Cauliflower Heart: Wrestling With Life

—Terry Funk Professional wrestling icon, Hollywood actor, Honorary Lifetime ECW World Heavyweight Champion

DIANA HART

“Diana Hart has tremendous insight to our crazy little world of professional wrestling. She’s lived it, breathed it ,and loved it as a member of wrestling’s pre-eminent first family.

I’ve spent hours reading Diana’s Cauliflower Heart Trilogy and nobody chronicles the stories better of personal lives of some of the biggest stars in the game. Cauliflower Heart: Wrestling With Life is a 5-star must-read!”

Diana Hart is also a trainer, writer, artist and was born into Stu and Helen Hart’s legendary pro wrestling family in 1963 in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Diana studied Fine Arts at the University of Calgary before performing in the WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment), then known as the WWF (World Wrestling Federation) alongside her late husband Davey Boy Smith (the British Bulldog), late brother Owen Hart, and brother Bret Hitman Hart. In 2001, whilst based in Tampa, Florida. Diana’s autobiography, Under the Mat, made Alberta’s top ten nonfiction best-seller list. She has two children, Harry, who wrestles all over the world as Davey Boy Smith Jr, and Georgia, an actress and voice over artist based in England.

Diana now resides back home, in Calgary. For more information visit www.OfficialDianaHart.com

Cauliflower Heart

“Does Diana Hart qualify as a story-teller? I’ve known Diana Hart all of her life. Believe me, she is the ‘heart’ of the Hart Family. She has had to deal with so many tragedies, yet she still dances to the tune of life. Can she write? Damn right she can!”

Award winning author, Diana Hart, authors her second book in the Cauliflower Heart Trilogy, Wrestling With Life. Her first book in the series, A Romantic Wrestler, is the recipient of an Indie Book Award, Runner Up at the Hollywood and London Book Festivals, Silver Readers’ Favorite International Book Award and an Honorable Mention at the Southern California Book Festival.

Wrestling with Life

In the blink of an eye, the idyllic world that Claudine Bellamy knew, brutally turns upside down. While her family struggles with tragedy and permanent loss, their professional wrestling business is publicly exposed. Acutely vulnerable, is Claudine resilient enough to resist being exploited by corrupt vultures of the celebrity world and protect her precious family?

—Gene Okerlund WWF, WCW Professional Wrestling Interviewer, Hollywood actor, co-host of Vintage Collection

Book Two of the Cauliflower Heart Trilogy

Cauliflower Heart Book II

Wrestling With Life

Diana Hart

Publisher Page

an imprint of Headline Books, Inc.

Terra Alta, WV

Cauliflower Heart: Wrestling With Life Book 2

by Diana Hart copyright ©2017 Diana Hart All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, except where noted otherwise, are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any other resemblance to actual people, places or events is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any other form or for any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage system, without written permission from Publisher Page.

To order additional copies of this book or for book publishing information, or to contact the author: Publisher Page P.O. Box 52, Terra Alta, WV 26764 Tel/Fax: 800-570-5951 Email: mybook@headlinebooks.com www.HeadlineBooks.com www.OfficialDianaHart.com Publisher Page is an imprint of Headline Books Author photo by Jeremy Adshade Cover images from BigStock.

ISBN 13: 9781882658664 Library of Congress Control Number: 2016939187

P R I N T E D I N T H E U N I T E D S T AT E S O F A M E R I C A

Cauliflower Heart is dedicated to my children Harry and Georgia, to my family, and to the special ones that are no longer with us.

Thank you to: Adam Barry, Brian and Sheila Bird, Champions Creed MMA School, Drew Culbreath, Debbie Kinakin, Jason Pierce, Elaina Robbins, Cathy Teets, and Louis Valazquez for their help.

Without them Cauliflower Heart would never have made it to the happy ending it has.

1 Step Out From the Routine Billy Bonham sat in his kitchen waiting for the tea to steep.

He could hear Claudine rustling papers in the dining room where she was sharing the big table with Jersey, the indulged Seal Point Siamese cat, and a huge heap of sympathy cards and letters from Drew’s friends and fans. Toasty ambled in. “Do you think she’s all right?” Billy asked him. “I see a look in her that I used to see in your mum. It worries me.”

“Well, I suppose she’s overwhelmed with the mail…with everything. What’s her plan, do you know, Dad?” asked Toasty matter-of-factly as he poured the hot tea over the tea strainer into a cup already waiting with a spoonful of honey. He tapped the tea strainer upside down, delivering the leaves back into the hot pot with the rest of the tea.

“I don’t think she knows herself,” replied Billy. “What if she did office work for the IWF, like Mum? She’s plenty capable.

She took care of Drew’s business as best as anybody could.”

“Dad, as much as I’d like to help Claudine, I don’t want to repeat what happened with Mum,” said Toasty, filling more cups with tea. “You know how much she hated working with the IWF. I always wanted to work in wrestling, but I don’t think it’s right for our Claudine. We would clash and be at each other’s throats.”

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“Be that as it may, I wish we could do summat,” sighed Billy, putting his elbows on the table and leaning his head stoically in his big, scarred hands. “I think she’s doin’ a good job of keepin’ herself distracted, but I worry about her all the same.

Not sure what she’s goin’ to do. I hope we can find something for her, to help her take care of the kids. Aside from this house and the promotion, I’ve not got much left. I hope we can turn this business around soon so I have some money to leave her.

Poor old Drew. What a shame for them all.” Billy’s brilliant blue eyes, the eyes that all of his children and grandchildren shared, had a faraway look in them as he gazed sadly in his daughter’s direction.

Happy voices carried in from the next room as Dempsey and Isabella came in from upstairs, greeting their mother with hugs and smiles. Dempsey was just fourteen and Isabella had just turned twelve. They were so young to be without a father.

Toasty carried the four cups of tea, two in each of his big, capable hands, and left his father sitting in the kitchen. He gave Claudine and the kids each a cup of tea and sat down at the dining room table. His eyes widened as he looked at all the mail Claudine was sorting through. “I’m trying to answer all of these.” She replied. She was overwhelmed. “Handwritten is best for this kind of mail and each one needs a personal touch.

And a bit of cat fur adds a nice touch too,” Claudine said as she brushed away a few of Jersey’s fine hairs from her latest letter.

“I can help answer some of these too, Mum, if you want to give me any of them,” offered Isabella. She elbowed Dempsey, who was looking off into space.

“Err, I can help too, o’ course!” Dempsey said, with a sheepish smile at his sister. Though Dempsey was already twice the size of his slight sister, she was never afraid to show him who was boss. Toasty noticed a few stamps with foreign writing on them.

“If you get any letters from the South Seas or Japan, I’d be more than happy to help you with them lot,” he said. “It might even help me get some more work over there, if I write the people. And I might know some of the fans from over there. I could thank them for you.”

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Diana Hart

Billy came into the dining room and paused deep in thought as he listened to the conversation. He knew his daughter and her kids needed a lot more than help answering fan mail. He would have to work on Toasty. Presently, Toasty showed limited patience and few solutions for his widowed sister’s misfortune.

Billy remembered how he and Toasty fought and how Toasty fought with Drew, and even with his mum, over having the final say on the day-to-day running of the wrestling business. Billy hoped the promotion would turn around and he would be able to leave his daughter some money when he died. He hoped he had a few good years left in him because he didn’t believe his hot-headed son would be as generous with sharing when he took control of the wheel. Toasty would always be a driven, passionate leader of the IWF after he passed, Billy knew, but he didn’t know if his son would always be compassionate.

But for today, they were going to think about just being in the present, not worry about tomorrow or what might have been.

It was good to have them all together, enjoying a cup of tea in the comfortable dining room, with the cats and dogs. Jeep, the Rottweiler, weaved through the table legs to sit at Billy’s feet.

Claudine ran the point of her pen lightly down Jersey’s back, making him arch and purr.

Brrring, brring! The shrill, impatient telephone rang from the kitchen. Everyone looked at each other, startled, interrupting the peaceful moment.

Brring, brring! “Oh, all right,” said Claudine, standing up and stretching her arms up in the air. She dashed into the kitchen and answered the phone hanging the wall. “Hallo?” said Claudine.

“Hi, is that Claudine?” said a high-pitched voice.

“Yes,” said Claudine. She was momentarily worried the bill collectors somehow got her father’s phone number.

“Hey there, old girl! It’s Toni!” said the caller to Claudine’s intense relief. “I’ve been thinking about you, luv. I tried you at your house but you weren’t there, so I thought I’d try your dad’s place. How have you been?” Toni was a reporter Claudine met several years ago when she was doing an interview with Drew.

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Wrestling With Life

More recently, she had kindly volunteered to make a video montage for Drew’s funeral. After they talked on the phone for a few minutes, Toni, who could be very persuasive, had Claudine booked for the following afternoon with her to get her hair done and have a light supper with her in town. “Oh, before you go,” squeaked Toni just as Claudine was about to put the receiver down, “I wanted to let you know I’ve made five copies of the tribute to Drew I produced for his funeral, eh hem.” She cleared her throat. “I made them for your family. I hope that’ll be enough for everyone! All right, see you tomorrow!”

Claudine put the phone down. It was nice of Toni to think of her. She remembered when she met Toni soon after Drew’s death; Toni suggested she could help find solutions to her financial problems. Claudine shuddered to think about her current financial situation – the empty bank account, mounting bills, no job – and she desperately hoped Toni could offer some advice.

The next day, Claudine drove her old, little red Cortina to Warrington, where she met Toni in the Town Square. Toni’s jetblack bob was as shiny as a new car, matching her chic black dress. She wore very high nude heels with a matching Burberry handbag slung over her shoulder. Her tiny, svelte frame looked like that of child’s if not for her mature, makeup-caked face. She had a long, sharp nose, thin, red lips, and small, brown, wide-set eyes that were heavily made-up with false eyelashes and dark, thin eyebrows. She reminded Claudine a bit of an ugly fashion doll with flat plastic feet.

“How are you, old girl?” said Toni, locking Claudine in a bony hug. Claudine could smell her cloyingly sweet and floral perfume. The pair chatted as they walked across the street to a salon called Head Candy. Claudine had heard of it, but had never been inside. The chrome fixture’s black metallic façade gleamed as she walked in. Claudine blinked as her eyes adjusted to the all-white interior. Out of the blinding depths of the place, a young female stylist came forward, hugging Toni like they were long, lost mates. Shifting her weight, Claudine smiled into the air at no one in particular.

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Diana Hart

From the way she was dressed, to how she wore her hair, she suddenly felt out of touch and dreadfully out of place. She just wanted to be comfortable again, somehow, somewhere, someway.

“Claudine, this is my stylist, Ginger. Now Ginger, promise to make Claudine look absolutely brilliant. She’s one of my absolute dearest friends, so give her the works, even champagne or Chivas Regal neat if she wants it. Everything goes on my tab,” Toni said. Her extravagant generosity compelled Claudine to blush.

“Oh, just a brew of coffee would be lovely, thank you.” said Claudine, a bit nervous over all this attention from her very new and extroverted friend. She was beginning to feel much underdressed in her simple cotton sheath.

“Okay, coffee it is, her. Whatever you want. Ginger will get you a brew. I have a few errands to run, so call me when she’s done, eh Ginger. See you later, old girl, and Ginger, you’re the best.” gushed Toni as she headed out the door, leaving Claudine feeling like a drab speck in the middle of the garishly stringent, white salon. Ginger was pretty and tall, with a pixie cut so blond it was almost white.

She washed Claudine’s long hair and guided her over to one of the hair-cutting stations. Claudine had a seat and stared back at her hollow-eyed reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t looked in the mirror much since Drew’s death a month before. No one could ever guess that she was a youthful, attractive 37 year old woman just over a month ago. At the moment, her dirty blonde hair looked unkempt and her bright blue eyes were sad and defeated, and they had dark crescents under them. She decided she didn’t want to look at her reflection anymore and chose to focus on the mirror fixtures instead.

“Keep your head straight, please” Ginger instructed.

“Oh, sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, hun. You really should go with a smart bob,” said Ginger in a perky voice as she brushed out Claudine’s now-damp locks. “You need to cut off these raggedy dead ends, luv.” She held a piece of Claudine’s hair in between her fingers and looked disapprovingly at it before abruptly lobbing off about 5

Wrestling With Life

six inches. Claudine gasped when she saw her heavy, wet ends hit the salon floor. “Erm, I’d like to keep some of the length, actually,” said Claudine. “I don’t think a bob would suit me.”

“If you say so,” said Ginger, continuing to snip away.

In the end, Claudine got a fresh, updated look with light blond highlights. It was shorter, but certainly not as short as Toni’s bob. Even though she felt a little naked and unprotected without her comfortable wavy, long hair, Claudine really liked her new look and felt better about things in general, She wasn’t sure about the ramrod-straight blow-out Ginger insisted on giving her but she thought maybe the change was good. Her face even seemed a bit brighter. She sadly remembered that not so long ago she would have gone to a day-spa in Liverpool with her mum to have their hair done. Afterwards, she and Drew and the kids might have gone out for a lovely meal and a cini-film, too. Unfortunately, those days had become fewer and fewer especially after her mum and then Drew passed away. It had been a long time since she’d indulged herself. She wondered absently what Drew would have thought of her new ‘do’. That thought brought tears to her eyes and she did her best to shove it to the back of her mind. Instead, she stared in the mirror at her new image and waited patiently while Ginger called Toni to let her know that Claudine was ready to go.

After a few minutes, Claudine heard an abrupt honking outside of the salon. She looked up to see Toni sitting in her luxurious black Volvo, waving at her. As soon as Claudine slipped into the car, Toni smiled and fluffed up Claudine’s hair with her fingers. “You look deadly, old girl!” she exclaimed, flashing her artificially bleached, white teeth as she smiled. “Now, you must be hungry. Let’s go to my favourite French bistro, Martino’s.

It’s just a few minutes away and I know you’ll love it. Oui! Oui Madame! Away we go.”

In no time at all they arrived at the restaurant. Normally it was next to impossible to find street parking, but Toni had no trouble finding a parking spot and easily slipped her Volvo into it, barely touching the curb. She budged it up against the solid yellow line and the pavement then smugly tossed her keys into her Burberry handbag. Claudine wondered if this good luck was a sign of how the rest of the afternoon was going to unfold.

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Diana Hart

When they walked into Martino’s, Claudine suddenly realized Toni’s favourite French bistro was actually an Italian restaurant. It was very charming and warm, with red brick walls and dark, wide-planked hardwood floors. The waiter showed them to a booth that had a red and white checkered table cloth and handed them a wine list and menus.

He helped Claudine choose and pronounce the name of her soup, straciatella and kindly recommended that she try the lobster-stuffed ravioli with toasted walnuts in a tomato vodka sauce. Toni ordered a Caesar salad with no anchovies, a half order of the angel hair pasta with pesto sauce, and a bottle of Val polli cello for them to share. This was the fanciest meal Claudine had had in a long time.

As Claudine savoured her ravioli, Toni handed her a single DVD in a plastic case. “Here you go. It’s the video footage of Drew that I promised for you, ahem,” Toni said, as she cleared her throat abruptly.

“Thank you… are there any for Dempsey and Isabella and the rest of the family, too?” asked Claudine.

“Oh, I certainly can get you a couple more if you want, eh hem. I wish I would have known--I would have had my P.A., Jocelyn, make up a few more. How many more do you want?” asked Toni.

“Just the five you um... you already promised would be, um... nice” said Claudine, feeling a little confused. Of course, Toni didn’t notice. She just prattled on about her new production studio, clearing her throat a lot as she often did.

Soon, as they both enjoyed their second glass of red wine, Toni moved on to other topics. She asked about Claudine’s kids and how the family was doing overall since the tragedy; how Claudine coped emotionally and if there was any truth to what the newspapers were writing that Drew was a drug addict who committed suicide. Claudine immediately tightened up inside, feeling like she was being set up, but clarified that Drew was not a drug user at all and he certainly did not commit suicide. After her third glass of red wine, Claudine felt the tightness in her chest loosen up a bit.

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Wrestling With Life

Before she knew it, she was pouring her heart out, talking about the past few years since her mum died. Toni reached out to her and squeezed her hand. “Can I say something, old girl?” she said, tilting her chin down a bit and looking at Claudine.

“Have you ever thought about writing a book about your life?

You know, I find you and your whole family just fascinating... and so interesting; the whole country does! If you like, I could help you write it. We could sit down and put something together, write a few chapters which would be easy for us.” Claudine stared intently. Toni could see that she was listening and grinned enthusiastically. Her thin lips stretched so wide over her big teeth that they looked in danger of splitting. “I can put it out there to a few of my publishing house contacts and see if we get any bites, eh hem,” she continued in her high, syrupy voice. “And, you know, I could promote our book through Rocket Productions and the telly programs we produce.”

“Really?” asked Claudine. The unthought-of concept of writing a book suddenly sounded much more appealing and fulfilling than the prospect of an entry-level job somewhere, especially since Claudine had never worked outside her family’s wrestling promotion before. Her limited computer knowledge made her insecure about her job skills.

“Really, Claudine, I mean it,” Toni said, her little, brown eyes widened slightly. “Let me help you, eh, luv? You know, I bet my lawyer-lover-husband Ernie could look over our chapters and if he thinks this project’s got legs, he can help with the legal side of things, eh hem. I see all kinds of possibilities with you and this book, old girl, and when I see something I like, I love it, nurture it and turn it into a big-time winner. That’s how I roll. I know how to turn ideas into massive quid!” Claudine didn’t say too much. She felt hopeful and embarrassed at the same time.

Although it wasn’t the perfect mix, it was a new feeling for her all the same. She wondered if this book could really become a reality. It would certainly be nice to set the record straight; the horrible rumours going around about Drew were driving her crazy.

After supper, it began to rain. Toni, always prepared for everything, removed from her handbag what looked like a small 8

Diana Hart

baton and turned it into a surprisingly large plaid umbrella.

She popped it open outside the restaurant door. They walked together, huddled under Toni’s big umbrella, back to the car.

“Look at us, we’re already a team!” Toni giggled. As they drove back to Claudine’s car, Claudine day-dreamed as she stared out the window while Toni chatted about this and that. Claudine couldn’t recall that she had ever had a day even remotely like this one before. It opened her eyes up to a world beyond the wrestling and her family. She felt surprisingly optimistic as she watched the cars whizz by, to step out of her routine.

9

2 Poetry in Motion Claudine kept Toni’s idea to herself, not mentioning it to anyone. They talked over the next few days by telephone and arranged to meet again soon to discuss the book details more boldly. Within a fortnight, Claudine quietly agreed to meet with Toni at her production studio.

“Welcome, welcome!” said Toni, smiling broadly. “I’m so excited to get started on our little project. We’re going to be millionaires! I certainly think we deserve it, and we can do it! Let’s celebrate with a glass of wine while we go over the contract. You’ll join me in a glass of red, won’t you?”

“Oh, sure. That’d be lovely.” Claudine looked around Toni’s spotless, organized office. Modern furniture filled the immaculate room though it seemed empty; everything seemed to be made of chrome, glass, and plastic. Loose pieces of paper or pencils and paperclips, staplers, erasers and the usual office supplies were nowhere to be seen. There was a slick white Formica mini bar, which Toni smoothly walked over to. She blew on one of the sparkling clean crystal wine goblets as if to blowing dust off it before grabbing a new bottle of red wine. Claudine heard the cracking and breaking of the seal and then she heard the glug, glug, glug of the wine being poured into the goblets. She smiled to herself. She couldn’t believe she was having a goblet of red wine with this woman, who was going to help her to resolve her 10

Diana Hart

financial affairs. It seemed so crazy to hear Toni tell her they were going to be millionaires. Toni handed Claudine a crystal goblet. “I’m ready to make a toast, old girl,” said Toni, lifting her glass up and her pointy chin as if she was toasting at a grand banquet. “So, here’s to us, poetry in motion.”

They clinked their glasses together. Toni gave Claudine a friendly little wink as they toasted. “Now, let’s take a look at this big, bad contract! I’m dead pleased with it, and I’m sure you’ll be too,” said Toni. “I have been revising this and running it back and forth between my lawyer-lover-husband Ernie and the publisher in charge over at Dominion. That’s Jeeves Khirun.

We’ve ironed out all the wrinkles, old girl. Here, let me show you.” She pulled a very clean manila folder out from underneath her immaculate desk blotter. It was almost as if it was been held there for safekeeping, or it was being hidden. Claudine felt a pang of excitement about seeing her contract. It was a different kind of feeling than when she reviewed Drew’s contracts for wrestling. Toni cleared her throat a few times and opened up the folder. The bright white pages of the contract looked so pure and clean, almost gleaming. Claudine watched as Toni’s dark grey nails underlined the words, skating across the page. “Well, these first few pages are just jargon, old girl. You know, the regular mumbo jumbo. And just so you know, we cannot be releasing any of the material to any third party before the book hits the stands. If any piece of our book got blurted out, accidentally of course, it could be harmful to sales because the suspense would be broken up. The book’s contents simply cannot be prematurely released. We’ve absolutely got to be so careful with this, right?

