The Longest Fight (27 page)

They reached the bus stop, had it to themselves, and Jack propped Frank against the pole. ‘Won’t be long now. Get you squared away.’

‘But we did it, didn’t we, Jack?’

‘Too bloody right. We fooled them all.’ He laughed; stuck out his arm to hail the oncoming bus.

‘I’ve the fare in my bag.’

Jack shook his head. ‘I’ve got this one.’ He didn’t want anything from Spider – let him go hang.

N
ewton straightened the buttons of his janitor’s overalls, standing in the middle of the grey corridor as if he was delivering important news to Jack and Pearl.

‘My shift’s done for the day. Thought I’d check on the patient and drop him off something to read. I’m sure my Jimmy could come by too, be some spiritual comfort for the boy.’

‘He don’t need any last rites.’

Jack took hold of Newton’s elbow and moved him aside.
Delinquency, Prostitution: the Paths to Gonorrhoea
flapped behind him on the hospital noticeboard.

‘Frank said the doctors told him he was healing well.’ Pearl clutched the edge of Jack’s sleeve.

A wrinkled couple went past, averting their eyes, pretending to study a prescription.

‘Course he is. Hurry on in, visiting time won’t last long.’ Jack waited for her to go through before he turned back to Newton. ‘Tell your chaplain son we don’t need his services. But if I ever find myself at death’s door I’ll be sure to look him up.’

‘Sorry to hear you lost the fight, Jack. Never mind, there’ll be others.’

Jack didn’t bother to reply. The shuffling step of Newton retreated down the corridor. Let them think what they liked: he was coming back with an even better deal. Not that the people around there would be able to afford the entrance ticket. Jack pressed his hands to the ward door but he didn’t push straight in, his reflection spooned back at him in the
brass plate. That hospital was where they all ended up: stretched out on a steel tray, marble floors sucking all the warmth from the world.

In the ward, heads lolled on pillows, faces slack, no fight left in them. Pearl stood at the foot of Frank’s bed but in front of her Spider was bent over, his hand gripping Frank’s shoulder. Spider grinned at them, the scars on his face contracting. He stroked the striped pyjama jacket back into place.

‘Don’t mind me, Jack. Patient’s doing well. But I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced, though I’ve seen you around.’ Spider nodded at Pearl. ‘Ain’t you going to do the honours, Frank?’

‘Pearl, this is Spider.’

Pearl’s arm jolted at the elbow as he shook her hand. Frank reached out to pull her away but his good hand couldn’t stretch that far. Spider released her and she sank on to the edge of the bed. Jack took the empty chair. White crescents marked her hand as if something had bitten down hard. She didn’t notice, but Frank rubbed her skin with his thumb.

‘Well, I’ll leave you to your visitors, mate. Remember, I’m here if you need anything. Jack, see you soon. We’re bound to run into each other at Vincent’s club. Seems he was looking for young blood after all.’

Spider sauntered past the nurse’s trolley parked at the bed opposite, scooping a handful of pills into his pocket as he went. Jack glanced back at the face on the bed.

‘You’re looking better already, mate.’

Frank managed a smile, but it wobbled at the edges. His skin picked up the green of the blanket, the yellow of the walls, as if the bruises from the fight were dripping out and staining his whole face.

‘Maybe he’s having too many visitors. Shouldn’t it just be family? He still looks a bit grey around the gills.’ Pearl stroked the side of Frank’s cheek.

Jack caught the silvery flash of fish scales. Hospitals were enough to make anyone sick. The blue curtains billowed
slightly, taking a ghostly form, as someone walked past the beds. ‘Don’t worry, Pearl. Getting better all the time, ain’t you, Frank?’

‘I’ve had me hand broken up.’

Frank tried to move along the bed but gave up and twisted his head to the side. Pearl prodded the pillows into place so he could lie straight.

‘I shouldn’t have let you do it. Should have known something like this would happen with Jack involved.’

‘I shouldn’t have stopped to think about it…’ Frank rubbed an arm across his face.

‘Frank’s old enough to make his own decisions. Ain’t that what you told me? I got him away from that lump, took him to the hospital, didn’t I?’

‘What if they come back for you, Frank?’

‘Spider said he’s fixed it. It ain’t about that, Pearl. But did you talk to them at the factory?’

‘They said they ain’t hiring at the moment.’

‘Not hiring one-handed workers, you mean. Who’s going to give me work when I’m like this?’

‘It’ll heal.’ Pearl rubbed his arm.

