But Evelyne couldn’t rid herself of her foreboding. She knew Freedom was getting dangerously impatient. Freda waved her spoon at Evelyne. ‘Maybe today they’ll know about a fight, and you must not let Freedom see you are worried, promise me … have some raspberry ripple.’
Evelyne shook her head, collected the bucket and spade and, with Edward pulling excitedly at her hand, went down to the beach.
Ed drove through the gates of the luxurious ranch-style villa. This time Freedom hardly gave a second glance, already bored by Ed’s non-stop description of all the Dempsey fights. Only when a servant led them into a gymnasium did he perk up. Everything was geared to boxing — a ring built in the centre of the vast, sprung floor. The servant showed them the dressing room, gesturing to Freedom to help himself, and then bowed out, leaving him to stare at the rows of gloves, robes and boots.
‘Go on, get a work out, I’ll take a stroll round the stables. I got a surprise for you, you wait. Go on, get dressed.’
Freedom was hammering hell out of a punchbag when the gym doors swung open. A tall, elegant man in a pale cream linen suit, his black hair slicked back, leaned on the doorframe. A large diamond ring glittered on his little finger.
‘Carry on, son, let’s have a look at you. Go on, hit that bag.’
Puzzled, Freedom blinked. Ed appeared behind the man and stared in adoration, near tears. As the man moved into the centre of the room, Freedom looked at him again and realized who he was. He wore a perfectly tailored suit and shirt with a silk tie, and a handkerchief placed just so in his breast pocket, but no amount of fancy tailoring could hide his muscular body. This was none other than Dempsey himself.
Dempsey’s polished shoes made no sound on the pine floor. ‘How ya doin’, Freedom, glad to meet you.’
The hand was like a rock … so this was the ‘Manassa Mauler’, the iron man. Ed clutched Dempsey’s hand, and for one awful moment it looked as if he were going to kiss it. Dempsey began to peel off his jacket, his perfect white teeth gleaming. ‘Let’s go to it, son, I need a work out.’
It took quite a lot of persuasion for Dempsey to get Freedom into the sauna, as Freedom had never been in one and didn’t like it at all.
‘Sweats out all the impurities, all the rage over here, they’ll get to England in about twenty years. America’s the place, this is the land, here, I love this goddam country.’
He poured pine essence on to the bed of hot coals and sat on one of the benches. His body was flabby, but still in better shape than most men of his age. He thumped his belly and roared his deep, bellowing laugh.
‘This is the good life, I earned it, I earned it and now I’m living, really living … hey, you married?’
They both wore short white towels wrapped around their hips, and Dempsey seemed very proud of his ‘manhood’. He snorted when Freedom told him he was married, and said marriage was the worst contract he had ever got himself into.
‘An’ that toff with the enlarged eyeball, your — what?’
Freedom smiled at his reference to Sir Charles, and said that he was his so-called promoter.
‘They’ll have him for dinner, you stayin’ ta eat? Good, I’ll make us a barbecue, one you won’t forget, an’ we’ll have something wet to go with it.’
He was referring to the prohibition order, and when they were dressed they made their way to the patio for the barbecue, passing a very well-stocked bar. Prohibition hadn’t, it appeared, affected the ex-world champion.
Ed was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his tete-a-tete with Tex Rickard had obviously lasted all afternoon. Dempsey made no reference to Freedom’s fights, but they had worked out hard together in the afternoon and Freedom had been aware of the close scrutiny he had been under.
Dempsey heated the coals on the open grill, and some Mexican servants brought chops, steaks and sausages, already prepared for cooking.
‘You ever eaten an American hamburger, Freedom? Hey, what kind of a hell of a name is that, Freedom?’
Tex poured drinks and said that it was a name that would look good in lights, on posters, and then Freedom knew that something must have been settled.