But at the end of the day, no matter what, my lawyer-loverhusband Ernie will look after us. He’s so shrewd and savvy. He’s really got our bums covered here. It helps that I’m sleeping with our legal counsel,” laughed Toni, “and I can promise you that since he’s my husband, and our lawyer on this, if anything bad happens to you, it happens to me, so it affects him, too. We are all in this together, even-steven, right? Eh hem. And another big great advantage of having my Ernie handlin’ this is that he’s in dead close with the Author’s Advocacy Organization, which is one of the largest author’s guilds in Britain. That is soooo important these days. So let’s see, what else to tell you…”

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She now had her red-rimmed reading glasses on. She held the contract up to her face and stood, skimming it over, looking for important details.

“It’s Dominion Publishing’s obligation to pay us royalties based on the volume of business… the terms are negotiable through acquisitions… summary of publisher trade contract terms… blah, blah, blah…Dominion has the final say and can make changes in the meaning of the text, blah, blah, blah, Dominion has the right to accept, reject or ask for revisions in your manuscript… eh hem, you and I have the right to approve all material changes to the manuscript before publication… indemnification and warranty clauses in the book are respectively the responsibility of the parties involved in writing the contents… unreasonable delays in the production of the manuscript may result in delays in your advance of the first instalment… within 45 days of its receipt of your manuscript… blah, blah, blah. Oh let’s get to the royalties part.” Toni continued to flip her long, thin fingers through page after page, glancing only briefly at each one.

“The author promises the publisher that the work is original… blah, blah,blah,... publisher’s article two says the insurance policy covers the publisher for claims such as slander and the author is insured in case of an act of God that prevents her from completing her body of work… any indemnities will take effect upon a final judgment… the publisher and author agree that within twelve months of the receiving the completed manuscript that, yada, yada, yada…the author’s failure to comply with the Publishers Counsel, blah, blah, blah…, or any delays caused by circumstances beyond the publisher’s control… eh hem.

Right, right, oh, here now is the good stuff about the royalties. It says here that hardcover rates are 10% on the first five thousand copies sold, and it goes up to 15% thereafter.

Mass-market paperbacks have a flat 9% royalty rate. You and I will be paid quarterly. Blah, blah, blah, blah… The sum of £2000 will be advanced from Dominion Publishing House to you, Claudine, and also to me, to get us started. So that’s great, and then it goes on to say, uh, blah, blah… Oh yes, it will be left to the discretion of Dominion Publishing to advance any further 12

Diana Hart

monies to Claudine Bellamy or Toni Orr prior to the quarterly royalties.

But, now, listen Claudine, Dominion Publishing House is not legally obligated to advance either party prior to the quarterly royalty disbursement. So, basically, after this advance, old girl, we don’t get anything until the first quarter, which will be the end of March, so early April. But having read and said that, old girl, I’ll bet that Jeeves will give you another advance if sales are over the moon like I expect they will be! So, reading on here, it says, eh hem, any audit of the royalties is at the expense of the interested party and the cost of this audit is not to be incurred by Dominion Publishing. And then it goes on to say that Dominion agrees to pay all travel and accommodations for book launches.

The publisher is responsible for promotions and advertising of the book and said book tours... Authors are required to make appearances as scheduled, unless prevented by an act of God, and it just goes on and on about little to-dos that are standard clauses.” Toni took a quick swig of wine before smiling at Claudine. Claudine notice that her white teeth were now tinged slightly red, which clashed with her bright, scarlet lipstick.

“Ernie’s got us covered here,” she said with a nod. “Usually, the flat rate for paperback books is 5 or 6%, and Ernie’s got it up to 9. That’s huge, since paperbacks will usually sell the most.

So, if we sell 100,000 hardcover copies at let’s just say 20 quid a piece, that will be, eh hem, 2,000,000 quid. Take our 15% off that, let’s see, it gives us 300,000 divided by two, ‘cuz there’s two of us, and that’s 150,000 for you and for me. There are little things we have to take into account, like Ernie’s fees, but basically, there’s 150,000 quid for you, just on the hardcovers here in Great Britain. That’s not counting the paperbacks or the international sales. And once you become famous, we can start working on the big movie deal and making you Britain’s favourite literary superstar. So how does that whet your whistle, old girl?”

Claudine couldn’t help smiling. She had never even had a paying job her whole life. Now, she was going to make a load of money basically on her own. She thoughtfully signed the contract on the proverbial dotted line and smiled with a sigh.

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“And, finally, I was saving the best for last!” Toni continued with delight after the contract was signed. She pulled out from underneath her desk blotter another envelope. It was addressed to Claudine, closed, but not sealed shut. Toni took the liberty of taking out its contents. It was a cheque. Toni stood up, straightened her posture, and demonstratively read aloud what was written on the cheque. It was as though she was presenting the grand prize to the winners of the latest lottery.

“Made payable to Claudine Bellamy, a cheque for two thousand pounds!” Toni broadcasted and postured rather liberally. She handed Claudine the cheque. Claudine gaped at it. She was overwhelmed by all of the legal jargon. It truly was confusing to her but she trusted Toni. They were in this together.

The money would certainly help her get a leg up financially, but it was like using a plaster to stop the hemorrhaging of a severed artery. She was anxious to get home and show her kids.

“I have one too, for the same amount. It’s our first advance on The Blank Canvas. That’s the name of our manuscript. Sounds dead good, right? So, congratulations, old girl! Spend it wisely, but I tell that to everyone I give money to. You’ll be getting more later and eventually things will get better for you. Trust me!”

As Toni handed Claudine a copy of the contract and her cheque, Claudine was thinking hard. Tomorrow was Saturday, and the banks would be closed for the weekend. Monday she’d go to the bank and take care of some bills. She’d buy food for the family, including her animals. She’d take care of her gas bill so she could keep her home up and running, but her car insurance would have to wait a bit longer. She still had a little time before that was overdue. There was a lot to take care of but she wanted to get these main things sorted out first. For tonight, however, she just wanted to watch the telly with her kids and relax.

“Okay! Now, old girl, let’s get this thing going.” said Toni, snapping Claudine back to earth.

Over the next few weeks, Claudine poured out her heart to Toni, working hard at putting together the details of The Blank Canvas. A lot of these beautiful, private, funny or tragic life experiences hadn’t been shared with anyone beyond her own family until now. But the process didn’t go as smoothly as Claudine had hoped.

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During one of the early sessions she was telling Toni about Dempsey. “What a gifted athlete Dempsey is! I think he will eventually follow in his family’s footsteps and become a wrestler,” she told Toni proudly. “It’s in his blood and he really enjoys it. He’s a smart boy – he does very well in math and physics – but I think his heart is in wrestlin’. I can see him becoming a household name. Drew would be so proud of him.”

Tictictictictic went the keyboard. “Could I take a look at that?” asked Claudine, making to step behind the desk so she could see the computer screen. “No,” said Toni. “Let me read it to you; that will be easier. Eh hem. ‘My Dempsey was forced to believe he’s born to wrestle. He has this amazing mind for mathematics and physics, and finding a career in those areas would be more practical than wrestling. I, as his mum, am torn between what is right for Dempsey and what Drew would have wanted. My son could have a very normal, healthy, probably happy life outside of wrestling. In the end, I felt pressured by my family into encouraging Dempsey to wrestle. I hope my son will defend my family’s honour and take up the cause I’ve been fighting all of my life.’

Claudine blinked. “No, hang on Toni; that’s not what I said.”

“Don’t you think it’s much better that way?” said Toni with a sly smile on her face. “It shows the conflict, old girl! It screeeeeaaaaaams out that you and your son are caught in the middle, but, ultimately, family and wrestling win out because they are more powerful than you are.”

“Toni, that’s a load of nonsense,” said Claudine, who had no idea how Toni had managed to twist her words into such a mess. “This isn’t some sort o’ Freudian dilemma Dempsey and I are facin’. I’m tellin’ you that me son WANTS to be a wrestler, not because it’s what I want or because I am livin’ some vicarious thrill through him. He WANTS to wrestle. He’s already developing into one of the best I have ever seen. It comes naturally to him.”

Toni smirked. “Old girl, eh hem, that’s the beauty of my way! You can’t tell your story the way I can tell it - you make it too long and lose the reader’s attention. What I’m doing is called poetic license, luv. We have to leave a few things out to help you 15

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get to the point. Your Drew still sounds like a swell husband and father, but I’m simply suggesting this. You aren’t a writer, you wouldn’t understand.”

Claudine wouldn’t back down. “No,” she said. “I don’t want people gettin’ the wrong impression. Dempsey is not doin’ this because he can’t think for himself. No one is layin’ a guilt trip on him, tellin’ him he must do this in honour of’ his father.

Dempsey wants to wrestle, but I’d be proud of him no matter what he decided to do. He’s a good son and he’s been through plenty. I trust that whatever he chooses, it’ll be a decent way of life for himself.”

Toni made a sour face, but she went back to the keyboard as Claudine talked. After a lot of backspacing, typing, sighing and eyes widening and closing as she watched her computer screen, Toni read aloud the changes. “Dempsey believes he was born to wrestle. He has this amazing mind for mathematics and physics, and finding a career in those areas would be more practical than wrestling. My son could have a very normal, healthy, probably happy life outside of wrestling, eh hem, but our family legacy is wrestling, and that is what Dempsey must also do. It’s what Drew would have wanted. I hope my son will defend my family’s honour with conviction and take up the cause I’ve been fighting all my life.”

“It still sounds wrong,” said Claudine, pacing.

“But it’s better, right?” said Toni.

“Yes, it’s better than it was,” admitted Claudine.

Another day, and several months into the project, Toni and Claudine continued to grapple over stories of Claudine’s childhood. Toni described Claudine as being embarrassed by her family’s lifestyle and Claudine took great offence to this.

“Actually,” Claudine said to Toni, “we are rather shy and refined, not loud and rude. We are very civilized.”

“Oh, old girl, you can’t be serious can you?” said Toni with a snort. “You grew up breathing dirty men’s sweat from your father’s manure barn. Shy and refined? Oh, the irony of it all.

You are just too funny, old girl.” Toni started to laugh vacuously.

With her ring fingers, she wiped invisible tears of laughter from her eyes.

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“You need to change it, even if you find it that hilarious,” said Claudine firmly. She felt bad they had so many stops and starts while writing the book, but it was because Toni often managed to make Claudine’s recollections sound tasteless.

It was important to get the stories right. Her family had been portrayed so incorrectly for so many years in the press. This was her big chance to tell her family’s side of things accurately.

Toni finally and reluctantly scribed the comical and touching details about her family that made Claudine so proud and happy.

Claudine had renewed faith in this project. Things were getting better.

“Toni, I feel like you are truly gettin’ the gist of how special me family was,” said Claudine after the session, tears suddenly running down her cheeks. “I’m not sure why I’m so emotional.

I’ve been tellin’ you this story for an hour now and I was fine…”

Claudine tried to control herself as Toni handed her a few tissues from the chrome tissue box on the desk.

“Poor old girl,” Toni said with an exasperated look on her face. “Here, take a tissue love and blow your nose. We’ve had a long day.”

“I’ll be all right,” Claudine said between sobs. “Sorry, Toni, it’s not you. What you wrote that last time, well, you wrote it beautifully. Thank you for doing that. I think you know how much this book means, gettin’ it right and all, to me and me family. So thank you for helping me with it.” Claudine buried her face in her hands.

“I know we’re on a deadline, and we really should keep chugging along here, but let’s call it a day,” said Toni. She sat at her desk, making changes here and there, as Claudine inexplicably continued to sob. *** Saturday was a bright, sunny day. It was breezy and the branches of the big pear tree outside tapped politely against Claudine’s bedroom window. Claudine stayed in bed for an extra moment to collect herself. She had another nightmare. The time, she dreamt that Drew had walked through their kitchen 17

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door with a big, goofy grin on his handsome face. “Hi Chick! I was waiting at the airport for you lot to come get me. You know I won the tournament, eh? Did you get the money?”

“No Drew, I thought you lost the tournament and we never got the money! I’m so glad you’re alright though. I knew you were going to come back!” Claudine said and she reached for him. He reached out to her, and the kids ran to him first. “C’mon, what’s matter with ya? Of course I’m alright. But why didn’t you get the money? I called you all the bloody time but you was never home. But it’s alright. Everything’s gonna be alright.

C’mon, give us a hug,” he exclaimed, and the children hugged him. She rushed to him but tripped, just as she was reaching to throw her outstretched arms around his big, thick neck. She woke up, startled, lying on the floor, next to her bed. She looked around, in a daze.

Trying to shake the bad dream off, Claudine got out of bed and took a good look around. Her room was a mass of sympathy letters, empty teacups, clean and dirty clothes, and pet fur.

“Yikes! It’s getting to be quite a tip; probably not helpin’ with me nightmares. I best be gettin’ round to cleanin’ up in here. I’ve been neglectin’ the little place,” she said to herself. She decided to give it a good cleaning, perhaps after she got back from her father’s farm. Saturday was their day to spend with her dad.

She continued to think of ways she could tidy up around her home as she got herself dressed. When the money started coming in, she could get some new bedclothes for Dempsey and Isabella’s beds. They had been using the same ones for too long and the fabric was starting to tear. Claudine didn’t have the desire to change her own bed sheets, though, even though they were looking worse for the wear these days. They were the ones she remembered sleeping on with Drew after they got married. By the time Claudine got downstairs, Isabella was feeding Emily, her donkey, and Dempsey was playing with their bull terrier, Sally. Claudine smiled, but she felt like crying too. She wished Drew could see this beautiful world they had created.

After a nice late breakfast, the Bellamys made their way to the Bonham Farm. The farm, as usual, was a busy hub of activity.

Billy was on the kitchen phone going over some wrestling dates 18

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and several wrestlers were training in the barn. The billy goats were being fed by the old farm hand named Chopper and his wife Ellen was collecting the eggs from the hens in the chicken coop. Claudine, the kids, and Sally climbed out of her Cortina and sauntered into the house.

“Hey, Dempsey, come on out when you can and we’ll roll around a bit, eh?” one of the wrestlers called out.

“Cheers! I’ll be out in a few. Just need to quickly torment me granddad,” replied Dempsey with a playful laugh. Even though he was only fourteen, Dempsey was big for his age and was wrestling quite a bit now. His rope and mat work were improving and the rest of the lads had really taken to him. Toasty had even hired him to go along to wrestling shows, and help with setting up the ring and selling tickets at the door. He was learning so much about the business just by observing.

The teapot was on the fire and, in no time, Billy, Claudine and the kids were getting caught up with each other’s lives.

“So what’s going on with your book these days, Claude?”

Billy asked, while Dempsey grabbed his big forearm in a wristlock.

Claudine sighed and looked out the window. “Well, to be honest, when I get finished with Toni at the end of the day, I don’t feel so much like talkin. I’m all talked out,” she laughed. “I must seem right peevish because I’ve not been about so much… I’m just sick of hearin’ me own voice. But it’s good therapy for me, if nothin’ else, to talk about things. Some things are dead painful to talk about though. Like the other day, I talked about the Sardinia robbery and how we lost the plane, and Mum’s death last year.”

“It would have killed Louisa if I had died young and unintentionally left her with things so displaced and you kids fatherless. I had a long, wonderful life with your mum, and it should have been that way for you and your kids too,” Billy paused and took a sip of his tea.

“I know you and Drew never planned for this terrible, terrible tragedy, and as a result, you have this critical situation to work around, and I realize that’s why you’re doing this book. I hope what your doin’ helps you find some closure, luv. You need that very much, sort of a necessary thing here, in order for you to 19

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move on. So, puttin’ yourself out there, being vulnerable and scarred, well, you are still tremendously raw. I hope this Toni is a dead-straight, decent person who appreciates we’ve had an unusual life.

“I hope she is seeing that wrestling’s been good to this family. Your mum was a beautiful woman, inside and out, but the poor thing never gave our wrestlin’ the credit it deserved. I can’t blame her for not loving it the way I do, though,” he added as Claudine threw a scoop of loose tea leaves into the old teapot as she prepared to make another fresh brew.

“Your mum saw all the worst aspects of it, from not gettin’ any respect from banks and the wrestling commission, to some of the more unscrupulous wrestlers and harsh media reporters,” Billy said with sympathy.

He broke off, coughing and taking another sip of his warm tea. The two cats, Jersey and Figaro, looked at him, as if concerned, from their self-appointed bed inside of the huge salad bowl on the table. “Your poor mum was always so diplomatic,” he continued finally. “And she never wanted to offend anybody.

But when she couldn’t take it anymore, and she needed to vent, she only had us to us around to get it out of her system. She was trapped sometimes. I know that now,” Billy sighed, looking at a picture of Louisa on the wall. “Anyroad, I hope you have the chance to tell people how wonderful your mum was,” said Billy, still coughing as he spoke.

Tears came to Claudine’s eyes. She got up to pour the steeping tea into the cups. As she stirred honey and cream into the hot dark liquid, she watched the clouds of cream turn the tea into the colour of her father’s beloved bull mastiff, Jeep. She felt proud she was going to set the record straight about her family and wrestling and make everyone who read the book become fans, like her dad did when people came to watch his wrestling.

Billy, who had fallen into another coughing fit, gratefully accepted a fresh fresh cup of tea from Claudine. His blue eyes watered and he gasped for air as he took a few sips. After he caught his breath, he simply shook his head once, as if to say, “You bastard cough!” There was a bang as Toasty came into the room clapping his big hands together. He wore a soft, black 20

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leather satchel banded banded diagonally across his muscular frame, from his right shoulder to his left hip. He had recently buzzed his blonde hair, which made him look a bit like a military action figure.

“Hi ya, he said cheerily. “Dad, I got the loan from the bank yesterday, but you was asleep when I came home. It’s a line o’ credit. I had to put up some of me own investments, but it’s worth it. I’ll talk about it more tomorrow.” He threw the satchel onto the table. Claudine could see that it was full of banking documents. “So, how’s the book coming along, Claude? When’s it coming out?” asked Toasty, helping himself to a cup of tea.

“We were just talking about that,” said Claudine. “I am not actually sure. I hope soon, though, ‘cuz I’m hurtin’ for money.”

“Do you have any ideas or anything to tide you over?” Toasty asked.

“Well, at this point I don’t really have any liquid assets, aside from me book advance,” she explained. “I still own the cottage, but that’s really it.” Claudine shook her head. “We just have to get by on the bare necessities for now. When the book comes out, things will be good again. I hope it’s soon, but you know, I’ve not actually been told when it’s comin’ out. I think in the fall, or before Christmas.” She looked into the air and smiled hopefully, picturing people buying her book at the store.

Toasty affectionately patted the cats in the salad bowl, but with a slight frown on his face he asked, “Have you got Drew’s affairs all sorted? You need to focus on that, too, not just on this book. Hear any more from Stefan about Drew’s money? They still never found that nasty bitch, Hagshit, or whatever her name is who stole it, did they?”

“Toasty! Watch your language, the kids are right over there.”

Claudine whispered. Toasty ignored her and continued as if she was talking to someone else.

“Fancy that son-of-a-bitch Karl, Drew’s own dad, dying in prison without tellin’ anyone where that fuckin’ Hagra went or what happened to Drew’s bloody money. I hope Karl had an excruciatingly painful, lonely, scary death in prison. He’s burning in hell now… murderin’ bastard. I should’ve never let

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you go there on your own. I should’ve never let Drew go there without me. That never should’ve been allowed.” Toasty had been shouting and the kids, the animals, and Claudine and Billy were all staring at him. He took a deep breath and gulped down a sip of tea.

Dempsey and Isabella, who were now trying to get Jeep into Dempsey’s sweatshirt, both clearly understood what Toasty was talking about. They gave each other a worried look but didn’t say anything. The truth was, since Drew died, Claudine had kept in touch with the German investigators who were handling Drew’s case. They had no live leads on Hagra and, after Karl died, they had even less to go on. Karl had been reluctant to cooperate with their investigation for the short time he was alive in jail. His cancer killed him quite quickly and medications he got from the prison doctors kept him rather docile.

“Anyway, it was a nightmare for us all of us,” Toasty continued to speak in a slightly more normal tone of voice. “It’s a damn fuckin’ tragedy that’s in the past now. Sort out what you need to at home though, eh? Don’t neglect what you need to take care o’ at home Claudine with Drew’s estate. Have a plan, because if your book is a success, use it to take care of the priorities. And if it isn’t the huge success you dream it will be, have a Plan B, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’m only sayin’ this to be realistic. Don’t go out buyin’ new furniture or takin’ a holiday with the kids to Disney World before you get your house in order. Do you have a good feelin’ about this Toni and the publisher and the lot? I’d hate to see you get taken advantage of.” Claudine felt as if she was a child and he was scolding her.

Toasty’s face softened as he took a seat next to Claudine.

“Dad’s poorly, you know that,” he said quietly. “He wouldn’t be able to stand it if something happened to you and he couldn’t help save you again. He’s not got the strength or money anymore and he’s dead worried about you and the kids. So I hope for your sake, this book does well.”

Despite everything she had been doing to improve her situation, all Claudine could say in her own defense to Toasty was, “I know, Toasty. I’ve been trying, I really have.” As Claudine drove home that day with the kids in tow, she tried 22

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not to think about Toasty’s words. She was still reeling from her whole world being turned upside down, and she didn’t have the reflexes in her mind to snap back quickly. She knew, however, that something was really wrong with her. Within a blink of an eye, she went from imagining people praising her about her book to worrying about it being such a disappointment that it affected her father’s health. These self-destructive thoughts were always on the edge of her mind, like a storm cloud looming over a family picnic on a sunny day. She knew Toasty had a point about planning wisely; lately she had actually spent very little time on addressing the pending business matters at home; that’s why her bedroom and her entire house were in such disarray. Instead of attending to the housekeeping and financial matters, she was consumed with worrying and wrought with anxiety while her children seemed to be happily preoccupied with their passions.

