Faded Glory

CHAPTER THREE

THE clock in Danny’s hall struck six-thirty. Tea finished, Danny was ready to go.

He still had not made peace with Wendy. He had tried saying that he wouldn’t do too much boxing and just wanted to go to the gym to get fit, that was all, simple as that. But as yet, his reassurances had not worked. Hoping that Wendy would in time come round, Danny grabbed his bike and pedalled the streets to the Live and Let Live.

Albert was working the bar.

“Good to see you, Danny,” he said. “Let’s go on up, introduce you to Patsy properly.”

Patsy O’Neill wore the scars of both life and the fight world. He’d come over as a fighter from Ireland and settled in the East End, a stocky, fit man in his fifties with bushy eyebrows, impressive sideburns and twinkling blue eyes.

Patsy had respect for Albert, but little respect for his flock of wannabe fighters. He’d seen too many of them fall by the wayside, unprepared for the realities of the boxing life.

“Right then,” growled Patsy, hardly looking at Danny. “Let’s get cracking. Put these on and take those bloody boots off.”

Danny obeyed, putting on the boxing gloves and taking off his hob-nail training boots. He climbed into the ring with Patsy as Albert watched from the corner.

“Now hit these pads I’m holding,” barked Patsy.

Much to both Albert and Patsy’s surprise, Danny was good, his hands fast and pretty accurate.

“Not bad eh?” said Danny, feeling more confident.

“It ain’t all about punching, lad,” said Patsy.

The old trainer now put Danny through his paces. Exercise followed exercise until Danny was on the verge of exhaustion and green in the gills. As he lay panting in the centre of the ring, Patsy cheerfully dropped a medicine ball smack dab on Danny’s exhausted stomach. Danny heaved and threw up.

“That’ll be it for tonight then,” said Patsy with a flinty nod.

Any wind of confidence knocked out of him, Danny dragged himself to his feet. He felt embarrassed for letting himself and his dad down. Part of the motivation for this adventure was to make his late father proud, and here he was throwing up.

“That wasn’t a bad start,” said Patsy, to Danny’s surprise.

“Well done son,” echoed Albert. “That kind of thing can happen when you push yourself too hard, but just keep pushing. Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get a bucket and mop.”

Danny felt a little better.

“See ya tomorrow, son.” There seemed to be a hint of a threat in Patsy’s words, a challenge to see if Danny was big enough for what lay ahead.

Danny, reasonably reassured, nodded back. “Sure Patsy,” he said. “Tomorrow.”

Back in his room that night, Danny took out his dad’s photo.

“I’m going to be a fighter just like you, Dad,” he said. “You were a fighter in the war and I’ll be a fighter in the ring. I’ll make you proud.”

Now Danny was on a mission. He trained the hardest, and his progress was impressive. As the months passed, Patsy had to admit that he could have a future.

Meanwhile, at home, Rosie’s frolicking was getting worse. Ricky was still in the picture, but coming up on the rails was a new bloke called Ted, a chubby train driver, whose rants whilst lovemaking were chilling. The training was a welcome release for Danny, and he threw himself into it, pushing and pushing as Albert had said.

But his personal life was becoming a bit rocky. Although the spark was still there, the distance between him and Wendy felt to Danny as if it was growing.

“It’s always bloody boxing with you,” Wendy seethed every time Danny cancelled any arrangements, or ran in the park, or trained at the Live and Let Live gym. “I’m taking second place here, and I tell you what. I don’t bloody like it.”

“It’s for us,” Danny tried to tell her. “For our future. I can do this, I can be good.”

“Graham says…” Wendy stopped.

Danny’s heart thumped. “Who’s Graham then? What’s he been saying?”

“Just a bloke I work with, for all you care.” Wendy applied her lipstick with vigour. “He’s a dead ringer for that singer Dickie Valentine, and a really good laugh. Which is more than you are these days, Danny Watson.”

“You seeing much of this Graham bloke at work, then?”

This seemed to touch a nerve with Wendy. “What are you saying?”

“You mention him a lot.”

Wendy sniffed. “Yeah well, I do see him more than I see you, don’t I? I see you now for a couple of hours now and then, but I’m in work for eight hours a day, aren’t I?”

“So would you rather be with this Graham then?” Danny challenged. “It sounds like you would.” Wendy’s eyes showed how hurt she was by Danny’s accusation. “Get out of my house, Danny Watson,” she said. “Go on, get out.”

Danny left, black thoughts floating in his mind. Deep down he didn’t think that Wendy would ever cheat on him, but the training and their lack of time together was creating tension. He loved Wendy and saw his boxing career as something that would benefit both of them. Why couldn’t she understand that he was doing it for them both? It was frustrating. He couldn’t give up, not now.

Feeling troubled by the argument, Danny decided to telephone Wendy as soon as he got home from his evening run. Going to a local phone box armed with four pennies, he called the Bristows’ house.

Mr Bristow answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello Mr Bristow, it’s Danny here,” said Danny. “Is Wendy there please? Sorry I’m calling a bit late.”

Mr Bristow sounded irritable. “I think she’s gone to bed, Danny. Is it important?”

Danny twisted the telephone wire round his finger. “No it’s all right,” he said reluctantly.

It wasn’t really. He had started building things up in his mind about this Graham bloke, and the thought of losing Wendy was tearing him up.

“I’ll tell her you called,” said Mr Bristow.

“Thank you.” Danny felt a sudden rush of emotion. “Will you tell her I love her, Mr Bristow? Will you tell her that?”

Mr Bristow laughed. “Will do, Danny. Bye now.”

Danny hung up, feeling frustrated and worried. He hoped Wendy’s father would pass on the message, and Wendy would be able to forget that he had doubted her. He couldn’t let go of his dream, not now, but he couldn’t lose Wendy either. It was a juggling act that he would have to address.

