The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (14 page)

      Paul stood in his corner, waiting for the bell.  He thought he’d clocked Morven and her pal, The Gardener’s Daughter, sitting in the stand, bit when he looked o’er again, they’d disappeared.  He wis aware ae the crowd bit couldnae hear them.  He wis collecting his thoughts oan how tae deal wae the Grizzly, staunin in the corner across fae him.  When he wis aboot nine or ten, him and wan ae his pals, Tony Gucci, hid broken intae Mason’s Boxing Gym across in the Coocaddens.  As they wur rifling through the place, they’d heard the ootside front door open, followed a few seconds later by the appearance ae Patsy Milligan, wan ae the trainers fae the gym.  He’d two boys aboot the same age as himsel and Tony in tow.  They’d been trapped.  They’d broken in tae the place by coming doon through the skylight that wis oan the ceiling above the main door.  The only way oot fur them wis through the front door and that wisnae gonnae happen wae Patsy staunin there.  Patsy wis a man ae few words, Paul remembered.

  “Right, you and you, intae the ring,” he’d snarled at Paul and Tony oan discovering them, pointing tae the ring in the middle ae the room, as he walked across tae a big square box sitting against the wall and started rummaging through it.

  Paul remembered that him and Tony hid hesitated only slightly, before jumping up intae the ring.

  “Right, boys,” Patsy hid said tae the two boys that hid arrived wae him.  “These wee basturts hiv jist broken intae yer good boxing club and wur aboot tae blag aw the good gear that yersel and aw yer pals hiv been raising funds fur ages tae buy.  Ah don’t think that’s right.  So, whit ur youse gonnae dae aboot it, eh?”

  Patsy’s two boys hid stood fur a few seconds looking between Patsy and them.  They hidnae spoken a word up tae this time.

   “Ah think it’s bang oot ae order, Patsy, so Ah dae,” the taller ae the two hid said.

  “Aye, so it is, bang oot ae order,” his snottery wee pal hid echoed.

  “Well, whit ur youse gonnae dae aboot it then?” Patsy hid challenged them.

  “Gie us the gloves,” Snottery Chops hid demanded, as Patsy turned tae look at Paul and Tony, satisfied wae the reply.

  Efter rummaging aboot in a box, Patsy hid started throwing pairs ae gloves, no only tae his wee boxers, bit tae Paul and Tony as well, before bounding up intae the ring tae supervise the slaughter.

  Tony hid been first up. 

  “Right, if Ah catch ye kicking, biting, heid-butting or hitting below the belt, or any other under-haunded wee fly moves, ye’ll be fighting me next.  Hiv youse goat that?” Patsy hid warned, as Tony sniggered, punching wan glove aff the other, tae let Patsy know that he wis ready and raring tae go.

  “Right, oan ye go, Jimmy,” Patsy hid said, nodding tae Snottery Face.

  Paul remembered initially bursting oot laughing as the snottery wee basturt went tae toon oan Tony.  He’d been staunin up oan the bottom rope in the corner, shouting encouragement tae Tony while Patsy hid dived in tae break them apart every time Tony managed tae grab a haud ae Snottery Face’s body, tae gie himsel a break fae the blows that hid been raining doon oan him.  Paul couldnae remember if the fight hid jist went oan till it finished or if there hid been roond breaks.  Whitever…Tony’d soon hid blood pishing oot ae that nose and mooth ae his before he’d goat laid oot flat by The Flying Snotter.  When Paul’s turn hid come, it hid soon turned oot tae be a repeat ae whit hid happened tae Tony, apart fae wan difference.  He’d managed tae put Snottery Face’s pal, Carrot Heid, who’d been systematically pummelling fuck oot ae his heid and body, doon oan tae the canvas.  He could still remember the look ae astonishment oan Patsy Milligan’s coupon, as Snottery Face jumped intae the ring tae help his pal up while Tony bounced up and doon oan the rope, spitting oot blood while whooping like a madman.

  “Take that ya wanker, ye,” he remembered Tony shouting.

  “Ur ye okay, Brian?” Patsy hid asked Carrot Heid, as Snottery Coupon helped his pal wae the wobbly legs o’er tae the stool sitting in the corner, while Paul jogged roond the ring wae his hauns up in the air like Cassius Clay.

  “Ah think so, Patsy,” he heard Carrot Heid replying unconvincingly.

