“Good night, son,” he said as Danny got out of the car, happy and barely bruised, heading to the front door and his waiting family. “Well done.”
The juxtaposition of the boy’s delight and Albert’s own sadness was hard to take. Albert was an honest man, full of high principles. If the Dragon had been paid to lose and given a pay-off for his imminent retirement, it left a very sour taste in his mouth.
“Drop you back at your flat, Albert?” Lenny offered.
Albert roused himself. “Cheers Len, that would be good.”
Neither Patsy nor Lenny pressed him to invite them in. It was clear that Albert wasn’t in a party mood. As Lenny pulled away, Albert stood on the street outside his flat, thinking over the night’s events. The cobbled street seemed to sparkle under the street lamps, and the gentle rain on his face didn’t help wash away his worries.
The taste of victory, right or wrong, was a big step up for Danny. What had the boy got himself into? What other tricks did Costa and Cohen have hidden up their sleeves?
In Simon’s shop window, Albert saw a pair of well-used boxing gloves hanging from a shelf laden with bric-a-brac. So much for the Noble Art.
Albert climbed the stairs to his flat and he turned on the light. Rocky came to life with a chirp and a hop as he walked over to her cage and stroked her blue feathered head.
“I’m whacked, mate,” he said. Rocky leant her head to one side as if she was listening. “It’s been a funny old night, Rocky. A funny old night.”
The next morning, he was anxious to see what the newspaper sports writers had made of last night’s contest.
He was first to the newsagent, where he bought most of the morning papers, much to the surprise of Norman, the corner-shop keeper. Norman had rosy cheeks and always seemed to be sucking one of his own boiled sweets.
“See you later, Norman,” said Albert as he paid for the papers and tucked them under his arm.
Norman tucked his boiled sweet into his cheek and watched as Albert left the shop.
Sitting down at the bus stop, Albert took a deep breath and opened the first paper. There, on the back page, was a photo of Danny, his arms raised in victory. The headline read!
Nervously scanning the review of the fight, Albert was pleasantly surprised. There was no mention of a fix, just surprise that a young unknown could knock out an experienced old warrior. The write-up went on to lambast the Dragon’s fans, calling them bad losers.
Albert pressed on through the pile of newspapers. None of them raised any suspicions. Danny had been covered in praise.
He headed round to the gym to see Patsy.
“What a night!” Patsy said by way of greeting.
“Yes indeed,” agreed Albert. “Have you seen the papers? Young Danny is the talk of the back pages.”
Patsy took the newspapers and scanned the sports pages, occasionally reading out loud particular sentences that were positive, like “Watson’s tactics were spot on” and “This boy could go far”. Albert listened. It pleased him that Patsy was enjoying the post-mortem, but in his heart it still felt like a hollow victory. Anxious to air his misgivings, he decided to come clean.
“Danny came out of it well,” he said. “Considering.”
“Considering what?”
“It just seemed too easy. Like the Dragon wasn’t up for it.”
Patsy put down the paper he was reading. “What d’ya mean?”
“Well like I said, it seemed like Davies didn’t want to fight,” said Albert.
Patsy tutted. “That’s because he couldn’t. Danny fought the perfect tactical fight, like we told him. That’s all.”
It seemed to Albert that Patsy’s euphoria may have clouded his judgement. However, he began to question his own take on the fight. Perhaps the contest hadn’t been a fix after all. Patsy, with his vast experience of the fight world, would have seen what Albert felt he had witnessed, but no. The big Irishman was walking the purple patch of a winning trainer, and was not to be shaken off.
“I wonder what Cohen and Costa’s next plan is,” said Albert.
Patsy shrugged. “Well they ain’t put a foot wrong yet, Albert,” he said. “You should stop being so suspicious and be a bit more trusting. Danny must be on cloud nine this morning. The last thing he wants is to be shot down in flames.”
For Danny’s sake, Albert decided to keep his misgivings to himself. Patsy went on devouring the back pages while Albert doodled on a piece of paper on the desk.
“Do you know something, Pat?” Albert said after a moment. “They reckon they can tell people’s personalities from what they doodle. Doodle. Funny word ain’t it?”
“Amazing,” said Patsy with his head in the papers.
Albert shifted in his seat. “What time’s Danny coming?”
“He’s late already,” said Patsy.
They both heard Danny’s footsteps as he climbed the stairs to the gym.
With a smile as wide as the Norfolk Broads and with Ruby in his arms, Danny walked into Patsy’s office.
“How are the best trainers in the world?” Danny said, passing the little bundle to Albert.
It was a long time since Albert had properly held a baby in his arms. He remembered to support Ruby’s head, a throwback to when he had held his own baby son so long ago. He looked at her innocent sleeping face, helpless and trusting. A feeling of warmth and protectiveness welled through him. Lifting Ruby up, Albert looked again at her little face. Untouched by bad things, she looked like an angel.
After a suitable amount of fuss was made of the baby, especially by Patsy, who couldn’t make his mind up if Ruby looked more like her mother or her father, Danny got down to business.
“I got the fight purse,” he said. “And the good news is, I’ve got some dosh for you both. Fifty quid each. Not bad for a night’s work.”
He proudly presented them both with a wad of one-pound notes. Albert’s first instinct was to refuse the money, but mindful of Danny’s euphoria, thought it best to just say “Thank you” and accept it.
“Why is the money from you and not from Costa and Cohen?” he asked.
“They pay me and I pay you. That’s the arrangement. That’s the way they want it.”
“Right,” said Albert. “I hope they paid you well.”
Danny grinned. “After their commission, I got two hundred smackers. More money than I’ve ever seen in my life. Good, ain’t it? Here’s to the next one.”
Albert felt his suspicions surface again. “I wonder how much they made?” he said.
“It don’t matter, does it?” said Patsy briskly. “The boy done well and has made a mark.”
“Thanks, Patsy,” said Danny, looking pleased. “Me and Wendy are going to look at a town house in Chigwell this afternoon. If it’s as nice as the estate agent reckons, I’m gonna put a deposit down. Wendy’s dad and mum are gonna help a bit.”
“That’s great,” said Patsy.
“Yeah. It’s a bit far to bike it to here from Chigwell so I might buy a car too,” said Danny. “A Jag.”
“Big plans,” Patsy teased.
Albert listened, but kept his focus on the baby in his arms. The promise of a better life for Ruby was doing its best to overrule his doubts and questions. “That’s a good thing, Danny,” he said, trying to be upbeat. “Make sure it’s got a garden for the little one.”
“It has, Albert. You’ll have to come and see it. I’ve got a meeting with Tommy and Jack in the morning to talk about the next fight.”
The Tommy and Jack reference was not lost on Albert. Gone was Mr Costa and Mr Cohen. Clearly, Tommy and Jack were getting closer to Danny and extending their influence.
“That’s good, Danny,” said Patsy. “We need to keep looking to the future. What time do you want us there?”
“No, you’re all right,” said Danny. “It’s just me this time. I’m having lunch with them, they said for me to come by myself. But I’ll tell you all about it later.”