Faded Glory

by David Essex

“Listen Albert,” he pleaded. “If they can help me turn pro, and me and the family can have some money, and I get the chance of a proper boxing career, shouldn’t I take it? I want you to be involved, I need you there by my side.”

  Albert turned to face Danny for the first time.

  “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he said as he joined Danny on the bench.

  Danny frowned. “What d’ya mean? They seem all right.”

  “They have a reputation, Danny. They’re dangerous men.”

  “Maybe. But with you and Patsy with me I’d be fine, wouldn’t I?”

  “You think you are ready to turn pro?” said Albert. “You really think that?”

  This hurt Danny. He knew he’d been swept away with the head-turning compliments from Costa and Cohen, but in the past, both Patsy and Albert had praised him and called him a contender. So why was Albert’s faith now so fickle?

  The ducks had deserted them and an awkward silence now hung in the air. Danny decided to change the subject.

  “We went to Clacton last week,” he said. “It was all right.”

  Albert waited.

  Danny became more direct.

  “I need to think of my future, Albert,” he said. “My new baby. Wendy thinks it’s a good idea. I’ll make sure that they don’t muscle in, honest. You and Patsy will still be part of the team. It could be good for all of us.”

  “You think so?”

  “Why don’t we all organise a meeting with them? See what they’ve got to say?” Danny suggested.

  “If that’s what you want,” said Albert.

  “I’ll phone them and arrange a meeting then,” said Danny.

  “If that’s what you want,” Albert repeated.

  Something in Albert’s eyes told Danny that the old man knew he was serious about this. That he truly believed that his future and that of his family lay with a liaison with Costa and Cohen. Danny pressed home his advantage.

  “At least if you attend the meeting, you can have some input,” he said.

  Albert somehow looked older. “Who am I to stand in your way?” he said.

  Danny felt a flash of hope. “So it’s on?”

  “If that’s what you want. Now, I’m off to work. Let me know when you’ve arranged the meeting and I’ll bring a tin hat.”

  Danny jumped up as Albert got off the bench. “Thanks,” he said. “You won’t regret it.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Albert replied as he walked off.

  Danny sat back down on the bench, full of relief. He watched a mother on the other side of the pond, pushing her baby in a pram through the park, and smiled. He imagined Wendy and their own bundle of joy doing the same thing in the not-too-distant future. That future felt warmer now. Knowing that Albert would be at the meeting gave him confidence. If Costa and Cohen were as dangerous as Albert said, at least Albert would be there for guidance.

  Going back to Wendy’s, Danny felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He would organise the meeting. He would keep his boxing family around him. Together they were strong.

  The way now was forward, and he felt an exciting chapter was about to begin. In just over six months, he would be a father, with a career in the sport he loved and money on the horizon. A pot of gold just waiting at the end of a rainbow. He could leave the casual building work behind, perhaps buy a house for them to live in, with a garden for the little one, and a car. Not that he could drive, but that was a minor detail. A Jaguar would be fab. A house in the sticks would be nice too. Wendy wanted to move to Chigwell, where the big houses were and the air was fresher, where they had stars in the sky just like Clacton.

  Wendy arrived home for her lunch break from the factory.

  “I’ve had a chat with Albert, Wend,” Danny said as he gave Wendy a hug and a quick kiss. “He’s on board.”

  “I never understood Albert’s feelings towards Mr Cohen and Mr Costa,” said Wendy. “They’ve been nothing but charm personified.”

  “Well, Albert thinks different from us.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so worried about Albert’s feelings,” Wendy said. “I’m just happy there’s some progress on the cards. So you’re fixing the meeting then?”

  “Yeah,” said Danny. “We’re gonna sort this whole thing out.”

  After lunch, Danny found Costa and Cohen’s business card and phoned the number.

  “Danny boy,” said Cohen, after Danny had been put through by a frosty secretary. “Good to hear from you. How was the honeymoon?”

  “Great. Wendy says thank you very much for the flowers.”

  “I hope they were as beautiful as she is.”

