The First North Man

The First North Man

George G George

The First North Man

Copyright © 2014 George G George

All rights reserved

Cover Design by JRS Designs

http://jrsdesigns.yolasite.com

The First North Man is a work of fiction.

Though actual locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Similarities of names used within to any

person, past, present, or future, are coincidental.

Chapter 1

The moon was full and the sky was cloudless as Matt sat next to his dying granddad George. A bond that only fighting men can have had grown between the two of them.

Did I ever tell you about Molly and Bert, my mum and dad and your great grandparents Matt?

No Granddad you didn’t.

Really, you sure?

Sure Granddad…what were they like?

This may take more time than I have.

Then you’d best get started, Matt laughed. He knew just how little time George had.

***

The year was 1898 and the London smog was at its height this time of the year making the already dark streets even darker. Albert Turner had just finished his five year butchers apprenticeship and was now out celebrating with ten of his pals. They were on a massive pub crawl, each expecting to get extremely drunk before the nights end and maybe get off with one of the girls from the town.

Albert or Bert as everyone seemed to call him came from Bow, a tall gangly lad with jet black hair and pleasant features except for his bent nose. Boxing, that’s where it came from. He’d got it broken while sparring with his dad and had never had it put straight. The name he hated the most was Bertie Bent Nose.

His dad, George Turner had spent most of his life in the navy and at one point had been the naval middle weight champion. Bert on the other hand hated boxing. Fighting wasn’t really his thing. Not that he would back down if challenged. He found it really hard to become aggressive, whereas his dad could lose his temper at the drop of a hat.

Still, for the first sixteen years of his life his dad had got him up at five in the morning to train, God how he loathed those days. George was a strict God fearing man and Bert’s mum believed that his dad had made him timid. Bert’s dad had some strange ways about him, like his mum had to scrub the floor boards once a week on her knees, just like he did while in the navy and another thing everyone in the house had to learn semaphore.

What’s the bloody use of that. she would say.

You never know when it might come in handy. he would reply.

It’s about time you weighed anchor you daft old git.

Bert had moved into a small room at the back of Mr Black’s butchers shop when he was sixteen and loved the freedom it afforded him. The smell of the offal was now so normal that he needed to be told when to wash.

The small drunken party was now entering their fifth pub, all singing as they went to the bar. Mr Black had given Bert ten shillings towards his night out; he knew that Bert would be buying most if not all of the drinks as it was a Black family tradition to do so. It had been that way for generations, when you became a fully-fledged butcher you took out your pals and paid for most of the drinks.

While they were at the bar Charlie Green found out about two women, who were going to have a bare knuckle fight. Benny Stilton and two of the others wanted to go and watch, Bert wasn’t interested neither were seven of the other lads.

Girls, that’s what we want. said Benny.

Girls Benny, there’ll be hundreds of ‘em, I’ve seen these fights before women love to see a good dust up. Especially when it’s two old girls going at it. said Charlie.

They drank their beer while Charlie tried to convince them to go, two of the lads were playing darts and had lost three games on the trot to a local man.

Another game lads? How about double or quits. said the local man.

No thanks mate you cost us six pints already. said Bill.

You could win you know, I ain’t that good, just lucky that’s all.

Nah you’re alright, bet yer can’t beat Bertie Bent Nose over there, he’s a top player. Said Bill.

Don’t call ‘im that Bill you know he hates it, replied Gilly.

You’re on, three pints each says I can beat him. said the local man.

Hey Bert this bloke reckons he can beat you at darts and there’s three pints on it. shouted Bill.

Bert wasn’t impressed and blew out of his nose to show his disapproval, he never gambled. Probably the one and only good thing he got from his dad.

Bill we’re supposed to be drinking not gambling on darts and I’m not a dart player anyway. I’m a knife thrower. Bert shouted back.

Ah come on Bert me and Gilly here are three pints down, you don’t want us to lose another three do yer? replied Bill.

Now all the lads were egging him on, they’d seen him in action and knew how good he was. Bert looked around, he’d never been this far south before, in fact he’d never really been anywhere and was always wary of strange places.

