain’t that a goddam thing?’ He had already picked up a lot of American slang and everything was ‘Jeez, Ed’ this and ‘Jeez, Ed’ that. Ed muttered that he’d got it wrong, it wasn’t ‘Jeez’ but ‘gee’, like in ‘gee whizz’. Freedom continued to get it wrong, and in the end Ed also found himself saying, ‘Jeez, will you look at that goddam billboard, you could be a movie star.’

Tex played on Freedom’s uncanny likeness to the film star Rudolph Valentino to the hilt. He also made much of Freedom’s long hair and gypsy blood. On many of the boards, in huge red letters, were the words, ‘The Gypsy King’; another favourite was ‘The Wild Man’. All of them, like circus posters, were in brilliant colours, showing Freedom with his gloved hands held up, his hair flying out behind him.

The hired limousine was piled to the roof with gifts, many of them toys for Edward. Ed had tried hard, but in the end he had given way and let Freedom have some of his winnings, more than he would dare tell Evelyne. Freedom had gone on one of his wild spending sprees -suits, hats, coats, dresses, jewels, and, of course, a rocking horse, a drum and miniature boxing gloves for his son. For once, Ed had also been spending money like water and was loaded down with gifts for Freda. Also, both of them had bought the.lightweight, light-coloured suits that were all the rage.

The elegance and superb tailoring of the clothes Sir Charles had had made for him were rejected for the flashy style favoured by their idol, Dempsey. They both sported loud floral silk ties with matching handkerchiefs and dark glasses.

Sir Charles’ new-found friend, Jack Kearn, had taken him to an airstrip, where they inspected a second-hand light plane. Kearn was amazed to hear the usually thrifty Englishman giving instructions for the plane to be elaborately fitted out in red leather. He also wanted certain improvements on the control panel. Kearn paled when he heard how much it would cost, but Sir Charles was ecstatic, and they departed in high spirits. Kearn puzzled over the Englishman’s eccentric behaviour, one moment fussing over five or ten dollars and the next spending thirty thousand as if it were no more than a couple of bucks.

All day Evelyne and Freda had waited, running to the gate every few minutes, eager to see their men. The car eventually drew up outside at five in the afternoon, and Ed and Freedom hopped out with all their bags and boxes of gifts.

The reunion was feverish, everyone talking at once, unwrapping their presents with shrieks of delight, and Freedom throwing his son up in the air and catching him.

Evelyne sensed that Freedom was slightly evasive, kissing her lightly without removing his dark glasses. She felt uneasy with him, knew there was something wrong.

When Freda and Ed went for a walk on the beach, Evelyne said, ‘I think the boxing gloves are a bit big, we’ll put them away until he gets bigger.’ She was reluctant to tell Freedom that she didn’t want Edward to be encouraged to fight.

‘I see you’re bigger now, how you been, all right?’ Freedom asked.

She felt a distance between them. She was aware of how fat she had become with the baby, and felt unattractive, even ugly. She always forgot how tall he was, how handsome. His presence filled the room and made her self-conscious. She picked up all her gifts and thanked him.

‘You see all the posters of me, then, love?’ . Evelyne hadn’t; as neither she nor Freda could drive they had hardly left the villa. She studied Freedom. The pale linen suit, she thought, was not too bad, but the silk tie with the painted flowers was utterly tasteless. ‘You look very fancy.’

She could have bitten off her tongue as he looked into the mirror with a hurt expression and examined his tie.

‘Not to your liking? Well, you can use it as a bandanna.’

She wished he would take the glasses off, not seeing his face unnerved her. She reached out to take them off, but he backed abruptly away from her. She withdrew her hand, her feelings hurt, but as he slowly removed them himself she understood why.

Both his eyes were bruised and swollen, and beneath his left eye was a gash with fresh stitches. The bridge of his nose was swollen and his cheek was puffy. The sight of him made her feel faint, and she steadied herself on the edge of the table. She knew she mustn’t let him see the effect his injuries had on her, and she forced a smile. ‘I’d better see if we’ve got some steak in the icebox, that’s what they use, isn’t it? Now, come here and let me have a good look at you.’