  “That wis a stoating wee left hook, son.  Hiv ye done any boxing before?” Patsy hid asked Paul, still looking impressed.

  “Aye, aw o’er the place, Granda,” Tony hid shouted loudly, in-between using his teeth tae untie his gloves.

  “No in a boxing ring, Ah hivnae,” Paul hid replied.

  “Right, if ye’re interested, come roond here oan Thursday night aboot six o’clock and Ah’ll explain tae ye how ye managed tae dae that tae oor Brian o’er there.”

Before Paddy ‘Knockoot’ Broon, hivving recovered fae being knocked oot earlier, clanged the bell, George wis hauf way across the ring.  Paul could feel the boards under the canvas tremble and shake as George came thundering across towards him.  He jist hid time tae get his hauns up intae a high guarding position, right haun covering the right side ae his face and the left haun his left side, as George arrived in front ae him, leading wae a right hook.  Paul quickly feigned tae the left and then shot oot ae his way tae the right.  George’s left shoulder caught him oan his left haun side which sent Paul spinning against the ropes.  The force ae the frontal attack meant George kept moving forward and hid tae twist back roond, bouncing aff the ropes tae face Paul.  This gied Paul a chance tae recover his stance, as well as put a wee bit ae distance between himsel and the steamroller.  George came thundering across again.  Paul wis waiting fur him this time.  He feigned tae his right and then bounced tae his left, placing his body and right fit tae the ootside ae George’s right fit.  He felt the slipstream ae George’s right hook as George’s glove whizzed by his right eye.  It wis, as Moses shouted oot tae his pals at the parting ae the Dead Sea, ‘A Gift Fae God.’  Paul let loose wae a left cross that landed smack oan the right haun side ae George’s face, followed by a right hook intae his kidney, followed by another left cross tae the back ae his heid, which sent George, and his face, crashing intae the corner post that he’d thundered oot fae fifty seconds earlier.  Bowler Hat grabbed Paul fae the back and pulled him away.  Although he couldnae hear the noise ae the crowd wance the bell hid clanged fur the start ae the roond, he could definitely hear the deafening silence efter George hid kissed the corner post.

  “Christ, a southpaw!” Sir Frank yelped in astonishment, wiping away the burning embers ae the cigar that hid accidentally exploded oan tae his lap.

  He quickly glanced across tae the bookmaker, who clearly hidnae clocked the left hook landing, as he wis still busy rubbing oot the chalked ten tae wan odds against the skinny boy and replacing the ten wae a twenty.

  “Frank, are you alright?” a startled Duke wis saying tae him, as Sir Frank waved across his man, Peacock, who wis staunin behind John and Cameron Sellar.

  “Quick, Peacock, put the lot on The Lost Boy and hurry,” Sir Frank hissed, haunin o’er a wad ae notes, withoot coonting them.

  “Frank, what’s going on?” The Duke demanded as the bell clanged tae finish the end ae roond wan.

  “John, you’ve got a bloody southpaw up against your man.  Your man has no chance.  I knew something wasn’t quite right the moment that Lost Boy or whatever he’s called, lifted his arms up,” Sir Frank replied gleefully, barely able tae contain his excitement, as mayhem ensued aw aroond the ring.

  “Frank, what are you talking about?” The Duke demanded, doubt and alarm creeping intae that voice ae his.

  “John, that boy is a left-handed boxer and it isn’t the first time he’s seen the inside of a ring either.”

  “So?”

  “Think about it.  Every time your man throws a right-handed punch and misses, he leaves the right-hand side of his head exposed.  A southpaw will take advantage of this flaw every time.  As long as he can place his body or his right foot on the outside of your man’s right foot, he’ll take advantage.”

  “I’m sorry, Frank.  I don’t get it.  What are you saying?” The Duke demanded, still confused, as he looked across at the skinny poacher, who wis staunin in his corner, being wiped doon by a shifty-looking familiar face.

  “There are very few clubs in Glasgow, or the West of Scotland for that matter, who will put their fighters up against a southpaw.  Most clubs won’t entertain them.  Southpaws are a scab on the back of boxing.  They’re worse than the pox.”

  “What?  He’s fighting illegally?”

  “Not illegally in the legal sense, but promoters here and abroad, as well as all decent trainers, are trying to outlaw them.  The majority of fighters are right-handed.  Any left-handed youngsters coming into the game are either frozen out at the start or they are trained in the natural orthodox manner, which is right-handed,” Sir Frank said before his scowl turned tae a smile, as Peacock haunded him his bookmaker’s slip.

