The Boxer's Dreams of Love Read online

  There was something more coming, Eddie knew.

  ‘Unfortunately, they’re gonna want to know how he came by his

  bruises and all that. First thing they’re going to see. We’ll clean him up as

  best we can.’

  ‘Just tell them the fucking truth, Tom. Why don’t you do that?’ ‘I know, I know. Just, you know, the fights, everything.’ ‘You don’t tell them about the fight, they’ll think it was murder,

  won’t they?’ Eddie couldn’t believe he was the brains in this conversation.

  ‘Did he have any family?’

  ‘A wife, I think.’

  ‘You think? Jesus. What kind of people are you?’ Something just

  occurred to him. ‘What have you done with him, Tom? You didn’t leave

  him there?’ There was silence. ‘Tell me you’re joking. You left him there?’ ‘Someone will find him. More trouble than it’s worth. Maybe I

  shouldn’t have told you. I can trust you with this, Eddie, can’t I?’ Eddie was walking up the short flight of steps to the door. Looking

  for the key that fit the door. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Anyway, the other reason I phoned. Sterling on the 28th. Can I

  put you down for it?’ If Tom had been standing right beside him at the

  moment, Eddie couldn’t have imagined what he might do to the man. He

  ended the call. Put his bag down and tried to figure out the fucking keys. In the hallway, in the gloom, still a strange new place to him. He

  wasn’t sure about it yet. It was hers not theirs. He made himself a coffee

  and looked out at the scrap yard that pretended it was a garden. He

  struggled to find anything green out there. His body was starting to hurt

  again, little whispers that would turn into screams at some point during the

  night. He’d hardly known the man but he’d known the fear and sadness in

  the eyes as they lumbered towards each other in the ring. It was like a

  death in the family. Only a few hours ago, seemed like months. Showered, shaved, new plasters on old wounds. He sat and watched

  TV until it was time to go and pick her up from the hospital. Turning it off

  he saw his miniature reflection, a ghost in the machine. He reflected on the

  irony of it all. Everything was ironic, everything. The fates that brought

  them back together again, finding losing finding again then no other option

  but to stay together. Everything he wanted, wasn’t it? He had come to

  Edinburgh to find her and to keep her this time. All as it should be then.

  Everything in its place.

  She held back from his attempted kiss. Kept her mouth firmly closed

  and her eyes searched the canyons far beyond. She let him carry her bag at

  least. They walked in silence across the hospital car park.

  ‘You want to do something tonight?’

  She probably would have stabbed him if she’d had a knife to hand. He

  could see the exhaustion in her eyes, in her pasty marked skin yet still he

  asked these questions time and time again. They were for him, to make

  everything appear normal.

  They ate on the couch while the TV blared and blocked out any hope

  of conversation. She left her plate on the floor and drifted off to bed. Eddie

  waited up until the early hours. He listened for her every breath. She made

  several trips to the toilet. At one point he thought he heard her crying but

  he wasn’t sure. He could stay awake no longer and slid in quietly beside

  her. And it happened as it always did. She came back to him. Moved her

  body against his. Then in the morning he woke to find her hand upon his

  face, her fingers tracing curious paths across the bruises.

  ‘Did you win this one?’

  ‘No. Can’t you tell by the state of my face?’

  ‘Oh, Eddie.’

  ‘Money was good though.’

  He thought about telling her about Charlie but changed his mind. ‘Anyway’ was all she said about it. They didn’t discuss the fights too

  much. She didn’t want to know and he didn’t want to tell her. He’d only

  end up spinning old stories, promises about the next one being the last, he

  was only doing it until he could find some other work. And the ugly truth

  was that if he continued the way he was going, his face was going to make

  him unfit for any other work. Even Edie blanched at the sight of it, even on

  good days. The wounds weren’t healing properly, he wasn’t allowing them

  to, that was the fact of it.

  ‘I don’t have to be back at the hospital for two weeks.’ She threw the

  line out as if it was nothing, lifting her wet eyes to his, a child again,

  wanting to be held. They made love for the first time in weeks. He was

  careful, gentle with her and they lay quietly for a full hour afterwards, both

  falling back into a hazy sleep.

  He waited three days before showing his face to the world again. He

  thought it looked pretty normal, which maybe wasn’t that normal at all.

  Edie floated between euphoria and the lowest of depths. The drugs tearing

  her down, keeping her under, until she finally resurfaced in a butterfly skin.

  Eddie cleaned the house for her, tried to do something with the garden that

  wasn’t a garden. There were rooms in the house that they never used. They

  had found it, could afford it because it had belonged to Tommy Pearson’s

  sister. Why he helped her she couldn’t tell, it wasn’t something he had

  shown to her before. They had only been at the club for a few days before

  she had given him the headache of how to replace her. But he’d visited her

  in hospital, blushed as he sat by her bed, like a schoolboy with a crush that

  would crush him. Eddie had stood behind him as he made his sympathies

  known. Edie had been sure that behind the initial politeness would lie the

  hidden blunt sword he’d pull out, tell her that he couldn’t pay her, and

  certainly couldn’t wait for her to come back. All of that came,

  understandably, but not in the way she expected. Of course the gig was

  cancelled, of course he couldn’t afford to pay everything. But he told her to

  call back in a couple of weeks, if she was feeling okay and he’d see how he

  was fixed. He came back the next day, when Edie was feeling very low,

  very sick and she cried at his whispered words which Eddie couldn’t hear.

