His acceptance of the fact that they were even closer, bonded by blood, was at first frightening to Evelyne. Then his mood caught her, and to her amazement she found herself laughing with him.
‘No one must know, Evie, they’d not understand.’ He had no need to tell her that, she knew it, and even her fears for the child of such close blood were dispersed. They picked up their sleeping baby son and held him between them, and he opened his eyes and stared up into the two adoring faces.
‘Our son is near pure Tatchey. He’ll have the powers, Evie, and look at his strong body.’
To their delight, Edward gurgled and laughed up at them, and at that moment there was magic in the night, the red flames from the fire flickering on their naked bodies.
Later, while Evelyne slept, Freedom took out a hunting knife and made a cut on his forefinger. He squeezed it until the blood formed a heavy drop, then crept to the baby’s cradle. He let the blood drip slowly on to the sleeping child’s forehead. The stain spread, forming a cross, and Freedom’s voice was a whisper as he buried the curse his mother, the clan’s dukkerin, had laid on Hugh Jones.
BOOK FOUR
Chapter 22
Life moved at a fast pace after that Christmas at The Grange. Freedom was still the undefeated British Heavyweight Champion, and British Empire Heavyweight Champion … he fought in Liverpool, Birmingham, Porthcawl, Edinburgh, and Manchester. Evelyne did not accompany him on these travels, but stayed at home in the East End. Freedom was a celebrity, money was not short, and Evelyne kept a close watch on the purse strings. Their house was well furnished, and some items had been passed on to Ed and Miss Freda, even Ed’s brother and sister-in-law Billy and Mary Meadows. The neighbours watched with avid interest as number twelve even had carpet laid all down the stairs. There was no jealousy, they were proud, and welcomed the distinction of having a champion living in their street.
Edward was almost two years old, a handsome child, tall for his age. He was very strong, and never still, so that it took all Evelyne’s time to keep an eye on him. He had a terrible temper, and threw such tantrums that their neighbours would say, ‘There goes that little bugger again.’ But they would smile, as everyone knew how the little lad adored his father. As soon as he saw his dad coming down the road, Edward would run out, arms outstretched and shouting with delight. Proud as Punch, Freedom would swing the lad up on to his shoulders.
Sir Charles kept a close but discreet watch over Freedom’s successful career. He was determined that ‘The Gypsy’ would try for the world championship. It was only a matter of time until a fight was arranged in America.
They were getting close when the news came that the great Dempsey, the man known as the ‘Manassa Mauler’, had lost his title to Gene Tunney. Sir Charles was delighted. Tunney now reigned as World Heavyweight Champion, and his reputation was on a par with Dempsey’s at his peak. The new champion appeared invincible and was taking on all challengers.
Ed Meadows arrived at number twelve, his face alight with excitement. ‘Where is he … Freedom!’
The moment Freedom looked up from the table he was building and saw Ed, he knew something big was on, ‘Is it America, Ed?’
Unable to speak, Ed clasped Freedom in his arms, and the two men danced around the kitchen.
Evelyne returned from shopping to find Freedom out and a dozen bottles of champagne on the table. When she took a quick look at the price, she had to sit down. She had to watch his spending all the time. When he went abroad, he always brought back lavish gifts and wouldn’t hear a word from Evelyne about the cost. Neither did he discuss the fights themselves with her, avoiding her questions with shrugs and laughs. His face was still ummarked so Evelyne never really knew what it took for him to get into the ring or, for that matter, what punishment he had taken.
Freedom came back with his arms full of turkeys and fruit.
‘Lord, man, what on earth have you been doing? I’ve already been to the shops.’
Putting everything down he caught her in his arms. ‘Ah, well, this is a farewell dinner, for the street, then you’d best pack your things. We leave for America and this time you’ll be with me, it’ll be the trip of a lifetime.’
Evelyne hugged him, ‘Is it the world championship?’
He swung her round, lifted her in the air, ‘Aye, it is, and I’m going to take it from Tunney.’
‘Well, you’d best put me down. Any more of this tossing me in the air and you’ll hurt the baby.’
