The Pugilist's Son Read online

  *

  He raised his beer glass high, his fingers wrapped awkwardly around its curves and he let out a cackle as he made a defiant toast: “To the only one in the Hope family to go all the fuckin’ way” Terry sneered before he let out a roar heard across the pub “Knock us down, and we keep getting up” As he backed the drink down his throat, his glazed reddened eyes twinkled, the stoic expressions of the men surrounding him nodding in appreciation and agreement.

  Terry glanced down at his wristwatch; knowing full well Billy was over three hours late. As he winked at the barman for a top up he stifled a yawn as he shook his finger at the elderly man across the room engrossed in conversation with a woman dressing far younger than her years, wearing a leopard skin low plunging top and tatty leather skirt, leaving little to the imagination. “I remember that fat cunt” he glowered, his words dripping with venom “said I was never gonna get anywhere when I was training in Dagenham in ’86..mate I was 16 and I had the biggest fuckin’ brass balls, and he was miserable.. said I didn’t have what it took…”

  Before he could continue he spotted Billy enter the bar, shuffling uneasily across the floor as he made his way through the crowd, dipping his head and offering a half hearted smile and nod at those who recognised him. At a trim six foot three, with spiky dark brown hair, the soft brown eyes on his long hardened face possessed a mischievous glint. As he spotted his dad, his back straightened and he moved cat like across the floor towards him as he motioned to the barman for a drink. “Nah” Terry interrupted, stifling a hiccup “my boy’s training, none of that bollocks”

  With his black goatee, peppered with dabs of grey, slicked back dark hair and a face littered with the remnants of old scars, Terry Hope looked like he was still boxing for a living. Standing just over an inch taller than his son, he still possessed the body of an athlete; his strong, dark and handsome features belying a youthful exuberance only stifled by the many creases and wrinkles papered over his hewn skin.

  “Thought you’d be at the gym..” Billy trailed off as hands of complete strangers slapped him on the back, feigning friendship, offering words of congratulation despite not even knowing his name “Paul was wondering where you was too..”

  “I been watching you training all the fuckin’ time son” Terry yawned “one evening don’t make no difference, you know what you’re doin’, right?”

  “Right” Billy cleared his throat “anyway, soz I’m late Dad, you want that lift then?”

  “Yeah…yeah” Terry cleared his throat, backing down his last pint as he slung his arm around his son’s shoulder “had enough tonight, let’s get back”

  Terry nudged Billy as they moved towards the exit, focusing in on the same elderly man in the corner he had seen moments earlier “You see him” Terry grimaced “he’s a self-serving, backstabbing, lying cunt..annoying bastard..said I was never gonna get anywhere as a boxer…I showed him..and now my son’s gonna be a fuckin’ Olympic champ, what did he know eh?”

  “Yeah..” Billy nodded as he pushed open the doors to the Owl & Barrow pub, the cold late November air slamming up against his face as a chill through his bones.

  “I lost tonight dad..” Billy murmured as he opened the passenger seat door for Terry, helping him slump back into his seat. As he turned the key in the ignition and let the engine roar to life he glanced over at his father, his head rested against the window, the wisps of cold mist escaping from his mouth as he lit up a cigarette. “It’s a winner’s game..” he mumbled “..but every champ has an off day son, it’s how it is…” he trailed off.

  “It weren’t no off day..” Billy replied as the car moved away “..I’ve been thinking dad..I’ve-“

  “-you weren’t concentrating..” Terry interrupted, taking a long drag from his cigarette “that’s the only reason a fighter loses, if they’re not concentrating…what was you doing, thinking about fucking that stupid bird you’ve been seeing? Or what?”

  “Nah..” Billy shook his head “never mind dad, I’ll chat about it in the morning”

  “Where were you anyway?” Terry moaned “you was supposed to be here hours ago, I was telling all my mates about ya, they wanted to meet Terry Hope’s son for Pete’s sake and you left me standing there with my dick in my hand”

  “Dad, they’re not your mates..” Billy shot back “they’re a bunch of muppets getting you to buy them drinks and tell you old boxing stories..they’re just using you”

  “Just fuckin’ drive will ya..” Terry closed his eyes “you’re giving me a bloody headache”

  “I don’t wanna do this no more” Billy mumbled under his breath “I’ve had enough of it”

  He turned to look at his father but his eyes were closed, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as a low droning sound escaped from his mouth. Billy took the cigarette and inserted it between his own lips as the sounds of Terry’s snores became louder and louder.