I ain’t got me blades Bill, sorry. said Bert.

Don’t you worry son I’ll get yer some. Maggie, hey Maggie get me that box of knives from the back will yer." said the local man.

Again Bert blew hard out of his nose as he looked at the crowd around the dart board and knew he would have to play, I’ve got to stop blowing out of my nose when I’m not happy he thought it’s becoming a habit. It wasn’t the blowing that annoyed him it was that his dad had always done it and he hated it, he didn’t want to be like him at all. Maggie put a box of mixed knives on the bar and returned to serving her customers.

There you are son takes your pick. said the local man.

Bert picked up a few of the knives and weighed them up in his hand, they were nothing like his custom made set he had at home. What his opponent didn’t know was that Bert was a natural knife thrower, he had a real talent for it and could throw any knife and make it stick in to its target

What’s the game then mate? asked Bert.

501, best of three. He replied.

I’m really in a rush we’re going to watch two women fighting, how about just one game?

Well if you’re in such a rush, how about whoever hits the bullseye the most times wins and you can go first.

Bert thought for a moment as he chose his three knives from the box. You’re on, as long as I can have a practise throw first.

Go for it Bertie Bent Nose. sniggered the man.

Bert gave Bill a dirty look as he stepped up to take a practise throw. Now he felt more aware of his nose and his face started to flush red. Each of the three knives thudded into the outside of the board, just where he had aimed them.

Ready when you are and Maggie put six pints on his slate for me will yer, said Bert.

Cocky little bastard ain’t yer son? Bert just smiled as he stepped up to throw.

Bert had chosen knives with thin blades, they may be harder to throw but the bigger ones would have bounced off the wire around the bullseye. He had already taken a disliking to this man. He had thought that calling him Bertie Bent Nose would put him off. In fact the opposite happened, it made Bert want to win all the more.

His first knife hit the bullseye and everyone cheered, except the local man. The hustler was now being hustled. Well that’s that I’ve won. said Bert.

No way son, I have to have a go as well, it ain’t that easy, said the local man

His first dart hit the 25 ring around the bullseye, the second hit the bullseye and the whole pub went wild. The third dart also hit the bullseye; the noise was so loud the roof was in danger of coming off.

To beat me son you’ve now got to hit three bullseyes and you ain’t got a chance mate.

Bert again stepped up and threw his first knife. It went straight in to the bullseye, as did the second. The pub again erupted. The last knife he tossed up in to the air and as soon as he’d caught it, Bert launched it at the board. A bullseye! No one could believe their eyes, three bullseyes in one throw and now not only the roof but the windows and doors were close to coming off.

The local man could not believe what he’d just seen either and went to take his throw, knowing he had never hit three bullseyes ever and the chance of doing it now was very slim. The first dart struck the bullseye and then so did the second, to his and everyone else’s amazement so did the third. He grinned from ear to ear as he looked at Bert, then a sound from the area of the dart board made him turn and look. The third dart had fallen out and was lying on the floor. His face dropped. He’d thrown his best darts ever and lost.

The place went mad and Bert was lifted up high and was almost dropped. He was put on the bar and bowed to everyone as he walked along it. The local man was really not happy and decided that he would make a quick exit, he had no intention of honouring his debt of six pints.

Bert was let down as the man went over and took his darts out of the board, he then started to head for the door. Bert picked up the three knives he’d thrown and sent one in to the wooden post just in front of the man. He stopped and turned to face Bert and saw him tossing the other two knives up in to the air.

I ain’t buying no six pints son, you and your pals can piss off. He said.

Pay what you owe then you can go pal. Bert replied.

So you wanna play with knives do yer? he said. The man went to pull the knife Bert had thrown out of the wooden post but Bert throw another and it hit the man’s sleeve, pinning his hand to the post.

The next one will be in your eye pal, if you don’t pay up now. He said.