Dempsey dove into his wrestling career. Isabella studied hard learning her lines for plays.

23

3 Don’t Be So Self-Righteous “Listen, old girl. I want to have a talk with you, eh-hem.

Everything is fine, but since it’s the end of the week—I agree with you that we do a review. First I am just going to give you some sage words and not sugar-coat anything, right?”

From the way Toni was talking, Claudine thought she might be in trouble. Almost immediately, tears began to form in her eyes. She couldn’t understand why she was getting so upset, but regardless, she didn’t want Toni to see her distressed. She turned her head away, gazing out the window at the unexciting view of the car park below. Things had been going smoothly that week, mostly because Claudine hadn’t been going over Toni’s writing after each session. She wondered what she might have done wrong this time.

Toni felt it was better to document a lot of information over a few days and then go over it later rather than having a heated dissecting session at the end of each day. Claudine agreed to work with this new routine, but now that it was Friday, she was eager and ready to see their weeks’ worth of progress. Their review session began by Toni reminding Claudine this autobiography needed to be done well and it needed to be done soon. “Hun, without drama, anything is boring,” she said, tapping her painted red nails on the chrome desk. “What you refuse to appreciate here is that we have poetic license and that means we can embellish, 24

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eh hem. If we eliminate the shock value, we eliminate the drama, and I can promise you if we do that, our book is going to be a big, fat, boring flop!” Toni waved her hand wildly as she said this, so that it looked like she was shooing away a fly. “We have the right to be creative here,” she insisted, looking at Claudine over the top of her red-rimmed reading glasses. “We do, old girl.

I say we keep it fun, neat and tidy, as in, let’s get to the point.

And pleeeaasse, don’t be so self-righteous.”

Claudine got up and walked closer to the window, staring out again at the car park from a different direction now. This did not improve the view, which was still the same parking lot, but at least this way Toni couldn’t see her face. “I don’t get what you mean,” she said in a steady voice. “I think me life is interestin’ the way it happened. I don’t see meself as being self-righteous for wanting to portray me family as havin’ integrity and class.

Me dad is not a bum, and neither was Drew, even though you keep makin’ it sound that way. Actually, some o’ the people I know through wrestlin’ are the best people I have ever met.”

As she stood her ground, she gained confidence and the tears welling up in her eyes immediately stopped. She hated being so up and down with her emotions, but at least now, with her tears ceasing, she wouldn’t be at a disadvantage when she challenged Toni, who was now admiring her red painted nails.

Toni seemed so apathetic towards her feelings at the moment.

Claudine knitted her eyebrows together and suddenly she did not feel sorry for herself anymore. She was aware of Toni’s indifference and the lack of interest she was showing. Toni was calling her boring; Claudine knew she definitely was not.

“Well, I am only thinking of you when I am writing!” Toni snapped. “I listen to you tell me about your life. I can see how heartbroken you are. You were bullied at school growing up, and you and your family were always the underdogs.” Toni’s face broke out in a crinkly, somewhat frightening smile. “Let me help you help me turn the tables on all these dreadful people who hurt you! How do we do that, old girl? It’s simple--we write a smashing bestseller about your life that makes you millions of pounds!” She accented these words by repeatedly pressing up and down her long index finger on the chrome desk, making a 25

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tapping noise like a woodpecker. “That’s what I’m trying to do with this book.” Toni motioned for Claudine to come back and sit down. She leaned slightly over the desk, leering conspiratorially.

“Believe me when I tell you, old girl, that people want to read about the dirt. I can’t seem to get that across to you. If you insist on keeping it all so uptight, then you will lose your readers in the first chapter or so. When I add a little flair, you want to start all over again. You are only happy when we have some sterilized version of what we started with.” She sat back in her clear plastic chair, throwing her hands into the air. “Bloody hell, hun, I want to make a name for meself too, as an author, eh hem! I can’t do that by writing a boring book that’s only about how great your family is and nothing else! So I disagree with you when you say I’m self-serving. I’m trying to help you. You need to trust me, Claudine.”

Claudine looked carefully at Toni. “I hadn’t thought about all the things needed to create a bestsellin’ book... and I don’t want me book to be boring,” she admitted slowly. “But I still think me true story is excitin’ even without all of the embellishments.”

“Oh gosh, old girl, said Toni suddenly, turning to the glittering watch on her bony wrist, “I completely forgot! I have an important meeting with Jeeves I have to run off to. This will have to wait.” She dashed away from her desk, grabbing her coat and purse and half-pushing Claudine out the door with her.

“Go home and get some rest,” she said as they hastily walked down the hall. “Oh, and can you get the photo of Drew and the Prime Minister? We also need the one of Drew, Toasty, and the American celebrity-boxer Hershey Maddox too, eh hem. Just go through your pictures as soon as you can and see if you can find some good ones with celebrities for the book, there’s a dear.”

“What about the review? Can we reschedule?” Claudine asked anxiously.

“Of course, I just can’t think about it right now. Anyway, we’ve got about all the interviews we need for the book at this point, so you won’t have to keep coming out here to talk to me so much. T’ra, now.” And she rushed out the door, leaving Claudine wondering what in the world this book would come to.

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*** Over the next few days Claudine and the kids went through thousands of family photos. They had boxes upon boxes filled with pictures and documents, and they went through them in Claudine’s bedroom. Mr. Wonderful, the rather obese family cat, made himself comfortable right in the middle of their improvised workspace and started giving himself a bath. She smiled at the cat, and wished things could just easier. She looked around her bedroom, still full of Drew’s clothes, his shoes, his belts, his muscle magazines and all of their life as she and he knew it.

It was almost sacred; she couldn’t bear the thought of letting any of it go. She was absolutely overwhelmed. She heard her daughter calling her; she snapped out of her funk.

“Mum, watch, as soon as I give him a kiss, he’ll wash his fur right where I kissed him!” Isabella said playfully. She kissed him on his stomach and, sure enough, he immediately got busy cleaning it. Isabella repeatedly kissed his stomach and Mr. Wonderful patiently washed it again. Next it was Dempsey’s turn--he kissed the fat cat all over and gave him a bite on the scruff of his thick, furry neck. Mr. Wonderful thoroughly licked his entire body clean, purring all the while.

In one of the boxes, Isabella discovered some of her mum’s drawings and paintings. There were some from when Claudine was a little girl and the dates on them were in Louisa’s handwriting.

“Did you paint these, Mum?” said Isabella admiringly. “Look, it’s a drawing of Granddad’s house. Why didn’t you give it to Granddad?”

“Well, I got so aggravated with gettin’ the angles right that I erased a hole through the paper, see?” said Claudine, pointing at the spot. “There’s another couple attempts in there and I wasn’t happy with them either, so I just put them away.”

“They’re quite good, Mum,” said Dempsey.

“Well, maybe when the book money comes in, I think I will get meself new supplies and take some lessons,” said Claudine.

“Maybe I’ll even go to college to study it, like I was supposed to when I was graduatin’ from school after the … add ‘but your dad and I got married instead. I still have that beautiful draftin’ table 27

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your dad bought me; I’ve not used it in years. I think he’d like it if I got back into me artwork and maybe even went to university, or took up some kind of schoolin’.”

“Speakin’ of school, I have a question to ask you, Mum,” said Isabella, trying but failing to sound casual. Dempsey and Claudine immediately perked up and listened. “I was speakin’ to me drama teacher earlier this week and she said she would help me apply for a scholarship to one o’ these independent performin’ arts schools. There’s one in Essex, down south. She said it’s the best one around and they are very good about workin’ with underprivileged families. I didn’t want to say anything yet, because I knew you were busy with the book, but since the book is nearly done, maybe we could talk about it sometime.”

“Well, I think that’s a very good idea, luv,” said Claudine, picking up a picture of Drew, Isabella, and Emily the donkey.

She knew Drew would have wanted his little girl to go to the very best school in the world to pursue her dreams. It was a shame he wasn’t here to encourage her. It made Claudine sad to think they couldn’t afford anything for anyone right now, but she felt comfort in knowing that her children had passion in what they wanted to do with their lives.

“Actually,” said Isabella sheepishly, “I’ve already got the application. Hang on,” she said, getting up and weaving around the piles of photos as she walked to the door. She was back in a matter of seconds with a manila envelope. “So I got the forms here,” said Isabella. She took the papers out of the envelope and carefully laid them out.

“That’s great! Good girl!” said Claudine.

“I got a few copies in case I make a mistake on the forms, said Isabella. “I think I’ve got a dead good chance of being accepted. Help me out sometime, Mum, will ya? I think you’ve got proper writin’ skills… me own handwritin’ looks like I’ve got broken fingers.”

Claudine looked through the forms, mind whirring. Isabella was committed to this dream, and this was one very good way to make it come true. The chances of Isabella being discovered while going to a regular school up in Chester were not very

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likely. But if Isabella was accepted, she would have to live at the school. The family would only see her when she took the train back up to Chester during holidays, or when they made the trip down to Essex. Claudine knew Isabella would miss the animals a lot, not to mention her granddad. Billy was getting older and even Isabella knew he wouldn’t be alive for too many more years.

As if reading her Mum’s mind, Isabella said, “Mum, I think I’d like to wait and see what happens before we go on mentioning any of this to Granddad or Uncle Toasty. I don’t want to think about missin’ them or them missin’ me until I know for certain.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Claudine, putting her arm around her daughter. “You know, your dad was very impressed with your actin’ and we always admired your passion for performin’ arts. I know he would be so proud of you.”

All the sudden, Dempsey jumped up as if he remembered something and ran out of the room, returning with Drew’s old laptop. “Mum, speaking of Dad, I need your help on something, too,” he said, logging into his email. “This reporter emailed me with some questions and I wanna see what you think of me answers before I send them.” His fingers flew on the keyboard, surprisingly agile despite their size. “So Mum, this is what I’ve written so far. It’s to this sports writer, Gordon Beake from Fierce Fight Sports Magazine. He said that me following in dad’s footsteps is crazy and he’s asking if this is my dream or something you put me up to. He must think you’re guilt-trippin’ me into wrestling so I can be like Dad.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Like we haven’t heard that one before.”

Claudine immediately remembered she had a similar conversation with Toni. She felt a twinge of anxiety as she wondered about the contents of her own book, but she didn’t say anything.

“So,” continued Dempsey, “I’ve written this back to ‘im, ‘It has always been my dream to become a wrestler. I have my own style, but I try to master the moves that me father, me Uncle Toasty and me Granddad Billy perfected.’ His next question is, your father was a wrestling icon around the world. Do you plan to become as big a star as your dad? And I’ve got ‘yes, I

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plan to be as big a star as my dad, and that would be quite the accomplishment, since no one else has done it. I’m the only one who can do it, in my opinion.’ How’s that sound?”

Claudine listened to her son’s replies. She dearly admired her son’s intelligent, concise answers, and felt somehow she had done something right as a parent. She thought it was so open-minded of him to even talk to a reporter after all the times they misquoted their family and even made things up about all of them. “That is really well said, Demps. You don’t sound like a big bag of air, you sound mature and confident, yet still unassuming,” she said, walking over to ruffle her son’s curls.

“You speak respectfully about your father and of the wrestling, and you’ve kept it short and sweet. They say less is more, plus this Gordon Beake can’t distort your words when you kept your answers so clean and to the point.”

Dempsey impressed his mum in a lot of ways. Her son’s opinion of wrestling was passionate and untarnished, not jaded or resentful, despite the circumstances that surrounded his father’s death and all the young lad had seen from such an early age.

She wished Drew could see how well their son was turning out. “You’ve got a lot o’ integrity, you know; lots o’ distinction.

I’m very proud of both of you,” Claudine said fondly. Dempsey’s face reddened slightly at the prolonged compliments.

“Anyroad, Mr. Wonderful has a lot o’ distinction, too,” he said, and pointed at the big fat pedigree cat. The silly, fat cat raised his head in response to the pointed finger and let out a stately “meowwww!” Isabella burst out laughing and Claudine and Dempsey joined in.

Dempsey headed over to pet him, then stopped, distracted by an old black and white picture sitting flat on Claudine’s dresser.

He picked it up and brought it over to his mum. “Who is this?

She’s the spittin’ image of Dad,” he said, pointing at a pregnant girl in the antiquated photograph. Claudine took the faded photo and held it under the light, though she already knew who was pictured. The girl in the photo had soft curly hair, perhaps light brown. Her thick, arched eyebrows defined her huge round eyes, which turned down slightly at the outside corners, giving her an endearingly melancholy look. She couldn’t have been more than 30

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a teenager. She was smiling, revealing pronounced dimples over a square jaw and in both cheeks. Next to her was a middle-aged couple. “That’s your dad’s real mum, Sylvia,” said Claudine quietly. “She died just after he was born. She was pretty young when she became a mum. I never got to hear the full story from your dad. That bastard Karl was supposed to tell him everythin’.

I only heard bits and pieces. But I can definitely say that your dad looked like her, and nothin’ at all like Karl. And to be honest, I don’t even think Karl was your dad’s biological dad. Poor little Sylvia probably got pregnant before she ever met Karl.

Who knows, right? And see, you can tell where your dad got his build from. His mum had that same tall, athletic body, too, just like, Drew had,” said Claudine, passing the picture to Isabella so she could see it as well. “Are those Dad’s grandparents then?” Dempsey asked, pointing to the small couple standing next to Sylvia. “No, luv, those are Dad’s adopted parents, Tracy and Tommy, and Karl was the adopted older brother of Tommy.

And Tommy’s parents adopted Karl because they thought they couldn’t have children Then, a few years later, they actually had their own son, Tommy. After Tommy was born, they ended up moving to Germany, but they always kept this place here. And then Tommy’s parents died, and they left this cottage and the land to Tommy. I think, no, wait, I know that the bastard Karl must have been a right miserable sod, or I’m sure they would have left him with something. So when Tommy turned eighteen, he came back here, and met Tracy, who he married. Karl stayed in Germany, I gather, and he decided to change his second name from Bellamy to Beverly, out of spite, and the brothers stayed apart for a long time. Then Tommy and Karl reunited in Frankfurt, just before your dad was born, and they met each other’s wives, Tracy and Sylvia, who were both Drew’s mums; one was his biological mum who died, and the other was the one who raised him. And the men, Tommy and Karl, were both Drew’s dads and they’re all here in this picture. When Tracy died, and then Tommy too, well, it was their wish for Drew to come live with Granddad and Grammy’s, and me and Toasty. And that’s how I met yer dad, said Claudine. “I remember when I was growing up Tommy and Tracy were both very hard workin’ and 31

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dead strong, though neither of ‘em was very big. I don’t know why, but they couldn’t have children o’ their own. And they both died of cancer. Such a shame, it was.”

Claudine deliberately pulled out a thick red leather photo album from under the bed. This photo album was part of Drew’s past. They had never shown their children before. She hardly paid attention to it either. Drew’s family, before he was born, was a topic that seldom came up. As far as Drew was concerned, his parents were Tommy and Tracy Bellamy, his biological mum was dead and his real father never cared about him. Drew seemed to just keep that part of his history hidden away, in a closed book, underneath their bed. Claudine suddenly felt that the time had come for all of them to explore Drew’s past. She opened up the photo album and showed the kids another photo of Tracy Bellamy holding a small boy in her lap. It was Drew. A little goat was eating out of his hand. Drew looked to be about three in the photo.

“Dad looks like a giant baby, seeing ‘im sittin’ with his tiny mum, she looks like a proper miniature person,” said Isabella, giggling with fascination.

“You know,” Claudine said, pointing to the goat, “those goats are the ancestors of the goats that your Granddad has now at his farm. The goats had kids, and those kids went to Grandad’s place to live with me and Toasty. They were so cute. And Tracy used to make her own goat cheese, butter, homemade jam and bread and then Tommy would bring Drew and whatever Tracy had made out to Granddad’s. Toasty, Drew and I sometimes would have a bit o’ a picnic, up behind the barn, where the stream is. We had the best life! It was all so organic, before organic was cool, Yeh, what a great life we had!” *** After the fun of picking out photos was over and the boxes of bittersweet memories were put away, Claudine drove to Rocket Productions to drop off their carefully selected photos.

She ended up leaving them with Toni’s young secretary who unenthusiastically informed Claudine that Toni was out at a 32

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meeting and would not likely be in the studio until much later.

Claudine hastily wrote a note to Toni, asking her please call her when she had a looked at the photographs. She needed to know if what she and her children picked out for the Blank Canvas were alright. Claudine was looking for validation, and she wanted her children’s choices of their father’s memories validated too. Instead, there were a few days of hearing nothing at all from Rocket Productions. Claudine felt more insecure than usual, wondering if Toni and Jeeves were unhappy with the photos she brought in. They seemed to be almost demanding in their latest request for her to bring the pictures in, and now she wondered what the rush was. She had not heard a peep from them and it was making her second guess everything. She began to worry that maybe they were having second thoughts about the book.

Trying to distract herself, Claudine started to clean and reorganize the cottage, only to discover, in her “second-guessing state of mind”, that Mr. Wonderful was nowhere to be found. He was always around, usually cat-napping in plain sight. Not being able to find him suddenly drove her into a frenzy. It brought her back to the thoughts she had when she first lost Drew. More often than not, Claudine was becoming rather unhinged and unbalanced.

The kids came home from school to find the house messier than ever, with everything thrown out of the wardrobes, from inside the drawers out from under the beds. When they heard why, they quickly joined in on the search. “Did you check the wardrobe in the box room?” Isabella asked.

“Three times!”

“What about the cupboards? Sometimes he likes to hide in there…”

“I’ve just looked in Emily’s stable, he’s not in there!” said Dempsey, running back into the house. Suddenly, just as they were all feeling very frantic, they heard a scratching at the back door. Isabella got there first. She opened it and Mr. Wonderful came sauntering in with a dead vole in his mouth. He dropped it at Isabella’s feet and looked up at her as if he was expecting congratulations.

“Look at what the big hunter’s caught for us Mum!” said Isabella as she collected the dead vole with a handy garden spade 33

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and discretely disposed of it. She didn’t want Mr. Wonderful to think his hunting efforts were not appreciated.

Claudine rushed to him and sat on the kitchen floor, scooping the cat to her face. She buried her head in his soft, pure white fur and, without warning, started sobbing uncontrollably. Everything she had been trying not to think about for the past few days even the past few months came flooding back. She worried that her book sales would not be strong. She feared Dominion Publishing was going to pull out on her at the last minute and decide not to publish her autobiography. She knew they had a contract, but she was beginning to worry about things she knew, in her heart, were not probable. She wondered, perhaps, if she simply wasn’t good enough.

She deeply missed Drew. There was still such a huge void where he once was in her world, but would never be again; this was upsetting her more than anything. How could she make the pain go away? She missed his big, comforting hands, his beautiful hazel-green eyes with those incredibly long lashes.

She missed his assuring look at her that told her everything was going to work out. She would give anything to have him back. How could she continue to take care of her family without him? They were just barely getting by now, and there was still a lifetime of living ahead. How would they get through the year, let alone the rest of their lives? What was going to become of them if her book didn’t do well, or didn’t even get published?

Her children came and sat with her, putting their arms around her and waited until she calmed down.

“I… I’m sorry, luvs,” Claudine said finally, putting the tolerant sweet cat down into her lap, where he started immediately licking the salty tears off his drenched, plush coat.

Dempsey and Isabella looked at her sympathetically. “Mum, can I get you anythin’?” asked Isabella.

“No, thanks… I think I need to go lie down for a while.

I’ll clean this mess up later. I’m sorry for getting everything in such a state,” Claudine shakily went up to her room and closed the door. “Calm down. Just relax,” she told herself. She sat on her bed, looking down at her feet for several minutes while her thoughts rushed forward at hundreds of miles an hour. Claudine 34

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grabbed her address book and, before she could stop herself, dialed Toni’s private home phone number. Toni preferred not to be called on that number, as a rule. “Hello, Toni speaking.” “Hi Toni,” said Claudine. “It’s Claudine. It’s been a while. How are you?”

“Very well, and yourself?” said Toni, as if there was nothing strange about the lack of recent communication.

“All right,” said Claudine, even though she felt as though she was going a little crazy. She covered up the mouth piece on the phone so Toni couldn’t hear her taking short, abrupt breaths, as though she was shuddering like a little baby who had been left to cry for too long. “You know, I’ve been thinkin’. Well, I’m worried about the big danglin’ loose end, being that I’m not been able to see what’s been written, you know? I’m terribly worried about what’s maybe getting lost in translation, and I would feel a lot better if I could review the book. I won’t show the rough draft to anyone. I’m not going to show it to me kids, even though they wouldn’t say naught about it to anybody anyway. I really want to see it for meself; for me own peace of mind. I really need to see what’s been written.”

“Oh, old girl, you know what’s been written,” said Toni, sounding annoyed. “You are the one who’s been telling it to me!

Is this what you are calling me about after hours on my private line?”

“O’ course, I know that Toni, and I’m sorry for callin’ in the evenin’. But I’ve been feeling so out o’ sorts because you’ve not really been keeping me in the loop, it seems. I didn’t hear back from you about the photos, and that concerned me too. But Toni, I just want to review what I’ve said, to make sure I haven’t left anythin’ out or gotten a date wrong, or whatever. It’d put me mind at ease, you know?”