Freedom lowered her gently and cupped her face in his hands. ‘We’ll take Edward with us, and I’ll take great care of thee …’ Suddenly what she had just said dawned on him … he yelped with joy. ‘Are you sure?’
Evelyne laughed and said she was more than sure, she was three months gone.
The excitement of packing and arranging for their departure made the weeks pass so fast Evelyne could hardly believe it when they arrived at Southampton Docks with Freda, Ed and a pile of luggage. There was their ship, their home for the next three weeks, looming so large it took everyone’s breath away. RMS Aquitania was majestic, dwarfing the small group at the dockside. It wasn’t a ship, it was a floating city.
A steward led them to their cabins, pointing out various features along the way. The restaurant, with an oak-beamed ceiling and leaded windowpanes, seated seven hundred people. A long gallery led to what could only be described as a high street, with shops that included ladies’ and gentlemen’s outfitters displaying all the latest fashions in lighted window displays. There was a huge main lounge at the end of the gallery — a glorious, stunning room, as large as a concert hall, thickly carpeted and with a magnificent domed ceiling. All the chairs and settees were upholstered in the finest fabrics. There was even a post and telegraph office, unlike any the bemused group had ever seen. Adjoining it was the library, a big, square room with hundreds of books, and there was no charge for borrowing them.
Freedom had trailed around without much interest, but when he saw the gym his eyes lit up. There were parallel bars, horizontal bars, electric — yes, electric — cycling machines, and even a riding machine that rocked backwards and forwards as if you were on a real-life bucking bronco. There were also rowing machines, fencing masks and foils, boxing gloves and punchbags. Ed and Freedom stood and stared, awestruck.
The steward turned back the bedcovers and opened some of the many wardrobes and dressing-table drawers to show Evelyne. He also told them about the full-time nursery with a nanny to take care of the child at night if the passengers had not brought servants with them. He hovered for a while, then proffered a crumpled piece of paper and asked if Freedom would autograph it for him. He was so pleased, he didn’t even wait for a tip.
Freedom lay back on the bed and smiled, ‘Happy …? You like it?’
From the massive funnels of the Aquitania the hooter sounded, the ship was about to sail. They went up on deck and waved to no one, just the disappearing docks.
That evening, the dining room was a hubbub of noise as they took their seats, and Freda’s mouth watered as she peered shortsightedly at the menu. It was written in French and confused everyone else, but Freda prattled away, iTurbot poche en sauce fenouil, epinards, pommes frites… oh, la la, rouget grille beurre diable… darlinks, it’s just divine … noisettes d’agneau Maltaise, ris de veau, cotelettes de volatile aux haricots panaches … It is fantastic, darlinks.’
Ed settled for the lamb cutlets, Freedom a steak, and Evelyne, after a long explanation from Freda, chose fish. They started with caviare served on crisp toast with finely chopped onions and egg yolks. They were mightily impressed, and Freda’s exuberance and obvious delight in everything was very infectious.
Freedom insisted Ed.accompany him to the menswear shop where the pair of them were measured for black tie and tails. Ed did try to prevent the expenditure, but Freedom laughed, asked him how much Dempsey had received for a single fight. ‘You know, lad, it were more than five hundred, and bugger me yer right. You’re gonna take th
at title, so mister, bring that shirt with the nice pearl buttons and one for the champ here.’ The more Ed talked of how much Dempsey had made, the more expansive he became, smoking a Havana cigar, flicking the ash on the assistant’s head as he pinned up six inches on his new trousers.
They had all been invited to dine with Sir Charles, and Freedom and Ed cut quite a dash in their penguin suits as they strolled along the deck to Sir Charles’ opulent stateroom. Seeing everyone shaking hands with his champion, admiring him as they sauntered along, rubbed off on Ed. He was having the time of his life.
Freda and Evelyne followed their men, arm-in-arm, laughing at the contrast between Ed with his waddle and Freedom with his cocksure stride, towering above Ed.
