by June Tate
Bonny stood up and took his arm. ‘My mother will never believe this,’ she said.
Jack laughed. ‘Dear Bonny, don’t ever change. This business can ruin people, I’ve seen it happen. You are a complete delight; I wouldn’t like to see that happen to you.’
‘If you do see that happening, give me a quick kick in the shins, will you?’ she teased.
‘I promise. How is your mother? Did she get the photograph I sent to her?’
‘Yes, thank you, she did. It is in a special frame by her bed. I’m surprised that you remembered,’ she said in astonishment.
‘Really? Don’t ever neglect your fans, my dear, or believe me they will soon forget you.’
At the end of the extraordinary evening, Mickey escorted Bonny home. As they drove in the taxi, he took her hand in his. ‘You are very special to me, princess. I hope that we will be seeing a lot of each other in the future.’
‘I’d like that,’ she told him.
‘Perhaps next Sunday we can spend a quiet day together. Are you free?’
With a look of disappointment she said, ‘I have promised to go to see my parents in Southampton.’
‘How about I come with you?’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Really? My dad would love that, he’s a great fight enthusiast,’ she told him.
‘Right. I’ll be in touch.’ And he kissed her, at first gently and then with a mounting passion that took her breath away.
‘Goodnight, princess,’ he said and climbed back into the taxi.
Foxy Gordon was feeling very pleased with himself as he journeyed home. He had managed to invest a chunk of money in Giles Gilmore’s new production. He’d used a nom de plume in which to do so. Giles would be completely unaware that the man he sent to prison was now a major shareholder in his new venture.
Thirteen
Bonny and Mickey took the train to Southampton on the following Sunday morning. Bonny had written to her mother warning her of the visit and that she was bringing a friend to lunch, without saying who it was. She had planned to take her parents out to eat, but Mickey had said he was looking forward to some home cooking, so she had shelved the idea.
‘I start training next week,’ Mickey told her, ‘so this will be my last chance to eat a family meal.’
‘Have you another fight lined up then?’
‘Nothing’s finalized, but nevertheless, I have to be prepared. I intend to hang on to my title for as long as possible.’
‘My dad is going to be so surprised when I walk in with you. He listens to all the big fights on the wireless.’
‘Maybe I can take him to his local for a beer before lunch and then we can have a chat about boxing. Do you think he’d like that?’
‘Are you kidding? To walk into his local with you would be the biggest thrill of his life!’
Laughing, Mickey said, ‘Then that’s what we’ll do.’
They took a taxi from the station and when they arrived at Bonny’s home, she let herself in calling out as she did so.
‘Mum, Dad, we’re here!’
Frank Burton walked out of the living room to greet his daughter. ‘Bonny!’ he said. Then he saw who she was with. ‘Bloody hell!’ he exclaimed.
Mickey held out his hand and shook Frank’s. ‘Hello, Mr Burton. I’m delighted to meet you.’
Frank was speechless.
‘Close your mouth, Dad, or you’ll catch a fly in it,’ Bonny teased.
‘Millie! Millie!’ Frank called. ‘Look who our Bonny has brought with her.’
Eventually the excitement died down, introductions were made and both Mickey and Bonny were delighted when they saw that Millie had framed one of the pictures from the newspaper, showing them both together, coming out of the Savoy.
‘Sure, that was a great night.’ Mickey told them. ‘You have a very talented daughter, I’m certain you know that.’
‘Indeed we do,’ Millie assured him. ‘We are going up to London soon to see the show for ourselves.’
‘You haven’t been yet?’ Mickey was surprised. ‘We can’t have that. You must come as my guests. I’ll book tickets, then after we’ll go out for a meal and celebrate together! How will that be?’
Bonny’s parents looked thrilled, and so it was arranged. But Frank Burton’s day was made when Mickey suggested that whilst the two ladies prepared the lunch and caught up on each other’s news, he and Frank should go to the local and down a couple of beers.