“Well, I guess, but with the time flying and all, and with us being so close to getting this baby racked and stacked …”

Claudine could picture the thin-lipped look on Toni’s face, trying to put Claudine at the back of her priorities by giving her excuses. “Old girl, you know it is kind of like putting a spanner in a spinning wheel, eh-hem. Whenever I ask if you’re sure about

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what you’ve said, you tell me dead straight that’s the way you remember it. So now, are you telling me dead straight that you might be incorrect?” Toni seemed so condescending at times.

“No, that’s not what I’m sayin’,” said Claudine, shaking her head even though Toni couldn’t see her. “I only want to make sure I’ve not left anythin’ out, or maybe, um, that, ah, you’ve not left anythin’ out.”

“Well, I’ll ask Ernie if we can be sued for missing the deadline,” Toni snipped, “since this isn’t an Act of God, or an illness that would cause us to be late for the publisher’s final review. If it’s all right with him, then I will get you the chapters you want.”

Claudine’s heart seemed to stop for a moment. “Really, we can actually be sued for being late for the deadline? When is the deadline?”

“Well, old girl, people can sue people over anything, you know that,” said Toni, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Let’s both take a deep breath, exhale, and I will talk to Ernie tomorrow. He will look into it. So, (eh hem), what chapters do you want to see?”

“Well, actually, all of ‘em,” said Claudine nervously. “I don’t remember what each chapter has in it, so if I can see the whole thing, that would keep me from askin’ you again.”

“Well, I’ll ask, old girl, but there are no guarantees! Anyway, there’s no reason to worry so much.”

“Look, Toni, I’ve got plenty ridin’ on this book,” said Claudine, wringing her hands. “You know I’ve been in a bad financial situation for a while now and I really need this book to do well so I can pay me bills, just for starters. What if nobody buys it? How am I goin’ to take care o’ me children? What will happen to me animals? And me father is lookin’ so weak these days,” said Claudine, her voice rising into a strained sort of squeak. She thought to herself in a panic, “What if he dies?

What will me family do without him? Would Toasty help me out if things got really bad?” Frantic ideas like these tumbled ceaselessly in Claudine’s mind like leaves caught in a strong gust of wind. How could she have been so ill-prepared for her life? How did she and Drew not have things planned out better?

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Why did she let Karl take Drew to the hospital that day? She got off of the bed and started pacing around in circles. Toni, to Claudine’s surprise, laughed, her high-pitched cackle ringing shrilly through the receiver.

“Poor silly old girl! You worry over nothing! Jeeves and I obviously wouldn’t have picked you for my first book, if we thought it wasn’t going to catapult me into doing more books for his company, more screenplays, more tele productions, and so on and so forth, eh hem. The big stores are putting in their orders now and they are really large units. We are easily speculating that your family’s enormous fan base will buy the books. I’ve talked to the experts on this, so I know.” She laughed again. “Oh, listen to me, talking like I’m already a big-time author. But this is so big for me, you know? So big! And for you too, old girl! We will get you polished for your book tour and get you out there making inspirational speeches, we’ve got so much brewing…

I was going to wait until I got more confirmation, but what’s the harm, I’m going to tell you anyway. The big, big thing I’m waiting to hear from Ernie about is a film deal for Canvas!”

Toni sounded ecstatic. “Once the world sees you through my eyes, they will stand up and take notice of me, and of you, too!” she said triumphantly. “You’re going to be Britain’s favourite mummy, and if you want the bloody red carpet, now is the time to ask for it, because I can get it for you! I bloody well want it, too! Ask and we shall receive!” This pronouncement was followed by another waterfall of high-pitched cackling.

Claudine suspected Toni had been drinking. Toni never talked to her like this before. “Really, givin’ inspirational speeches? And there’s a movie deal?” Claudine asked when Toni was through with the maniacal chortle.

“Uh-huh, the bread dough’s been made and now it’s ready for baking! And we’re all partners on this, you know? You, me, Ernie and, I suppose, Jeeves--so the four of us. I want Ernie to work on the screenplay--he’s brilliant with screenwriting, it’s just like news copy to him, and he’s already done loads of editing for the book. That saves us all a ton of quid by not having to outsource, right? We’re in good, good hands, trust me. It’s all golden.” Toni’s confidence was unfortunately not rubbing off 37

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on Claudine, who felt more disoriented than ever. “Oh, well, I didn’t know about a movie deal bein’ in the works, and I’ve yet to see the rough draft for the book. I’m not ready for speeches. I feel like things are out of my control, even though I am excited about everythin’ you are tellin’ me. I’m not trying to put the brakes on…” Claudine took a deep breath, trying to collect some of her flying thoughts. “I sometimes need to be told about things, Toni. The book hasn’t even been released and I still have no idea what is goin’ on. I just feel a bit incidental to the whole damned thing.”

“What whole damned thing, old girl? You sound less than delighted,” replied Toni, now hiccupping slightly.

“What I mean by the whole damned thing is my whole life story,” answered Claudine, stressing her point. Her head started to swim again and she sat down on the bed, feeling dizzy. Toni was saying something now, but her voice was distorted and muffled. Claudine tried to speak, but she couldn’t get her own words to come out of her own mouth to answer back. Despite all the promising good news, she felt rather doomed. Claudine had experienced these feelings a lot lately. She privately called this her ‘déjà vu nightmare.’ She lay down as the phone continued to squeak in her ear, feeling the looming storm clouds move in a little closer.

38

4 Sex, Drugs, and Champagne Toni and Ernie, being quite the public relations experts, invited Claudine’s family to come to the studios to hear about all their wonderful opportunities for The Blank Canvas film. Toasty was running a show that evening in Huddersfield, so he couldn’t go, but Billy and the kids were available. They were anxious to get a better look at what this book project was amounting to. On the way, the group stopped at the post office so Isabella could drop off her application for the performing arts school. Claudine helped her put together an immaculate portfolio of her acting, writing, and artistic accomplishments. Though Isabella was still just shy of thirteen, her portfolio was already full of lead roles in school plays and community theatre shows. There was also a demo CD of Isabella’s character voices, along with some videos that Claudine had recorded at Isabella’s various productions.

Isabella looked very happy and confident as she sent this all off.

The Bellamys and Billy arrived at the Rocket Productions offices to find Toni standing in the doorway, looking highly pleased in a pristine plum-coloured jacket and black slacks. She handed them each an apple as they walked through the glass front doors.

“Welcome, welcome!” she squeaked, her stiletto heels clicking on the floor. “Here, let’s go to the conference room. Make yourselves comfortable, please!”

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Claudine had never been in the conference room--she always went straight to Toni’s office. The conference room had a long Plexiglas table on a polished, gleaming cement floor. The family sat in hard plastic chairs that looked like giant potato crisps on metal legs. Dempsey and Isabella tentatively sat down, arching their backs and pushed their shoulders into the backs of the strange chairs. “No, no, kids! Careful,” said Ernie, shuffling into the room. He was a small man, just slightly shorter than his tiny wife in her heels. He was wearing an expensive-looking grey suit and his severe haircut and straight handlebar moustache matched Toni’s crisp look. His face was plain, with small brown eyes and a thin mouth.

“Listen,” Toni began, “we are so glad that you came.

Ernie and I have a wonderful, wonderful opportunity for you all!” She looked at them with a wide grin on her intensely and uncomfortably happy face, opening her arms as though she wanted to hug them all. The Bellamys just sat in their funny chairs, gnawing at their apples. The crunching echoed in the cold conference room as Ernie took centre stage. Toni turned on the CD player and it began to play in the background some sort of marching band music combined with a synthesized disco beat to complement Ernie’s monologue. It made Claudine wonder just how many times they had actually rehearsed this presentation.

The music started to fade as Ernie directed his attention to the Dempsey and Isabella.

“We want to set something up for you kids so you can audition for roles as the child characters in the eventual Black Canvas film,” Ernie said in a very business-like tone. “We still haven’t decided on a director, but once we do, we’ll set something up. No one wants to deal with child actors, with their absurd fees and over-the-top demands. Plus, you lot all know the story better than anyone’s kids. We all save money and help our family partnership out.” He clapped his small hands together with an air of finality. “I will coach the two of you with your voices and acting and properly train you. Isn’t that what it is all about - helping each other out, like your grandfather does?”

“This is such a great opportunity for you to get your names out there!” said Toni, her grin frozen on her face.

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It all sounded quite absurd to Dempsey. “I’ve no interest in auditioning for a part in The Blank Canvas,” he announced.

“And if me sister’s interested and gets the part, she should not be underpaid because she’s family.”

No one said anything for a moment. Dempsey looked at Ernie. “Smart lad!” Ernie said finally, giving Dempsey a slightly hesitant thumbs up. “Right then, Toni, that boy on our mailing list. That way, the lad can read the numbers that come out of auditing and payroll, plus he’ll know when there are upcoming company events. And another bonus is the good work this company is doing for your mum’s book, so soon she’ll get big fat juicy royalty cheques in the mail till kingdom comes. We’ll send a cheque out to you, eh laddie, just for being a good watchdog, right?”

The entire family was less than impressed. Dempsey looked confused and slightly irritated. He did not understand what being on the Rocket Productions mailing list had to do with anything. He didn’t really care to be informed about company events at Rocket Productions. Claudine thought Ernie was being facetious, and Toni seemed so arrogantly artificial. Billy was put off by the unwelcoming, futuristic room and over-the-top claims. Isabella wanted to act, but she did not like that the Orrs were approaching her as though she was a second-rate choice.

None of the Bellamys were really swept off their feet by the Orrs that day. *** A few days after this bizarre meeting, when the kids had arrived home from an afternoon outing, Claudine got a message from Toni. “Hey, old girl, haven’t heard from you for a while!

I’ve been so busy. Eh hem. Ring me and let me know when you can come by the office to take a peek at this. Oh my word, I didn’t tell you - I have the first draft of chapter one back from Jeeves via email. It’s fabulous; dead brilliant! We need you to review and approve straight away. Can you come round and have a proper look? Like I said, what I’ve read is absolutely

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fabulous. Ring me when you get this, okay?” This was followed by her usual high-pitched throat clearing before the message cut off.

“I’m goin’ down to see Toni, do you want to come?” Claudine asked her kids, picking up the phone to call Toni back and tell her she was on her way.

“No, thanks, Mum. Toni is soooo bloody annoyin’,” said Dempsey.

“We’ll stay home and make sure Mr. Wonderful is getting enough attention,” Isabella said as she affectionately doted over the fat white cat.

Claudine left, announcing that once she was finished with Toni, she’d pay her phone bill and then she’d be home straightaway. She soon arrived at the Rocket headquarters, as Toni liked to call it, checked in with yet another new secretary, and made a beeline for Toni’s office.

Toni greeted Claudine and excitedly sat her down. “Old girl, you are just going to love this!” she squealed, giving Claudine a paper print-out of Chapter One. But before Claudine could even get through the first word, Toni began to say enthusiastically, “It’s a bit racy, but I think it’s just what your target audience wants - a real page turner from the get-go. The stuff here is good, believe me, it’s gritty and enticing. So, let’s get Jeeves on the phone so we can talk about the next stage, which is signing off on this baby and moving on to the next chapters. I think we might tighten the weave on this first chapter a tad and make sure there are no loose ends dangling, aye? What do you think? What have you read so far, old girl? Here, let me read it out loud, it’ll be faster.”

She snatched the papers back without giving Claudine a chance to read a word. Clearing her throat, she slipped on her red glasses and began to read.

“I wanted to get my lips all over Drew as soon as I met him. I was only eight years old and my little brother Toasty was seven. We were playing in the barn and had spilled petrol all over ourselves. My father, Billy, was a very strict man and my younger brother and I knew we’d be done for. Sure enough,

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(eh hem), when my dad found out, he stripped me and my brother naked, threw us into the ice-cold shower in the barn, and scrubbed our skin clean with clothes washing powder from the cave-like washing room. It stung my eyes and made my skin burn and Drew was watching the whole time. He stared at my naked body— it was so obvious, even I could see, through my burning, watering eyes that he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

“After we washed up, Toasty blamed the whole thing on Drew. That’s how the fight got started. Toasty bloodied poor Drew’s nose with a cheap shot to his face.

I’ll never forget the hurt look on Drew’s face. Drew got even, eventually, and I got to kiss Drew all better when I washed his face off for him. I was in love with him even then. “When my younger brother beat me up, (eh hem), which he did often, Drew came to my rescue, beating Toasty within an inch of his life. We were young and carefree and despite our brutal fights, we were the best of friends. And Toasty always made sure Drew didn’t get too frisky with me.

When Drew and I got married, though, I didn’t have Toasty to watch my back. All I had was a bottle of wine and Drew’s love. He talked me into drinking nearly a whole bottle on our wedding night. I was nearly sick to my stomach when Drew took my virginity away, but after I threw up, I felt better and we made love again, this time it was longer and sweeter. I wasn’t sure if I was Drew’s first or only girl, but he was certainly my first and only lover.

This is the story of our love and life together and of his brutal drug-induced death. (Eh hem). Only a fool such as I would have believed the nightmare I was living was the fairy tale I created in my mind. I pretended I was winning a game, but in reality was always losing. By the end of Drew’s life, I was physically, emotionally, mentally, and financially spent. I don’t know that he could have fully respected me, but he has been gone for a while now, and right or wrong, I will always love him.”

Claudine listened in astonishment. It was so preposterous it almost made Claudine burst out laughing. The idea of her having

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lustful feelings for Drew when she was only eight years old was utterly ridiculous, as was everything else she was hearing about her life through the ‘veins of poetic license’. As she continued to listen to Toni read the entire first chapter, she could tell it was only getting worse and worse.

“So, what do you think? Brilliant, right?” said Toni happily.

“Toni, it’s so bad! It’s bloody dreadful! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry! I’m dead serious. I hope me actual life story soon follows this because this is sounding like someone else’s Godforsaken, stupid bloody life, but not mine!” Claudine lamented sternly.

“Give it a chance,” said Toni, who was clearly enjoying herself. “Let me finish reading the entire chapter and then you can make a well-informed and objective decision, old girl. Brew of coffee or tea, perhaps a glass of wine? Pino Noir?” she offered, casually. But this time, the glass of Pinot Noir was not enough to distract Claudine from the horrors of the first chapter. After Toni’s chirpy narration of chapter one, Claudine finally spoke.

“The first chapter leaves a dead, awful taste in me mouth,” she said, feeling angry and shaken. “It sounds like all we ever did in me family, Drew and me included, was run about naked, and then fight with each other. And I sound so trampy and coarse.

And what’s with all the vulgar behavior? We weren’t like that at all! We sound like very bad monkeys throwing feces at each other!”

“You see? You hear what you’re saying? That’s just the reaction we are hoping for!” Toni said her eyes wide with glee.

“It’s exactly how we keep the reader captivated and then it all gets explained and clarified in an almost Hollywood-like ending, you see? Maybe not, but I can see it because I’m an expert, old girl. I understand why you are worried, (eh hem), but trust me, I am telling you from an insider’s perspective that this is all going according to plan.”

Claudine stared, dumbfounded, at Toni. “Toni, I’m horrified at how that all sounds. I am the actual insider, talking about my very real life, and I don’t even recognize it. It didn’t happen that way. If I were a fan reading this, I would think Drew and Toasty were stupid and belligerent, Billy was some kind of miserable old 44

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tyrant and that this Claudine Bellamy was completely ignorant.

We look like a bunch of bloody wild fools.” She pounded her fist on the desk at this last statement, which seemed to get Toni’s attention.

“Okay, old girl,” Toni said, looking at Claudine as if she was a bad monkey. “Tell me what you don’t like and we’ll fix it.

Don’t worry, it’s only the first draft. Just breathe, okay?” Toni breathed out her words emotionlessly.

Claudine took the pages back from Toni. “This stuff about Drew and me doing drugs, having wild sex, and never going to school. The stuff about me dad being abusive and strict. And me wanting to get me lips all over him when I was eight. Eight! And here again on page five, I’m reading for the second bloody time in the same chapter about me being so drunk on me honeymoon that I passed out while Drew ravaged and abused me… well, that’s not at all how it happened, Toni, and I certainly don’t think this is very appropriate for chapter one.”

“Well, it sounds like you are in denial, old girl. You have what resembles Stockholm Syndrome” Toni said, looking condescendingly at Claudine. “From what I understand, when someone makes love with another person, it is only fair that both are conscious of the act of it, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but that is not a fair comparison to what happened with me and Drew and I wasn’t abused,” Claudine insisted, and shook her head, annoyed, “and what on earth is Stockholm Syndrome, I dare ask?”

“Claudine, Stockholm Syndrome, eh-hem, is where a victim defends the person who has been abusing them. It’s all part of a sickness where victims have been so, eh-hem, ehhem, brainwashed that they can actually defend the person who kidnapped them or abused them for years,” Toni said matter-offactly.

“Well, that’s ridiculous; absolutely ridiculous! I don’t see any connection at all between me defending Drew over my getting drunk on our honeymoon and me having Norwalk Syndrome,” Claudine scoffed.

“It’s Stockholm, old girl, Stockholm Syndrome, not Norwalk,” Toni interrupted, didactically.

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“Norwalk, Stockholm, whatever the bloody name is, I don’t suffer from it, and you really shouldn’t say things like that, Toni.

I can’t stress to you enough that Drew loved me and I loved him, and there were no conditions, no exceptions to that. We had a fantastic relationship, plain and simple! Drew used to give me a little wine because it helped me relax and I drank it because I wanted to. On our honeymoon, I was afraid of having a good time, in front of God, to be honest, since we had just eloped. It was a very stressful night for me. I told you all o’ that, but I’m not readin’ any o’ that here. How come the book can’t say what I am sayin’ to you right now, like I told you before, instead of this dreadfully out-of-context stuff I’m readin’ here? I am not tryin’ to be a prude, but that stuff I just read is not accurate. It is not fair to Drew and it is certainly not how I want Drew to be remembered,” Claudine exclaimed.

Toni looked at her with a creepy, simpering smile. “Claudine, we really have so much still to do, so let me just say a few things.

I know you and Drew were a very special couple and that is obviously portrayed in the following chapters, which you’ve not read yet,” she said. “Personally, I still see it as abuse, eh hem, but never mind, we will clarify things here in chapter one so it pleases you. It’s not a problem to change it. We want you to be happy, but really, Claudsy, you just have to trust that part of it to me and Jeeves. We have experience in this. We know what works, we know how to make money, luv.”

She began highlighting sentences with a fat fluorescent yellow marker while she spoke and made more corrections with a fine-tipped red ink pen.

“Okay, here’s the first paragraph now,” she said. “I wanted to kiss Drew all over as soon as I met him. I was only eight years old and my little brother Toasty was seven. We were playing in the barn and spilled petrol all over ourselves. My father, Billy, was so angry that he stripped me and my brother naked right in front of Drew, threw us in the ice-cold shower in the barn, and scrubbed us so clean our skin was raw from the abrasive clothes washing powder from the dank, dark old washing room. I made my skin burn, but I liked that Drew was watching the whole time. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from me, and I could tell even then that he wanted me.”

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Claudine’s jaw dropped. “Yea, you’ve taken bits out and added more to it, and now it sounds even worse! Are you trying to upset me?” She was shouting now, and the walls and ceiling seemed to be closing in on her. “Do you want me to go off the handle, Toni? I’m nearly there, Toni, where I’m ready to go off me bloody head here! This chapter one will have to be rewritten!” she exclaimed, and she angrily kicked the side of Toni’s desk so hard she pushed it back about a half a foot.

Toni’s eyes widened and her mouth tightened into a thin, dark line. Claudine took a deep breath and counted to ten, trying hard to compose herself. “If you want to shock people,” she said in a more moderate tone of voice, “just say that Drew and I had a fantastic sex life. But I didn’t even realize I fancied him until I was fourteen, not eight years old. When we got into the petrol, we were only seven or eight, and there was nothing to see. We were little children who were getting poison washed off us by our dad. Me dad cleaned us off because he cared, and it was the Fairy Liquid we used for the dishes in the kitchen, not the clothes powder from the basement; I have no idea where you got that notion from. He wasn’t aggressively disciplining us, he wasn’t like that. He is one of the best people I ever met in me life.”

“Old girl, that’s not exactly how I heard it the first time from you,” said Toni matter-of-factly. “I think you absolutely have some emotional baggage you need to address one of these days.

One minute you are shy as a lamb telling me how terrified you were on your honeymoon, (eh hem), and the next minute you are lashing out at me like some savage cave girl! People are going to love the idea of you having this massive wrestler passionately making love to you for hours whenever he felt like it. It’s not going to look nearly as bad as you think, Claudine.” Toni stood up, her chair scraping the hard floor. “I don’t think you appreciate how hard I’m trying; and I’m really trying here. Now, I need to take a break and calm down with a glass of wine. We really should be celebrating by now, but we will re-write the apparent wrongs before we have the festive bubbly. I’ve got champagne chilling, but I really need a more substantial drink right now, and it looks like you do, too. Let’s both just take ten.” Toni sniffled as 47

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she poured herself a short glass of brandy. “I could bloody well use a gin and tonic right now but this will have to do!” She threw it back and swallowed it in one big gulp.

Claudine wondered what the hell Toni thought they should be celebrating. She looked at her still full glass of wine, but refused to touch it. She wanted to keep her wits about her while they hammered out what chapter one of Claudine’s book was really supposed to be. Toni poured another brandy and was quiet for a few minutes. Claudine watched her out of the corner of her eye. If the book got out like this, her family’s reputation would be ruined, and so would hers!

