Following the sensational outpouring from the Major, the telephone lines to the studio were jammed. The studio audience got bigger by the second as employees of the television company, and others who could get into the studio, added to the general hubbub of the stunned and bewildered spectators. When we finally got outside some 20 minutes after the show had ended, the crowd that had gathered was a reminder of the speed at which news travels in these times of instantaneous communication. The street was blocked by the many vehicles that had stopped, in spite of the cops doing their best to keep the traffic moving.
Eventually, with a great deal of relief, we managed to push our way through the crowd, and into the waiting limo. Josh was quiet, almost too quiet. I looked at his pale face which showed no emotion, and it wasn’t for the first time that I’d wished I could read his mind. A moment later his mobile rang and, apart from a “Yes” a “No” and an “OK”. He said nothing else before hanging up. I shot a questioning glance at Maryanne.
“I’ll have to phone Jim as soon as possible,” he said almost to himself.
“Sure,” said Maryanne, putting her arm around his shoulders. “And what about you, how do you feel?” He looked at us with those penetrating blue eyes, as if trying to recall the events of the evening, before replying.
“I’m frightened to contemplate the possibility that my dad’s still alive and if he is, how much he’s suffered. Maybe is still suffering,” He sat back in his seat. “I’ll have to go home as soon as possible,” he finally said.
“That’s no problem, Bubba,” I said. “And in view of the interest in you and your pop, I may be able to get a relief sent out to cover the fight. Then I can come with you. As long as I agree to write something about you in my column I guess.” I looked at Maryanne.
“I know what you’re thinking Jack. You’re thinking that you don’t want a fussy broad along to cramp your style. Well, perhaps you’re right, and I can’t think of anything that I can contribute at the moment to help Josh. But if you need me at any time, you only have to pick up the phone.”
I knew I’d be able to go back to London with the kid with Henry’s blessing as, now that he was going to be world news, it would be crazy if I let him out of my sight. I also felt that, as long as I was there, I’d be able to offer him some protection.
We returned to Bill and Martha’s apartment, where they had both been watching the events on TV. Understandably they had difficulty in controlling their emotions and rushed to hug Josh, with Bill hiding his face and trying not to make it obvious that he was somewhat moved by the evenings events. Although it was mentioned, David hadn’t dwelt on the fate of the kid’s parents but I knew the media would have an emotional field day.
“I expect you’d like to ring Jim?” Martha whispered in his ear offering him the phone.
“Thank you, Martha,” he said, settling into a chair in the hall as we moved into the lounge. Twenty minutes later he joined us.
“Sorry I’ve been so long,” he said. “Even though it’s early in the morning over there it took forever to get through. Jim said the phone hadn’t stopped ringing since the programme ended. Even dad’s commanding officer, Colonel Willoughby, rang to say that he’d leave no stone unturned to get to the truth, and if he is still alive, he’d find him.” There was a quiver in his voice as the excitement of the situation began to show. “He said it might be a good idea if I went home early.”
“Of course you must go,” Martha said taking control of the situation. “There will be a lot going on in the next few days and you’ll be the focus of attention.” She hesitated. “I hope things work out and you’re not disappointed.”
“Thank you Martha.”
“I’ll go and check the flights,” said Maryanne leaving the room. A few minutes later she returned. “There’s a British Airways flight tomorrow to Heathrow. In fact there are several I can get you on so take your pick.” she said looking flushed.
“Jack, does that give you time to check with your editor to see if it will be OK for you to return with Josh?”
“Yes, thanks doll, you think of everything.”
As expected Henry raised no objections to me going back with Josh. But he wanted blood in return. I should have known. Exclusive this, exclusive that. I assured him I would do the best I could, but I couldn’t promise anything.
The evening was cold and drizzly on our arrival at Heathrow as we were greeted by flashing bulbs and jostling crowds. It’s surprising how news of the time of our arrival had got to so many people. As far as I knew, the kid had only told Jim. More evidence of what it’s like to be on the other side of the counter. Frankly, I didn’t enjoy it, but Josh seemed unaffected, looking straight ahead and striding through the multitude as if they weren’t there.