He was gently throwing the knife up and catching it, all the while he’d never stopped watching the man. Bert looked really cool, calm and in full control. Truth was he was scared shitless, he just wasn’t showing it. The reason he was throwing the knife up and catching it was so that the man would not see his hands were shaking and covered in sweat.

Maggie get the boys their drinks, be warned son I don’t forget a face and I‘ll have them six pints back, you see if I don’t, called the local man as he left the pub.

Bert kept up his bluff until the man had left, only then did he go to the toilet and throw up. He always did when he was scared. Bill stood on a chair and shouted Ladies and Gentlemen I give you…Bertie the Blade, I thaaank youuu. Bert heard all this from the toilet and shook his head then laughed to himself. That Bill will be the death of me one day.

Back at the bar Bert had to agree with Bill, beer does taste better when someone else has bought it and that said he still told Bill to never do that again. Charlie shouted to the group that he’d heard Bert say that they were now going to the bare knuckle fight. Ain’t that right Bert? That’s what you told that geezer weren’t it Bert. He smiled at Charlie.

Okay let’s go and Bill no more gambling or I’ll put a knife right up your arse, got it?

Maybe I might like it, ever thought of that Bertie the Blade?

Yeah you just might, come on let’s go, he replied laughing and the group headed off following Charlie.

You sure you know where were going Charlie? asked Bill.

Trust me lads, this is going to be a real eye opener, and if you don’t like the sight of blood then you shouldn’t have become a butcher. He was the only one that laughed at his joke.

The sound of ten pairs of hobnailed boots crashing against the cobbled road made people turn and stare, not at Bert though, he never wore them. Leather shoes, that was his thing. Style, he believed and he liked to think he had a sack full, shame no one else did. The small band of merry men entered the Brown Bear Pub, the whole room seemed to be in a haze of smoke as it hung from the rafters. There was a strong smell of the sea. Bert remembered that smell from his dad and knew that there must be a lot of sailors in the bar. The place hadn’t filled up yet and the makeshift ring was being set up. Bert scanned the room quickly, same old faces just a different pub and those that weren’t drunk were trying hard to get there. The lads made straight for the bar.

Bill said. Anyone fancy a game of darts? Bert and some of the others threw their hats at him.

Just you dare Billy Bonner, just you dare. said Bert.

What’d I say? joked Bill.

So where’s the battling bags? asked Gilly.

Easy lads, easy, let’s look around and find a good spot. Bert you can bring the drinks over. Said Charlie.

Bugger off Charlie I ain’t your bloody servant, he replied.

Tonight you are, it’s a Black tradition didn’t you know that? came his answer.

He shook his head at Bert as did some of the others Tossers. Bert replied laughing. He knew only too well what was expected of him. The rest of the gang went and found some seats while Bert got the beers. Five pints later they were all well on their way to achieving their goal and becoming drunk.

Bert went up the bar for another round and half fell and half staggered in to a tall heavily built young woman. Sorry darling let my buy you a drink. slurred Bert to her huge breasts as he was now talking to her cleavage. Bert loved big tits, to him they were the best part of a woman, not that he’d ever been with a woman yet.

I’ve got a face you know. she said.

Is it as good looking as those? he pointed to her chest. Another older woman came over and said to Bert Take a good look at her face it ain’t gonna look nothing like that later when big Liz gets here.

The busty young woman reacted instantly and punched the older one in the face, she ran off screaming. You’re fighting tonight ain’t yer, why do you fight? I mean there’s better ways of making money. He asked

listen BOY, buy me that drink of gin then piss off, you and your bent nose. She spat back at him.

Bert looked at her for a moment and without taking his eyes off her he ordered her a gin. She was tall, he guessed around 5’10’’, as he was that height and she was looking straight in to his eyes. She had long auburn hair and a lot of freckles, her shoulders were very broad for a woman and she had a narrow waist. He could see by her hands she’d been fighting a while, now her face it was sort of pretty some said but to Bert she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. When the gin was handed to her she smiled at him, then swallowed the lot in one go.

