Suzie forced a grin. ‘What you two need is another child. Wouldn’t it be lovely for Robbie to have a little brother or sister?’
‘Great idea,’ Jack replied.
‘Erm, Donna don’t want another kid yet, do you, Don?’ Tommy informed his in-laws.
Donna shrugged. She didn’t want to lose her husband, so if another child was the answer, then so be it. ‘Perhaps Mum and Dad are right?’
When Jack asked Donna where her contraceptive pills were, Tommy opened his mouth, but no words came out. Did his wife tell her parents everything about their sex life? He hoped not.
Donna ran upstairs, then reappeared with a packet.
‘Go flush them down the toilet then, love. You go with her, Tommy,’ Jack ordered.
Tommy felt like a rabbit caught in a trap as he watched the pills pop out of the packet and disappear down the toilet one by one. Was he meant to be happy about this latest development?
‘I’m sorry, Tommy,’ Donna whispered.
Jack grinned as his son-in-law and daughter reappeared. ‘Put the kettle on, love,’ he ordered Suzie. ‘I need to discuss a bit of business with Tommy in private.’
Tommy followed Jack up the stairs and was stunned as he was grabbed around the throat and shoved into his son’s bedroom. ‘Is this how you grabbed my daughter last night? Or was it more like this?’ Jack hissed, tightening his grip.
‘I’m sorry, Jack. Truly sorry,’ Tommy spluttered.
Jack let go of Tommy. ‘And so you fucking well should be. Look, I don’t want to fall out with you. You’re a good lad deep down. But neither do I want my wife or daughter upset – and currently both are. My family has been good to you, Tommy, never forget that. I put a roof over your head, took you in like one of me own. I even gave you my name.’
‘I know, Jack, and I’m eternally grateful.’
‘Good. Glad we’re singing from the same hymn sheet. So what I want you to do now is trot down those stairs, give it half an hour or so, and then tell my wife and daughter how sorry you are and how determined you are to make your marriage work. Thanks to me, you have a good job, a nice home, a beautiful wife and you’re earning decent wonga. Therefore, you will make your marriage work, Tommy. You will put every inch of your heart and soul into doing so. Understand me?’
Knowing he had no other option but to nod, Tommy nodded so profusely, it reminded him of the plastic duck his mother had once bought him that dunked its head in water. It had looked like it was about to drown. Exactly how he felt right now.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Any animosity between myself and Jack was soon forgotten. The following day he took me and Danny to a posh car showroom.
‘You need to upgrade your image, lads. People judge a man on what car he drives. Capris are for boy racers, not businessmen like yourselves. I want you to pick out something classy, both of you.’
I looked around the showroom, my eyes like organ stops. There was nothing over three years old and the prices were extortionate.
I stopped to admire a gleaming mustard-coloured Mercedes Benz 280e. ‘Do you like that one, Tommy?’ Jack asked.
‘Yes. But it’s a ’77 plate, way out of my league.’
Jack put an arm around my shoulders. Danny was over the other side of the showroom looking at a BMW. ‘Did you give any more thought to our chat last night?’
I had lain awake most of the night and thought of little else. I would never be allowed to divorce Donna, I knew that now. ‘Yes, Jack,’ I replied. ‘I want my marriage to work and am determined to make that happen. For all Donna’s faults, she has given me the best gift in life I could wish for: a beautiful son.’
Jack grinned. ‘Good lad. Now get in the car and take it for a test drive. Don’t worry about the cost – my little treat, son.’
I shook my head. ‘I can’t let you shell out all that money, Jack. I’d be taking liberties.’
Jack chuckled. ‘I got more money than I know what to do with, son. Now get in the car.’
What I didn’t realize back then was that this gift, along with all the others, was Jack’s way of owning me …
‘All right, bird? Stick the radio on then,’ Sam ordered, flopping backwards on to Kim’s bed.
Kim did as asked. Boney M’s ‘Rasputin’ was playing on Radio One. It had been a gruelling week, mentally rather than physically. There was lots to learn, A and B reports, and they’d had it drummed into them time after time what becoming a police officer actually meant.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Sam asked. There were only three other females at Hendon. Tina and Lucy, the two slappers, who spent most of their time flirting with any male with a pulse, and an older woman called Wendy who had arrived a day late. Wendy had gone home for the weekend, as had some of the lads.