Sir Charles was equally enthusiastic, warmly welcoming them to his suite. ‘Here he is, everyone, this is my champion.’
As usual, Sir Charles had invited a roomful of elegant guests. The dinner was very formal with four waiters hovering to look after them. Freda insisted on speaking French to the waiter who served her, which nonplussed him as he came from Bradford.
Freedom was being very attentive to the attractive blonde woman on his right. Evelyne excused herself, saying she must see to her child, and the gentlemen rose, half-heartedly. Freedom seemed unaware she had left.
On her way back to her cabin Evelyne stood for a while watching the dark sea. Strains of music drifted up from the ballroom and slowly she began to waltz along the deck — one, two three, one, two three … she stopped to sit in a deckchair. Suddenly the lovely, balmy night was too good to miss.
She heard Freedom’s voice and rushed to the rail to look over and call to him to come and sit with her. She could see him, with the blonde on his arm, strolling along the deck below her with some of the other dinner guests, towards the ballroom. Evelyne had never felt so jealous in her life. She wanted to go down and dance with him, but she couldn’t. She was fat and ugly while the blonde was so beautiful and slim, not pregnant, not so tall.
She watched Freedom’s progress, inching down the steps to get a better view. There was applause, and there he was, bowing and smiling. A waltz was being played and Evelyne could see him with his arms wrapped around a small woman. She was beginning to feel furious when the couple did a twirl and she could see that he was hugging Freda in his arms. They danced towards the open deck, and Evelyne stepped into the concealing shadows on the stairs. Their voices could be heard clearly below her.
‘Oh, oh, I am so dizzy, darlink.’
‘Aye, well, I had to have some excuse, Freda, that woman was hanging on my arm so I couldn’t leave.’ They leant on the rails, looking out at the sea. ‘Does the sea not remind you of my Evie’s eyes, Freda? Freda …?’
She had slithered down and was sitting on the deck, the champagne and wine too much for her. Freedom picked her up and put her over his shoulder. Evelyne put her hand over her mouth to stop herself giggling as the blonde lady appeared. ‘Oh, Mr Stubbs, don’t tell me you are leaving so early.’
‘I’m afraid so, ma’am, my partner here has overexerted herself
‘Oh, do come back, we are all going for a midnight swim.’
‘Aye, well, it’s a nice night for it.’
The blonde was joined by another woman and they watched Freedom stride off. ‘Oh, he’s so manly, Gertrude, and so strong, he really is.’
‘Now, now, Mabel, he’s a married man.’
The blonde giggled, twirled around. ‘That’s never stood in my way before, darling.’
Evelyne had heard enough. She bent over the railings and spoke to the astonished Mabel. ‘It had better stand in your way when it comes to my husband, miss, or you’ll get more than you bargain for.’
Mabel nearly fainted as Evelyne marched off down the deck.
When the time came to dock in New York, they stood together on the deck to watch as the huge ship eased its way into the harbour. Towering above them was the Statue of Liberty, and Freedom lifted Edward up on to his shoulders to see her. The ship’s hooters screamed and streamers and confetti scattered from the top decks while a band played; everyone’s excitement was at fever pitch. They had arrived in New York. Freedom slipped one arm around Evelyne, his face serious and his voice quiet.
‘When we go home, Evie, I’ll be world champion. I promise you.’
The wonders of America did not stop at the docks, A limousine was waiting to drive them to an airport, from which they were to fly by mail plane to Chicago. Even the garrulous Ed was stunned into silence. Sir Charles bent down to talk to them through the window of their car. ‘I’ll be flying with you, see you there … Ed, you’ve got the itinerary, the hotel booking and the tickets. Have to get a move on, the plane leaves in two hours.’
As they sped through the streets, they stared at the towering buildings in awe, but their sightseeing tour was short and they soon arrived at the small airstrip.
They had accepted the fact that they would be flying as if Sir Charles had said they were going by train, but when they saw the fragile aircraft on the landing strip it really sank in.
‘Oh, Ed, darlink, I think I am going to faint, I do. Are we really going up in that little thing?’