Her whole face split wide open when she smiled and her deep green eyes just made Bert want her all the more. His day dream was rudely shattered as she shoved him away, sending him across the bar, with the same comment. Piss off bent nose. Bert looked really sad as he steadied himself from the shove. All his pals roared with laughter as he walked back

What she blow you out Bert? You shouldn’t have shown her your little knob, roared Gilly.

Ha…Ha very funny Gilly, she fancies me anyway I can always tell you know.

Listen to ‘im the ladies’ man. shouted Charlie.

She ain’t pretty but she does have a big pair alright, wouldn’t mind popping them out for a look myself. said Bill.

Shut it the lot of yer she’s mine, she just don’t know it yet that’s all. said Bert.

What’s her name then Bert? asked Gilly.

Dunno forgot to ask. He slurred

I’m going for a leak I’ll ask her for you, just because you’re smitten with her and we’re pals. Right Bertie the blade? Gilly said.

Gilly staggered off to the toilet and when he returned he went over and asked her what her name was. What’s it to you, little boy? she said. Gilly stepped back in genuine disbelief. LITTLE BOY! DID YOU SAY? I’ll have you know I have to use both hands just to keep it out of the water girl. Little, my arse, he boasted.

You’re full of yourself for a small boy, so what’s your interest in my name anyway? And before you ask the answer’s no, so piss off, or buy me a drink.

You got yourself a real attitude girl and I bet you hear that a lot. It ain’t me that wants to know, it’s Bertie the Blade over there, the one you shoved away just now.

Who Bent Nose?.

Don’t call ‘im that he ‘ates it. So what is it then? Gilly asked again.

She studied the small loud lad in front of her, then handed him her glass. When it’s full of gin I’ll tell yer.

Gilly handed her a full glass and watched as she downed it in one Bloody ‘ell girl, you can drink, what are yer half fish? He joked.

No just thirsty.

Me too, I think a drink from one of those would do the trick. he winked at her. She cuffed him around the ear and sent him flying. He got up and stared hard at her then turned to go. It’s Molly, she laughed as he part fell part walked back to the table.

She’s bleeding mad Bert I’d keep away from her if I was you. Still she does have huge tits, I asked her for a drink from one. he grinned drunkenly.

You just leave her alone or else. Bert replied.

Who Bert?…Oh you mean Molly. said Gilly.

Ah look lads ‘e’s jealous. I can just hear the vicar now. Do you Bertie Bent Nose take Molly Big Tits to be your lawful wedded wife. laughed Charlie. Bert pushed off his stool as the whole group laughed.

The fight was still an hour away and Bert had had enough beer for now, he knew that drinking and fighting didn’t mix. Molly was still knocking back the gins and Bert was concerned about her, his pals were right though he really did fancy her.

Bert tried to keep an eye on Molly and the hour seemed to fly by and now she was climbing in to the make shift ring. Liz McGovern the other woman looked older and fearless, her black hair was pulled back tightly in a bun and her arms had lots of tattoos on them. Worst of all she looked very sober while Molly was clearly well drunk. The women were given pennies to hold in their hands and the first to drop theirs would be declared the loser. Both women now stripped to the waist as they readied to fight and Bert’s eyes almost fell out of his head at the size of Molly’s tits

Right from the off Molly started to get a beating, but to her credit she returned blow for blow. Bert couldn’t believe she was able to do it due to the amount of gin she’d downed, he knew it couldn’t last and it didn’t. Moments later Molly was knocked down, she jumped straight back up only to be knocked down again.

Bert knew she was out of her depth, Molly was tough but lacked skill and it showed as in the tenth round she was knocked out of the ring. Molly was almost blind from the beating and was bleeding from a multitude of cuts on her face. The other woman was showing signs of injuries, but nothing like Molly. With every punch that landed on Molly Bert cringed, he’d been hit like that by his dad when training and knew just how much they hurt.

Three more gruelling rounds Bert had to suffer before Molly dropped her penny and the fight was stopped. There had been a few men who’d bet on Molly and were now really pissed off with her. In fact one biggish bloke with a scar across his face grabbed her by the hair. Molly was sent flying across the bar and he walked up to her and kicked her in the guts as she tried to get up.