When they were alone, Millie looked speculatively at her daughter. ‘The young Irishman is a nice chap, isn’t he? Is this serious between you?’
‘Mum! We’ve only just met … but I do like him. He’s kind and gentle, not at all what you would expect from a man in his position. After all, boxing is such a rough, tough sport. It can be quite brutal. I know; I’ve been to one and seen for myself.’
‘And what does your dance partner think about it?’
Bonny’s tone sharpened. ‘This has nothing at all to do with him. Rob Andrews and I have a purely business arrangement and that’s all.’
Millie decided to leave it there, but she wondered at the sudden hostility in Bonny’s voice and came to the conclusion that Rob Andrews was not at all happy about the arrangement.
The day was soon over. Frank had arrived back from his local with Mickey, walking like a man who was ten-foot tall.
‘You should have seen the look on the people in the pub when I walked in with the champ!’ he crowed. ‘They couldn’t have been more surprised if I had walked in with the King George V himself.’
Mickey winked at Bonny. ‘Nice crowd,’ he said.
‘Mickey bought everyone a drink,’ Frank told them.
‘I need the fans,’ the Irishman joked.
On the way home on the train, Mickey put his arm round Bonny. ‘That was such a lovely day, princess; thanks for letting me share it with you. I miss my family, so it was nice to be with yours.’
‘Thank you, Mickey, my Dad will dine out on that day for years to come and Mum is thrilled to think you sat at her table and ate her food. You gave them both a great deal of pleasure.’
He tipped up her chin and softly kissed her. ‘And you give me a great deal of pleasure. I’m going to be tied up for a bit with my training, as we have a camp in Buckinghamshire, but I’ll contact you as often as I can. I don’t want you to forget about me.’
She gazed into his eyes and caressed his face. ‘I certainly won’t do that, I promise.’
‘I’ll be back, anyway, to take your parents to the theatre, just keep those stage-door Johnnies away. Tell them you have a big Irishman as a boyfriend, who’ll punch their lights out if they bother you!’
And when eventually Bonny’s parents joined Mickey as his guests, for a visit to the theatre as was planned, the papers were full of the event, complete with pictures of Mickey, his arm around Bonny and her parents, beaming happily beside them, with many a suggestion that love was in the air for the two young people, which didn’t please Giles or Rob – but delighted Foxy Gordon.
Giles frowned when he saw the pictures. This was not the kind of publicity he wanted for his blossoming star. He had great plans for Bonny Burton and there was no room in them for a boyfriend. He needed her to be totally focused on a career. There was a lot of work to do after this show finished its run and her time would be fully occupied with rehearsals. The champ would have to take a back seat, or fade away altogether – if he had his way.
As for Rob Andrews, he was surprised by the feeling of jealousy and possessiveness that overcame him as he gazed at the pictures. He had discovered Bonny. He was the one who had set her on the road to success and now this good-looking boxer was moving in on her. If she truly wanted to be a star, she would have to dump Mickey O’Halleran!
In an old barn in a farmyard, outside of London, young Charlie Black, one of Foxy Gordon’s up-and-coming boxers, was watching a dog fight avidly. He had his last money riding on the outcome and his luck had deserted him tonight. The two bull terriers
in the man-made ring were tearing at each other, teeth barred, blood spilling out as one dog eventually caught the other by the throat. The shrieks of pain from the injured animal only fired the enthusiasm and bloodlust of those watching, and they called out to their favoured dog. Not one of them had any sympathy for the animals involved. Least of all the bookmaker, in whose hand was a fist full of notes from the bets that had been laid.
Charlie watched as the fight ended and the dead animal was removed. He was livid and tore his ticket into shreds, heeling the pieces into the ground.
Wally Cole walked up to him. ‘Not lucky tonight then, young Charlie?’
The boy shook his head. ‘How’s my credit, Wally? Can you give me a bit more?’
The man smiled and patted his shoulder. ‘It’s always good with me. I’ll tell the bookmaker to give you some leeway.’ And he walked away.