I recognised several of the guys shouting, “Jack, Jack this way,” as their flash bulbs lit up the area like a firework display.
On my advice, the kid had phoned Jim just before we took off and suggested that he stay at his flat rather than meet us off the plane. I knew from experience that there was a possibility of the press being there, as well as the inquisitive public, and getting through the horde would be a nightmare.
We took a cab and arrived at Jim’s apartment in the early hours of the morning, both of us feeling pretty jaded. A couple of suspicious cars and a few guys were loitering around outside and as soon as we got out of the cab they assembled in double-quick time around us. “Josh, Josh,” they shouted. We brushed past them as politely as we could without saying anything. Thankfully Jim was there holding the door open to the apartment building for us.
“Come on in,” he said, “I won’t ask you what the flight was like, or how many people there were at the airport to greet you, as I’m sure it was quite hectic, you know.”
After we got inside I was surprised to see Jim adopting a somewhat paternal attitude, not at all like the person I’d come to know at the gym. “Get that inside you,” he said, putting eggs, beans and toast in front of us. He waited patiently for us to finish before offering any comments, or attempting to start a conversation.
“Colonel Willoughby,” he finally said, “didn’t think that, in spite of what the American said, there is much hope that your da will be found alive, if found at all. I thought I’d hit you with that before you build up your hopes too much, you know,” he said awkwardly.
“Don’t worry Jim, I’m quite relaxed about it,” Josh said with a smile. “If he’s alive he will, almost certainly be suffering some form of torture. And if he’s not, then he will, at least, have been put out of his misery.” The mature way in which the kid was handling the situation was wise way beyond his years. On the plane over we talked about everything but his parents.
That night, or what was left of it, I slept in one of Jim’s chairs. The next morning I rang Henry Armstrong to put him in the picture but already the media had been fully informed of the events of the last few days and the public was demanding to know more. That was quite obvious by the number of TV crews and newspaper men standing around outside Jim’s apartment.
“Tell me Jack, is the kid as good as rumour has it or just above average for his age?” Henry asked when I finally managed to get hold of him. I hesitated for a moment to try to collect my thoughts. Would I be breaking my word to Jim and the kid if I told him what I really believed? Maybe, maybe not, but it was too early and too sensitive for me to blurt out everything without speaking to my friends first.
“Henry, I can tell you only one thing, I’m obliged to check with his guardian before I can write a single word about him or discuss his potential as a boxer. But I can tell you that what you saw on the David Letterman Show was not a put up job. We were all as surprised as everyone else, including David.”
“OK. Well, what’s next on the agenda?” he asked after a few moments hesitation.
“I would like to take a few days off to help the kid over this traumatic period. He won’t be left alone by the media or general public for some time so he needs a bit of protection.”
“Right, but keep me posted. As long as you think that you’ll be able to send me some copy eventually then I’m willing to go along with it. But, confidentially” he said coming closer, “do you think that perhaps you’re going a bit soft?” Perhaps I was. “And what about his mum? There’s little mention of her by anyone.”
“Henry, all I can tell you is it’s a no-go area. It’s being handled by the Foreign Office and everyone has been told to keep their mouths shut and not to interfere, or get involved in any way. And even after all this time the FO still won’t say what’s happened to her.” I hung up and joined Jim and Josh in the lounge.
“Jack, do you think there’s anything I can do to help find my dad?” Josh said as soon as I sat down. I thought for a moment about the torment that must be going on in his mind. Having got to the stage where he had accepted that his dad was never coming back, as devastating as that must have been, there was now the prospect of him being alive. Great news if they find him… Totally soul destroying if they don’t.
“Yes, you can pray. But, as his commanding officer has said, there’s not much hope.” At that point, I had to leave them. “Jim, Bubba, thanks for looking after me, but I must go and get straightened out. I promise I’ll be in touch in a few hours, after I’ve carried out some investigations of my own.” I ordered a cab and, when it arrived, left them in the lounge. Josh’s ability to keep his problems to himself was like the rest of his personality, mature. The FO had told him to keep his mouth shut, so he did just that. By implication, his mom’s life and maybe also his dad’s would be in greater danger if he didn’t. If they were still alive.