Bert ran to help and shoved him away from Molly. She was trying to pull herself up on the bar but fell back down knocking over the spittoon rolling in the contents.

Bastard I’m gonna beat you senseless for that. said the thug. Bert had kept the three knives he’d used to win the dart match as a souvenir and now pulled one out to defend himself with.

Do you know who I am BOY, DO YER? Na didn’t fink so. John China ring any bells eh?

Bert knew who John China was and he also knew he was in the shit, deep in the shit. Still he stood between China and Molly. China was the local thug, a man most people didn’t cross, not without getting a beating if they did and now Bert was crossing him.

China was a big heavily built man with a pig like face and half his right ear missing, it had been bitten off in a fight years ago. He wore a bowler hat that he now tipped forward indicating he was about to fight and it told his two gang members with him to get ready. The sound of breaking glass got everyone’s attention, as Bert’s pals came to his aid with broken bottles in hand. China was no coward yet ten young lads all with weapons and one with a knife was enough to make him think twice. You boys are gonna suffer when I gets me hands on yer, so help me you will and that’s a fact. He said.

Back off China he’s with us, I said back off or else. said Charlie.

China slowly backed away never taking his eyes off Bert and his knife, years of street fighting had taught him never to turn your back on a man with a weapon in his hand. Bert helped Molly up and headed for the door with the help of Gilly, who he thought was only helping to get close to Molly’s tits as she was still stripped to the waist.

Here Molly put this on. said Bert. As he put his jacket over her shoulders and did up the buttons to cover her tits. Molly was so badly beaten and still quite drunk that she let him. Normally she’d have pushed him away. She wanted help from no man. From experience she knew there was always an ulterior motive, tonight though she didn’t care.

The walk back to Bert’s room would probably have killed her, so he hailed a horse drawn cab using the last of his money. His room was out the back of the shop, it had originally been the hanging room for the carcasses. Bert had made it a real home from home, it had a small potbellied stove, a bed plus a wardrobe and drawers, the table and chairs were from the old shop but his pride and joy was the bed.

Mrs Black had given it to him when Mr Black had bought her a new one, it was a brass framed bed and had a spring mattress. He was known to polish it at least once a week. Bert though didn’t think twice about laying her on his bed, telling Gilly he’d see him on Monday as he never worked on Sunday. The alcohol was now wearing off and Molly started to moan and grimace, every time she moved.

Bert went and got some water to wash her face, she protested at first then let him clean her and he took extra care not to go near her chest. Not that he didn’t want to, it was just that he wouldn’t take advantage of Molly while she was in this state. The next few hours he spent just sitting at the table watching Molly, he could see the swellings coming up and darkening on her face. Bert was so tired now that he laid his head on the table and instantly fell asleep.

Molly woke with a start and cried out. Bert jumped up out of his seat so fast and hit his head on the low ceilings, right under a beam. Bloody hell that hurts. He said. Molly was sitting bolt upright and stared at him. Where am I and who are you mate? she asked. All the while checking her body, she still had Bert’s jacket on and she undid the buttons looking down as she did so.

Where’s me clothes?

Over there and the names Bert Turner.

Well Bert Turner, I reckon you’ve got some explaining to do don’t you…Got any gin I’m dying a death by a thousand thirst here? She asked.

No I don’t touch the stuff, makes you go blind you know.

So does playing with yourself but I bet that don’t stop you now does it?

Poor Bert, all he was trying to do was help her and she only seemed to want to hurt him, why he just didn’t know. Molly went over to her clothes and removed his jacket and started to dress, he instantly turned away and faced the wall.

What’s the matter Bert Turner, not something you haven’t seen before, now is it?

It’s called respect Molly that’s all. she turned back and wondered about Bert Turner. No one had ever respected her let alone helped her. That was not strictly true men had helped her in the past and every one of them wanted something in return, normally sex or a grope of her tits.

