Edward showed not a hint of jealousy where Alex was concerned. He was very protective, and even at two and a half he insisted on taking care of his brother. He helped to bath and dress him, and watched while he was breast-fed.
Freedom went out and got work at the docks, without any encouragement from anyone. When he came back he said simply that with another mouth to feed he had to work. But there was one moment of his old glory when he handed over his British Championship to the new titleholder. He received a standing ovation at the Albert Hall, wearing his expensive clothes and looking as handsome as ever, and no one noticed the way he dragged his foot.
Somehow Ed knew he would be feeling low, so after the occasion he took Freedom to the pub and they got well and truly drunk. At long last the locals were able to talk about the American bout and Freedom opened up, describing the United States and each of his fights. He had an avid, attentive audience, and he enjoyed himself. He felt more confident, less defeated. The other dockers had nicknamed him ‘Champ’, and Freedom began to adjust to everyday life.
Money was short, unemployment was at a terrifying level, and the mere fact that both Ed and Freedom were working was in itself a feat. Ed was now taking work as a trainer wherever he could get it, and he asked Freedom if he would help out at the gym. Freedom refused and Ed never pushed it, knowing intuitively not to ask again, and kept quiet about what he was up to until Freedom asked him. ‘.,
Ed never forgave Sir Charles, even though he was dead. He wept privately when he read of the championship match between Jack Sharkey and the German Max Schmeling. Against Freedom, Ed knew, Sharkey had punched low, and should have been disqualified. Ed read with satisfaction that he had lost the world title because of another foul. Max Schmeling won the title on a foul — the title Ed still believed should have been Freedom’s.
Out in the back yard of number twelve, the small square that backed on to the canal, the ex-heavyweight contender held a small white rabbit aloft. He shouted for his boys to come and see what he had brought them, and they ran to his side. ‘That’s it, be gentle — see, you two are a lot bigger’n ‘im, and we don’t want him afeared of you, now do we? So, gently does it, an’ he’ll get to know you and not be afeared, see his little pink tongue, and his wonderful eyes? Now then, his whiskers, lads, they’re like his ears, and they tell him when danger is close. They’re very sensitive.’
The two brothers, so different, one as dark as his father, with black eyes, the other with a shock of sandy hair and big blue eyes, listened to every word their beloved father said. In turn, they touched the small, white bundle of fur.
Both boys were big for their ages, both had big hands, and they would take after Freedom in build. They were usually dressed in similar clothes, and there was rarely a time when they were not together. When Evelyne took them out, there was always someone who remarked how hands6me they were. Edward would always answer, proudly, ‘We are brothers.’
By 1931 unemployment in Britain had reached over two million. It was a time of crisis. The Labour Government was split over how to deal with the economic situation and a caucus led by J. Ramsay Macdonald joined the Conservatives and Liberals. The result of the ensuing election in October 1931 was a disaster for the Labour movement, and the most hated of all measures introduced by the First National Government was the means test. After twenty-six weeks on the dole, no money was given until the relieving officer, commonly known as the ‘RO’ man, had visited your house to see what could be sold. In this way many treasured possessions went in order to buy food. Pianos and wireless sets, considered luxuries, were always high on the ‘hit list’.
The Stubbs family lived at number twelve, then there was Ed’s brother and his big family at number sixteen, and Freda and Ed had moved into a house two doors the other way. They were always in and out of each other’s houses, and even though money was scarce and there was terrible unemployment, they still felt like a family unit. Mrs Harris, living only a few streets away, was a frequent visitor. They would all gossip, moan about shortages and their menfolk, their doors always open to visitors.
Beer was cheap and it was used like aspirin. The pubs were warm, and with others in the same predicament they found companionship, but often kids, sent by mothers, would be seen trying to haul their menfolk home.
Monday mornings were days of reckoning, when the publicans counted their profits and tallied up the ‘tick’. Mondays would see the wives carrying bundles to the pawnbrokers to get a few shillings, and their men’s Sunday suits were constantly in and out of hock. They even took their blankets off the beds to get a few coppers in the constant battle to cover debts simply to feed their children.
You could always tell the widows, who would suddenly appear in black from head to toe, and remain in black for the rest of their lives. Sometimes, however, the fact that they had lost their loved ones changed their circumstances for the better, because of insurance. Realizing that this would more than likely be the one time in her life when she would have an accumulation of money, the widow would set herself up as a moneylender. The interest was very small, but it still proved profitable, and often these widows became more than merry, for the first time in their lives better off than they had been with their ‘other halves’.
Funerals were a common sight, the black horse draped in mauve velvet. The mortality rate was high, mostly due to pneumonia, and survival was down to the fittest. Somehow, God knows how, every family was able to raise money for their dead, as if having been so unimportant in life they had to be noticed in death.
The Stubbs family was surviving, and better than most, partly due to Freedom’s work on the docks, but also due to Evelyne’s frugal household economy. She bought well, and wasted nothing; she counted every penny, and would traipse miles to a market-stall butcher with fresh cheap meat rather than buy in the shops. She always went to market late on Friday nights, when the stall-holders flogged off their wares cheaply. There were no fridges or iceboxes, so food had to be kept cooled in larders or meat-safes outside in the yard.
Evelyne sewed, making most of the boys’ clothes, cutting down Freedom’s trousers, knitting, her watchful eye on the purse strings, and she wasted nothing. Twice a week she would go to two bakeries to do their accounts, for which she was paid one pound fifteen shillings. She never used this money, but put it in her post office savings account. Freedom had never so much as seen her treasured, small, folded book, he didn’t even know of its existence. She was obsessive about it, forever totalling the figures. She had saved more than one hundred and twenty-five pounds over the years, which was a lot of money, but she wouldn’t touch it. She would use it for her sons’ education when the time came, although she kept a small float and had become the ‘widow’ in her street. She lent out a shilling here, half-a-crown there, and would make neat notes on exactly how long her customers took to repay the small loans, with interest. She had begun with five pounds, and after four years she still had her original stake, all the money she had earned having gone straight into the post office. -
Of course, Evelyne was lucky to have Freedom. If anyone was late in paying it took only one visit from him for the money to be handed over. Freedom hated it and would do anything to get out of having to pay these visits, but Evelyne would fold her arms and ask him if he thought they were a charity, they needed the money as much as anyone else did, and as he was the man of the house he had to pull his weight. He would look at her as she stood there, tall as ever and neat as a new pin, her hair coiled in a tight bun, and shrug his shoulders. He often wondered who really was the man of the house, she was a right devil with her temper.