Alfie’s hackles rose. ‘Nothing’s bothering me, Gus.’

Chewing his gum, the trainer looked him in the eye. ‘You ain’t afraid, I know that.’

‘I’ve never been afraid in my life,’ Alfie retorted. ‘I wouldn’t know how to be afraid.’ Yet he was afraid; not of the imminent fight, but of never again having the chance to tell Molly how much he loved her.

Gus saw the look in his eye. ‘Jesus! I figured as much.’

‘What?’

The ex-boxer’s battered old face broke into a grin. ‘If it ain’t the fight, it must be a woman. If that’s the case, I’m telling you now, son,’ the grin turned into a scowl, ‘forget her! Keep it on ice, until this is over. You already know the rules. No dancing, no boozing and NO BROADS! There’s too many people got too much money riding on you.’ He slapped Alfie on the shoulder. ‘D’you hear what I’m saying, son?’

Alfie nodded. ‘Don’t worry, Gus. You can count on me.’

‘I hope so, son. I sure as hell hope so!’

As Alfie walked away, an old boxer by the name of Buster Tyrell came up behind the trainer. ‘What’s the verdict on this new British boy then?’

Gus took a deep breath, then nodded his head and gave his verdict. ‘He’s got the makings of a champion,’ he said proudly. ‘He’s young and strong, and he has the heart of a lion… talented, too. He has a natural right hook that could floor the best of them.’

‘But?’

‘But nothing! He’ll win on the second. I ain’t got no doubt about that.’

‘You’re worried about something though, I can tell.’

Gus gave an almighty sigh. ‘Dames!’ he muttered. ‘That’s what I’m worried about. They sure as hell complicate things.’

Alone in his apartment, Alfie lay on the bed, arms crossed under his head and eyes closed, his mind back in Blackburn, with Molly.

Plagued by all manner of misery and suspicion, he wondered aloud, ‘Where are you now, Moll? Who is he? How could you let me go on believing we had a future, when all the time you were seeing somebody else?’ The questions never went away.

In his mind’s eye he saw her face, laughing at him the way she used to; looking serious whenever he took her in his arms. And those pretty blue eyes, seeming so sincere, when all the time they were lying to him… cheating.

These past weeks he had told himself the same thing over and over, and he still couldn’t bring himself to believe it of her.

He couldn’t sleep. All he could think of was Molly. She was in his blood, in his every nerve-ending. In his heart for all time.

He got up and paced the floor. Then he lay down again. Restless. Angry. Wanting to shake her until she told him the truth; needing to hold and protect her. It was impossible.

After a while he forced himself to lie still. He closed his eyes and pushed all thoughts of Molly away. ‘The fight,’ he reminded himself. ‘The fight is all you have to keep in mind. Nothing else.’ He parroted Gus. ‘January second… Arnie Wild. The big fight. Got it, son?’