‘Let’s go for a walk, get to know the area better. Then later we’ll check out that pub, the Leather Bottle, if you like?’
‘Sounds good to me. I wouldn’t mind trying that Chinese an’ all. The slappers went there last night.’
Kim smiled. ‘What you wearing?’
Sam rolled her eyes. ‘Clothes.’
Tommy met up with the lads in the Thomas A Beckett down the Old Kent Road. It was a well-known boozer, popular in the boxing community because of the gym upstairs. Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier and even Henry Cooper had trained there, as did Ronnie.
Donna wasn’t coming to the fight. Jack had insisted she stay indoors and look after her mother.
Danny slapped his pal on the back. ‘You all right, Tommy lad? How’s the new wheels? I’m loving mine.’
‘Me too. Drives like a dream,’ Tommy grinned. He was in a fairly good mood. The drinks were flowing freely and the atmosphere was jovial. Donna had been on her best behaviour since her parents’ little visit. She wanted sex all the time though, which Tommy found tiresome. He was making an effort, mind. He’d even gone down on her this morning. There was no way out of his marriage, so he had chosen to make the most of it. For now, at least.
‘Want another drink, Tommy?’ asked Eugene. It had been Eugene who’d grassed him up to Jack for putting his hands around Donna’s throat. ‘You told us to tell our dad everything. I didn’t mean to dob you in it. I never said you hurt Donna,’ Eugene had explained.
Tommy looked at his watch. Ronnie was top-of-the-bill at York Hall; his fight was at 10 p.m. ‘Let’s make tracks, shall we? I want to see all the fights.’
‘So, what’s your story then? I’ve told you all about my dysfunctional family,’ Sam laughed. She’d been telling Kim about her childhood, growing up in Walthamstow. Her dad had walked out one day and never come back.
‘My mum’s dead and I never really knew my dad,’ Kim replied honestly. She’d been informed last year of her mother’s demise. She’d been found in her flat, her corpse rotting. The police reckoned someone had been in the flat with her, then left. They weren’t sure of the actual cause of death, but said it was probably a drug overdose.
‘Sorry to hear that. How old was you when she died, your mum?’
‘She only died last year. We wasn’t close. I didn’t live with her.’
‘Who did you live with then?’
‘My aunt and uncle,’ Kim lied. She liked Sam, but couldn’t be arsed opening up about her past. This was meant to be a fresh start for her.
‘How ya feeling, bro?’ asked Danny.
‘Yeah, good. I feel sharp. Been training hard all week,’ Ronnie replied. Whenever a fight was nearing, he stepped away from the family business to concentrate on his training.
‘I’ve put five hundred quid on ya. Evens was the best price. He’s six to one, the other geezer,’ Danny informed his brother. The bloke Ronnie was fighting was relatively unknown. He was Algerian, but had been living and training in Tottenham. This was his third professional fight and he was yet to lose. His previous opponents were nothing special though and Ronnie was confident he’d beat him.
‘Right, let’s strap those wrists up,’ said Ronnie’s trainer.
<
br /> Jack hugged his eldest. ‘Good luck, son. We’re all rooting for ya.’
‘Cheers, Dad.’
When Danny and Eugene hugged Ronnie, Tommy did the same. ‘Go knock him dead. Not literally, like. But ya know what I mean.’
The Leather Bottle was in Edgware and was popular with the recruits. The two slappers were already in there, sitting at a table full of lads.
‘Come and sit over ’ere, girls,’ shouted the ginger idiot Kim had met on the train.
‘Let’s keep ourselves to ourselves, shall we?’ Kim suggested. Most of the male recruits were brash and raucous and Kim could tell a few were already drunk.
‘Sod ya then, you pair of dykes,’ shouted Ginger.
‘I’ll knock that prick out in a minute, he keeps on,’ Sam threatened.
‘All right, ladies? Can I get you both a drink?’
Kim swung around. It was a guy she’d noticed clocking her in the restaurant and he was even better looking up close. His accent had taken her by surprise though. ‘We’re OK. But thanks anyway.’
‘I’ll have a pint, please. Lager. Where do you come from?’ Sam asked.
The lad smiled, showing off a set of perfect white teeth. ‘Liverpool. What about yourself?’