  Edie wouldn’t be calling back in a couple of weeks, maybe never. Eddie wasn’t going home, couldn’t. He couldn’t really tell her why.

  She had no real home to go back to either. So, what choice but to stay

  where they were?

  The band was finished. Regret, but little real sadness apart from Rob,

  clearly upset when they all sat around her bed. They’d carry on, they had little choice. No real plans as yet, find a new singer, maybe one of them could do it, but as Scotty said, no real plans. The end had been coming for a while. Only regret, maybe. She waited until they were finally gone before she wept ferocious tears. Eddie had never seen such devastation in her. He couldn’t hold her, offer her any comfort. Her energy slowly returned, she even broke out into torments of song now and again, fearful of pushing her voice in any way. Hope in little things, and most of all in not getting the news that she had been certain that the tests would reveal. A viral infection it was concluded, a name given to something they really couldn’t explain. Drugs that initially made her stronger, allowing her to leave the hospital. A call from Tommy offering her the most unexpected gift. A house of all things. His sister’s house, o
r used to be, she was going away for a while, a few months, he didn’t say where and she’d be grateful if someone could look after it. It was shambling, dust-driven dive down in a blacker part of a black town. But still they couldn’t believe it. It was cheap, and it wouldn’t

  be forever.

  So, three days in the house and he was ready to venture out again.

  With the help of a little bit of Edie’s make-up, hiding things that would

  never heal. She was well enough to enjoy a little time on her own. In the

  bargain basement of a hotel kitchen he washed dishes for basically nothing.

  He didn’t give Tom a ring back about the Sterling fight, figuring Tom

  would understand it as a ‘no.’ Eddie knew the fight was always there if he

  wanted. If he turned up on the day they’d let him fight, beg him almost and

  still pay to see him lose. He worked nightshift hours, his body clock long

  accustomed to it. It was like being in the bottom of a ship, there was a

  constant hum, a constant terrible heat and then the air was always freezing

  when he finally got out in the small hours.

  The 28th came and went, Stirling came and went. No last minute

  phone calls begging him to come. A part of him wanted desperately to get

  the call. Wanted that needle puncture in his arm again. He broke a pile of

  dishes that night, they’d take it from his wages. Quiet Eddie they called

  him. Didn’t tell them he was a boxer, didn’t say nothing at all. He was

  Irish, they understood that, as if that explained everything. Edie was

  brighter than ever when he got home. She wasn’t asleep, she couldn’t she

  said because her mind was full of ideas, she wanted to do something. Eddie

  thought it was a chemical thing again but she said no. She was tired of

  being tired, tired of wanting to let go. He knew what was coming, he

  should have been happy for her, he was. After sex that he played little part

  in, she clambered out of bed to make coffee while he craved twelve hours

  of sleep. She came back and sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling at him,

  talking, talking, talking until she finally let it rest. He thought he’d heard

  her say it but he wasn’t sure. He was only sure when she told him again the

  next morning.

  ‘I have a job,’ said Edie, mouth full of toast, head still full of

  dreaming, scheming.

  ‘What do you mean you have a job? I don’t understand?’ There was a moment then that stretched to the farthest point and then

  came back again.

  ‘You want me to sit here? In case it happens again?’

  ‘No. You surprised me that’s all. Is it not a bit soon though? What’s

  the job?’ He thought of his own, in Hell’s kitchen, and how he would move

  heaven and earth to protect her from something like that.

  ‘He called, really just to ask about the house.’ Eddie didn’t have to

  hear anymore. Man’s, woman’s nature, call it what you like. ‘Tomorrow week. A hotel in Glasgow. Just one night. Some corporate

  function or something.’ She smiled, mischievous kid smile, waiting for

  approval.

  ‘And you think you’re up to it?’

  ‘Probably not but I can’t just sit around. Gives me something to work

  to. I just sit here thinking it about all the time. I know you’re worried but

  how much more worried can you be? What harm can it do?’

  ‘None, I suppose.’

  ‘Can you come that night? I know you’re probably working.’ ‘I’ll be there. Where else would I be?’

  ‘He’s a good man, really. The house, now this. I have a lot to thank

  him for.’

  ‘Glasgow, eh? Suppose you’ll need a lift. That’s the only reason you

  want me to go, isn’t it? You’ve never been too keen to let me see you sing

  before’

  ‘I’ve never been like that. Have I? I’ve never not wanted you there.’ ‘I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t want you to see me fight.’

  ‘I definitely wouldn’t want to see that. Certainly not the kind of fights

  you’ve had recently. You are finished with that, aren’t you?’