The following morning, Danny decided to try to explain the importance of his budding boxing career to Wendy. As he rode his bike over to the Bristows’ house, he went through the points he wanted to make.

Getting to the Bristows, and ringing the front-door bell didn’t help Danny’s nerves. The thought of either losing Wendy or losing his new-found boxing mission was too painful to even consider.

Wendy opened the door.

“Nice of you to fit me in,” was her spiky greeting.

Danny smiled hopefully. “Can we talk?”

“I think we need to,” Wendy said. She jerked her head. “Come in then.”

Danny followed her to the kitchen. “Look,” he said, “I know you don’t like me doing the boxing and it takes up some of my time, but Wend, I’m doing it for both of us. If I work hard and make it, we’ll have money, a future.”

“You reckon?” was Wendy’s non-committal response.

“I love you,” said Danny in desperation. “I want to spend as much time as I can with you, honest. I am doing this for both of us, can you understand that? I don’t want to end up like my so-called friends. They’re destined for a dead end, a life of crime. I want more than that, Wend, more than that for both of us.”

Wendy’s expression softened a little. Sensing a thaw, Danny took his reluctant girlfriend in his arms.

“I promise we’ll spend as much time together as we can,” he said.

Wendy looked into Danny’s eyes. “Promise?” she pleaded.

“I promise.” Danny gave Wendy a gentle kiss. “I need you behind me, Wend, if I’m gonna make a go of this.”

“But what if you get hurt?”

“I’ve got a good team behind me. It ain’t gonna happen.”

Holding each other felt good. Both of them feeling secure, together and close again felt right.

Wendy broke the warm silence.

“I suppose I will still love you with a broken nose,” she said.

Danny laughed.

Wendy struck a boxing-like pose. “And at least you can take care of me with those flying fists,” she said.

“Always,” said Danny.

And suddenly, the threat of Graham the Dickie Valentine lookalike seemed less of a worry.

Time passed under the watchful eyes of Patsy and Albert. With encouragement from Lenny, Danny was becoming, as Patsy put it, a contender. The trio, for Danny, had become like his family. Rosie knew of course that Danny went training, but was more interested in her own social life. And although there was still love between Danny and Wendy, his single-minded focus sometimes still brought the occasional chill to the relationship. Danny did his best to manage the balancing act and went on following his dream.

Three months after joining the team at the Live and Let Live, Danny was summoned by Albert.

“Patsy has some news for you, son.”

“Good or bad?” asked Danny.

Albert just shrugged his shoulders. As he had not been able to pay his club subscription through lack of funds, Danny wondered uneasily whether Patsy had finally lost patience and would tell him to leave.

Going upstairs to the boxing gym, which now felt like a second home, Danny could hear the familiar sound of Patsy’s voice barking pearls of wisdom to another hopeful.

“Albert said you wanted to talk to me, Pat?”

Patsy gave an intriguing wink. “Pop into the office, son, be with you in a minute.”

Patsy’s office was full of boxing trophies, posters and photos of legendary fighters. Danny waited tensely, staring at the photos. He wanted to be one of those fighters on Patsy’s wall, holding belts and trophies. He wanted it more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life.

Patsy eventually came in.

“Sit down, Dan.”

Danny sat on Patsy’s well-worn sofa while Patsy took a seat behind his well-worn desk.

“You’ve made good progress here, Danny boy,” said Patsy. “To be honest, I’m surprised how far you’ve come.”

“It’s all down to you and Albert,” said Danny.

Patsy shook his head. “It’s down to you and your commitment, Danny. And now I think you’re ready to represent the club.”

Danny’s heart leaped. The news was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“If you’re up for it,” Patsy continued, “you could be part of the team to take on the boys from the Bermondsey Club in a month’s time, at the amateur contest scheduled at West Ham Baths.”

Danny’s face lit up with a smile from ear to ear. “I’m up for it,” he said.

“Good boy.”

Patsy shook Danny’s hand, placing a West Ham Boxing Club vest ceremoniously into Danny’s grateful arms. Danny thought of his dad. This was his chance to make his father proud. He cherished the faith his new boxing family had shown in him and he was certainly not going to let them down. This was the first step and he was not intending to trip over it.

“Is it all right if I use the phone?” he stammered, hardly able to speak for excitement. “I want to tell Wendy.”

Patsy laughed and slapped him on the back. “Don’t make it a long one, or I’ll get you to pay the bill.”

The Bristows’ number seemed to ring for ever.

“Wend!” Danny shouted the moment Wendy picked up. “Patsy has put me in the club team. It’s brilliant ain’t it!”

Wendy sounded cautious. “Is it?”

Danny was taken back by Wendy’s lack of enthusiasm. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “It is.”

“So what does it mean? That I’ll see even less of you?”

Danny’s excitement leaked out of him like air from a balloon. “I’d thought you would be pleased,” he said. “It’s an achievement. You can come and watch and that.”

“What, watch you get your face punched in? I don’t think so.”

“Look, I’ll come round tomorrow and we can talk about it.”

“Not much to talk about, is there Danny?”

There was an awkward silence. Danny hadn’t been expecting Wendy to be so down on his news.

“I love you,” he said.

Again Wendy was silent.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” said Danny, still trying to sound upbeat.

“See you,” Wendy replied and put down the phone.

Danny slowly put the phone down. From being full of elation, he now felt deflated. This breakthrough had been what he had been training for, but the most important person in his life still seemed against it.

“Good on ya, Danny!”

“You’re ready, champ!”

Leaving Patsy’s office, Danny was cheered and congratulated for his achievement by all the boys at the gym. He couldn’t help feeling the irony as handshakes and congratulations showered down on him. All their good wishes and congratulations felt somehow empty without the girl he loved feeling the same.