The Talisman

Prologue

During the Second World War Blitz on the East End of London, Freedom Stubbs, the Romany ex-British Heavyweight Boxing Champion, was killed by his eldest son, Edward. Edward had just received confirmation that he had won a scholarship to Cambridge University, the fulfilment of a long-held dream of his mother’s. To enable him to continue his studies, his younger brother, Alex, agreed to confess to the killing of their father.

The two brothers were parted: Alex going to jail to await sentence and Edward to university. Neither of them went to their father’s burial, but many East Enders showed their respect, saying farewell to their gentle champion by walking silently behind the hearse. The mourners were joined by gypsies who came from all parts of England. Freedom had been not only their champion, but also the son of a dukkerin, and a prince of royal Romany blood.

In the past, Romanies of high rank were buried with their most valuable possessions. All their other belongings were burnt to ensure that the soul of the dead would rest in peace and not haunt the living. Freedom was buried in his best and only suit. During his life he had become a kairengo, a house-dweller, so there was no vargon or caravan wheel to burn, but, ironically, his house had burned down in the Blitz. His wife, Evelyne, left alone with the gypsies by her husband’s grave, was asked if a talisman could be buried with Freedom, as was their custom. It should be something gold, and honoured by the dead man.

Freedom had no talisman, but Evelyne promised that she would return to place in his grave the one item of value the family still had. This was a gold necklace, and was accepted by the gypsies as appropriate for their royal prince.

Freedom Stubbs had given the necklace to his wife, given it with pride and love when he was the British Heavyweight champion, when the long-awaited World Championship was to be his next fight. The necklace represented his success, and even when he lost the title, along with his winnings, even when the family had sunk into poverty, it was never sold. The gypsies were right; it was Freedom’s talisman, and with it in the palm of his hand it could be seen that he had once achieved something, he had been somebody. So it was right that he should lie in his grave with the gold that he had fought so hard for; it was right he should be given the dream that was so very nearly his.

The promise was made in good faith, but the forthcoming trial of Evelyne’s younger son, Alex, made it appear wasteful, even sinful, to bury such a valuable possession in a grave. Evelyne felt that when Alex was released from jail they would need the financial security the necklace could bring them.

The unquiet soul of Freedom began to weep, reaching out to the son who had inherited the powers of the dukkerin. The restless spirit with soundless footsteps began to haunt the living...