‘Linus has retired. But his nippers have taken it over, they’ll still be setting up bouts,’ he said, feeling his heart sink to his boots. He hated the idea. It brought it all back, being here. Those fucking deadbeat Cleavers. Shauna’s part in all that had happened to Claire. Everything.

‘That’s it then. Get in touch with them and see what you can get sorted out, all right?’ she said happily. Then her voice grew wheedling. ‘At least wait to see Aysha get back from her honeymoon, will you? She’d love it if you were here.’

‘Yeah,’ said Josh. ‘I will.’ For a couple of weeks, he’d do it. Longer than that? Forget it. He had to get back to Claire. She was right. They shouldn’t waste any more time.

To keep Shauna quiet, Josh went reluctantly over to the Pole place, where he found that Bubba, Linus’s eldest boy – with a huge gut straining against his red braces and a waxed moustache just like his dad’s – was interested in getting Josh back inside the ring for some English matches, soonest.

‘My dad spoke very highly of you, Mr Flynn,’ he said respectfully. ‘Said you were an iron man, a fearless fighter.’

‘I could be looking for some local stuff about now. But I’m not over here for long.’

‘For you? Damn sure. You’re still the heavyweight champion, still the king of the gypsy world.’

As two weeks stretched into a month, with Shauna inventing one reason after another for why he should stay, Josh fought four times in England. His last English fight, a twenty-rounder, was set in an open-sided farm building, with oil barrels marking out the four corners so that the roped-off ring measured twenty foot square. Extension cords dangling off the beams powered bulbs to shed light on the proceedings. The barn was packed, the summer heat inside it oppressive. People were staggering on hay bales to peer over the top of the crushing throng as Josh and one of the Pole cousins, Darnley Jones, squared up to each other.

Josh toyed with Darnley for the first round, got his measure in the second and third, then laid him out flat on the floor in the fourth.

The match was over.

Josh shook the referee’s hand and got a pat on the back and a large wad of cash from Bubba Pole.

‘I never seen anyone take down Darnley fast as that,’ said Bubba. ‘He’s like a brick-built shit house, our lad. You done good.’

Josh went off to his corner, where the second he had hired for the night attended to him.