‘Can’t have spent the fight money already, Frank.’

‘It ain’t enough, Jack. Not for what we need. What about a job training?’

‘Give us a chance, it’ll come, but first I’ve got that new fighter to set up.’

Frank tried to reach for a glass of water on the cabinet; it crashed to the floor. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘I’ve got it, don’t you worry none. It’s only water.’

Pearl mopped up with a flannel from the bedside cabinet. But she glanced over at Jack, waiting for something more. Through the gap in the curtain Jack saw red tulips wilting in a vase, a card wilting next to it.

‘Come stay with me, Pearl and Georgie when you get out. We’ll get something better sorted for after Christmas. We won’t be short of a bob or two from now on.’

Jack took the glass Pearl handed him and filled it with water, holding it up to Frank’s lips; a drop ran over Frank’s chin.

‘Maybe I ain’t fit for work but Spider says he’s got a job for me.’

‘We agreed to the fight to get away from all that. Something will turn up, Frank. I know it will. Maybe Georgie can get you hours at the pub until something better comes along.’

‘How am I going to pull pints or lift barrels with this hand, Pearl?’ Frank waved the bandaged lump; it looked as if a trainer had gone mad with the wrapping. ‘You deserve more, more than what I can give you here. I did everything Jack wanted; now there’s something he can do for us. Borrow us the money for the boat passage – all them other things we’ll need to make it out there. We’ve got to go to Australia like he said. Start again.’

Jack shook his head. ‘What you on about? I didn’t mean nothing by that. I was angry then, that’s all.’

‘But you were right, Jack, and I’ve been thinking on it.’

Pearl pressed her hands together. ‘We can’t leave here.’

‘If Jack won’t help us I’ll have to ask someone who can.’

‘There are medicals, Frank. I can cheat mine, but how are you going to hide that hand? We need to get you better before anything else.’ Pearl reached for his leg; he kicked under the blanket then went still.

‘There’s always someone out there can get you what you want, for the right price.’

He cradled his bad hand in the crook of his elbow. Jack knew who he was talking about. ‘Spider and his lot are only out for what they can get.’

‘I know all about that. I had a good teacher.’ Frank’s teeth bit at a dry flake of skin on his bottom lip.

‘Jack’s right about them. We don’t need to be going nowhere. Let’s just get through Christmas.’

Jack smiled. She didn’t even want to leave the house. All Frank’s talk of leaving London would sink away soon.

‘We’ll put the bed up in the front room again. I slept there myself when Mum was poorly. Tell him, Jack.’

‘You’ll have Pearl and Georgie fussing over you. Front room’s the best place. You can get to the kitchen and outside to the lav easier from there.’

‘I can’t even piss straight.’

A nurse pushed the medicine trolley along the ward; the squeaking wheels seemed to cut right through Frank: eyes squeezed tight, lips pressed shut. Coughing started up on the other side of the curtain, a rolling rattle like a butcher’s bike on the cobbles. Pearl ran her hand over Frank’s forehead, fingertips trying to loosen the deep furrows between his bruised eyes.

‘He’s just trying to help. Jack will see us right, won’t you?’

‘Course. It ain’t just a one-off. It’s all working out for me. I don’t forget my pals.’

‘I earned the money from that fight. I ain’t some lame dog you can lay out in front of the fire and throw a bone to. Me and Pearl, we’ll make our own way.’

Frank slumped against the pillows, the sides pressing up against his ears. Pearl’s hand dropped on to the blanket. The sound of coughing surrounded them. A silver head poked out from the green blanket on the next bed; blood speckled the sheet turn-over. Jack shivered.

‘These places always give me the screaming abdabs. Why do old folk hack so much?’

‘Just wait until you’re that old.’ Pearl prodded his leg.

‘I ain’t never getting old. I’m going to stay young forever.’

Frank winced as he shifted to his left. ‘I feel dead already.’

‘Frank!’

‘I’m sorry, Pearl. I’ll come round. I just need some kip. Pain keeps me awake all night.’

Pearl laid her head on his chest; it moved up and down as she spoke. ‘Wish I could pass on some of what I’ve got.’

‘You’re the only one who always knows how I feel.’ Frank lifted his wrapped hand and placed it on top of Pearl’s.

Jack tried to study the old newspaper folded on the cabinet; he shouldn’t have come with Pearl, wasn’t sure how she’d talked him into it. He wanted to get up and walk out but the nurse in the pale blue uniform blocked his way, the trolley pushed up by the end of Frank’s bed as she saw to the bloke on the left. Jack picked up the paper; underneath sat a brown book, spine cracked, page edges crumbling:
Boxing
by A.J. Newton.