‘Walthamstow. You can get my mate a pint an’ all.’
The lad turned to Kim and winked. ‘I’m Jay, by the way.’
The cheer as Ronnie stepped inside the ring was immense. A popular bloke, all his pals were there to support him.
Tommy loved boxing, preferred it to football these days. He and Danny rarely went over Millwall any more, but would attend plenty of boxing events. He even got a buzz out of watching the kids fight. ‘Go, Ronnie,’ Tommy bellowed.
Jack clapped wildly as his son landed an early couple of punches. He’d been a decent boxer himself back in the day; only long spells in prison had stopped him from making the grade.
Ronnie danced around the ring in his trademark blue shiny shorts. He was having a decent first round and he knew it.
‘Go, Ronnie,’ Eugene bellowed, his heart beating wildly.
‘He won that round, hands down,’ Tommy grinned as the bell sounded.
Back at the Leather Bottle, Kim was feeling flushed and wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or Jay’s penetrating eyes having an adverse effect on her. He was incredibly striking, had dark skin, black hair and the most beautiful brown eyes. His parents were apparently Irish.
‘Shall we put some music on the jukebox, then get these lads a drink?’ Sam suggested. John seemed OK too. He came from Newcastle.
‘I’ll get another round in. My mother would kill me if I let a woman buy me a drink. She’s old school,’ Jay laughed.
Kim followed Sam over to the jukebox. ‘They’re all right, aren’t they? At least you can have a sensible conversation with ’em,’ Sam said.
‘Yeah. They seem OK.’
‘He’s well got the hots for you, that Jay. I can tell.’
‘As I told you earlier, I’m not interested in blokes.’
‘I don’t blame you. My brothers treat girls like shit. Women are a far better species.’
Not realizing that Sam also had the hots for her, Kim linked arms with her pal. ‘You can say that again.’
‘Put your guard up, Ronnie. What ya doing, bro?’ Danny shouted.
‘Come on, Ronnie. You can do this, son,’ Jack yelled. After winning the first few rounds, Ronnie had been caught by a right hook. He’d hit the canvas and had since looked out of his depth.
‘Fucking hell, Ronnie. What you doing, mate?’ Tommy winced. The Algerian was giving Ronnie a pasting, literally.
‘He’s done for, Dad. He’s had it,’ Eugene said, stating the obvious.
All of a sudden, it was like everything went into slow motion. The Algerian hit Ronnie so hard he seemed to fly through the air before landing flat on his back. His whole body then went into spasms.
‘Shit, Dad. What’s wrong with him?’ Danny shrieked.
Jack leapt out of his front-row seat and into the ring. Ronnie was twitching, having some kind of fit.
When the doctor stepped into the ring, Tommy and Danny looked at each other in despair. Ronnie was in a bad way. A very bad way indeed.
Throwing her arms about like Tina and Lucy had been in the pub earlier, Kim sang along to the Jacksons’ ‘Blame It on the Boogie’.
Sam grinned. ‘What about when Tina fell over? Those lads were laughing at her you know, not with her.’
Imitating Tina stacking it, Kim threw herself on the floor.
‘Get up, you nutter,’ Sam chuckled.
Feeling inebriated, Kim flopped on to her bed next to Sam. Jay and John had wanted them to go on to another pub, but Kim had flatly refused. It had been ages since she’d drunk copious amounts of alcohol, hadn’t done so since leaving Maylands. Today had been great, but Kim was determined not to make a fool of herself here. She’d done that with Tommy, and look where it had got her.
When Sam placed her hand on her left boob and tried to snog her, Kim recoiled in horror. She jumped off the bed. ‘What the fuck d’ya think you’re doing?’
‘Sorry. But I thought … ya know. You said you didn’t like blokes, preferred women.’
‘Not in that way. I hate lads because I had my heart broken once, OK. Doesn’t mean to say I fancy bloody women.’
Sam burst out laughing. ‘I actually thought you were coming on to me earlier. Especially when you held my arm all the way home.’
‘Well, I weren’t, OK. Look, you ain’t ugly, mate, and if I were that way inclined, I might’ve snogged you back. But I’m not. So get over yourself, geezer bird. You got more chance of copping off with those slappers Tina and Lucy, than me.’
