Knuckles Up

Bill felt riled up. Not by the fight planned but by the lads offering all sorts advice that seemed to make no sense. It must have been the way they said it. He'd done plenty of fighting back in France in the trenches, but he'd never fought fair. His local Hatchet was his best friend and he'd never fought without it or a knuckle duster.

He wasn't really a fan of fair fights, no sense in giving the enemy a chance to kill you. He spent a long while in front of the mirror shadow boxing. He was trying to remember what his mates from the war taught him. He went to the boat yards to find a man who he knew did boxing before and after the war. His name was father Albert Christmas. He had a small church for the young and the needy. He'd felt others needed the help he never got, he fought a lot and hard til now.

Bill strolled through the boatyard, he could smell the factories going full steam along with the sound of men busy on the factory floors. He liked the sound, it took him back to when he was a younger lad only just getting into the lads army. Boats passed through the canals like water trains. Which lead him passed the first factory he'd ever worked in. It was a cargo holder for the boats. They'd be unloaded and reloaded onto either trucks or another boat. He was a scrawny lad at the time so he was put to the jobs that would build up strength.

He found the Christmas church, it was a small rough ish built church with a top steeple made into a cross. The doors were double sided and opened inwards. He was headed up the small stairway when the doors opened up in front of him. There stood a black man with short hair, a stubby nose and an average build minus his shoulders and chest. He was not a tall man and looked like he built the church as well as preached there.

"have you come to seek god's peace?" Father Christmas asked looking over him with concern.

"not today father, I need your wisdom" Bill said stopping at the steps and removing his hat to show a clean cut soldier.

"in what walk of life?"

"to knock out a gypsy boxer" Bill was determined to get this man's help, "I'll even confess something I tell no one"

"it'd better be worth my time, you confess first or no deal" they both now passed through the church and passed an uninteresting book with a cross embossed into it.

Bill followed him into a confession box. It was two rooms divided by a window with seats in both rooms.

"do you know the words?" Father Christmas asked from behind the confession window.

"yes" Bill said, "forgive me father for I have sinned"

"what is the sin? "

"I can't trust any of the lads, they all think I'm a fruit basket missing the fruit so to speak" Bill said this with the most honest thought in mind.

It was true, he'd thought this for a while since he was black listed. The lads liked the results but not the method. As far as Bill was concerned if you couldn't do the hard yards you weren't worth it.

"do the lads know this?" Father Christmas asked.

"likely, but too scared to speak up. That or still hooked on the results of the take over" Bill knew there were spineless lads among them.

"just know not all did what you had to do in France, and because of that don't share your experiences, nasty shit went down at home too" Father Christmas wanted to emphasise the war didn't just happen in France, "it took patient men like me to keep the children of God from eating each other"

"now Mr Hatchet I need to reteach you how to knock down a gypsy"

They left the confession box and went out to the back area where father Christmas set up a punching bag made from straw and a thick burlap sack. Bill wasn't interested in punching the bag though, he felt he needed a sparring partner.

They both stood on either end of bag.

"no jackets" christmas said.

As Bill was taking his jacket off he copped a cheap shot to cheek.

"never assume a fair fight, not take that jacket off" Christmas was now quite serious.

As Bill continued to do so he'd dodged another cheap shot, he followed through by kicking Christmas back with a forward kick. He then could remove his jacket.

"are you afraid of gypsies", Christmas asked "only be afraid of a gypsy at war, they have no code of conduct"

"I know, I fought alongside them in the trenches" both Christmas and Bill were trading, blocking and parrying blows as they spoke, "it's why I want to knock out Shankel. To make peace with the gypsies"

Christmas stopped suddenly, "Shankel... Your knocking out Shankel. You mad bastard, just don't insult him. He'll feed you to pigs after he beats you to death"

They resumed the session with less chatter and more on the form and response, shortly ending on Bill getting a punch to the throat and a kick to the ground. This father was no push over.

"you let your guard down too often, be sure to only respond to his attacks" Christmas helped him up with a big grin on his face, "your strength is you last in a long fight, part from that your a shit boxer"

"I'll bet you enjoyed that last one, being so nice drops your temper" Bill caught his breath finally.

He kept a distance putting his jacket on which made the father laugh loudly.

"yes my friend I missed a good sparring in a long time, not many are brave enough to learn from me. Chop would have if you didn't kill him" Father Christmas looked at Bill directly in the eye then escorted him through a side gate onto the street.

Bill took note of the side gate and where it led, he had a lingering thought it'd be useful. He walked back through the boatyards and docks and signalled a few lads to get him a horse and wagon, and to get some whisky barrels in the wagon. He knew where to go to me Shankel, he had a couple places he'd go for fight nights but only one was a gypsy secret he'd have the honour of knowing... Dunbury nill. Once the whiskey was loaded up he set off for Dunbury nill.