Dickens and a book of poetry for Alex. Freedom had bought some cheap, bright toys from the market and she slipped them in as well. Hearing him come into the house, she crept down to the kitchen. He was grinning from ear to ear, and gestured for her to come into the yard to see the present he’d got for the boys.
Tethered to the gate was a bull terrier, white, snipe-nosed with pink eyes. At first she thought it was a pig, but on closer inspection she was so angry that she swore. ‘Just take that bugger back where you got it from. I’ll not have it in the house. Is it not enough with four mouths to feed, and you go and get another? Go on, take it back where you found it.’
Freedom’s fists curled and he felt like hitting her. He’d chosen the dog so carefully, he’d even given him a name. Standing his ground, he said the dog would stay — he couldn’t even take it back if he wanted to, the kennels were closed for Christmas. She knew she’d been hard on him, but the last thing she wanted was a dog. He would go back after Christmas she said, and walked into the house.
Edward was up at the crack of dawn, delving into his stocking, and when he had eaten everything he started on Alex’s presents. Evelyne woke to hear them fighting and yelled for quiet. Freedom had not slept with her, he was in the kitchen. From the back window she saw Alex run into his father’s arms and kiss him, and the joy on the boy’s face as he saw the dog made her regret what’ she had said the night before. By the time she was dressed and in the kitchen, Rex was sitting eating sausages by the blazing fire.
‘Ma, he’s mine, Dad give him to me! He’s mine an’ we’re calling ‘im Rex — ain’t he just lovely, will you look at his face, and watch, Ma, he’s as clever as anything … Sit!’
Rex promptly sat, and he even held out his paw on command. Freedom looked at Evelyne over the ecstatic Alex’s head, and said that he thought a moneylender ought to have some protection, especially if there was cash in the house.
Christmas went by without any further arguments, and Rex became part of the household. He guarded the front door with a vengeance, and no one could get in or out unless he allowed them to. Alex adored Rex and made it his job to feed him. The dog slept curled up on the end of his bed. But Edward was not interested, he was more studious than ever and, as he was taking exams, the house revolved around his hours of study.
Edward came to his mother’s side and slipped a note into her hand. The school prizegiving and sports day was coming up, and Edward whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t let him come, Ma, please, I don’t want him there.’
Evelyne slapped him, and told him he was not to talk about his father like that.
‘He’s done time, Ma, I know it, everyone in the street knows it, and he’s always in the pub. You earn our keep, not him, he’s no use to us.’
Edward got another box on his ear, and was sent out. He hadn’t noticed his father standing at the kitchen door.
‘His report all right then, is it?’
It was more than all right, he was top of his class in every subject, and the headmaster had requested a meeting with Edward’s parents on the prizegiving day. They were invited for tea in the headmaster’s study.
‘I’ll not go with you, I’ve business to do.’
Evelyne put down the report and took his hand, held him close. She said that he was their father, and by God they were going to be proud of him, he was going at her side no matter what. ‘Besides, your hair’s grown now, you look like everyone else, so you’re coming.’
The headmaster rose to his feet as Evelyne and Freedom entered his study, and gestured for them to sit down in the two chairs opposite his desk. He could see where the Stubbs boys got their size from, and he remarked that they were fine, big lads.
‘My husband was Heavyweight Boxing Champion of Great Britain. I don’t suppose the boys told you?’
He was surprised that they had never mentioned it. He shook Freedom’s hand and asked him if he would be good enough to give the sports prizes in assembly. Freedom was tickled pink, and he gave such a dazzling smile to Evelyne that she gave his hand a quick pat.
‘Now then, Mr and Mrs Stubbs — about Edward. It must be obvious to you that he is a more than excellent pupil — he is our star pupil really, not that we like him to know that, but if it is permissible I want him to go into the sixth form.’ He paused, peered at them for a moment, ‘I am fully aware of how hard these times are for us all, but I think Edward might be a suitable candidate for Cambridge University. He cannot take the entrance examination until he is sixteen, more likely seventeen. I shouldn’t be surprised, with the state the country is in, if war were declared. However, in special cases, and I believe your son is a special case, enlistment can be deferred.’