  “I’m sorry, Frank, but I still think you’re wrong.  My man slipped. That punch was nothing but a fluke.  George Sellar has won this competition three years in a row.  Look at the size of him, for God’s sake.”

  “I’m telling you, John.  Your man is going to get a lesson in the ancient art of boxing from a mongrel that should have been put down a long time ago.  You mark my words.”

Innes could barely look.  Sellar hid got aff the stocks even before the bell hid gone aff and hid charged across the ring.  He couldnae believe it when Paul managed tae body swerve him.  He thought Packer wis gaun tae deafen him wae the scream ae relief he’d let oot, until he realised it wis his ain voice he’d been hearing.

  “C’mon Paul,” Donald shouted, punching an imaginary George Sellar in front ae him.

  “Go on, laddie,” Innes screamed, his fear and panic suddenly aw forgotten aboot.

  “I just knew our boy knew something everyone else didn’t,” Packer announced oot loudly tae everywan within hearing distance.

“Sweet mother of God, Shamus!  Why don’t you just give the money away?” Bowler Hat screamed at his brother, the bookie, efter jumping oot ae the ring as soon as the bell hid gone.

  “Sure, and what have I done now, Padraig?”

  “Are you bloody blind, as well as stupid?  There’s a frigging southpaw in that ring.”

  “What? Where?  I never saw any southpaw.”

  “That’s because you were too busy giving away all our sheckles, ye stupid Paddy, ye.  Did ye not see that left cross?”

  “No, I thought the big fellow tripped or something.  I was too busy increasing the odds on the loser to see if I could get a few more bob out of some of these Highland eejits.”

  “Well, reverse the odds and be quick about it now.  That southpaw will be walking away with our ten-pound note and there’s not a fairy’s fuck we can do about it.  I’ve got a feeling we’ve been set up.”

  “It’s funny ye should say that, now that I think about it.”

  “What, for Christ’s sake?”

  “Just before the bell, a man dressed like a crow walked up and placed twenty two pounds on the loser, would ye believe.”

  “Sweet mother of Saint Patrick, tell me you’re pulling my leg, Shamus, please?  What odds did you give him?”

  “Twenty to one.”

  “Get those frigging odds reversed before any other thieving conman gets up here and lays any more money on him.  We’ll need to try and sneak away as soon as the fight is done. I’ll tell your sister,” Bowler Hat snarled, as he turned and rushed back tae the ring.

  “Are you sure, Saba?  He didn’t fall?  Paul knocked him over with a punch?” Morven asked disbelievingly, taking her hauns away fae her face and looking towards the ring.

  “It happened very quickly, but I’m sure I saw it.  I think George hurt his eye when he fell against the post.  Cameron is dabbing his eye with a towel as we speak,” Saba replied, as John Sellar rushed past them efter consulting wae The Duke, fighting his way through the crowd.

  As soon as the bell fur the second roond clanged, Paul wis oot ae his corner pronto.  As he thought, The Steam Roller hidnae changed his tactics and came lumbering across, trying tae force him back intae his corner.  There wisnae any set combination.  George’s erms and gloves wur being used tae jab, throw left hooks and right uppercuts.  Paul defended himsel by keeping his fitwork and his heid oan the move, circulating tae the right, away fae that right haun ae George’s, while parrying his left hooks wae his right glove held tight tae his cheek and blocking George’s right haun uppercuts wae the palm ae his left glove.  Paul knew he wid be okay as long as he kept moving and feigning.  He knew he hid tae be patient, keep breathing steadily and let the ugly basturt tire himsel oot.  He knew George wid be able tae take a jab or two so he decided that he’d wear him doon and see whit happened.  He wanted tae get this o’er and done wae, bit he knew it widnae be finished in the second roond.  He let loose wae a left cross tae George’s napper, followed up by a right hook and then a quick right hook tae his body.  He heard George wince and back aff against the ropes as that last punch landed.  As George bounced aff the ropes, shock and surprise showing in his ugly mug, Paul quickly followed through wae a left hook tae his rib cage, followed wae a right hook tae the other side quickly followed by a right hook tae that left eye ae his.  Paul saw George’s legs buckle slightly and wis aboot tae move in, hoping fur the sucker punch, when the bell clanged and Bowler Hat jumped in-between them, pushing Paul away across tae his ain corner.