“Danny boy!” said Tommy Costa.
“Hello Danny,” said Jack Cohen.
The two men greeted Danny with hugs and handshakes and led him into the restaurant, to what was obviously the best table in the house.
“You’re looking great, Danny,” said Cohen warmly.
“Like a true champ,” said Costa.
A Chinese waiter brought over some menus. Costa with his usual grasp of the good life ordered champagne, while Danny, who decided his brain was already pickled enough, ordered a lemonade.
Most of the dishes on the menu read like gobbledegook.
“We look after this place,” Cohen said as Danny struggled his way through the choices. “It’s all good stuff, Danny. Have what you want.”
Danny’s eyes went to the “English Dishes” section. “I’ll have an omelette,” he said, thankful for something he recognised.
Lunch was ordered and quickly served. After some small talk and enquiries about Danny’s family, Cohen kicked off a more meaningful conversation.
“Things are going even better than we hoped, Danny.”
“Like a dream,” said Costa.
“And this is just the beginning,” said Cohen through a mouthful of chicken chow mein. “The world’s at your feet, son.”
“I suppose you wanna know what the plan is,” said Costa, building a pancake of duck and plum sauce.
“We have lined up a fight with another real contender,” said Cohen. “If you win, you could be on your way for a shot at the British title.”
“What d’ya mean, if he wins?” chimed Costa, winking at Danny and raising a glass of bubbly at him.
“Albert’s leaving the team,” Danny said, unable to hold it in any longer.
Costa and Cohen looked at each other.
“That’s a shame,” said Cohen unconvincingly.
“Probably his health or his age. Don’t worry about it, you got us,” Costa said and put his hand on Danny’s knee. “That’s all you need, Danny.”
Danny felt a little uncomfortable. The hand on the knee was not good.
He decided to remove himself.
“Where are the gents?”
He got back at the table to see Costa and Cohen clinking glasses. The banana fritters had arrived.
“I bet you wanna know about the fight we’ve lined up,” said Cohen.
“It’s a cracker,” enthused Costa.
“We have got you a fight with Billy Livermore, a big contender for the British title,” said Cohen.
Costa jumped in. “A match made in heaven. You have just got to outbox him and we reckon you’ll be on your way to a shot at the title.”
Danny had heard of Livermore: a bruiser from Manchester with a knock-out punch to match. He started to feel a little easier about Albert jumping ship. The charm and positive plans from Costa and Cohen reassured him that he was on course, with or without his old mentor.
“When is it gonna be?” he asked eagerly. “Sounds good.”
“There are a few things we still need to finalise,” said Cohen. “It could take six months to a year, but we know it will be in Manchester.”
“Sounds a way off,” said Costa, “but you need to be ready, Danny.”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Danny confidently. “I’ll be ready.”
“Do you still think Irish Patsy is the right man for the job?” asked Costa. “You know, with Albert gone and everything?”
This question took Danny aback. Now that Albert had jumped ship, he was not going to lose Patsy too.
“Yeah I do,” he said firmly.
Costa shrugged. “Fair enough. See how it goes.”
Lunch seemed to be on the house. Danny asked if he could pay his way, but Cohen shrugged away the suggestion.
“Don’t you worry about that,” he said as the waiter fetched their coats. “We have an arrangement with the owner. We look after him and he looks after us.”
The thought of protection money came into Danny’s head. He pushed it away.
“I’m buying a house,” he said as the three men walked to the door.
“Nice,” said Costa. “Whereabouts?”
“In Chigwell,” Danny answered proudly.
“Stick with us, Danny boy, and you’ll soon be able to buy the whole of Chigwell!” said Cohen.
Handshakes and hugs followed. Danny stood on the pavement and watched their white Jaguar drive off. Six months to a year? He’d be ready, with or without Albert.
Now that the dust had settled and Costa and Cohen had delivered their charm offensive, Danny started feeling resentful towards Albert. Clearly Albert didn’t have the same belief in him that Costa and Cohen had. Danny wanted to tell Albert what the plan was, to talk about Livermore and the fight ahead, but he couldn’t. Albert had let him down.
He headed for the gym to tell Patsy about the forthcoming fight. The Live and Let Live bar was quiet, and there was no sign of Albert. Danny felt relieved. Bumping into Albert might be a little awkward. Danny was not sure how he would react.
The light was on in Patsy’s office and the sound of light snoring could be heard. Danny knocked.
“Patsy?”
Patsy jerked awake. “Sorry, just having one of those power naps. What’s happening?”
“We’ve got a fight with Billy Livermore in about six months’ time,” said Danny.
Patsy went pale. “Christ!” he exclaimed. “That’s a bit of a jump. Have you told Albert?”
Danny sat down opposite Patsy. “Albert’s decided he don’t want to be involved any more.”
“Is that so?” Patsy sounded concerned. “Why’s that then?”
“Costa and Cohen,” Danny said bleakly.
Patsy shook his head. “That’s sad,” he said. “What do we do now then?”
“We train hard, Patsy,” said Danny in determination. “You and me.”
Patsy played with a well-chewed pencil on his desk. “So they want me involved, do they?”
“Of course they do,” Danny said. “And I do too.”
Patsy nodded. “This Livermore is a tough nut to crack,” he warned. “You’ll need to be at your best.”
“I will be with you beside me.”
“So you will,” said Patsy in agreement. “So you will. Eleven o’clock after your morning run tomorrow? See you then.”
Leaving the gym, Danny was relieved that at least Patsy was still in his boxing family. He’d thought for a moment, because of Albert’s withdrawal, that Patsy might pull out too. But now confident that Patsy was still up for it, he made his way home to tell Wendy the news and give Ruby a cuddle.
Everything was going to be fine.
Patsy needed time to think.
He knew that Albert had misgivings about the dangerous liaison with Cohen and Costa. Patsy knew they were shady, but being the trainer to a top professional fighter had always been his dream. Maybe the fight with the Dragon had been a fix, but it had put Danny on the map. And it had put Patsy on the map too.
Patsy had known Albert since he’d first come over from Ireland. He’d seen Albert fight towards the end of a talented and illustrious career. Albert had strong principles. The word “cheat” was not in Albert’s vocabulary. But sometimes in life, Patsy thought, you had to compromise. And if to compromise meant that he would be respected as a top trainer, then compromise he would.
After feeding Rocky the budgie and washing up later that afternoon, Albert sat down on his well-worn and friendly armchair. It felt cold. He would have fed the gas meter and lit it for warmth, but until he got paid he couldn’t afford to.
The money from Danny still lay on the sideboard. It was as much as Albert could do to touch it, let alone spend it. It represented everything he hated about the dark and criminal underbelly of boxing.
He felt more alone today than he had in a while. Rocky was doing her best to cheer him up, but her perch dancing wasn’t really helping. Albert knew he had done the right thing by cutting ties with Danny; he couldn’t be a party to the shady world of Cohen and Costa. But still, he worried about the boy and where they would lead him.