The whisky hit the back of the throat like a fireball, and Ed whisded. Dempsey grinned and said it was the best around these parts, he had the best contacts. The men lit cigars and watched as the food went on to the open grill, while Dempsey, in his shirtsleeves and with his cigar stuck in his mouth, wielded the fork like a fencer, jabbing and inspecting the meat. A table was set on the patio, and soon they were joined by Sir Charles and Jack Kearn. They were greeted with a bellow from Dempsey, who wanted to know where the hell they had been. Kearn poured himself a generous measure of whisky and, gesturing to Sir Charles, said that he was going to make a first-class pilot.
Suddenly there was a silence, the sort of silence they say means an angel is passing over, and Freedom knew instantly that something had definitely been decided. Rickard looked at him. ‘Right, son, if all goes to plan — as you know, there are the big three, Risco, Schmeling and Sharkey. Right now you can’t get a bout with any one of ‘em, but we want you to start ploughing your way through a few smaller bouts — get some good publicity, get your name known. Then, if all goes well … it’s Risco first, then the German, then the main contender, Sharkey. We’ve seen all their managers and it will be up to you to show us your worth … We want the Sharkey fight in Miami, that way Jack don’t have to travel too far.’ They roared with laughter, and more drinks were served. Freedom was beside himself. If they’d asked him to fight anyone then and there he would have been up on his feet.
Freedom was never to discover exactly what the financial arrangements were, he left that to Sir Charles. They were very relaxed, the conversation centred entirely on boxing, and Freedom ate like a horse while Dempsey held the floor. He was a great raconteur and made everyone roar with laughter at the stories of his days on the ‘tank town’ circuits. The subject of the forthcoming bout did not arise again and Freedom had no idea when it was to take place, but he was sure Ed would tell him everything on the journey home. In the meantime he enjoyed himself for what seemed the first time in months.
The following morning, Freedom and Ed received a visit from Sir Charles. He drove up to their villa in a car almost as long as the villa itself. The three men went into the front room and closed the door.
Ed was surprised to see Sir Charles was as hung over as himself and Freedom. His face was a greenish colour and he accepted black coffee gratefully. ‘Right, now then, it’s not quite as easy as those fellas made it out to be. They want you accepted as a real contender, so I have drawn up the eliminator bouts. If you come through, as I am sure you will, then they’ll come in with their promotion for the last three — Risco first.’
Ed was sweating. He mopped his brow. ‘Who does he take on first, sir, and where?’
Sir Charles paused a moment, then coughed. ‘It’s the Dane, Knud Hansen.’
Ed was tense, gripping his cup and saucer to stop them rattling. ‘Next, who’s after the Dane?’
‘Monty Munn … first fight takes place in Cleveland, at die St Nicholas ring.’
‘Where’s Cleveland, local is it?’
‘No, Ed, it’s in Ohio, so get packing and be prepared to leave first thing in the morning.’
Freedom was beaming from ear to ear as Ed showed Sir Charles out.
‘I don’t know what you’re so bleedin’ ‘appy about, you seen the size of this ruddy Dane? He’s over six feet four, a fuckin’ Viking.’
Freedom laughed and stood up, raising his arms. ‘So am I, so what?’
‘His bleedin’ Lordship didn’t mention yer might ‘ave ter take on the friggin’ French feller. Just two fights. Well, don’t fink they’re easy, you’re up against it, and wiwout much time in between bouts if yer do win …’
Freedom rumpled Ed’s thin, frazzled hair. ‘That’s what I like about you, mun, give me confidence, encouragement…’
Ed grinned and punched Freedom good-naturedly on the arm. ‘You’ll take ‘em easy, lad, just don’t want yer finkin’ yer don’t ‘ave ter train.’
Freedom went into the kitchen to give Evelyne and Freda the news. Left alone, Ed’s good humour dropped like a stone, and he muttered to himself, ‘Christ almighty, ‘e’s got ‘is ‘ands full.’
The following morning they were packed and ready. Ed wouldn’t even hear of Freda or Evelyne accompanying them. ‘You’ll both be there for the championship fight, but in the meantime me an’ my lad’s got our work cut out. We don’t want you two slowin’ us down.’
Evelyne was relieved. The thought of travelling all over America with little Edward, and pregnant at the same time, was daunting. Freedom was happy, confident, and couldn’t wait to get started. But when they had gone