Finally, Toni was ready to work again. They went back and forth for what felt like hours, grappling over every little detail.

Finally, Toni announced that the chapter was perfect and she was ready to celebrate. She opened her mini-bar refrigerator and brought out two cold champagne glasses and a bottle of champagne chilling in a Plexiglas bucket of ice.

“Wait,” said Claudine just as Toni was trotting back to the desk with the champagne and two glasses. “Let’s call Jeeves to tell him about what’s happened here first. I won’t be having even one sip of champagne until we’ve done that.” Toni, appearing offended and dejected, quietly put the glasses to the side and left the champagne in its bucket of ice. She checked her address book and dialed the number on her office phone, which was made of clear plastic that displayed the mechanics inside. The conference call was at last in progress. This was the first time Claudine and Jeeves Khirun had ever spoken and he seemed like a reasonable person.

“It is good to finally speak with you after all this time,” he said in a standard British accent. “We all know you obviously suffered incredibly with the passing of your mum and your amazing husband, Drew. God rest their souls.”

“Thank you,” said Claudine.

“How are you with Chapter One? Is it good to go or do you want to add a snippet or two?” Jeeves asked.

“Well, I am not trying to test the waters here, but I am not at all satisfied with Chapter One,” admitted Claudine. “It is not

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at all what I hoped for and it is not an accurate portrayal of me life with Drew. Toni has it re-worded now, but I’m concerned because there are more chapters to follow and-” “I’m sorry that you weren’t pleased with the first chapter,” Jeeves interrupted. “We can try to reword things somewhat.

However, we have had experts working on this critical first chapter, so we don’t want to change it too much. What we have here with you, Claudine, is what we in the publishing business call ‘writer’s remorse.’ It is common, especially when the chapters are reviewed in a disjointed fashion. If you could read it all continuously and see how one thing substantiates another, maybe then you could see how it all flows so well. I suspect that’s going to be the case. “So, keeping that in mind, in order to compete with the stiff competition from rock stars, film stars, and other athletes like your Drew… well, we absolutely have to play hardball to compete. You must be somewhat aware that we expect wonderful things to happen with The Blank Canvas. It is one of the most anticipated favourites for the autumn release. Are you aware we have projected this gem of a book to be released for Labour Day weekend?” asked Jeeves.

“No, I was not,” Claudine said. She felt so left out of the whole process at this point that she was not surprised she was only just finding out now.

“Now, I’m meeting with a big bookstore chain representative in a few minutes,” said Jeeves. “Toni, please get me the revisions Claudine wants and we will see what we can do. Once we are done with that, we will sign off on the first draft and move forward. It was nice to talk to you, Claudine.” And as quickly as that, he was off the line.

Claudine just stared at Toni in dismay. She was struggling with Chapter One, yet Toni and Jeeves were forecasting the book’s release right around the corner, sometime in September. How was it possible to get the entire book completed in so little time?

It was nearly the summer holidays now.

Toni seemed oblivious to her reaction.

“Jeeves is exactly right, Claudine,” Toni said as soon as she put the phone down. “You have initial shock and this is what the readers will have, too. This is what keeps them reading page 49

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after page, (eh hem). We will fix chapter one with some softer jargon, like “handsome” Drew, “shy” Claudine and add a dash of adjectives like ‘fun,’ ‘warm,’ ‘lovely,’ ‘easy,’ ‘tender,’ yada yada. So if you will just relax, old girl, your life is about to turn around. Don’t force us to turn this into some boring documentary, okay? That’s all I ask.”

Claudine sighed and looked at Toni. “Re-word or soften or whatever you want to call it. Make my changes” she said wearily. “I hope when I see the other chapters they’ll portray me family properly. But the original Chapter One was really not even close to what I had in mind for introducin’ meself to me readers. Please Toni, make this sound like the person you’ve gotten to know over the past few months, not some spoiled, uncivilized, sex-crazed fool.”

“Of course, of course; that’s always been my intention, old girl,” Toni said, going to fetch the champagne. She handed Claudine a flute filled with sparkling pink bubbles. Claudine looked at it. She was beginning to feel funny again. Her Sweat was beading on her forehead and underneath her clothes rolling down the small of her back. Her breathing felt shallow heart was pounding. She could hear ringing in her ears. She thought she was going to faint.

“Cheers to Canvas!” said Toni, clinking her glass against Claudine.

“Cheers,” said Claudine said reluctantly. “Cheers.”

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5 The Actor and the Wrestler “I would hate to see your ears cauliflower. Funny, your granddad and Toasty’s did, but Drew’s never did, not really. I saw one o’ his ears startin’ to cauliflower over in Frankfurt, but I don’t think it counts, since it was just a baby one,” said Claudine, inspecting her son’s soft, pliable ear. Dempsey was only halflistening. Most of his attention was focused on the wrestling matches he had downloaded from his dad’s video-recorded tours in Japan. Claudine looked at her son watching the screen and saw how much he looked like his father and her father, too. He had inherited the Bonham blue eyes, but his hair texture and colour were from Drew, as were his luxurious eyelashes. He was still very young, but he was nearly a head taller than Claudine, and all the work he was doing in the ring were contributing to his already impressive physique. This was a rare moment of peace for Claudine. Lately, no matter what kind of day Claudine had, good or bad, she had daily panic attacks. She had finally identified them as such after doing some research on mental depression and anxiety. She really wondered if she should see a doctor and get proper advice because her attacks were not going away. They were ready and waiting and came on whenever and wherever; Claudine had no control of them. She decided she would go to the doctor if this didn’t stop happening soon.

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“No matter how many times yer dad got his head tied up in the ropes, no matter how many times someone kicked or kneed ’im or punched him in the side o’ the head, no matter how much he rolled around on the mats, his opponents just couldn’t make his ears blow up,” Claudine told her son. “When he was deep in thought, he would rub his ears. He used to enjoy massaging ‘em, you know, to keep ‘em ‘soft like butter,’ he used to say.”

Dempsey chimed in, still staring at the screen. “I’m learnin’ Granddad’s style with his forearm smashes and uppercuts. He showed me how to do proper uppercuts and I’m learnin’ standin’ takeovers which I am gettin’ good at,” he said, as though ears didn’t really interest him. “I’m tryin’ to perfect me double-leg takedown. Granddad’s teachin’ me how to get it more powerful.

He knows a thousand ways to get a guy to say uncle. He’s teachin’ me how to stretch guys and he showed me some holds he’s never taught to anyone before, not even Toasty or Dad.” “Is that so?” said Claudine, surprised.

“Oh,” said Dempsey, suddenly scrambling for something in his pocket. “Before I forget,” he said kindly, handing her a small white envelope. “It’s some of me earnings from the past few weeks at IWF ‘settin’ up the ring, and workin’ a few opening matches when Toasty was short. Just take it, all right? Don’t complain. I know how much we need it.”

Claudine took the envelope from Dempsey and peered inside. It was full of £20 notes. She sighed guiltily before patting Dempsey on the shoulder. “You’re pretty grown-up for a sixteenyear-old, Demps,” she said. “Thank you. I’ll go put this in a safe spot.”

Thank God for her kids being so level-headed and strong.

Otherwise, Claudine might not be able to keep it together. It was becoming harder for her to get updates about the book. She called Toni a few days earlier and Toni had assured her everything was gliding along smoothly. Even so, Claudine still hadn’t even seen a full draft of the book yet and it had been months since the initial money advance. She decided she would call Toni again and insist on some answers from her after she put the envelope of money away in the desk drawer. She also wanted to tell Toni

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about the panic attacks. She felt it helped to explain her strange mood swings at the Rocket Production office.

“Hello, Toni speaking.”

“Toni, it’s Claudine. How are you?”

“Good, good. No new information to report. What do you need, old girl? I’m a bit busy.”

Claudine briefly told Toni about her panic attacks, telling her she thought they were likely causing her mood swings at the office. “So, I’m sorry if I seemed off lately,” she said. “It’s just that Drew’s death wasn’t so long ago, you know, and I’ve been feelin’ so stressed out, not even sleeping much these days, worrying about makin’ sure this book is accurate.”

“Well, (eh hem), it sounds like menopause to me. That makes more sense. I’ve not experienced it myself yet, so far as I know, but I’m tellin’ you what I know from helping my own mum deal with it. We took a dead holistic approach.”

“Oh, I know it’s not menopause,” said Claudine. “I think that’s still a few years away for me. I’m only in me thirties.”

“Weirder things have happened, (eh hem),” said Toni. “Don’t bother going to a doctor, they’ll just give you tablets. You’re too strong to go on tablets, luv. You just need to adjust your diet and not drink caffeine past 8 in the mornin’. It’ll keep you awake and it’s the lack of sleep that’s driving you crazy. You don’t want to be a motivational speaker whose on tablets now, do you?”

“I do drink a lot of tea and coffee, especially with me dad,” admitted Claudine. “It’s like therapy for me to have tea with him. But I never found it kept me from gettin’ to sleep. I really don’t think it’s the caffeine that’s been keepin’ me from proper sleeps all these weeks.” Privately, she began to worrying that she might be a dreadful motivational speaker, and now Toni was already planning for the book tour to include public speeches from Claudine, manufactured by Ernie. All of a sudden, the thought of making speeches intended to inspire an audience just terrified and depressed her even more.

“Yes, old girl, you need to cut out caffeine. Caffeine and menopause do not go well together. That’s a biggie! Trust me,” said Toni, sounding very sure of herself. “Now, I have to go. Toodo-loo!” And she had hung up without telling Claudine anything 53

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helpful about the book. Claudine hung up the phone, frustrated because she knew once again that Toni was not listening. Her concerns fell on deaf ears.

“What the hell! Hurry, come look at this!” called Dempsey suddenly from the other room. His voice sounded strained.

Dempsey was staring, astounded at a magazine article with a bold headline declaring, “16Year-Old Dempsey Bellamy To Take Steroids To Be As Big As Dead Dad.” Claudine quickly reviewed the article, and was shaking with fury. The story was just as bad as the headline, grossly misquoting Dempsey and accusing both him and Drew of using steroids. She seldom had good luck with reporters, but Beake was the worst.

It reminded her of why she was writing this book. It wasn’t just for money; she wanted to set the record straight after so much media slander. “Dempsey, do you have this Beake’s number?”

Claudine said in an unsteady voice, reaching for the phone. “I want to give the jerk a piece of me mind. This is slander, pure malicious slander!”

“Mum, no, no. Leave it alone,” said Dempsey, shaking his head. “I can fight me own battles.” After quickly checking his email records he found Beake’s number. He reached for the phone and dialed the number out.

Claudine heard it ring a few times before a voice picked up on the other end.

“Hallo, Gordon? This is Dempsey Bellamy,” said Dempsey, his voice thick with rage. “I’ve just read the interview I did with you. It’s a load of crap! When you asked me if I planned to be as big a star as me dad, you know very well what I meant when I said YES. We never even discussed steroids, but you go puttin’ words in me mouth. And it says here that me dad died from a steroid overdose! Me dad was murdered!”

Gordon was saying something, but Dempsey cut him off.

“You are a total liar! Don’t screw around with me or me family, eh? You’ve been warned!” Dempsey was pacing up and down the room now, waving his free hand around aggressively. “I want that shit – those lies you printed – corrected. In your article you call out wrestling fans and say they’re all crazy and ignorant.

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wrestlers and their families. Some spiteful wrestlin’ fan might rip your bloody head off your pencil neck if you don’t fix that article! And if you don’t change that article and the fans don’t get you, I’ll sue you and your bloody magazine for slander!” and he slammed the phone down.

Dempsey looked at Claudine, his blue eyes blazing. “Mum, I’m pissed off enough right now that if I saw that maggot Beake, I’d football-punt his head off for slagging us like he did! I’d be best to put that energy into me training, that’s what Granddad always tells me to do.”

“Who’s the maggot?” Isabella asked, her cheeks red from being outside. She had just come home from her rehearsals and was holding an envelope carefully in her hand.

“A reporter from Fierce Fighting Magazine badly misquoted our Dempsey and makes him and your dad sound like druggies,” Claudine said. “Dempsey said he would like to be as big as his dad—” “This maggot,” interrupted Dempsey impatiently, “asked me if I hoped to be as big a star as Dad, and I said yes, I did, and that it would be quite an accomplishment to do that, and that no one so far as I know has done it. And then this wanker decided to say in the headline that I want to take steroids to become as big as me dead dad. Totally misquoted me. I phoned him, Beake’s his name, and told him he best correct it or he’d have wrestlin’ fans, who he also slags in his article, coming after him.”

Dempsey shook his head. “I’m basically just seethin’, but all I can do is just sit here and talk about it,” he said. What am I goin’ to do, put me fist through Dad’s stone wall? Go out and actually take down this bastard Beake and end up goin’ to jail?

I’ll have to sue him and that rotten tabloid he works for if he doesn’t fix this! It just draws negative attention to the family, ya know? I’m just gonna sit here and plan out me strategy.”

Claudine could see the wheels turning behind her son’s eyes.

“I’ve had it with all of us getting naught from people here when it comes to wrestlin’,” he said. “I bet wrestlers don’t get treated like this in Japan. The more I think about it, the more I feel like I want to get out of here. Mum, if the chance comes up to go to the dojo in Japan in the next few years, I’m goin’ to give it a go. I 55

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hope you’re all right with that. They really respect wrestling over in Japan. Then I’ll come back here and make ‘em beg me for an interview, ‘cuz I’ll be that much in demand one day. Toasty and me will be a famous tag-team like Dad and Toasty. It’s only a matter of time.”

Claudine didn’t know what to say. She thought her son one day should go to the dojo in Japan, but right now he was in a good place with Toasty and she really couldn’t afford to send him to Japan. Plus, he was still so young that she didn’t think it would hurt him to wait a few years. The dojo where Drew went never really looked at Drew or Toasty until they had done a tour over there. She didn’t think that a Japanese dojo would solve Dempsey’s problem right now. She knew that Gordon Beake’s slanderous words had already tarnished her son’s wrestling image, even if Beake made a retraction. She knew that whatever corrections he made, they would be insincere and too late. The damage was already done.

“Gosh, well, there’s a lot goin’ on right now,” said Isabella.

“But I actually have some good news. It’s from Carnegie School o’ the Performin’ Arts. They want to interview me!” Isabella looked elated.

Dempsey enthusiastically embraced his sister.

“Congratulations! That is great news!”

“Wow, that’s fantastic!” said Claudine, getting up and hugging her. “I’m so proud of you both!” she said. For a moment, their troubles were forgotten. *** During the next few weeks, Claudine and Isabella spent plenty of time rehearsing for the interview. They imagined all sorts of questions the panel might ask Isabella. They really had no idea, but Claudine and her daughter tried to be realistic and objective. Isabella practiced answering mock questions from a pretend panel of one, which was Claudine. The main thing was for Isabella not to be nervous. Claudine, with all her anxiety issues lately, knew she needed to stay calm and in control otherwise it would create added tension for Isabella’s interview.

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Internally, Claudine was struggling harder than ever with her emotions and depression.

Before they knew it, the face-to-face interview was really happening. Claudine drove Isabella down to Essex and they admired the beautiful campus, as they found their way to the office of admissions. The gardens were huge and beautiful.

The rows of century old trees lined the cobblestone paths of the campus and seemed to be welcoming all who entered these hallowed grounds. It was inspiring to think that so many gifted children had attended this college and had gone on to become critically acclaimed artists in the world of film and theatre.

Claudine was hopeful that Isabella would be a future graduate. Even though the interview hadn’t begun, she was more nervous than Isabella. She knew she had to be strong; she wished she had Isabella’s composure and tenacity. They walked along the pavement and grassy paths until they at last found the main door of the Admissions Hall. Inside, they seemed to pass through a maze of hallways and doors and finally came upon the Admissions Wing. There were dozens of nervous-looking children, all around Isabella’s age, waiting with their anxious parents to go into their interviews. Isabella and Claudine found a bench to sit on where they could collect their thoughts. Claudine relaxed a tad and didn’t feel as overwhelmed now. She was still nervous and kept fiddling with Isabella’s dress and adjusting herself as she tried to sit still.

“How do you feel, luv?” She asked Isabella quietly.

“Fine, Mum,” said Isabella. “It’s just like any other performance.

“Well, you are certainly more cut out for this than I am,” said Claudine lovingly.

“Isabella Bellamy and Mrs. Claudine Bellamy,” called a young man in a suit, holding a clipboard. Claudine took a deep breath and followed her daughter, watching Isabella’s ponytail bounce up and down as she walked.

The interview room turned out to be a conference room with a long oak table in its centre. It was cold, but there were rays of sunlight shining through the leaded glass windows.

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On one side of the table sat an assortment of interesting and odd looking characters. Some of them were dressed in tweed suits, while others were wearing more casual, eccentric garb.

One woman was wearing a long, flowing, loudly-printed caftan.

“Miss Isabella and Mrs. Bellamy,” announced the young man to the panel as he stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat,” said a dark-skinned gentleman. He was wearing a suit, but his large stud earrings kept him from looking too corporate. “Thank you for coming here today. I’m Andrew Fullman and I am one of the Directors of Admissions.

We are very impressed by Miss Isabella’s application and today we will be asking you both a few questions.”

Isabella, sitting on the other side of the long table with Claudine, was remarkably composed, maintaining eye contact and answering each question clearly and concisely. Claudine was just relieved that a panic attack hadn’t hit and marveled at how prepared her daughter was for this panel. She was just beginning to feel more comfortable when a robust woman with windswept grey hair, red lipstick and a purple tunic cleared her throat.

The woman looked as though she could play a queen or a matriarch in a Shakespeare play. In a theatrical, affected voice, she asked, “Mrs. Bellamy, if a grant was to be given to Miss Isabella, would the family be able to assist at all financially in seeing that she can pay for her costumes, transportation to and from home for holidays, meals outside of this academy and so on?” she asked.

“Erm,” said Claudine, “Unfortunately, I’m a single mother and not in the best financial situation at this time. There isn’t very much I can do right now, but that may change in the near future. But I will do whatever I can, whatever I have to do, for Isabella.”

“That is reassuring,” said the woman, her red painted lips forming a warm smile. “If accepted here, Isabella would be given modest but comfortable living accommodations on the grounds. Two school uniforms are provided and of course her food and school textbooks are supplied. We really prefer that 58

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our students have everything they need here so then rarely need to go outside of the Academy. But for the times that they do go off campus and spend money, well, obviously those costs are the student or the family’s responsibility.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Claudine, her voice sounding small in the big room.

“To those who are financially burdened more so than others, we offer theatre projects, fundraising campaigns, and small job opportunities such as cleaning, gardening, etc. to help them earn money,” continued the woman. “We like to present these jobs first to those students who need the money as opposed to others who just want to work or who want work experience. It’s a way of helping us help you. Isabella, would you be motivated to take on those jobs?”

“Of course,” said Isabella immediately. “I will do everything I can to make this happen.”

“Excellent,” said the woman. “In the meantime, all students must maintain excellent grades in order to remain in good standing, as our priority is their schooling. It can be costly for students to go home often, for example on week-ends or on some holidays, but parents certainly can come down here to visit them on week-ends. There are affordable bed and breakfasts nearby all around for visiting family members.”

After Isabella and her mum were politely but thoroughly cross-examined by the panel about their financial plight and why they applied to Carnegie, Dean Everett, a portly man with glasses and mousy brown hair asked Isabella if she had any questions or comments about Carnegie. Isabella looked slowly over the panel, her eyes beaming with passion and confidence.

“There is nothing for me like this in the town where I live, or even close by,” she said in her best English. She was prepared for this question. “I’m young, but I do know what I want to do.

I have a passion for acting and performing. I have my mum and dad’s blessing to pursue this career. I have all kinds of ideas and I want to explore the many possibilities and to challenge myself. I want to learn more about acting, business, law, writing, and psychology, everything I can to understand and fit into the entertainment industry. I love doing research and writing; 59

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perhaps I could write screenplays one day. I love acting; I love building sets; I love getting into a character; I love adlibbing and performing in front of an audience…I love it all! It’s always been a big part of my life, being from a wrestling family, where everything is live. I would like to operate my own theatre or playhouse one day. Attending this school will provide me with the opportunity to learn how to begin to accomplish these things.

That is, if I am accepted I will prove myself worthy of being here. Thank you.”

“Well spoken, Miss Isabella; quite the impressive young lady, indeed,” said the stout Dean of the college, sitting up in his seat with a smile. His voice was pleasant but raspy. “We will review your documents and application again, now that we have met with you both. We will consider everything very thoroughly and get back to you soon, within a fortnight. Thank you for making the trip down here. It was a pleasure meeting you both.”

As they were escorted back into the crowded hall, Claudine was still concerned for Isabella because she was so young and innocent. If Isabella was accepted, she would be leaving home soon; but she knew it was what her daughter really wanted.

Isabella was so passionate about the performing arts and deserved the opportunity to go to this prestigious college to pursue her craft, just as her son deserved the chance to fulfill for his wrestling career. Dempsey had IWF in his own back yard, but for Isabella there was not much at all for her in that same playing field.

On the car ride home, Isabella sighed. “Well, we’ve done all we can up to this point,” she said. “It’s up to ‘em now. But you know, Mum, if they give me a scholarship ‘cuz of what happened to Dad, like out of sympathy, instead of what I actually have to offer, I don’t care, because they’ll see what I can do soon enough.