Charlie was aware that he was doing wrong. Foxy knew about his weakness for gambling and had been adamant that to be part of his team of fighters, he had to be clean, and Charlie had given his word, but the lure of an illegal dog fight had been too much of a temptation.
This was on top of the poker school, also run by Wally Cole, every Tuesday in the back room of a pub in the East End of London. Charlie owed a huge amount of money there too. He was not a good poker player, making wild bets on poor hands and getting trounced by experienced players.
A week later, when Charlie once again came to play cards, Wally made his move. ‘Come into my office, lad, I need to have a word.’
Once there, Wally sat at his desk and told the boy to sit opposite him. ‘Now, Charlie boy, you are into me for a lot of money – and it can’t go on.’
Charlie’s heart sank. ‘I know, Wally, but I’ll pay you back, I promise.’
‘They all say that. I don’t think you know just how much you are in to me for.’
The lad had no idea. ‘How much?’
Wally referred to the accounts book before him. ‘Two hundred quid for the dog fights, and five here at the poker school. That’s seven hundred nicker in all. Now, how on earth are you going to cover that amount?’
Charlie’s heart was racing. He had no way of paying what he owed. He knew that, so did Wally Cole, and Charlie also knew what happened to those who tried to welsh on the criminal. He felt sick!
‘Now, I can see you’re worried about this, but there is a way out.’ The gang leader smiled, but his eyes were ice cold.
‘There is?’ stammered Charlie.
‘You’ve got a fight lined up in two weeks’ time, haven’t you?’
Charlie nodded.
‘Is the fighter any real competition?’
Shaking his head, the young boxer said, ‘No way. The fight shouldn’t last more than a few rounds.’
‘Wrong!’ snapped Wally. ‘You will make sure it lasts a good time, and then in round six – you hit the canvas.’
‘I can’t do that, Foxy would kill me!’
‘If you don’t … I’ll kill you.’ The tone was deadly and Charlie knew that this was no joke.
The gangster continued: ‘You will make it look good to allay any suspicions, but you will throw the fight and then we wipe your slate clean. You will have paid your debt.’
Charlie staggered out of the pub, his mind reeling after agreeing to Wally Cole’s plan. He had no choice, he knew that, but what effect would this have on his future? He would have no future if Foxy found out. As it was, it would be difficult to fool the promoter. Despite the gambling, Charlie had trained well, and he knew that his opponent had little chance against him. Although in the past, the man had been a good fighter, he was now over the hill in boxing terms, but good enough to give Charlie experience in the ring.
The fight took place on a Sunday night and the venue was packed. All of Foxy’s members were there to watch and cheer their man on, including Mickey O’Halleran and Bonny Burton. There was a big crowd waiting in anticipation, although the result was almost a certainty, but young Charlie Black was a fighter to watch for the future and had a lot of money riding on him, despite the odds being poor. For the punters, he was a sure bet.
In the dressing room, Charlie Black sat as Foxy gave him his instructions whilst massaging his shoulders, and one of the seconds put on the boy’s gloves.
‘What’s the matter with you, Charlie?’ asked Foxy, pressing his fingers into the boy’s flesh. ‘You are so tense. For goodness’ sake, relax! After all, this man is no real threat if you remember what I taught you. You should walk it tonight. But let it go a few rounds before you finish it – give the crowd a bit of a show.’
Charlie felt his heart sink, knowing what he had to do.
He made his entrance, shadow-boxing, giving the crowd what it wanted, and climbed into the ring and stood in his corner. As he waited, his second put the gum shield in his mouth, and Charlie looked out at the audience and saw Wally Cole sitting in the front row. The gangster just stared at him, his face expressionless, and Charlie felt his blood run cold.
Further along the front row, Mickey O’Halleran was telling Bonny about the prowess of the young boxer. ‘He’s a great hope for British boxing,’ he told her.
‘Is he going to be hurt?’ Bonny asked nervously.
‘No, he’s too good and his opponent is really at the end of his career. Don’t worry, princess, there’ll be no blood spilt tonight,’ he said, and he held her hand to reassure her.
