‘Now then, you’re going to learn something tonight, boys. Take a look at this — it’s a programme, but see the front. There were posters, twenty, maybe twenty-five feet high. As you came in on the plane, your Dad’s face was the first thing you saw.’
The two boys gaped as she turned the page. Freedom had to swallow tears. He reached for Evelyne’s hand and she gave him such a look it made his heart swell. He had never known about the book. It was so precious it touched his soul.
‘See, he was surrounded by autograph hunters, he was more famous than a film star. There was not a street in Miami he could walk down without crowds gathering.’
Freedom laughed and said she was exaggerating.
‘Oh, no I’m not, and this should be a lesson to you both. Your father was a champion, a very famous man, but you don’t see him pushing it down people’s throats like some people from around these parts who have never gone further afield than Brighton.’
The boys were agog, holding the book between them, shouting, vying with each other to turn the pages. And then there was the programme for the match between Freedom and Sharkey.
The boys fell silent, their eyes popping out of their heads. This was a man they scarcely recognized. The handsome face stared back at them, the hair long, the fists raised. Alex was close to tears of pride, touching the pictures, patting them. Edward looked at his father, then his mother. They were so close to the boys, had their arms around them, and yet it was as if they were alone. Evelyne bent to kiss Freedom, their eyes hungry for each other.
‘What happened then? At the big fight, Dad, what happened?’
Freedom turned the pages, trying to change the subject. ‘This man was Sir Charles Wheeler, he was my promoter, an English knight he was …’
Edward turned the pages back to look at the fight programme. ‘Well, did yer beat ‘im, Dad? Jack Sharkey?’
Freedom gave him a sad smile. ‘No, son, he beat me, wiped the floor with me, knocked me out of the ring.’
Evelyne leaned over and pointed to the picture of Jack Sharkey. ‘He punched foul, that’s why, he punched low, and your Dad’s leg got paralysed. Sharkey was never world champion either, because he fouled again at his next fight. You shouldn’t run yourself down like that, Freedom! Your Dad would have won, but he had so many fights and not enough rest before the big bout… Your face had to have time to heal — there were cuts around his eyes, his ribs broken. No man in that condition should have been allowed to go into the ring. You ask your Uncle Ed about it.’
Again, Freedom reached out and held her hand. ‘I dunno, suddenly your mother’s an authority on boxing, she who hated the very thought of it, now will you listen to her?’
Evelyne laughed, and sat on his knee. ‘Ah, well, I hate it, and that’s the truth, but I’ll not hear you tell of everyone else. You were a champion, not many can say that. But neither of you two lads will ever have to go through what your Dad had to, fighting for money is a terrible way to earn a living … Have you never wondered why your father limps the way he does? That’s fighting for you …’
Edward leafed through the book and then opened a folded page of newspaper. ‘What’s this? Dad, what’s this?’
Freedom glanced at it and flushed, looked up at Evelyne. He couldn’t read it. Evelyne took it from Edward, bit her lip!
‘It’s the headline about Al Capone, Freedom.’
Freedom laughed and jigged Evelyne up and down on his knee. The boys whistled and started in amazement as Freedom told them about the St Valentine’s Day massacre. Alex started jumping up and down. ‘Dad, Dad, there’s films about him, they have guns, bab-bab-bab-b-b-b-b, real machine-guns that kill hundreds ‘n’ thousands at the same time.’
Edward continued to read the article, but Alex was beside himself. ‘Tell us more, Dad, tell us more, Ma, make him tell us more.’
Evelyne slid off Freedom’s knee and picked up the paper. Clearing her throat theatrically, she acted out her scene with the bell hop in the Chicago hotel. She did not mention that the trouble they had getting rooms was due to Freedom’s dark skin, but went on to tell how she had met the man in the lilac suit. She switched to a heavy Chicago accent,’ “Well, Ma’am,” he said …,’ and mimed smoking a huge cigar. The boys clapped their hands. They had never seen their mother behave in this way. Freedom roared with laughter and applauded. ‘We got sent flowers and fruit, and we’d never even heard of him. Then when Ed saw his name, well, he almost shit himself.’
Evelyne cuffed Freedom’s head. ‘And we’ll not use any language like that! Well, come on now, let’s clear the table. Who’s hungry?’
Edward held up a photograph of Evelyne, dressed in all her finery, on board the Aquitania, ‘Ma, is this you? This you?’
Freedom took it from him and turned to Evelyne. ‘Yes, it’s your mother, and she turned every man’s head on the ship. Wearing her real pearls, she was.’
The boys stared from the photo to Evelyne and back again. ‘Is that necklace real, Ma? The jewels, are they real?’
Evelyne ruffled Alex’s hair and said they were, and she had to get on with the tea. Edward gave her a sly look, then a hooded glance at his father. ‘You still got yer necklace, have you, Ma?’
Evelyne looked hard at Edward, but he had the masked look on his face so similar to his father’s. Edward, who pried into everything, did he know? Had he seen her frantic search for her necklace that day? She couldn’t tell. Freedom, uncomfortable, tried to change the subject, but Edward persisted, asking again and again to see his mother’s jewels. Freedom stood up. ‘Why don’t you show ‘em, Evie, go on.’ He left the room, and came back downstairs a few moments later to show the necklace to the boys.
‘Here you go, Alex, look at this. See, that was the time when I bought your Ma the very best.’
How had Freedom got it back? When? She didn’t know, but Edward’s frown told her for certain that somehow the boy had known something.
Chapter 28
3 September 1940 — England had been at war for a year and the effect was shattering as the young men enlisted and went off to fight. Not that they noticed much difference in their streets, just that many faces were missing. Times were still hard, but as so many men were employed in the forces it left opportunities for work open to women. Hundreds of children were evacuated to safety in the country, but not Edward and Alex. Evelyne was adamant. They would remain in London and at school — they were not babes in arms and she and Freedom would keep their eyes on them. Edward, nearly eighteen years old now, was in the sixth form at the grammar school, taking his entrance exams for Cambridge University.
Freedom had been turned down when he tried to, enlist, because of his age and his bad leg. He was furious and felt slighted, but he got a job as a warden patrolling the streets.
The bombs were hitting the East End and the dock areas worst of all, and blackouts every night was the rule. Buckingham Palace was hit in the same month, and the Queen announced publicly that she was glad, it made her feel she could look the East End in the face. The Royal Family committed itself to the needs of war with a zeal and conscientiousness that won the respect of the people.
Jesse made an appearance and roped Freedom into black market activities, and although Evelyne was against it from the start she had to admit that the food they obtained helped their meagre rations to go round. She still did the accounting at the bakeries and still lent money, but she also went to work in a factory on the morning shift. Planes flying overhead and bombs dropping became an everyday occurrence, which left gaps in the rows of houses like blackened skeletons. There was hardly a family that hadn’t lost a relative in the fighting, and now they were being hit themselves they lived in constant fear of air-raid warnings. The raids usually took place under cover