And like Dempsey said about the reporters, they’ll be beggin’ for an interview one day and maybe me autograph too, you know what I mean?” Claudine nodded in agreement. She knew Drew would be so proud of his daughter today.

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6 Learn How to Learn It was early in the morning, a week later, when the call from Carnegie School came in. “Is Miss Isabella Bellamy available?” said a raspy voice.

“Oh, yes she is. You’re speaking with her now,” Isabella replied tentatively, recognizing the Dean’s voice on the other end of the phone. She had been watching the tele, waiting for the rest of the house to wake up so they could have breakfast together. She was awake, but still in a dormant mode.

“Oh, hello Miss Bellamy,” said the voice. “This is Miles Everett, Dean at Carnegie School of the Performing Arts. We met last week for your interview.”

Isabella immediately remembered the portly man with the brown hair. She was starting to get very excited. “Good morning, Dean Everett.”

“We at Carnegie have made our decision and wanted you to know straight away that we are delighted to be giving you the grant you applied for, including your tuition here at our college,” said the Dean.

Isabella clapped a hand over her mouth and started silently jumping up and down. “It will be extended every year up to four years, based on your performance. You will have residency here and we would like you to come down to start the fall semester for

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the upcoming year. We’ll send you out the official documents, but we wanted you to as soon as we could how pleased we are to have you with us as part of our academy,” continued the Dean, clearly enjoying his job today.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! I am so happy to hear that! This is absolutely wonderful news!” stammered Isabella, losing her composure a bit. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon but at the same time, I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear something like this! This is fantastic! I can’t wait to tell my mum. She’s just walked in the room and is standing right next to me. I think she’s figured it out.” Isabella said excitedly as she grabbed her mum’s hand and squeezed it.

“You won’t regret this, and I promise you that I will make Carnegie proud of me! Have a fantastic day!” she said.

“You’re very welcome. We will be in touch,” said the Dean.

After hanging up the phone, Isabella, still tightly holding her mum’s hand, raced upstairs into Dempsey’s bedroom. Dempsey was sound asleep with Sally the bull terrier, who was snoring loudly.

“I got accepted! I got accepted!” shouted Isabella to her brother.

He sat up with a start, and sleepily opened his eyes. “That’s great, Belle. Sounds good. Thanks.” he murmured, making little sense. Then his eyes closed and he flopped back down and tried to go back to sleep. It took several thumps with a pillow and licks on his face from Sally, for him to properly comprehend the good news. When he finally opened his eyes again, and he was as thrilled as his sister.

It was official, Isabella had been accepted into Carnegie!

Now she could begin to prove herself through such an amazing scholarship. The Bellamys proudly went to their grandfather’s house to announce and celebrate the great news.

It was a chilly spring day, spitting down rain and coughing wind, but they were undeterred and focused on Isabella’s bright future. Isabella looked especially lovely in her yellow cashmere scarf which her dad had brought her from Scotland after a tour.

They drove up the road towards Billy’s estate.

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Toasty was out in the barn with a group of wrestlers when they pulled in. Dempsey immediately hopped out of the car to see what was going on. Claudine and Isabella excitedly rushed into the house, hands about their heads to block the rain. With gleaming eyes and a big smile on her face, Isabella greeted her grandfather at the kitchen table, which was unfortunately cluttered with sympathy cards many months old now, left from Drew’s and Louise’s deaths.

“Granddad,” she said, holding her chin up proudly and putting her arms out theatrically, “I’d like to announce that I am the newest recipient o’ a full scholarship to the Carnegie School o’ Performin’ Arts!”

With difficulty to stand out of his chair, Billy leaned on his cane and reached out to give his granddaughter a big hug.

“Congratulations! Carnegie College? That’s a very reputable place for young artists like you. I’m so proud o’ you,” he said in a grating voice, carefully lowering himself backed into his chair. Billy’s spoilt Siamese cat Jersey strolled into the kitchen, wondering what all commotion was about. Isabella scooped him up into her arms and put him in gently on her granddad’s lap.

The cat stood up on and put his paws around Billy’s neck like he was hugging him, then playfully nipped his nose. Everyone laughed, especially Granddad. These days, their grandfather’s mind was not as sharp as it had been, but his persistent cough was causing more concern to all of them than his mental clarity.

Isabella was eager to tell her uncle about her great news, too. “I can’t wait to tell Toasty!” Isabella exclaimed. “Let’s go tell him!” Isabella tied her yellow cashmere scarf around her granddad’s thick neck and they headed out the door. Jeep, Billy’s devoted Bull Mastiff instinctively led the way towards the old brick barn to find Toasty. He was in the ring, lecturing a group of wrestlers.

“Listen lads, let me tell explain summat to you,” Toasty was saying. “Your body’s like a ladder. You start at the bottom and go to the top. You don’t go from the bottom rung to the top in one step. You start off at the ankle, and if that’s not working well for you, you move up to the knee, to the hip, to the waist, to the

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arm, to the neck, you see?” Toasty gestured to each body part as he talked. “Along the way climbin’ up the ladder, I want to make me opponent as uncomfortable as possible. He’ll feel all me weight on him when I’m kneelin’ on him, cross facin’ him and diggin’ me elbows in ‘im. I’m gonna make him want to move and that sets up what I do to him next. And keep in mind what might work well for me might not work well for you.” Toasty tapped his blonde temple knowingly. “The secret is knowledge.

But you’ve got to learn how to learn, and to use that knowledge in any given situation. You’ve got to learn how to adjust to the tall guy with short legs or the short guy with long arms. But there is not just one way to learn how to do anythin’.”

Claudine watched, noticing how much her son looked more and more like his dad every day. Dempsey leaned into the ropes, paying close attention and waiting for direction from Toasty.

Dempsey was wearing an old IWF T-shirt, a pair of grey training pants, and now had on a pair of his dad’s old wrestling boots from when he was a young lad, just breaking into wrestling.

They were short leather boots, once clean white but now scruffy grey in colour, and the new white laces Dempsey put in them stood out like sore thumbs. It was not often they were altogether out at the ring like this, as a family.

When Toasty saw that Claudine had walked out to see them, he gave her a little wink.

“What are you lot doin’ out here, eh?” said Toasty. He automatically hopped out to say hello to everyone. He gave Isabella a quick hug.

“You want to do a bit o’ coachin’, Dad?” he asked. The other wrestlers respectfully approached the family as well. Toasty taught the traditional old style of ‘catch-as-catch-can’ wrestling every weekend, like his father did. The lads courteously gave a nod to Claudine and Isabella, but it was Billy who they truly wanted to see the most. The wrestlers ceremoniously shook his hand, as though they were shaking the hand of a god.

“What’s up? I don’t often see you girls out here by the barn very often. You are all looking rather keen about somethin’. Do

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you wanna join us in the ring? We are almost finished but if you want to show us some new moves now would be a good time.”

Toasty said with a laugh, recognizing that a pleasant aura was in the air.

“No thanks, not today, Toasty,” Isabella laughed. “I wanna tell you summat important, but I’ll wait until after you’re done here,” said Isabella. “As soon as yer done here, I’ll tell ya me good news.”

“Right, we won’t be long then,” said Toasty and he turned his attention back towards the ring.

The young wrestlers, feeling inspired by their mentor and hero, Billy, enthusiastically returned to the canvas to resume their catch practice. They propped their elbows on the ring apron and waited for Toasty’s next round.

“Right then, enough talk,” Toasty said, pointing at his nephew and a big lad with unruly red hair and freckles. “Dempsey, you go on, yer turn, and Big Red, you go along with him, yah.

Demonstrate what I just explained. “Do ya still remember what we just did?”

‘Ya, we remember,” the lads replied in unison.

Dempsey and Big Red faced each other and shook hands.

They circled around the mat, then locked up with a sudden movement. Dempsey put his weight into the lock up and brought Red down to the mat. He turned Red over, but Red quickly got back onto his hands and knees. Dempsey reached across and grabbed Red at the elbow. He grabbed the lad’s shin with his other hand, leaning forward so that his chin and shoulders lay on top of Red’s backside.

“C’mon! Put some gusto into it!” ordered Billy from ringside.

“Red, put your foot out—the right foot. When he’s putting his weight on you, put it out and shove and rollover to break the hold.”

Big Red put his foot out to the side like Billy said. He shoved off and the lads rolled over, with Dempsey landing on top. Red bridged and tried to hoist his feisty opponent off him.

“C’mon Red! You’re not sprawlin’ out enough! Do it again,” Billy commanded.

“Billy’s right, you’re not doin’ it right,” said Toasty, climbing into the ring. The boys both rolled up. Toasty motioned for 65

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Dempsey to go to the side so he could demonstrate on Big Red. “Wait, here, let’s see. Put your hand on the mat, Red, like that.

Square yourself, more.” Toasty got down too, crouching so he was level with Red. “Now, Dempsey, you should’ve grabbed the right arm like that and put his head on the floor,” instructed Toasty. He grabbed Red’s head and pulled him in, forcing Red’s chin into his chest.

Then, quick as lightning, Toasty’s right leg shot up and hooked over Red’s head, pulling him into a head scissors position.

Red lay dazed on his back, not entirely sure what had just happened.

“Right, I see,” said Dempsey.

“Then do it! You’ve not done that. Make him put his head on the floor, Dempsey. Wrestle! Wrestle!” ordered Toasty.

The boys locked up again.

“That’s it! That’s it! That’s the idea!” encouraged Toasty.

Dempsey and Big Red got down on the mat. Dempsey reached round Red’s body with his right arm and pressed Red’s head down with his left arm. Quick as a flash, Dempsey hooked his left leg over Red’s head pushed and his knee into Red’s face.

“That’s it! Pull! Pull your leg up! That’s the way! You see it now? You could make him feel uncomfortable with your knee, Demps, if you dug it in his eye, but I don’t want any of you doin’ that just yet. We’re a long way off from that stage,” Toasty said with conviction. “But you see the idea here?”

“Yeah,” both lads said as they unhooked themselves from each other.

Toasty motioned for Red to step aside. He began demonstrating more holds on Dempsey for the other wrestlers to observe.

“See here Dempsey, get into referee’s position, on hands and knees. That’s it. Now, you make a triangle with your feet together and your knees apart. Your hips should be directly above your knees.”

Dempsey obediently got on his hands and knees, angling his feet towards each other.

“Now, let me get round you from behind, see?” said Toasty as he took Dempsey down and applied a leg lock. “Keep your 66

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fingers all together or someone will grab your baby finger and rip it right out o’ the socket.”

Sweat was now dripping off Dempsey’s face. He quickly got back into position, pulling his fingers together and curling them under so his hands looked like paws on the mat.

“That’s it! Yah; push up strong, Demps!” said Toasty. He leaned forward and simultaneously swept both of Dempsey’s arms out from underneath him. Now they were both flat on the mat, with Toasty still on top and his legs still hooked through Dempsey’s.

“You see how I knocked both his hands away? And then fed me hands over his head?” said Toasty. He pressed Dempsey’s face into the mat, turning him over. Dempsey’s supple ear bent and rolled along too. They broke the hold and started again from a standing position.

“Notice how he turned? You see how we finished, when both his arms got swept out, instead of only the one? Now, let’s do ‘a leg and arm’ on me now. Let’s finish it off. C’mon, do a leg and arm, you know, a fireman’s carry!”

Dempsey and Toasty stood up and circled each other as they locked up like tough old rams banging horns. Dempsey grabbed hold of Toasty’s left thigh. He swept himself around, flipping Toasty on his back like a fireman carrying a victim out of a building. Then the pair fell back down to the mat. As Toasty started to roll, he hooked Dempsey’s arm.

“Finish it off now Demps!” barked Toasty. “C’mon! I’m not going to go on me back now!”

Dempsey, in response, propped himself up with his feet.

Toasty reached around and pressed down against Dempsey’s kneecap.

“C’mon, finish it off now, Demps! Fight! Fight you! Finish the hold!” Toasty shouted.

“That’s it!” shouted Billy from ringside as he saw his grandson and son turn over. Dempsey draped his body over Toasty’s in a side mount. Dempsey smiled reluctantly, because he knew he got the move right, but he had to fight for every second of it.

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“I think it’s gettin’ too cold out here, Dad. Let’s head back to the house. We can watch from the door. I worry about the cold on your chest,” said Claudine. She knew Billy would stay outside all day if he had it his way, but it was not the best weather for his congested lungs. She could hear him wheezing and saw his nose was running. He wiped his nose with his big hand and tightened his scarf around his neck. A few months ago, when he was told to wear the scarf, he scoffed and left it on top of the telly in the back kitchen; but he wore it almost always now.

Billy knew his daughter would be directing him back inside soon, but he wanted to talk to the lads before she took him away.

“Right luv, but just let me ‘ave a word, then we’ll go in,” Billy said in a wheezy, quiet voice.

Dempsey and Toasty had a rest as Billy spoke. The rest of the wrestlers, who respected catch training like it was a religion, listened eagerly.

It was quiet except for the wind and Billy’s low voice.

“Catch-as-catch-can wrestling is the greatest combat sport that has ever been,” said the old man. “It’s becomin’ a lost art, and it’s a dead shame because it’s the best, better than all the other combat sports. Toasty, Red, all of you, I’m speakin’ to you from a lifetime o’ experience when I tell you that if you learn the science o’ catch, the technique, the depth, learn how to learn, no one, no matter what they tell you they are the master o,’ no one can beat you.”

Billy’s voice was rough. He sounded like he had gravel in his lungs, but that couldn’t stop him from saying what he wanted to say. He was leaning on his cane and his voice was hoarse, but as he talked about wrestling he seemed to come alive. “Catch wrestling, when you’re doin’ it right, it’s easy. If you have to use power and energy, you’re doin’ summat wrong. It’s about gettin’ into condition, havin’ knowledge that you only get by sparrin’ on the canvas. You got to be loose an’ supple, too. If you don’t have all that, I don’t care how strong you are. You got to have all that or you’ll never pose as a problem for a good catch wrestler. “But first, you’ve got to learn how to learn. You lads need to be here eight hours a day, every day if you want to learn proper,” he said, surveying his rapt audience.

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He went on to say, “I know that’s not really practical, but you’ve no right to call yourself a catch fighter if you come here only once a week for a couple hours. You need to be dedicated.

You need a good foundation, a good home base. You need to learn reactions to every single action your opponent makes. You can’t jump past the basics and suddenly master a chokehold; it doesn’t work that way. If you fall in love with the sport, like I did, then you want to give it everything you can. God bless me wife, she let me do what I needed to do, and I still never learned it all.

When I was younger, there was nobody who had an easy time with me,” Billy said, with a fierce look on his face. “Nobody.

And I wrestled against the best of any of the champions in all the other combat sports. I’m one of the last of the old-school catch wrestlers who really knows what it’s all about. There’s not many of us still alive, really. I don’t know how much time I’ve got left, so whatever happens, I suggest you keep comin’ out here and learnin’ all you can.”

Billy began to cough. It turned into quite a coughing fit and Claudine motioned to her brother she was going to take their father back into the house. It was getting windier and colder outside. The keen lads around the ring had a good sweat going and they didn’t feel the cold as much and could have stood there all day, hanging on every word Billy said. Claudine knew it was time to bring her dad in. She signaled Isabella to help her move things along.

“C’mon Jeep, you come along too,” said Isabella.

“I wish Billy was me granddad,” said Big Red to Dempsey, staring with tremendous respect as Billy slowly walked back towards the house.

“Lads, we’ve had some good work today. Let’s get back to it,” said Toasty to the wrestlers. “Big Red, now you and Robby have a pull. Do what Dempsey and I just did. I’m goin’ into the house to take a slash. I’ll be right back. Keep practicin!’” He climbed out of the ring to and headed to the back door of the farmhouse.

Claudine, Billy, Isabella and Jeep were now standing on the porch of the house, where they had more shelter. They stopped

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to let Billy sit down and rest on one of the wooden benches.

Billy took off Isabella’s yellow scarf from around his neck and lovingly put it back around his granddaughter’s neck. They still had a great view out into the barn and could hear solid, hard thumps and thuds as the wrestlers’ bodies hit the unforgiving canvas.

Toasty smiled when he approached the little group. He was always in a happy mood during his training sessions.

Isabella bounded up to him. “Now I get to tell you the good news!” she said, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

“I’ve been accepted to the Carnegie Performing Arts School down in Essex with a full scholarship for four years! I got the call this morning. I’ll be living down there full time after Labour Day” Toasty’s grin disappeared from his face. Isabella looked perplexed and immediately stopped her happy bouncing as her uncle whirled around and slapped his hand loud and hard against the wooden table that was next to the bench, where Billy was sitting. It sounded like ice cracking.

Jeep, startled by the noise, moved closer to Billy and growled quietly as if to protect him.

The eruption on the porch had even interrupted the training session. The wrestlers and Dempsey stopped what they were doing at the ring and quickly turned their attention towards the house. Dempsey realized the scene on the porch was getting heated. He didn’t want to expose anyone to his family’s private matters, especially arguments like this one. He knew Toasty’s outbursts were unpredictable and often outrageous.

“Practice is over. The show’s over. We’re done here for today, alright?” Dempsey said, grabbing his trainers at ringside before he rushed to the house.

“What is wrong with you?” Toasty screamed, suddenly bearing down on Claudine. This outburst caught them off guard.

“How dare you push Isabella away to another city? She’s too young. I promised Isabella at Drew’s funeral that I’d be like a father to her. How can I do that if you go around making decisions like this and sendin’ her far away without even askin’ me first? She’s only fourteen, fer God sake!”

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Spit was beginning to fly from Toasty’s mouth by the time Dempsey got to the porch. Dempsey carefully watched his uncle without saying a word. Isabella stepped in and attempted to squeeze herself between Toasty and her mother.

“Toasty,” she said, “I’m the one who applied. I want to go. Why aren’t you happy for me? I thought you’d want to congratulate me. This is good news!”

“You don’t know what’s good for you,” said Toasty sternly, looking down at the Isabella. “If you want summat to do, we can find summat here for you at the farm. Or, you can go to school to become a nurse or a legal assistant in a few years. You’re far too young to be goin’ out on your own.”

Toasty brushed his niece aside to continue to scold Claudine, who stared stubbornly back at him. “You’re crazy, Claudine, for encouragin’ her. I hold you responsible for puttin’ the fantasy into Isabella’s head. You’ve got bloody crazy. Do you think it’s really a healthy thing to do, sendin’ her off like an unwanted child so she can be raised by a load of contrived actors? I’ll tell ya, Drew would not have wanted this for Isabella.”

Claudine could see angry tears forming in her daughter’s eyes. The last thing Claudine wanted was for Toasty to ruin Isabella’s special day. “Now you wait, Toasty,” she started to say, but Toasty was raving now, pacing back and forth, talking like someone had uncorked a spigot in his brain.

“I’ve been out there, Claudine. Wrestlin’ and actin’ are a lot alike. They are both ruthless, cutthroat, backstabbing industries.

Unless you’re been raised in it or have someone who can watch your back, you’re goin’ to get thrown out to the wolves. What Isabella needs right now is to focus on getting’ a proper career where she has security, so she doesn’t end up like, like, well, like you. I don’t mind payin’ for her to go take a couple years of Secretary College up here when she is old enough to go out and work, maybe she can do actin’ on the side, like in her spare time.

I’m just tryin’ to save us all from a lot of disappointment. Can’t anyone just believe me when I say I’m bloody well right here?

Can’t you see how impractical you’re bein’? Isabella just lost her dad, and her Nan, and now you’re trying to shove her off into some actin’ college. She’s only a child, Claudine! Bloody hell!”

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Claudine had heard enough. She intercepted Toasty’s pacing by standing in front of him, and bravely held her ground against his muscular frame. “Toasty, obviously you haven’t noticed that Isabella wants this badly,” she scolded. “There’s nothing here for her, can’t you see? How can becoming a secretary, which is summat Isabella has never expressed an interest in, be more practical for her than something she’s been dreamin’ of her whole life? She wants to be an actress as much as our Dempsey wants to be a wrestler. It should be what she wants, not what you want, and in this case, what you want is totally a wrong fit for Isabella. And I can’t stress enough that there’s nothin’ up here for Isabella.”

Billy raised his hand in the air. No one seemed to pay much attention to him as he shook his head in frustration. “Let’s calm down. God damn it. Calm down, the pair of you!” he said over and over to no avail.

Toasty sneered down at his sister. “Oh, well, family is here, but I see, according to you, we’re nothing! Nice one, Claudine, saying family is nothing. Well, to me, family is everythin’. I hardly think you’re in a sound enough state of mind to be making life-alterin’ decisions about your daughter, who happens to be me niece. Why didn’t you just come and talk to me about this?

Don’t you ever learn? You should learn to trust me. I am not as traumatized as, well, as you’ve been lately, and, well, I can help you see the bigger picture, when you clearly can’t” He turned around to look at his father as his horrified sister, niece and nephew listened to him carry on. “Maybe if anyone around here trusted my judgment, plenty of things would be different right now. I had plenty of ideas no one would hear me out on. I could have made so much money for this territory that Drew would never have needed to go to bloody Germany!

Maybe Mum wouldn’t have gone so soon either. And before everyone starts jumping down me throat for being cruel here, just hear me out, right? Just hear me out!” he shouted angrily.