The referee called the two men together in the middle of the ring and spoke to them, and then they returned to their respective corners. The bell rang for the first round.
The older boxer came out strongly, trying to show that he wasn’t the loser they all thought he was and Charlie let him get in a couple of blows to the body before retaliating, but pulling his punches. If he put the man down he’d be in a hell of a mess.
Foxy, watching from Charlie’s corner, wasn’t concerned at this point – after all, young Charlie was just following orders – but when it came to the end of round four, he stepped into the ring, gave Charlie a swig of water and said, ‘Right, lad, take him out in this round.’
Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Wally’s eyes narrow as he looked at him and the man, maybe anticipating what Foxy was saying, slowly, shook his head and unobtrusively held up the five fingers of one hand and a single digit of the other. Six in all.
The bell went for round five.
Charlie Black danced around the ring throwing punches, but still allowing the other man to land a few to the chin, which he rode, so as not to be hurt. He kept his eyes focused on his opponent, gauging the oncoming blows, but at the end of the round when he went back to his corner, Foxy was absolutely livid.
‘What bloody game are you playing at, lad? You could have taken him out at any time in that round.’
‘Sorry, boss, I thought I’d give the punters one more round. I’ll do it after the bell, I promise.’
Picking up the slop bucket and towels, Foxy climbed out of the ring. ‘I should bloody well think so!’
Mickey O’Halleran was suddenly quiet as he watched the sixth round. There was something going on with young Charlie Black tonight and it didn’t make sense. As the bell rang and the boxers faced each other, Mickey saw Wally Cole sit up straight in his ringside seat and saw the grim expression on his face.
As the round progressed, Mickey’s frown deepened. Charlie had so many chances to floor his opponent but he ignored them all. It didn’t make any sense.
Charlie, carefully watching the other man, saw that he was about to take a wild swing at him and deliberately walked into the flying fist. He staggered and the other fighter had the experience to follow this up with several more blows to the head.
Slowly Charlie Black sank to the canvas and was counted out.
The crowd was aghast. Mickey quickly looked across at Wally Cole and noted the smile of satisfaction on his face as he rose, left his seat and walked out of the hall.
Fourteen
There was pandemonium
in Charlie Black’s dressing room. Foxy Gordon was reading the riot act to his young boxer. ‘What the bloody hell were you playing at out there? You could have taken that has-been at any time, yet you walked into a right hook that a blind man could see was coming!’
‘I just lost concentration for a minute,’ Charlie murmured as his gloves were being removed.
‘Lost concentration! You lost your bloody marbles, that’s what you lost!’
Mickey and Bonny entered the room and heard the caustic comments. When Foxy saw Mickey he continued his tirade. ‘Did you see what happened out there?’
‘I did,’ Mickey said quietly, looking at Charlie, who refused to meet his gaze.
‘Then perhaps you can explain it to me, because I’m damned if I know.’
‘Come on, Foxy, give the lad a break. These things happen sometimes.’
‘Not after my training, they don’t! What a bloody waste of my time.’ He stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
‘Get dressed,’ Mickey told Charlie Black. ‘You and I are going to have a serious talk. I’ll wait for you.’ Turning to Bonny he said, ‘I’m sorry about this, princess. I was going to take you out to dinner but do you mind if we go somewhere quiet with this young man instead?’
‘No, of course not.’ Bonny wasn’t at all sure what was going on but she realized that something significant was amiss.
There was a small crowd waiting outside when Mickey, Charlie and Bonny left the building, and to Bonny’s consternation there was an outcry and a lot of booing. The feeling of hostility was frightening, and as the crowd began to jostle them, Mickey tightened his hold on her as they made their way to a waiting car and climbed in, followed by Charlie Black.
To Bonny’s great relief, the irate mob parted as the driver moved slowly forward, but one or two angry men banged on the windows as they passed. Flash bulbs went off as several reporters held up their cameras to capture the scene.