Freedom hugged Evelyne to him, ‘You scared, manushi?’
She shook her head, trying to keep hold of Edward who jumped up and down in uncontrollable excitement.
Sir Charles was elated to be flying, and as soon as they climbed on board he sat next to the pilot. Freedom held Evelyne’s hand, his son on his knee, and they looked out of the single, small window. They were a little frightened, and were not reassured by Sir Charles bellowing instructions to the pilot. The faithful old Dewhurst sat with his rosary in his hands, eyes closed and praying, all through the journey.
As they prepared to land, Sir Charles strapped himself into his seat, a glint in his monocled eye. ‘This is thrilling, absolutely thrilling.’
The plane bounced on to the landing strip, and they all turned a little green, but were thankful to be down and in one piece. Dewhurst’s knees gave way and he had to be helped down the stairs, constandy apologizing to Sir Charles.
‘Freda, I think I’m dying, oh God, I’m dying, my heart it’s my heart.’ Freda gave Ed a big hug and told him he could open his eyes; they had landed, everyone else had already left the plane.
‘Gawd ‘elp us, Freda, I feel as if I was still up in the clouds.’
Sir Charles had been driven into Chicago, leaving the others to wait for Ed and Freda with the longest car any of them had ever seen. It was silver, and the chauffeur wore a blue uniform. They climbed into the Cadillac limousine, and Ed flipped through the itinerary and instructed the driver to take them to the Lexington Hotel. Sir Charles, he noticed, had ‘The State’ suite in The Sherman Hotel. He still as always kept his distance, and Ed knew it would be costing more than all their rooms put together … but as His Lordship was footing the bill for the trip, it was his prerogative.
The journey into the city was almost as exciting as their voyage, once they had overcome their nervousness at travelling on the wrong side of the road. Immensely long cars whizzed by, drawing gasps of admiration. The chauffeur gazed at them through his mirror and when he spoke his accent made Freda giggle.
‘You folks from England? Well, jeez, ain’t that great, I never been outta Chicago myself; that’s the state capitol we just passed.’
He asked them endless questions, while stealing glances at the ‘black guy’ with the long hair. He thought they looked pretty scruffy, but they must have dough to be staying at the Lexington.
When they arrived at the hotel, Ed realized he had no American dollars so he had to go to the hotel bank to change his English pound notes. Two porters carried their luggage into the hotel and the limousine drove off. They pushed through the revolving doors after the porters, Freedom lagging behind as he struggled with several pieces of hand luggage, including his kitbag. The mahogany reception desk was immensely long and at least eight uniformed bellhops rushed around in the lo
bby, which was crowded with guests and potted palms.
The manager looked through the glass-fronted door of his office and pursed his lips. He could see the new guests checking in and didn’t like what he saw. He made a quick call to the receptionist to tell the assistant manager to come to see him immediately.
Ed couldn’t understand what was causing the delay. They were all very tired, and Edward had started to cry. Ed showed the receptionist the telegram confirming their rooms. He was beginning to get impatient as no one seemed in the slightest hurry to register them and hand over their keys.
The assistant manager, flushing beetroot red, hurried from the office, lifted the mahogany flap and slipped in behind the desk. ‘I’m afraid there has been some mistake. We only have one room booked, Mr Meadows. I cannot apologize enough, but I’m afraid the rest of your party will have to find accommodation elsewhere.’
Ed was confused as he crossed the lobby to Freedom and Evelyne to tell them of the situation. The little boy was really beginning to scream now, so Ed suggested that Freedom and Evelyne take his room; he and Freda could find another hotel. He returned to the reception desk and asked for the key for his companions to take the room.
‘I’m sorry, sir, that is not possible, I am afraid we cannot accept your companions, that is the hotel rule.’
What on earth was the man talking about? Ed’s protests grew louder and then, to his astonishment, the assistant manager pushed a card across the counter. Neatly printed on it were the words, ‘No coloureds or blacks to be allowed as guests of the Lexington Hotel.’
The Legacy l-1 Page 44