Before Claudine could reply, he turned, staring down poor Isabella, who was looking more torn than ever. “Let me ask you somethin’, Isabella. Do you think that your dad would have wanted you to go off to some kangaroo college when you’re 72

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still practically in diapers, especially when your granddad is so poorly? If you really think he wanted that, then go ahead. But I thought you thought more of your granddad.”

“I would never, ever hurt Granddad!” Isabella cried.

Claudine was really angry now. “You should listen to yourself! You are a selfish bastard!” she said, getting right up into Toasty’s angry face. “We’re still reelin’ from losin’ Drew and it’s been brutal for us. Isabella adores Granddad and she isn’t goin’ away to college to hurt him or to torment you, Toasty.

This has nothin’ to do with what you want. A damn good school is offering to take her in, and educate and groom her and give her a fighting chance in acting. They see she’s got something that should be cultivated. She has a really special talent. You’ve seen how gifted Bella is, yet you still want her to stay trapped up here and go to some administrative college that she has no passion for. Why shouldn’t she have the same passion for her life as you have, as Drew had, as Dempsey’s has? Summat’s wrong with you, I’m tellin’ you, Toasty. You’re not right in the head. You’re such a bloody control freak. You’re the one who’s crazy, not me!”

Dempsey finally decided it was time to intervene. “I’ve had enough!” he said curtly. “Mum, Isabella, c’mon. Toasty, I will miss me sister more than you will, but I wouldn’t think of holdin’ her back from this chance. She’s worked hard for this and you should have noticed that by now. Isabella and I never fight like you and Mum do. There is nothin’ much for her up here, and at this rate there won’t be much for me either.” He corralled his mum and sister off the porch and back towards the car.

Billy couldn’t stand this any longer. He raised his raspy voice as loud as could and reprimanded his son. “God dammit Toasty!

Don’t talk to your family like that, you fool! You know better than that! Now look what you’ve done, man! Are ya happy?” he exclaimed. Toasty stood there, glaring into the air.

On the drive home, the three Bellamys went down the narrow winding roads back to Chester in their old Ford Cortina.

It was the first car she and Drew ever owned. It was reliable, low maintenance and very understated considering how much it had seen and heard in all its days as the Bellamy’s best loved car.

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Dempsey sat in the front passenger seat. He usually did these days because he was already too big to fit comfortably into the back seat. Isabella was tall for her age too, but she slipped into “her spot” in the back seat far easier than her jumbo brother could.

Claudine was not sure what Drew would have thought of the whole family explosion, but she believed with all her heart he would have wanted Isabella to make this big step and go to Carnegie, especially since money was an issue now. If they had the money, Carnegie would still have been a place for them to consider.

“I know your dad would be proud of you Isabella, and would want you to go out and give this your best try. He was not the kind of person who just sat back and waited for things to happen.

He was a ‘seize the moment’ kind of person.”

The car ride was quiet for a while, then Claudine began to speak again. The silence was too much to bear and she just couldn’t tolerate the quiet any longer. “Thank you, Dempsey, for standin’ up for us. Thanks for getting us out of there. It wasn’t going anywhere, arguing with Toasty. I think he’s got a few things going on in his head that aren’t right. Anyroad, she continued to say, I’m sorry to you both for how things have turned out. I wish Drew... well, things were not like they are now, obviously. It’s been so shitty for you both. I’m sorry” a regretful Claudine said, fighting back tears and trying to keep her blurring eyes focused on the road.

“We can’t undo anythin’ that’s happened in the past. We just have to move forward as well as we can. I think you two are tryin’ to do it, and I’m very proud of you for bein’ so strong. I’m the one openly strugglin’ here, but I’m tryin’ too. I’m kind o’ movin’ on with a limp. If you’re struggling, with what’s happened, you don’t really show it. You’re both so focused. I’m inspired by you two and I want to be more like you, in being strong. But you two have to try and you must make the most o’ what you can with your lives. You can’t stay here just to keep me propped up, or anyone else. Do what you need to do for yourselves first, and then others after that. You’ll regret it so much if you don’t take a chance and do what you believe in, even if it means leaving 74

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home or going out on your own or doing what the rest of your family is not wanting you to do. You’re smart, people, and you don’t do foolish things; and I don’t see you ever throwin’ your lives away. Life is too bloody short to live for someone else, unless it really makes you happy.”

The three were quiet again for a few more miles of driving.

Isabella was the first to speak. She hated to see her mum so sad.

She passed her mum her yellow cashmere scarf right off her neck. “Here, Mum,” she said. Claudine wiped the tears from her face and smiled at her daughter through her rear view mirror.

To take the edge off things, Dempsey said in an optimistic voice, “Yup! We gotta ‘live in the now,’ right Isabella? L.I.T.N., right?”

“Yup L.I.T.N., ‘live in the now’, Mum!” repeated Isabella, who smiled and looked more cheerful as soon as her brother spoke.

Dempsey began changing radio stations from his front passenger seat position of the old car. He couldn’t find a song he liked to match the mood they were all in. “Can’t seem to squeeze out one good song out o’ the radio. Let’s see, we’ll find summat, just let me get to my favourite station. Yes, here we go. Finally, a good song for us!” He turned up the radio for them all to hear what was playing. It was “Everybody Wants to Rule the World”

by Tears For Fears.

75

7 The Blank Canvas Is Revealed Despite Toasty’s reaction, Isabella was determined to go to college. Between Claudine getting a handful of excerpts from pages of Blank Canvas every so often from Toni, which always needed to be rewritten, and keeping out of Toasty’s way on the now infrequent trips they made to visit her father at the farm, time passed slowly and soon summer was almost over.

On one of the last days in August, Claudine, Dempsey, and Isabella headed into town to buy a few groceries and some supplies for Isabella to use for school. Gone were the days of buying whatever they wanted because they suddenly had a craving for it. Claudine managed to make ends meet, largely on financial help she got from her father, who was also struggling with finances, as well as his health.

Nowadays, the Bellamys lived very much like Bonhams did when Claudine was growing up. It was quite the adventure to see if they could actually make something taste good after they were bored of eating it all week. Despite their good nature, it was still difficult to try to muster up an appetite for vegetable soup turned into rice pilaf turned into stuffed green peppers turned into vegetable stir-fry turned back into soup.

Claudine still called Toni at least once a week to try to find out about the progress on The Blank Canvas, but Toni’s robotic and indifferent assistants always intercepted the calls, 76

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telling her that Toni was busy or away. On the few occasions that Toni returned her calls, Toni assured her that everything was going smoothly and that she would call her as soon as she knew anything. When she asked about the other chapters, Toni never seemed to really answer her definitively. Their conversations were always abbreviated and light. Sometimes, Claudine felt used, like she was only as good as her last favour, which was long gone. Toni had her story and now she didn’t need Claudine any more.

Lately, no one in her family asked about progress of the book. Claudine had a dull ache in the pit of her stomach and it was getting worse. She knew the book was scheduled to be released in September, after Labour Day, and she had yet to see the completed manuscript, or even the cover. She wished she had the assertiveness to just demand that Toni send her the rest of the chapters, but she was weary of fighting with Toni, her brother and with herself about all the things she wished she could change.

She was tired of worrying about money. She owed her father so much money and now she had taken a mortgage, which her father helped get approval for at the bank. on the cottage based on wages she was no longer getting from the IWF. She agressively started to look through want ads in the paper for a bottom-rung job.

Never before in her life had Claudine been faced with working outside of her family’s professional wrestling umbrella.

There was always something available for her to do. From putting up posters to creating artwork for the program or helping with the bookkeeping and running the office, she could earn a bit, though she never took any money for what she did while Drew was alive. After falling out with Toasty, he left her out of any wrestling work, so Billy gave her money in private.

When Claudine worked for Drew as his wife and manager, it was not like work at all, but she did work hard, all the same.

It was the greatest job she could have ever created for herself.

She thought if only everyone could do what they loved, then how great the world could be. Her world, being Drew’s wife and

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the mum to Dempsey and Isabella seemed so perfect to her. She loved being a mother, a homemaker, and a partner. When she did things at the IWF office it was just an extension of being a daughter or a sister.

Sadly, none of these accomplishments looked particularly impressive on paper, now that she was trying to find work outside of her familiar surroundings. It seemed the antiquated ways of keeping a ledger, where things were carefully written by on paper, were useless in offices now. Businesses only wanted to keep records on computer spreadsheets. There were different programs everywhere she went, and while she knew how to use a computer adequately, she wasn’t proficient in any one program.

She had excellent office etiquette and treated people well, but she didn’t have the computer skills that would have helped her get her foot in the door at an office where she could hang her coat and hat every day.

She felt entitled to a better job than working at the food market or selling merchandise at a shop in the mall. She had lived like a queen not so long ago yet now she was struggling to keep her lights turned on. To make matters worse, many of her interviewers recognized her face or her Bellamy name. Some were polite and spoke kindly of her family, but others were curious and insensitive.

One interviewer said that Claudine’s family did “that fake wrestling,” and when she challenged him he asked her to take her hat and coat and leave.

Finally, in late summer, Claudine got a job at an electronics factory. It paid well enough, but the work was tremendously monotonous – watching the assembly line, making sure plastic parts went into the right shoots. Her children were picked up and dropped off at the each day by one of her father’s farm hands.

The kids spent their days with their granddad and Claudine spent hers at the factory. Although Dempsey still wrestled with Toasty, the kids seldom mentioned him and said he kept to himself most of the time that they were up at the farm. They managed.

Dempsey was wrestling, Isabella was seeing her granddad before she moved away and they had food and a roof over their heads.

They were safe and sound. It all seemed to work out for now.

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More tedious than the actual job was her newly divorced boss, Robert, who would make a point of talking with Claudine while she tried to relax during her breaks. Standing several inches shorter than Claudine, with a beet-red face and a penchant for skinny jeans that accentuated his thin calves, he was hardly Claudine’s type. He liked to regale her with stories of his son, Yael, who Claudine now knew played the clarinet, was on the debate team and a million other details she didn’t really care to know. Robert sometimes kept her for so long that she was unable to get back to work on time.

“Say,” he said one day, taking a break from telling Claudine the less than thrilling tale of Yael’s last spelling bee, “Look at the time! We need to get back on the floor! Say, we should grab a bite sometime. What do you say?”

Claudine felt him looking at her expectantly. “Err,” she said, swallowing. “No thank you. I’m not really up for that kind of thing right now, actually. I am just not there yet.” And she awkwardly brushed past him and back to her station, trying to ignore his eyes boring into her back.

After that episode, Robert stopped talking to her on her breaks. Instead, he took to stalking around and glaring at her as though she was a heinous criminal.

Just a few days after she turned him down, he pulled her aside after her break, asking her to step into his office. “After reviewing your employment performance, I’ve decided I’ve had enough of your tardiness,” he said, looking at her menacingly.

“You’re always late coming back from breaks. Even today, you’ve taken longer than the rest of ‘em. Don’t think I haven’t noticed! I’m going to have to let you go.”

Claudine stared at him in disbelief. “Please,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I need this job. I promise, I’ll never be late back from a break again. I guess I took longer today because I had to wait for the microwave. I think someone was cooking a whole roast gammon in there,” she said with a bit of a sad laugh, hoping to lighten up the conversation. Robert cold shark stare showed he was not receptive to her remark. Claudine quickly apologized. “I’m very sorry. I won’t let it happen again.” She

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felt it was best not to mention in the past she had only been late because Robert had kept her with his never-ending stories.

“Look,” he snapped. “I have a ship-shape factory to run. I will make an exception for you, just this once but this simply can’t happen again, Claudine,” he said, motioning for her to leave his office. Claudine turned around and walked out with as much dignity as she could manage.

She felt defeated and humiliated, but was still relieved that she had a small, steady income trickling in these days. Lately, the less time she spent around the family business meant the less time she had to be around her brother Toasty, whom she loathed these days. It also distracted her from fretting about the book.

It was the weekend now and the Bellamys went shopping for Isabella’s school supplies. Their weekly food purchases were going to be a challenge because the money was so tight.

But Claudine just got paid and wanted to buy Isabella what she needed for school. They would have to scrimp in other ways this week.

They perused up and down each aisle until they had all they could afford, which wasn’t much. Buying the bare essentials only meant there was nothing too glamourous in their buggy. It was boring and no one really said much.

Not paying attention to his navigating, Dempsey quietly watched the sticking back wheel of the trolley wobble as he slowly rounded the corner straight into the book section. There were several rows and black metal carousels filled with sports and fashion magazines, children’s books to do-it-yourself books.

Then he spotted a picture of himself on the cover of the latest issue of Squared Circle Magazine.

“Look Mum, I’m on the cover!” Dempsey said, pointing to the magazine proudly.

Claudine smiled enthusiastically and took the magazine off the shelf. She studied the table of contents and then found the article on page 38.

“Looks like a beltin’ story on you and Uncle Toasty,” and she cheerfully began to read the article out loud. “The dynamic tag team of rock solid Toasty Bonham and his 16-year-old nephew,

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the intrepid Dempsey Bellamy... son of….” Claudine stopped abruptly in the middle of her sentence.

“Go on, Mum, keep reading,” urged Dempsey. He didn’t see that Isabella was handing her something else to read.

There it stood on the top row of the crowded book shelves. It was The Blank Canvas. The words almost screamed out in huge black letters across a glossy, starkly white page. In smaller, bold red block letters it read, “Autobiography by Claudine Bellamy, with Toni Orr.” “By the Christ, the book! And that cover really gets in your face!” said Claudine, stunned. She was actually too nervous to open the book for fear about what she would read. What happened to her getting to read the rough draft? Why didn’t Toni tell her it was coming out, or that it was already in the book stands? She must have known! Claudine’s anxiety was building quickly; she suddenly became lightheaded and anxious, like she had felt so often these past few months.

Dempsey grabbed two more books, one for himself and one for Isabella, and the pair began to read. They flipped through the photographs and scanned the pages, already noticing errors that they couldn’t help scoffing at. Claudine’s brain was suddenly in overdrive.

“C’mon Mum, you need to take a look at your book and we’ll get the magazine for later,” Dempsey suggested as he took the wrestling magazine out of her hand. She opened the book up to the first page of chapter one. There were other people now trying to get to their selections at the book stand, but Claudine was paralyzed and agitated, unable to move anything except for her eyes. In disbelief, she read the words on the page before her.

Annoyed by her indifference to them, customers pushed their way past her to get what they wanted and impatiently moved on. Oblivious to the rest of the world, Claudine froze while she finished reading the first page of the book, Claudine dropped to the floor, clutching the open book to her chest. She felt like her heart had fallen out of her body and was panicking like a dying fish out of water as she read on.

She frantically skipped ahead to chapter two, then three, hastily searching for her affectionate recollections. Where were 81

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the touching sides to her stories? Where were the emotional explanations that went with the blunt confessions? The funny experiences and the fond memories only appeared in scattered bits and pieces. How bitter and stupid her words sounded at this moment! Her eyes hastily skimmed through the pages, searching for the justice she so much wanted from this taxing endeavor.

As far as she could see, the only things that were right in her book were that Drew definitely did not commit suicide and that Claudine thought he was murdered by a man who she didn’t believe was even his biological father.

“Oh my God!” groaned Claudine.

Isabella and Dempsey were both scanning their own copies of the book, looks of worry etched on their faces. “Mum, what’s this about, let’s see, um, chapter four, says that Dad forced me to go on stage for a church play when I was seven? Dad never forced me to do that! That’s a load of crap!” exclaimed Isabella.

She angrily slammed the book shut with a bang and skimmed it across the floor of the grocery store.

Dempsey didn’t say anything. Instead, he put his book back on the shelf and started pushing the shopping cart again, his mouth furrowed to the side in a concentrated expression.

Claudine put her hand on his big shoulder. She stopped him and put three copies of the magazine, along with three copies of the book, in the cart. Dempsey continued without comment as towards the cashier.

“The kids should have their own copies of the book, and of the wrestling magazine,” Claudine thought resolutely as she handed the cashier her credit card. They might find something good in it that she didn’t. She had a glimmer of hope that when they got home, the book would reveal itself in a much better light. Still, she resented paying money, dearly earned, for her own twisted book.

“Mum, get Toni on the phone and get some answers from her!” Isabella demanded once they got in the car. “Or else I’m goin’ to deal with Toni meself and not even go to school!”

Claudine thought it would serve Toni right to let Isabella go berserk on her, but she didn’t want her daughter getting even more upset just before she left home to go to school. And 82

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Claudine knew that she, not her daughter, needed to be the one to address Toni. When they got home, Claudine dialed Toasty’s number first. His cell phone voicemail picked up.

“Hi, Toasty,” Claudine said into the answering machine.

“Uh, two things quickly; there is a great article on Dempsey and you in Squared Circle Magazine and it looks –” She got cut off by the beep. She hastily dialed his number again and began a new message.

“Sorry I got cut off there, but I was saying that I was at the store where we saw the magazine and then Isabella saw my book there too. It was kind of –” The machine cut her off again.

“Bloody hell! How does he ever get any business done?” she asked herself.

She tried one more time, but this time his voice mailbox was full. She wondered where Toasty was all day to not have listened to his messages. And why did he have a full mailbox? He never had a full mailbox before.

While she was trying to no avail to reach Toasty to warn him, Isabella and Dempsey kept reading horrendous excerpts from the book out loud to each other in indignant voices. Everything was driving Claudine crazy. She felt like screaming!

She was just about to dial up Toni’s office when she noticed her answering machine was blinking. As she pushed play on her answering machine, she started to piece together why Toasty wasn’t home.

“Hey, Claudine, it’s Toasty. I’m with Dad at the hospital.

We’ve been here for a few hours. He’s not well and I ended up havin’ an ambulance come for him so they could look at him immediately. He’s barely breathin’, and when he does it’s a big struggle for him. He was gettin’ worried ‘bout not bein’ able to breathe and it was definitely scarin’ me too. Call you later. It’s about 2:00 pm now.”

When Claudine heard Toasty’s next message, she felt incredibly guilty. Toasty had been trying to reach her all day, and now he was with their father all on his own at the hospital.

“Hi, Claudine. I’m not sure why you don’t pick up your damn phone or return me calls. You must be out somewhere.

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Are the kids starting back at school today, or summat? Anyway, Dad’s not doin’ well. He has all this fluid in his chest - not sure if the fluid’s around his heart too, or just his lungs. He’s on a breathin’ machine, which is helpin’.” Toasty sighed. “Anyway, Dad’s not very coherent because they have him medicated, but you should try to come by and see him. It’s frustratin’ that I can’t get a hold of you. Call you later. T’ra.”

Claudine listened to the rest of her phone messages. There was one more of the same thing from Toasty, and a couple of messages from other people, like Lobo, her father’s Croatian mechanic, who was crying in broken English.

“Aye, my friend lady Claudina,” he croaked in his thick accent. “I em fix your father’s car for him so we can drive to the show on Friday. He cough so hard and aye, my friend, the dogs barking when he cough, and everyone upset because he can’t breathe. It is my prayer my friend - I make Mr. Bonham’s car better and he is feel better.”

84

8 I Want You Off Me Property Toasty and Claudine had completely put aside their latest row about Isabella when the doctors explained that their father was not feeling any pain, despite the moaning noises he made.

Their argument seemed so irrelevant and so long ago now. It was inevitable that soon, Billy would be with Louisa and Drew. That was consoling to Claudine and she knew it was something her father thought about, too. For the next twenty-four hours she, Dempsey, Isabella and Toasty kept vigil, taking turns being at his bedside.

Billy was basically comatose and was being kept alive with the help of a breathing machine, but he moaned and groaned a lot in his sleep. Claudine prayed, holding her father’s big hand in hers. Her children slipped Jersey, the Siamese cat in to sleep on their grandfather’s bed, and Toasty brought big Jeep in to lay at his bedside.

“It’s confusing for the animals, not knowing where Billy’s gone, so we brought them here,” explained Toasty to one of the night nurses. He was totally ready to challenge anything in order to make his father comfortable; however the night staff was very considerate to Toasty and Claudine. The sympathetic head nurse had come to know the family well over the years. She took Toasty aside, looking into his sad face and reassuringly said, “You know I think the world of your father and I loved your 85

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mum. She was absolutely the loveliest woman I ever met. Your dad, you, your sister and her children are so kind. From what I’m readin’ in her new book, you’ve all had it pretty rough. So, if it makes things a little better for you lot to have your dad’s cat and his dog visit with him for a bit, I have no problem with that. It’s fine with me and the nurses while I’m in charge. Animals do a lot to help comfort people when they are ill.”

“Thank you so much,” said Toasty.

“Don’t mention it, luv,” she replied kindly, starting to walk away.

“Ah, Nurse, did you say you’re readin’ me sister’s book?”

“Yeah, luv. I bought it downstairs in the hospital store; they just put them out today. I got me a copy as soon as I saw it, and I want to get your sister to sign it for me. But when it’s the right time. Now isn’t appropriate, with your dad being poorly and all.”

Toasty told the rest of the family what the nurse had said about the animals, leaving out the part about the book. The family was very grateful for her consideration with the animals. Jersey looked rather cozy as he slept contently on top of the blanket in between Billy’s legs. Jeep was panting and pacing, not sure why Billy was in such a high bed. He almost jumped onto the bed with the cat, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he stood on his back legs and supported his body on the bed every once in a while so he could lick Billy’s hand.