The headmaster was really feeling his way around the Stubbs family’s financial situation. It was rare, nowadays, for families to be able to afford to keep their boys at school for the sixth form. However, Mrs Stubbs’ reaction was immediate. She smiled, brimming with pride. ‘He’ll stay on, sir, and thank you very much.’
Freedom, not fully comprehending what the headmaster was saying, said nothing. He knew, as did everyone else, that war was imminent, so he presumed it was some sort of military training the head was referring to.
The assembly hall was filled to capacity, the boys lined up for their prizes and the school choir sang on the platform. Edward was up and down like a yo-yo as he collected prize after prize. Alex, in the lower class, had gained a special prize for endeavour, and one in maths. Evelyne applauded so often her hands were red. She couldn’t help but turn to the parents sitting next to her to say, ‘That’s my son.’
The majority of the parents were very middle class, but the Stubbs couple only stood out because of their height. Evelyne wore a new hat and coat, and Freedom was in one of his American suits, altered for the occasion by Freda.
‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, as you know, the school boxing team has done well this year, and the school’s senior boxing champion has become the overall grammar school champion. We are very fortunate to have an honoured guest to present the medal. I ask to join me on the platform, Freedom Stubbs, the ex-British Heavyweight Boxing Champion.’
They met Freda and Ed as they arrived home with the prizes, and they listened as Freedom told them about how he had gone up on the platform to present the boxing prize to the school champion. Alex wanted photographs of Freedom’s boxing days to show the boys at school, and Ed had them enthralled with stories of Freedom’s boxing matches. When they left, the boys went along to bring Freda’s scrapbook home.
Freda had saved all the newspaper cuttings and photographs taken in America. The boys were fascinated, and Alex wouldn’t let Evelyne turn a single page until he had asked every possible question. He wanted to know who was who and where all the places were.
‘Freedom, come and sit with us; you know all these people better than I do … come on.’
Freedom pulled up a chair. He had not seen many of the photographs himself, had tried to forget that part of his life. Now, after his success at the school, he was almost as eager as the boys to go over old times. He drew the book towards him. ‘Now then, lemme see … ah, see this fella here, on the side of the picture, that’s Jack Dempsey, the greatest boxer I’ve ever seen.’
Alex hung on his father’s every word, and clung to him. Edward had read the article and tried to turn the page. Alex stopped him. ‘Did you fight him, Dad?’
‘No, son, he’d retired when I met him … Now, then, this man on his right was Jack Kearn, a promoter, and this was Ted Rickard, they were a famous team, known as the “Golden Triangle” … An’ look, see, this is Dempsey’s thoroughbred stallion, ain’t it just lovely?’
Evelyne had relinquished her place at the table to Freedom, and she looked up from her sewing and smiled at the boys hanging onto their father’s arms, shouting and clapping.
‘Now, lads, this is a great fighter. Gene Tunney. I I was to fight him for the title, but then he stepped down and left his throne vacant, see. So fighters from all over the world came to try for the belt. See this, it’s a picture of the belt, an’ it’s solid gold, pictures hand-painted round the sides, seer Oh! An’ will you look at this, this was the Danish contender, name of Knud Hansen, big fella, eh?’ He turned the pages, animated, eager, ‘And Monty Munn … this chap’s a Frenchman, can’t remember his name. Here … here’s the villa where we stayed in Miami, Florida. You wasn’t born then, Alex, an’ you was just a toddler, Eddie.’
Evelyne came back into the kitchen, clutching her own scrapbook. It was immaculate; all these years it had been carefully wrapped in brown paper. Beneath each article was the name of the newspaper and the date, in her neat handwriting.
‘I notice your Dad is not showing you himself. Now, you’ve not seen this, it’s a really big occasion.’
The book was such a contrast to Ed and Freda’s, as theirs was full of their own memorabilia, and very well- thumbed as Ed had taken it down to the gym at every opportunity.