Pearl tapped his arm. ‘Let’s go. Frank needs the rest.’

‘Take the book with you. I’m done with it all.’

Jack slipped the small book into his pocket. ‘I’ll see you soon, then, Frank. Get that bed sorted for when you’re out of here. And don’t worry about Spider and that lot –’

‘Whatever you say, Jack… It’s always been whatever you say.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Frank.’ Pearl stood at the end of the bed.

Jack wanted to get out into the corridor. The way they looked at each other left a void in the room; it happened that way sometimes, the way a fractured gas pipe could suck the light and warmth out of the streets around it. Jack remembered how it felt. The curtains clung against his legs as he left. He kept his head down, didn’t want to catch sight of any of those limp faces on the beds; he was meeting Georgie later, time for some shopping. Pearl followed him out of the ward.

‘I’m worried about him. Does he seem different to you?’

‘It’s the stuff they’ve got him on – he’ll turn about. Be out in no time. And he’s got Christmas to look forward to.’

‘This is the same colour as we painted the kitchen.’ Pearl ran her finger along the wall as they walked along. ‘I remember you bringing me here for all those tests. I never understood why you were always so angry with the doctors.’

She touched his arm. He couldn’t help staring at her hand: the long fingers and curved nails, so familiar, so like Rosie’s.
But she was only warning him to step aside for a man in a wheelchair, the bottom of his left pyjama leg pinned under his thigh.

‘I know you tried, Jack.’

She let him go. Jack had to double-step to catch up. He wanted to share something too.

‘Do you know, since I told you –’

‘You didn’t tell me –’

‘Since you found out, she hasn’t been with me as much. She used to be all I’d think about. Like how smoke can hang in a room for weeks, clouds of her each day.’

‘Opening a window’s best way to clear smoke. But some things hang around for a long time. Like you. Persistent, Jack, that’s what you are.’

‘A Munday trait.’

‘In those pictures, they’ve all got dark eyes.’

‘Her eyes were same colour as yours, like smoke.’

‘Do I look like her?’ Pearl stopped to study her face in a notice framed on the wall.

‘Sorry, that face is all me.’

‘Thought so. Oh, well, could be worse.’ She ran a finger down to the tip of her nose. ‘Georgie said you’re handsome, but she’d never tell you because it’d go to your head.’

‘She did, did she?’ He tilted his head back but they had passed the glass.

‘How’d she die?’

Jack took a breath; Pearl had a way of getting in the hits without him ever seeing them coming. They passed under the hanging sign for the mortuary; even the air felt frozen in that spot.

‘I know what you want, Pearl. Some fairy story about her lying peaceful like Sleeping Beauty, all Hollywood curls and –’

‘I only want to know what happened.’

He knew all the questions she had inside; he had been through them all himself, but none ever led anywhere other
than back to that night: dropping the match, bumping heads – something to be laughed about at any other time except that moment on Albany Basin. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead; Pearl handed him her handkerchief. What she needed, he could never give back to her, like his thumbnail that never grew back, like his dad never coming back up from that cellar; just as he could never save Rosie, no matter how many times he woke screaming and kicking against the tangled weed of bedcovers.

‘She drowned. I don’t need to tell you it was my fault like everything always is.’

‘What did you do, Jack?’

‘I didn’t do enough.’ He tapped the side of his skull. ‘Best leave it buried.’

‘No, best start finding a way to dig it up. I have to know.’ Pearl stepped outside.

He scrubbed his face, lips puckering against the white cotton. If he had been anyone but who he was then perhaps he could have mashed the words into something Pearl would want to hear. He stuffed the handkerchief, with its embroidered P, into his jacket. Pearl reached over and rearranged the damp cotton into a V in his top pocket.

‘Only one question, then, for now. Would things have been different with her still around?’

‘Everything, Pearl. That’s the worst part of it. Getting up each morning, seeing you, seeing the house, and knowing how it should’ve been… How it should’ve been so good.’

The wind knocked against him, leaves spinning around their ankles. Pearl raised her voice above the clanging bells of an ambulance pulling through the gates. ‘What about you and Georgie?’

He knew what she meant: how other good things had come, sprouted like moss on places where there was no soil to grow on, no nourishment for them. But he wasn’t about to start digging around in all that.