Currently in the charts was the Rose Royce smoochie ‘Love Don’t Live Here Anymore’. Chuckling away like a drunken sailor, Sam grabbed Kim’s hand. ‘Dance with me, bird. Then I promise I’ll leave you alone and forget all about me knock-back, for good.’
As Sam swung her around the room like a ballroom dancer, shrieking the words ‘You abandoned me’, Kim could not help but laugh herself.
Today had been a funny old day. It was the first time she hadn’t missed the only family she’d ever truly felt part of.
Suzie Darling was in bits when she arrived at the hospital with Donna. It had been Jack who’d encouraged their sons to box. She hated the sport and something like this had always been her biggest fear. ‘Where is he? What happened?’ Jack had told her very little on the phone; all she knew was that Ronnie had lost the fight and was at the London Hospital in Whitechapel.
Jack held his wife in his arms. ‘We’re waiting for an update. He had some kind of fit, I think.’
‘A fit! What, like an epileptic fit?’ Suzie burst into tears and pummelled her fists against Jack’s chest. ‘Why didn’t you listen to me, eh? I always told you the sport was bloody dangerous.’
‘It’s not Dad’s fault, Mum,’ Danny said. ‘We all wanted to box.’
‘Not any more you don’t. None of yous will ever step in a ring again, d’ya hear me? And that includes you, Tommy. You’re a married man with a child.’
Not knowing what else to do, Tommy nodded. That was his boxing career over with then. What Jack and Suzie said had to be obeyed.
‘Dad, Dad. You all right?’ Danny asked. They all looked over, Jack was holding his head in his hands, a strange expression on his face.
Suzie screamed as her husband fell to the floor in front of her very eyes. So did Donna. ‘Do something, Tommy,’ Donna shrieked.
Tommy legged it down the corridor and grabbed hold of a nurse. ‘We’re here with the boxer who got rushed in. But my father-in-law’s just collapsed now an’ all.’
‘Well?’ Danny asked as Suzie reappeared.
‘How is he, Mum?’ asked Eugene.
‘Conscious and talking. His speech is a bit slurred. The doctor reckons he might have had a stroke. They want him to rest tonight and will give him a scan in the morning,’
Suzie explained.
‘Did you see Ronnie as well?’ Tommy enquired.
‘No. They won’t let me see him yet. What a night, eh? I meant what I said earlier. No way are you three ever stepping into a ring again. Boxing should be banned. Dad wants to see you, Danny, and you, Tommy.’
‘Can’t I see him too?’ Eugene asked.
‘You can see him afterwards. He’s only allowed a couple of visitors at a time.’
It was a shock for both Danny and Tommy to see Jack lying in a hospital bed with a drip in his arm. His skin was a greyish colour and his speech sounded like that of a drunk.
‘I’m tired now, but I wanted a quick word,’ Jack slurred. ‘With everything that’s happened tonight, you two need to take over the reins for a while. People might try to take liberties if they know Ronnie and I are out of action. Don’t fucking let ’em. I’ve taught you everything I know. Now it’s time for you to step up to the mark. Understand?’
Tommy and Danny both nodded. ‘Yes,’ they said in unison.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Sorry, lads. No can do. There’s another little firm taken over this patch now and I can’t be paying both of you,’ the landlord explained.
Danny Darling leapt over the bar like a kangaroo and grabbed Bill Edwards by the throat in front of his small crew of lunchtime regulars. This was the third time today a landlord had refused to pay what they owed and Danny was pissed off with it. ‘Who is this other firm, Bill? I want names – fucking now.’
‘The Archers, out of Deptford. Not being funny, Danny, but with everything that’s happened, I can’t rely on you any more. Nobody came the last two times I had grief in ’ere. The Archers have more manpower.’
When Eugene lunged forward to give Bill a clump, Tommy intervened. ‘This ain’t getting us nowhere. We need to talk to your dad and brother.’ Tommy liked Bill, didn’t want to see him get hurt. It was hardly his fault another firm had put the squeeze on him.
Cursing, Danny stormed out of the pub. It was five weeks now since Ronnie had lost his fight and his father had suffered a stroke, and things seemed to be going from bad to worse. They were short on manpower. Ronnie was wary though, didn’t trust outsiders. Neither did his father.
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