Bert was different and she was not sure what to do about it, how do you handle something you’ve never had she pondered. Cup of tea? he asked.

Does it have gin in it?

No as I said I don’t have any and besides you should lay off the gin, that’s why you lost the fight.

What’ll you know about it anyway?

A lot more than you think, why was you fighting her anyway?

It’s a family thing. She laughed.

Bert looked at her strangely; she didn’t strike him as one who had a family. She looked more like an ex work house girl, treated badly and normally abused. So Molly what’s yer last name?

What’s it to you anyway, do you know you ask a lot of questions and that ain’t normal to pry into someone else’s life.

Questions is how you learn stuff, if you don’t ask you’ll never know will you.

Molly watched as Bert made the tea still not sure how to take him, in the end she decided to let him know her name. It’s Wentworth, Molly Wentworth, satisfied are we?

Well, Miss Wentworth how do you take your tea and don’t ask for gin?

With nothing in, why did you help me last night I mean I can sort of remember parts?

I like you that’s all and helping is in my nature, did Big Liz do something to your family?

There you go again prying. She said angrily.

Bert just couldn’t see why she was so aggressive all the time, maybe this was not a good idea after all, his mum had said he was far too trusting. Still that was how he was and while Molly sipped her tea he got out the three knives he’d kept and laid them on the table.

What are those for? she asked.

There you go prying in to other people’s lives. he laughed as he said it and she in turn shook her head. You’re a daft bugger Bert Turner you really are. Bert told her about the darts match and that knife throwing was his hobby and that he was quite good at it.

Go on then show me. She challenged him.

What do you want me to hit? Molly thought for a moment then went over and opened the door, pointing to its edge. That! Let’s see you hit that. Bert only had one and a quarter inches of door as a target, the three knives flew at lightning speed all hitting the doors edge. Molly was truly gob smacked and clapped loudly as he bowed low to the floor.

The two of them chatted for ages. Molly had never talked so much to anyone before, this Bert was really easy going and he’d not made one move towards her, well not yet she thought. Bert on the other hand had never spent so much time with a girl ever and he was really enjoying it.

Their little private party was interrupted by Mr Black coming into the room. He took one look at Molly and turned on Bert. What’s this then? Your work is it Bert, ‘cause if it is then you can bugger off right now. He said. While looking at Molly, he hated woman beaters, his father had been one up until he’d knocked him down the stairs while he was beating his mum.

Mr Black…I…wouldn’t…couldn’t…even think about…that. he stuttered. Molly laughed at his answer ’im do this to me? that’s a joke. You’re having a laugh mate, I‘d kill ‘im first.

Mr Black looked back and forth between the pair of them for a moment; Molly’s face did look bad. Bert had done his best to clean it but even so she looked a mess.

Right then I want to know what’s going on and now Bert, now?

Poor Bert looked lost for words so Molly spoke up, Look it’s like this mate I fight for a living…yeah that’s right and Bert here helped me last night. Let’s say it didn’t go as planned but I’m gonna beat her the next time, you see if I don’t. said Molly.

And I said I would help train her Mr Black that’s all honest, nothing more just training.

Molly smiled at his reply, so he was going to train her, well she’d see about that. She did admit to herself that she’d really liked his company, purely as a friend, he wasn’t her type anyway, too skinny.

Mr Black looked sceptical so he pushed for more information about the so called training, he’d have no hanky panky under his roof. And when does this training start then? Bert looked hopefully at Molly as he replied. Tomorrow after work, ain’t that right Miss Wentworth?

Molly smiled broadly; no one had addressed her as Miss Wentworth Yeah seven o clock at the Dog and Duck on Treadmill Street. He’d helped her out so it wouldn’t hurt to return the favour would it, a couple of hours with Bert and a few gins. Nah she could do that for her new friend, what did she have to lose? Certainly not her virginity. That had been stolen by the work house owner when she was twelve, Molly had been raped and when she was old enough she ran away.

Now at the age of eighteen she was still full of hate for the man and swore she’d get her revenge on the bastard. Finding him though now seemed less important than it did before.