  “Yeah, they were nice,” Danny replied, a little awkwardly. “Can we meet up to talk about the contract and that?”

  “Of course. When do you want to come in?”

  “I’ll talk to Albert and Patsy and see when they can make it,” said Danny. “Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

  There was a pause.

  “Albert and Patsy?” said Cohen.

  “Yeah,” said Danny. “I’d like them to be there.”

  “I’m not sure they have your best interests at heart, Danny. Tommy and I believe in you and your future. I’m not convinced they do.”

  This was not going to be as straightforward as Danny had hoped. If Cohen refused to have Albert and Patsy at the meeting, it would force Danny to make a difficult decision. If Cohen refused, it could be the end of his and Wendy’s dream. But with thoughts of loyalty to Albert and Patsy, he stood his ground.

  “I would like them to be there,” he repeated nervously. “I think it’s important.”

  “I see,” said Cohen. “Well, if that’s what you want, we can do three o’clock tomorrow. See you then.”

  And before Danny could say “Thanks,” Cohen had hung up.

  The phone call troubled Danny. In his mind Albert, Patsy and Lenny had to be a part of this. Cohen’s reaction seemed to send a signal that perhaps they would not.

  “Did you speak to them?” said Wendy as Danny came slowly back into the kitchen. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah,” said Danny. “We are meeting tomorrow at three.”

  He held back on the full story of the call. Cohen’s reluctance to have Albert and Patsy at the meeting would probably have prompted Wendy to react the same way. She would think that anything that compromised their brighter future with Costa and Cohen was indeed dispensable.

  To avoid any more questions before Wendy headed back to work, Danny walked into the back garden. He needed some space and some time to think. He sat on the garden bench beneath a watery grey-blue sky and watched Mr Bristow’s Koi carp swimming gently in the pond for a while. He felt torn as he tried to navigate a way through the problem.

  What course should he take if the involvement of Albert and Patsy meant saying goodbye to his prospects? If only his father had been there to turn to. In recent times Albert had been almost a father figure, so to turn his back on him was indeed a painful thought. But at the same time, to turn his back on what could be a brighter and more secure future for Wendy and the baby would hurt too.

  As he walked along the garden path in the Bristows’ well- kept garden, deep in his dilemma, the back door opened.

  “Hello Dan,” said Mr Bristow. “Congratulations, Wendy tells me you are signing the contract tomorrow to go pro.”

  Danny swallowed. “Er, yes,” he said.

  “Don’t forget your in-laws when you’re rich and famous!”

  Danny smiled. Not because he felt like smiling, but in the hope that a smile would finish a conversation that he really did not want to have.

  It seemed to work. Mr Bristow made his way to the pond to feed his fish, allowing Danny to make his excuses and escape.

  Grabbing his coat, he thought about Wendy: her glowing beauty, her beloved bump, how she would be the mother of his child. The image strengthened his resolve as he made his way to the Live and Let Live.

/>   Lenny was already at the pub, sitting in his usual seat and sipping his usual drink. “So how’s married life treating you then?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m still married,” Danny replied.

  “You keep it like that.”

  Albert was as usual serving behind the bar and keeping an eye out for any trouble. Not that there was ever any trouble, probably due to Albert’s reputation.

  Danny looked around. Nothing had really changed from the first moment he’d walked in here, when Lenny had bought Wendy a drink as they were underage all those years ago. He’d been nervous and apprehensive then, but now the pub felt safe, secure, like a second home. With everything in his life changing and feeling so different, it made Danny feel good that the Live and Let Live stood unchanged and constant.

  “What’s it gonna be?” said Albert as Danny leaned on the bar.

  “No, I’m all right,” Danny said. “I just came to confirm that meeting thing with Cohen and Costa. It’s tomorrow at three at their office, is that gonna be OK?”

  Albert took the address that Danny had written on a piece of paper. “Still sure you want me come?” he asked.

  “Of course I do,” said Danny. “You and Patsy.”