  Eddie shook his head. Alcoholic, drug addict, gambler, ex-boxer, all

  the same, never over, not really, always looking over your shoulder just in

  case.

  ‘I hope so. You know I can’t say that’s it finished.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘If there was nothing else, if I needed the money, I’d do it.’ ‘I know, Eddie, I wasn’t accusing you.’

  A comfortable silence followed. He wouldn’t press her today. They

  finished eating, they cleaned up together, took out the plastic bags to the

  bins. They went to the supermarket, took it all slowly, they went for coffee,

  she gazed at everything like a newborn, she gossiped about what other

  women were wearing, took pleasure in the simplest things, she hummed,

  drummed her fingers on the table, smiled and stopped when she caught

  him looking at her. She wanted a new dress, she wanted it today and he

  didn’t protest too much. She brought make-up, shoes, underwear, the glow of her face in the gloom of the rainy afternoon. They had dinner in a hotel on the Royal Mile, quiet, gloomy, she was exhausted but wanted to stay out. She’d be in bed most of the following day but what did it matter? Let

  her have it.

  The following day and the one after that. She re-surfaced with red raw

  eyes, her former confidence just a shadow. She pulled herself up, tried on

  her new clothes, stood in front of the bedroom mirror and pushed her voice

  out a little.

  Four days to the gig, he took her back to the club for the first time

  since she collapsed. Down tumbling stairs to the little stage and he watched

  from the side, watched her sing three, four songs that crept out of her

  mouth like a nervous bird. She took a break, he didn’t ask her how she

  was, just took her to lunch. She barely ate, washed her pills down with

  copious water and scanned the room as if she might find some lost energy

  in there. Four, five more songs in the afternoon, forcing it a little more, the

  manager lurking in the room now, bringing something more out of her.

  From somewhere she’d found something. She fell into bed that night, slept

  till noon the next day. Eddie had to leave her today, couldn’t take much

  more time off work.

  Two days left, she said she was ready. She was excited, terrified

  really. She would stay in bed the day before, wouldn’t talk to anybody.

  Eddie kissed her as he headed to work that night, renewed himself, the

  drudgery of the night ahead more bearable now. He was taking two days

  off work, he told them an aunt had died, had to go back to Dublin. He

  wasn’t sure that they believed him, was pretty sure he’d be replaced in his

  absence. He didn’t care that much. He left the house, out into a freezing

  cutting rain, he could take a bus but he’d rather walk, even in this. Streets

  were desperately quiet, so anyone waiting in a doorway was more

  noticeable than should have been the case. He might never have looked

  back, might never have seen him. He heard the scream of a siren, looked

  back across the dull road, now woken by the flashing neon, wailing

  ambulance parked outside the Train Of Delights bar. The uniformed men

  moved with hurried purpose through the open doors where several smokers

  stood, barely moving, hardly caring ab
out whatever minor tragedy was

  unfurling inside. Eddie kept watching, not able to turn away, something

  about the pain of others, the threat of injury or violence in the air snaring

  anyone in the vicinity. He’d hardly noticed the bar before, had no reason

  to, and a glance across the tattered sign, across the tired attire of the

  smokers gave him all the information he needed to know. Not somewhere

  he’d likely venture into for a quiet pint.

  The faces at the window, Bacon figures drawn in the heat of

  heightened energy. Eddie frowned, he couldn’t make them out so how

  could he imagine that he knew any of them. Faceless figures, drawn from

  the crude end of the streets, the place looked a magnet for maggots, so how could he know any of them. Maybe he just recognized one or two from the bar of the hotel, they attracted similar clientele, much to Eddie’s constant disappointment. The ambulance men emerged drawing an unseen figure on a stretcher, man or woman he couldn’t tell, mask over the face, loaded quickly into the back of the vehicle. The faces at the window turned for a few seconds, looked out, following the drama until the ambulance

  screamed away.

  Eddie moved out into the road, no traffic to worry about, he was

  running late for work, but he had to be sure. He saw the face now, it was

  impossible of course. Was he that tired, was he that fucked up that he was

  seeing things? All the faces had turned back, all except one. The last

  remaining one was looking at Eddie, no one else to look at. Hint of a smile

  on that familiar face. Eddie was so thrown that he looked behind him.

  Nothing, nobody else. Manny Redmond lifted his drink and saluted Eddie

  like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  Eddie moved closer to the window of the bar. Manny had turned his

  back on him now, turned back to his friends, if that’s who they were. It was

  dark, dull, the window smeared with lack of care but it was clearly him.

  Eddie headed for the door, had his hand on it, pulling it open, a scrawny

  bearded little man standing there, smoking, eyes swimming, staring wide

  eyed at him. Eddie took his hand away from the door, a tumble of sense

  had come from somewhere. What was he planning on doing? Whatever it

  was it could wait. He went back across the street, to the hotel, to his job,

  cleaning, washing, thinking most of all. Trying to put a puzzle together,