Right I’ll be off then boys, see you tomorrow night at seven Bertie the Blade. Molly laughed as she left and headed back to her lodgings. Bertie the Blade. he said smiling at Bert. Training…Ah is that what it’s called these days then is it Bert? Mr Black watched as he went from bright red to a deeper red and chuckled, then he turned serious. Bert she’s trouble and not for you trust me son, you’d do well to keep well clear of her sort.

I’ll bare that in mind Mr Black. He said. Mr Black knew he would not heed his advice; youth never did, so he’d have to learn the hard way as he had. After Mr Black had left Bert was over the moon and was finding it hard to contain himself. The next day couldn’t end quickly enough for Bert, he washed and polished his shoes then re combed his hair for the fourth time and left for the Dog and Duck.

Bert skipped down the cobbled streets towards Treadmill Street then stopped as a gang of boys pointed and laughed at him. So he started to walk even faster and tried to control his excitement, even though he couldn’t lose that big smile he had on his face. All that went out the window when he saw the sign for the Dog and Duck, it was swinging gently and creaking in the breeze. It reminded him of a man that had just been hanged, was he to be a condemned man? He’d find out soon enough.

Bert stopped outside and checked his appearance for the last time and opened the door, looking as confident as he could he walked to the bar and ordered a beer. The bar was smoky and loud and not a place he would normally have gone to, he searched for Molly and found her sitting in a corner nursing a gin.

Evening Molly not late am I? he asked

She looked up and smiled, the swellings had gone down some and the cuts had scabbed over. To Bert she looked great. Others would have said she looked like a dirty street walker and would not have given her a second glance. When do you want to start the training Molly?

I ain’t training with you Bert I just said that to help you out of a spot, get us a gin luv.

Bert now set about convincing her to train, he knew she had the potential if she’d train and that was his excuse to spend time with her. Molly do you want to beat Big Liz or not? ‘Cause if you do then you’ll need me and my training, if you want to let her always beat you then go right ahead. I’ll buy you the gin and go, personally I think you’re better than her.

Molly watched the young man seated in front of her, she’d actually enjoyed being with him on Sunday, why she didn’t know but she did. I ain’t got time for training Bert, a girls got to earn a living you know and no I’m not on the game, she looked as his face dropped and it made her feel strangely sad. It was then that a large woman with way too much makeup came over to their table and sat next to Bert. ’Ere luv, come with me you don’t want a beat up old slag like her and I’m cheaper.

Molly reacted instantly and punched the woman off the chair, she rolled onto the floor and before she could get back to her feet Molly was on her like a hungry bear. The woman’s wig flew across the bar as Molly laid in to her, punch after punch hit the woman’s face. Twenty seconds later she’d stopped moving as she was out cold, Molly got up and stared at the woman on the floor.

Who’s beat up now ‘eh, and I ain’t no slag you pox ridden bitch. She snarled.

Bert looked on in horror at the assault and noticed for the first time how deep and angry her green eyes had become. He saw a chance and went for it, if this failed then he’d cut his losses and leave. See that’s what I mean, she sat back down and looked at her empty glass. Mean what?

How many gins have you had? the fierceness was still there then like magic it went and the old Molly was back. There you go again prying, she laughed. As she said it a big smile spread across Bert’s face as well. Just the one and that was watered down, this is a shit hole anyway.

You could never have done that on Saturday night, in the state you was in. All I’m saying is stop drinking and train with me and you’ll beat her easy.

Molly sat upright and stared at him in disbelief, did he just say stop drinking or did she just imagine it. You’re having a laugh ain’t yer, I’ll die if I stop drinking the doctors told me so.

Stop and win, drink and lose, it’s your choice Molly, he said seriously.

She was going to give him a smart arse reply but the serious look on his face stopped her and to make her understand he pointed to her face. That won’t look like that again if you let me help you.

And what do you want in return? I think I know the answer to that already… Sex.

Only after we’re married, he laughed at his comment and it lightened the