  “And they’re all right with it, are they? Cohen and Costa?”

  “Yeah, looking forward to it,” Danny surmised.

  Albert sighed. “Right. I’ll tell Patsy when he comes in.”

  Leaving the pub, Danny couldn’t help feeling as if he had lit the blue touch paper and fireworks could erupt. He walked the damp streets for half an hour, thinking everything through. Then, instead of going back to the Bristows’, he made his way to Rosie’s house.

  It felt good to walk the streets he’d walked as a child, looking for sense memories that would make him feel more secure. He passed the alleyway where he’d had his first kiss, a kiss from a buxom girl the kids called Titsalina: an innocent secret he had kept from Wendy, just in case. As he walked past Old Nosy Parker’s house, the net curtains twitched. “Nosy” hated children, Danny remembered. He’d once kicked a football through Nosy’s back window: a powerful shot, but off target. He’d never got the ball back.

  The old house still felt like home. It was empty and quiet today, except for a radio Rosie always kept on to deter would-be burglars. Not that there was much to take.

  Danny climbed the stairs to his room and the red and silver tin box. Opening it up as he had done so many times, feeling the cold medals in his hands, he searched for an answer to what might be a difficult choice tomorrow: a choice between prospects and loyalty.

  As he looked at his father’s yellowing army photograph, the doubts settled in his mind. The photograph radiated loyalty. Loyalty to comrades, King and country. He would be loyal to Albert and Patsy, come what may.

  “Thanks Dad,” he said, before closing the box and putting it back under his bed.

  Feeling clearer, Danny left a quick note for Rosie saying he had popped in and he was sorry he’d missed her. It wasn’t completely true. In a way, he was relieved to be given some time alone with his father’s memory to think things through.

  He thought about taking the box over with some other things he had taken to the Bristows’, but decided for the time being to leave the box in the bedroom where he’d grown up. Almost as a shrine to his childhood.

  As he was walking back to Wendy’s, a gleaming Austin Cambridge pulled up and the window wound down.

  “You want a lift?” asked Lenny.

  “Nice motor, Lenny,” said Danny. “Does the owner know you’re taking it for a spin?”

  “Doing a test drive,” Lenny replied, tapping his nose. “Drop you off at the top of Wendy’s road?”

  The Austin Cambridge was an old car, but elegant, with a smell of leather and petrol inside. It went at a fair lick, and pretty soon, they were at Danny’s drop-off.

  “So, big day tomorrow, champ,” said Lenny as Danny got out of the car. “The meeting and all that.”

  For the first time Danny felt like he didn’t have to avoid the question. “Yeah,” he said. “Me, Albert and Patsy are gonna hit the big time.”

  “Hey now, don’t forget your cheerleader here!”

  “Never,” confirmed Danny.

  And with a thumbs up, Lenny drove off.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ON his morning run, Danny often liked to go down by the River Lee, away from the traffic and away from people or, some days, to Albert’s park. Today it seemed better to do the river run. He would be seeing Albert later at the meeting, and he wasn’t totally confident he could answer any tricky questions posed by Albert beforehand.

  But Danny was optimistic. Things would work out.

  Back at the Bristows’, the family had gone to work. Danny ran a bath and sank into the water. There is something about taking a bath that allows you to mull things over, think things through. Lately, Danny had been doing his fair share of thinking through. Relaxing, he looked at the fish and sea shells on the bathroom wallpaper and felt the warmth of the water wash away his troubles.

  As he climbed out of the bath, he couldn’t help drawing a smiley face on the misty bathroom mirror. Most men have a little boy inside them just wanting to break through, and Danny was no different.

  Wendy had ironed her favourite Danny shirt for the meeting. It wasn’t Danny’s favourite, but as fashion wasn’t really his thing, he thought it best to go along with Wendy’s opinion. The blue suit was hanging up, waiting for him. Although he felt much more relaxed in a tracksuit than a lounge suit, Danny made the effort to make an effort. Not quite looking like himself, but looking reasonably smart, he was ready to go.