She could feel the relief in him, feel him relax, and as she took his face gently between her hands she couldn’t stop the tears coming into her eyes. She kissed his bruised, hurt face softly.

Freedom gathered her into his arms and returned her kisses, murmuring that his face was fine, and he was just desperate for her. He laid her down on the bed and loosened his flowered tie. She unbuttoned her blouse, and he could see her breasts, swollen but still beautiful. He pulled his shirt open to reveal heavily strapped ribs. His body, like his face, was marked with deep, dark bruises. He sat close to her and helped her off with her blouse, and she kissed his chest, touched the tape.

‘It’s nothing, just to keep me standing straight.’

He oiled Evelyne’s belly and asked if it was all right for him to make love to her. She smiled up at him, loving him for his consideration, and held him tightly. She felt him flinch slighdy as she touched his bruised ribs.

He treated her so gently that it was she who urged him on. Again and again he took her until they lay back, sweating and exhausted. Leaning on his elbow he touched her face, brushed a strand of her wonderful long hair aside and kissed her neck, his voice husky and shy. ‘There’s never been a woman like you, manushi, you take me to a place so high up I’m flying. No woman but you can ever take me there, you know that? I love thee, worship thee, and to know you’re here waiting for me, fills my soul.’

She looked up into his adoring face, and in her shyness could not tell him that he made her clumsy body feel as light as the day they first made love on the mountain. She felt beautiful again under his gaze, and she glowed.

That night the four of them ate a celebration dinner. Freedom was in high spirits, laughing and playing the fool, showing Freda some new dance steps. Ed put his arm around Evelyne, his eyes shining as he watched Freedom with total adoration. He just loved the lad to death. ‘He’s done well, Evie love, not just fighting, and he’s near nine thousand dollars richer - you’re looking at a wealthy gent.’

Evelyne gasped with astonishment. ‘Nine thousand? But that’s … why, Ed, that’s …’

Ed laughed as she tried to translate dollars into pounds. ‘Why, Ed, we’re millionaires!’ Suddenly she looked at Freedom, who was grinning broadly. He danced around the table with Freda, pausing briefly to turn the radio up even louder as he swung her in his arms.

‘Ed, can I have a little word?’ Evelyne asked quietly.

Puffing on his cigar, Ed walked with her to the verandah. She looked over her shoulder and whispered, ‘Ed, he’s not got it all, has he? You know what a spendthrift he is …’

Ed chortled, ‘There’s no need to tell me, Evie love. Sir Charles keeps it in the hotel safes for us. ‘E’ll take care of it, ‘cause we’ll have taxes an’ fings to work out before we leave.’

They could hear Freda insisting that Freedom try her banana and raspberry milk shake. She had taken to making elaborate concoctions in her new blender and, of course, feasting on them herself. She had gained at least eight pounds since they had arrived.

Ed turned his adoring expression on his little wife, ‘My Gawd, she can certainly put the food away, what a woman.’

‘Ed … will he win? Tell me, please - I can see his face, his body’s all bruised, will he win?’

Ed assured her that, with rest and preparation, Freedom would win. There was nothing to worry about. ‘He’s goin’ ter beat Sharkey, love, I know it.’

Evelyne planted a kiss on his shiny nose, then went into Freedom’s arms. They danced around the room.

Ed’s good-humoured expression faded quickly. Even from where he was standing, he could see Freedom’s swollen face. He knew there would barely be time for it to go down before he went into the ring again. Ed didn’t like it at all, especially with Freedom’s bruised ribs. He sighed, turned to stare out at the ocean. He tossed his cigar away - it tasted bitter, he felt bitter. He muttered under his breath, ‘Bastards, you bastards … some rest he’s gonna get … bastards.’