  He was giving his shoes a bit of a shine on the back of his trouser legs when he heard a key in the door.

  “Just back for lunch and checking you’re looking respectable,” said Wendy, kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s have a look then. Remember they said the local press might be there.”

  Danny, feeling like a small boy getting ready for school, stood still, arms by his side, as the inspection commenced.

  “Where’s the tie Dad lent you?”

  “Do I have to?” said Danny, now definitely feeling about six years old.

  Ignoring him, Wendy fetched Mr Bristow’s favourite stripy blue tie and fixed it firmly around Danny’s shirt collar. “That’s it,” she said, smoothing down his shirtfront. “You look lovely. I reckon, when you go for something like this, you have to look like you don’t need it, in order to get it. You know what I mean?”

  Left to face the world done up like a dog’s dinner, Danny was hoping against hope not to bump into anyone he knew on the way. Thankfully he got to Costa and Cohen’s without seeing anyone he knew well, although he did get some quizzical looks and a wolf whistle from some building-site workers he had worked with in the past.

  Checking the address and with a belly full of butterflies, he rang the bell. The door opened to a swanky reception with boxing posters on almost every wall: some famous, some forgotten.

  Hidden somewhere behind a mask of make-up sat a receptionist: a pretty girl in her twenties with blood-red lipstick and nails to match. Danny approached her, but was ignored in preference to an incoming phone call. Mid-conversation, the receptionist pointed to a seat.

  Danny obediently sat down. Looking around the impressive reception, he took in a brown leather sofa, three chairs, a coffee table and a rather tasteless water feature gurgling in the corner, with water flowing from a giant frog’s mouth. The receptionist carried on her conversation, oblivious to Danny’s presence.

  A feeling of anti-climax swallowed him. This was a life-changing moment, but here he was, alone on a sofa, invisible and watching a frog spout water.

  *

  He looked at his watch. Five past three. Where were Albert and Patsy? What if they weren’t coming? What was he going to do?

  The receptionist hung up the phone and looked at him.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’ve a meeting
with Mr Costa and Mr Cohen,” replied Danny, relieved to be acknowledged.

  “Name?”

  “Danny. Danny Watson.”

  The receptionist opened a diary. “You’re not down here,” she said. “What time was your appointment?”

  To Danny, the word appointment seemed dead on. After all his upbeat anticipation, it now felt like he was waiting for the dentist.

  “They said three o’clock, me and two others,” he said.

  “So where are the other two?”

  Danny adjusted his collar. “On their way,” he said hopefully.

  The receptionist looked disbelieving. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I can’t see any meeting listed for three o’clock, and Mr Costa and Mr Cohen are out at lunch.”

  Feeling completely crestfallen, Danny was not sure how to respond.

  “Shall I wait then?” he said.

  She sniffed. “That’s up to you. But I don’t know if they will see you.”

  Danny had built this meeting up in his mind. He’d made all those arrangements with Albert and Patsy and been forced by Wendy into dressing up. He was even wearing a tie. And now here he was, all by himself and being given the cold shoulder.

  “I’ll wait for a bit,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster.

  He was about to pick up a boxing magazine from the coffee table to disguise his discomfort when the doorbell went. The receptionist sighed and pressed the buzzer by her desk, grudgingly opening the door.

  To Danny’s great relief, it was reinforcements.

  “Sorry we’re late, son,” said Patsy. “Bloody buses.”

  “We’re with him,” Albert told the receptionist. “We can go in now.”

  “Like I told the other gentleman,” stated the receptionist, “Mr Cohen and Mr Costa are not back from lunch and I have no record of a three o’clock meeting.”

  Albert snorted. “Bollocks to that. Call the bloody restaurant and tell ’em to get their arses in gear.”

  The receptionist started spluttering when the door swung open for a second time. In walked Costa and Cohen, followed by a large, Greek-looking minder. The minder gave Danny, Albert and Patsy a suspicious once-over. Danny recognised him from his drunken stag night in Costa’s casino.