The nurses came in to check on Billy’s vitals. After checking everything, they nodded and told the family the animals were helping. “He seems to be settlin’ down a bit. You can tell he really loves his animals; he’s absolutely calm right now,” the nurse confided.

It was quiet in Billy’s room. The kids stayed by his side, quietly talking to him. Toasty had gone downstairs ‘for a coffee.’

“They’re so good, Granddad’s animals, for being in the strange place. They just want to be with ‘im. And don’t worry, Granddad, we’re all here for you,” whispered Isabella.

“You know, we’ll always take care of your animals,” added Dempsey.

Claudine went downstairs to the café to get some food for the kids and herself. She saw Toasty sitting at a table, holding a 86

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copy of The Blank Canvas in his hands. He was angrily shaking his head and impatiently flipping through the pages. Claudine rushed to him, her heart pounding. She had wanted to talk to her brother about her book; she only held back because the short time they were actually together today was when they were at Billy’s bedside. There hadn’t been a good time to talk about anything aside from Billy. His well-being was the priority.

She was relieved to not be arguing with him about Isabella.

She certainly didn’t want to be discussing her book in front of their dying father. Toasty saw her coming. He looked up at her venomously.

“Toasty,” she started quickly, “I’ve not had a chance to look through the whole thing, but I’m sorry if there are parts in it that don’t sound right. Please, let’s just focus on Dad right now, and then we’ll talk about it. Please, Toasty, can we…”

“I’m disgusted with you!” Toasty interrupted, a little too loudly. People sitting at nearby tables stared. “Thank God, and I mean that, thank God Dad’s in a coma and probably won’t live to see the horseshit you’ve written here! I will deal with it later, when we’re away from here. Consider yerself lucky we’re in the hospital and not at home!” Toasty grabbed the book by the cover and shook it in Claudine’s face. “And you have the audacity, the balls, or the stupidity more like it, to ask me to forget it about it for the time bein’? Meanwhile, everyone we know will be buyin’ this crap and readin’ about me bullying you or how Drew was a monster.”

Claudine watched, horrified, as Toasty got up and shook his finger at her face. “I’m embarrassed for you, Claudine, but you’ve done this to yerself! Well, you and that fuckin’ witch Toni! I’m not going to be the one who can’t show me face around here, though. It’s going to be you! You want to destroy the whole family? You wanna bury me? Well, I’m the one with the power and I’m goin’ to bury you so far down in the dirt that people will think you never existed. You betrayed me, Claudine. You’ve betrayed the whole family. After Dad’s gone, I don’t want to ever see you again! You’re an evil, stupid bitch!” He stormed out of the cafe.

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Claudine wanted to explain she didn’t read even the full first draft, let alone the final edit. She wanted to tell him she fought every step of the way to show their family in a positive light, but she realised her book was just as bad as the media that sensationalized her family in order to get readers. Without wanting to, she had become one of ‘them’, one of the reporters who slandered her family. How could she blame Toasty for being disgusted in her?

She wanted him to know that what was in the book made her feel sick too. All she could do was sit there alone, desperately wondering how she could fix this mess.

“Toasty’s gone, Mum,” said Dempsey when Claudine returned a few minutes later. “He said he was taking the animals back home. The nurses are tellin’ us we need to go home and get some sleep. They said Granddad will be alright for the night; he’s sleepin’ peacefully. Maybe we should go home then?”

“Toasty seemed very mad. Everything all right?” asked Isabella.

“No, actually it’s just gotten even worse,” said Claudine, putting her hands to her temples. “Toasty’s got a copy of me book.

He told me he’s done with me and he called me evil, stupid bitch. He said a lot of things, nothin’ good.”

In unison her children said, “Ohhhh, he saw the book.”

“What have I done? What am I goin’ to do?” she cried.

“Let’s say good night to Granddad and then we’ll go on home.

I mustn’t let him sense anythin’ is wrong.” They kissed Billy goodnight and quietly drove home.

Early the next morning, Claudine returned to the hospital.

Isabella stayed home to pack and Dempsey decided to stay with her, thinking he and his sister would come see Granddad in the afternoon.

“I want to see Dad alone,” said Toasty coldly when Claudine tried to enter the hospital room. “Now, will you respect me wishes and leave me with him? I’ll let you have your turn afterwards.”

Claudine, who had been crying and was distraught, nodded her head to consent. She waited in the hallway for over an hour. At one horrible moment, Claudine started to wonder if 88

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her brother didn’t want to let her in to see her father. Was he deliberately trying to keep her from saying goodbye? If that was the case, that was far more evil than anything she had done. Still, she stayed out in the hallway, crying and holding her head in her hands, figuring she would give him the benefit of the doubt.

Doctors and nurses were going in and out of her dad’s room.

Finally one of the attending doctors called her in. “Pardon me, miss, your dad is dyin’!” he said, looking painfully at Claudine.

“Don’t you want to spend these last few minutes with him, or do you want to stand in the hallway cryin’ and making people stare at you? I’m sorry to be so direct with you, luv, but he’s not got long left.”

“I’m just beside meself. I didn’t know he… he, he’s goin’ that fast… I wish me children could say goodbye, but they’re at home…”

“Oh, well there isn’t time, I’m afraid. He’s losin’ blood pressure, but he’s fadin’ without a lot o’ pain. He seems to be just easin’ away. C’mon in here miss, and say goodbye.”

Claudine rushed into the room. The doctor was nearby, but he gave Claudine and Toasty enough privacy to say goodbye.

Toasty was on the far side of the bed, looking at Billy, tears sliding down his cheeks. Claudine came to the other side of her father’s bed. She took hold of his hand, kissed it, and brought her face down to it, as if to hug it. “Dad, you’re going to be with Mum and Drew soon,” she said through her tears. “They’ll be waitin’ for you. Please tell Drew and Mum how much I love them. Me and Dempsey and Isabella are going to miss you so much. You’ve taken such good care o’ all o’ us. You gave me, and Drew and all o’ us such an amazin’ life. I’m so fortunate to have been yours and Mum’s daughter.” Claudine’s heart was already broken from losing Drew and her mum, but now she felt it break all over again. She was beside herself. Toasty was visibly upset too, but he refused to even acknowledge Claudine when she tried to reach out to him. She wanted to comfort him as much as she needed to be consoled by him right now.

“I will take care of the wrestling as if me life depended on it, Dad,” Toasty said, holding Billy’s other hand. “I will look after the wrestlers and the house, and the animals. I’ll miss you. God, 89

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we’ll all miss you. I know Jeep and Molly will want to stay in your bed, and I’ll let them stay there as long as he like. He can come in my bed whenever he’s ready. I will take care of the ones that matter Dad. I promise. I won’t let you down.”

Both children held their father’s hands tightly. Toasty was the last one talking to Billy when he stopped breathing. Claudine cried, but she didn’t make a lot of noise. She felt like her insides were burning. She kissed her father’s face and hugged him one last time. “I love you Dad. I’m so proud to be your daughter. You were such a great man; such a dear father to us. Good bye,” she said sadly.

She left the room with Toasty able to say his very last goodbye in peace. She paused in the hallway, trying to come to terms with this new loss. The whole family was still grieving over the sudden loss of their mum not so long ago and then then Drew died so horribly. And now Billy was gone. It was one heartbreak after another.

She drove home trying to figure out the right words to tell her kids their beloved granddad was gone. She knew they would be heartbroken they didn’t get to say goodbye. She wondered how much more they could take. They were dealing with so much.

The personal losses, financial despair, her scandalous book, an angry uncle and now Billy was gone too. They would have to contain their grief and compose themselves as they prepared for yet another public funeral.

When she arrived home, she saw Dempsey pacing in front of the cottage with the Bull Terrier. Tears were streaming down his face. Isabella ran out of the house and into her arms. “Oh Mum, what are we going to do without him? I miss him already! I wish we had gone to the hospital! We didn’t get to say goodbye,” she lamented.

Claudine consoled her daughter. “There, there, luv, he knows how much you loved him. He loved you just the same...How did you know? How did you find out?” she asked as they walked towards Dempsey.

“Toasty left us a message on the answering machine. He said Granddad was dead and something about him handling the funeral. You can hear it for yourself; I saved it,” Dempsey said, 90

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wiping his face. “I wish we’d been able to say good bye. I didn’t know though. I just wish I could have seen him one more time.”

Together they went into the house to listen to Toasty’s message. Isabella offered to make tea for everyone. It seemed appropriate, since it was always Billy’s favourite drink, as long as it was made with milk and honey. Ever since all of them were little, even Toasty and Claudine, they always enjoyed a ‘nice cuppa tea’ with him. “I’ll bring the tea in Mum...won’t be a minute,” Isabella said sadly as she disappeared into the back kitchen.

“Thanks, luv. That’d be nice,” Claudine said gratefully.

She sat down at the old antique desk where the telephone was.

Mr. Wonderful was sitting near the phone, almost guarding it.

Dempsey picked the fat cat up and held him like a bowl in his arms as he stared into space, waiting for his mum to play the message.

Claudine sat numbly as she listened to Toasty’s voice.

“Claudine, now that Dad’s passed, I have to start planning his funeral...Dammit, it’s happening again. You planned the last one for Drew...I’ll plan this one...I’ll ring you later for phone numbers of some of wrestlers and dignitaries who Mum and Dad were close with,” he said coldly.

“Sounds like he doesn’t want to have you worrying about a sad funeral again,” said Dempsey.

“Yah, I guess so,” Claudine wearily agreed.

Toasty planned the funeral at the Saint Mary’s Church in Warrington’s Towne Centre. It was one of the largest and oldest churches in Warrington. He knew the turnout for his father’s final farewell would be immense but he did not expect to see the capacity crowd that turned out to pay tribute to his father.

He was tremendously touched and humbled by the many spectators. Despite its size, the grand cathedral couldn’t house the hundreds of people who attended. The pavement leading up the road to the church was lined three people deep. Many were holding signs and images of Billy saying “RIP Billy Bonham” or “Never Forgotten.” Billy wouldn’t have wanted anyone left out, so Toasty arranged to have loud speakers broadcasting some of 91

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Billy’s favourite songs such as “In My Life” by the Beatles and “Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong” by Joe Cocker who was a childhood friend of Billy’s, and Petula Clark’s “Downtown” which was the song playing the night he first met Louisa. The music played outside so everyone could hear not only these songs, but also the actual service inside the church.

The magnificent cherry wood casket, draped with a Union Jack and covered with a gigantic white lily flower arrangement, was on display at the front of the cathedral. There was also a large gold leaf framed picture of Billy wearing his Olympic medal from the 1960 Olympics in Rome. There were spectacular flower arrangements sent by celebrities and dignitaries from all over the world, including many European Heads of State.

Wrestling was an international language that appealed to people from all walks of life, which endeared so many to Billy. One floral arrangement was so massive that it needed its own lorry to transport it. It was from a Prince in Abu Dhabi; he had worked closely with Billy on many of the annual international grappling competitions held in his country. There were people at the funeral who Toasty, Claudine and her kids had never met before.

At the start of the service, Father Roberts welcomed everyone and spoke briefly about Billy’s life and his contribution to the country. He introduced the British Minister of Sports who gave a moving tribute, even declaring that Her Majesty the Queen wished to extend her sincerest condolences to the Bonham Family. The Queen’s father used to attend matches when Billy wrestled on the card years ago back in the King’s Court. He first became a fan of Billy’s after Billy won the Olympic gold medal in amateur wrestling for Britain. The Saint Mary’s renowned choir sang the Lord’s Prayer so beautifully and purely that there wasn’t a dry eye in the audience. Toasty was the last to speak. At length, his speech lovingly touched on his father’s professional wrestling career, his mother and father’s love story, and how he and his nephew Dempsey were going to keep the IWF strong and true like his father was. He promised to carry out his father’s wishes to help look after his grandchildren, Dempsey and Isabella. He spoke about the family and their plans for the future, but he deliberately neglected to mention Claudine by 92

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name. She was deeply hurt as she sat and listened in disbelief.

She couldn’t stop the angry tears that flowed so freely from her sad blue eyes. She stared at her father’s picture as Father Roberts invited everyone back to the wake at the Bonham farmhouse.

She knew her father would love that, as he always enjoyed a good celebration of life.

A tenor bell chimed to signify the end of the service and finally, the Royal Scottish Bag Pipers played stirring renditions of “Mull of Kin Tyre” and “Amazing Grace.” There were ten pall bearers, consisting of some of the country’s most celebrated wrestlers, boxers, rugby and football players, who carried the heavy casket which was balanced on their broad shoulders.

Their hands were clasped in front of their bodies as they walked ceremoniously towards the silver hearse.

Toasty and Dempsey got into the first limousine followed

by Claudine and Isabella in the second one. They followed the hearse and the rest of the procession followed suite. People lined the streets, saluting and holding more flower wreaths and banners paying tribute to Billy. Their affection for this great man was obvious and touching.

They laid Billy next to Louisa at a more private ceremony.

It was a more somber occasion than the church service because there was a sense of finality. They were coming to terms with Billy’s death and the realization that the life they knew and loved was about to change dramatically. The sun shone down on the family as they threw a handful of rich, dark dirt onto the coffin after it was lowered into the ground.

As Claudine walked back to the limousine, with both her children close by her side, she felt doomed. A chill ran through her body and even the hot sun couldn’t warm her as she thought of her bleak future. She felt heartsick, terrified and alone.

At the Bonham farm, a huge crowd of people gathered on the inviting grounds of the old farmhouse. There were more breathtaking flower arrangements on display throughout the home. At the reception, guests shared their memories of how, in one way or another, Billy and Louisa Bonham changed their lives for the better.

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Others came to Toasty, urging him not to let IWF die. They pleaded and encouraged him to keep it going for the sake of future generations of wrestling fans. “Please, for God’s sake, Toasty, don’t shut it down, eh? It’s a part of our lives; it’s a part of what makes Britain great!” they said earnestly.

Isabella and Dempsey mingled with countless guests with a sense of awe. They could finally see the huge impact their family had on their country, not just to the wrestling fans but also to worldwide organizations and associations. They weaved in and out of different conversations, enjoying all of the stories about their father and grandparents .

Isabella told some guests about her scholarship at Carnegie, and many told her how they knew her dad would be so proud of her for pursuing her dream.

In the Bonham’s main hallway, Stefan Mayer introduced Dempsey to his Japanese friend, Takeshi Yamamoto. Takeshi was a highly respected wrestling scout for Fujiwari’s Japanese dojo. “I was telling Takeshi about Drew’s young and impressive giant of a son, and he was wanting to meet you,” Stefan said happily in his German accent. “He thought I was exaggerating when I was saying you a 6’5” monster that has double-tendonsuper-strength, especially since you are still so young! I’ve been boasting about you and your amazing stats!”

“I’ve had a major growth spurt,” said Dempsey modestly.

“We go outside?” said Takeshi, in broken English. “Too crowded here.”

Dempsey took Takeshi and Stefan into the back garden. He couldn’t help but feel a little excited. He had always wanted to go train at the dojo, and now he was talking to a Japanese scout!

“You are dressed up - this not best time for you,” said Takeshi, “But Stefan said he heard you do five hundred Hindu squats - five hundred Hindu push-ups without stop. Is that true?”

“Sure. Me mum taught me how to do proper Hindu squats,” said Dempsey. He started doing Hindu push-ups right there in the garden.

“Okay, I believe you,” said Takeshi after Dempsey was up to 200 Hindu push-ups and was barely breathing heavily.

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“But can I ask you for one more thing? Can we go over to barn and chain wrestle on mat later?”

“Sure, we can go now too” said Dempsey, loosening his tie.

After about ten minutes of Dempsey putting holds on both Stefan and Takeshi. Takeshi got up and dusted himself off. “Ha, ha, good. I very impressed,” he said. “I invite you to come to dojo. We interested to train you for minimum time of two years.”

Dempsey calmly thanked Takeshi, but on the inside he was doing a victory dance. With two years of Fujiwari’s dojo training under his belt and some experience as a paid fighter, he would be able to pretty much name his price and go anywhere he wanted.

It was the best career move he could make.

“Thank you for your time,” said Takeshi. “Here – my business card. I hope you come. I will wait for your call.”

From the kitchen window, Toasty was watching all three of them suspiciously. He was relieved when he saw Takeshi and Stefan get into a black Mercedes Sedan and drive away.

Once they were gone, Toasty scoured the property for his sister. He saw her standing on the front stairway of the house, talking with guests.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” he asked the guests, guiding Claudine to a quiet corner.

“Listen,” he hissed, pushing his face right up into Claudine’s so she could see the pores on his nose. “You are not welcome in my home ever again. You got to come to the funeral, and now it’s over. Get off me property now.”

Claudine looked at her brother in disbelief. He stared back, unwavering. “Okay, Toasty,” she said finally. “If that’s what you want, I will leave and never come back.”

Isabella was nearby, chatting animatedly with a middle aged couple. She saw the look on her mother’s face and excused herself. “Belle, Toasty’s just banished me from the property,” said Claudine. “I think its best I go. I don’t want to have a big fight at Granddad’s wake.”

Isabella was furious. “What a bastard.” she said quietly. “We should tell Dempsey.”

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They looked around and saw that Dempsey was completely engaged with a big group of wrestlers. “He looks happy,” said Claudine. “Perhaps it’s best not to interrupt. I’m sure Toasty will tell him we’ve gone when the time comes.” Claudine and Isabella found their little red Ford and drove off.

Being with these people and hearing their fond memories was really what Claudine needed, but under the circumstances she thought it was best to just go. She waited until she was driving to her own home before she started crying. Isabella rubbed her shoulder consolingly on the drive back to their cottage.

A few hours later, when everyone had gone home, Dempsey excitedly began to tell his uncle about the Japanese dojo offer made to him. “He said he was impressed and that they could train me for-” “Don’t take any o’ that rubbish seriously,” Toasty interrupted.

“Ya don’t want to be halfway ‘round the world for two bloody years, where they don’t speak English, and for what? For free, that’s what! Here, you’ll get paid while you learn. We can draw so much money here with you and me tag-teamin’. Can’t you see how supportive the fans are for us right now? With that magazine article in circulation, you’ll get a lot o’ publicity. Sad to say, but your Granddad’s passin’ will generate some attention, too. And listen, I promise to pay you summat every week, but it’s for you, not for you to give to your mum, right?”

Dempsey stayed quiet while Toasty ranted on about the new territory and how things were going to be now that he was fully in charge. He was acting bizarre, going from yelling and posturing to suddenly becoming very passive and almost whispering.

“Claudine, she’s not welcome here with her emotional tornadoes. And then leaving the heapin’ mess for Dad and me to clean up, while she toddles off with that terrible Toni and that fuckin’ book of hers,” complained Toasty. “I won’t have to deal with her shit anymore. Granddad isn’t here to fight your mum’s battles for her either, Dempsey. Your mum’s done plenty o’ damage to this family, with that nasty book of hers. It’s a bloody blessin’ Granddad’s gone now so he’ll never read a word of it. It would’ve broken his heart. How your mum could be so disloyal to all of us is beyond me.”

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Had Toasty’s behavior that day not been so erratic, one could have almost admired how he switched gears so instantly from one extremely emotional topic to a highly technical one.

Suddenly his mood changed and he now spoke quietly about the new computers and camera equipment he was purchasing to improve the quality of the wrestling TV show. He went on to say “The new banks we’re dealing with now are willin’ to lend me the quid, and the stiff old bankin’ ties that yer Granddad use to have, that did naught for him anyway, aren’t needed anymore.

They don’t see me vision and they never did us any favours anyway. I’ve already found new resources and I’m gonna prove meself to everyone who ever doubted me!”

Toasty also proclaimed that he and Dempsey were going to be the new version of the old Toasty and Drew tag-team that shook up the wrestling world for the better.

Dempsey wasn’t sure what to say or think. Instead, he took it all in without saying a word. Finally the new cordless telephone, which was part of the new equipment he purchased, rang. This interrupted Toasty’s train of thought as he answered the phone.

“Hallo. Yes, you’re speakin’ with him - this is him. Yeah, what’s this about? Oh, yeah? I see. Can you hang on a moment?” he asked the person on the other end. He walked out of the back kitchen and into the library, shutting the door behind him.

Dempsey walked outside, thinking about the talk he just had with Toasty. He was torn about what to do. Being asked to train in the dojo was a huge honour. He wondered what his father would say to him.

As he walked around the grounds of the house, he heard Toasty’s voice carrying through the open window in the library.

Dempsey wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but when he heard his mum’s name he stopped in his tracks. He quietly stepped closer to the house, listening.

“Let me ask you this; when’s the reading o’ the will? Right then. Let me tell you what’s happening. I’m definitely contestin’ the will, no matter what it reads. I want to hold things up for a good while because I can’t have me sister gettin’ access to any money. Without her inheritance, she won’t be able to fight me in court o’er that damned slanderous book she wrote. And that’s 97

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the other thing I was callin’ you about – that disgustin’ book o’ hers. I want to hire you as me solicitor and get me sister’s pulp fiction crap pulled off the shelves. I want that book to cease to exist; should be burned, really. And I want to begin litigation against her for damages to me and me family and IWF. Yah, yah, yah, so I’m cuttin’ me nose off to spite me face. Whatever. I can survive longer without me inheritance than she can; I’ve at least got shows to make me some money. She’s got nothin’, not even a piggin’ job, the lazy daft sod. Right then, good enough, we’ll talk later. Bye.” Dempsey listened, his jaw set. He was immensely disappointed his uncle thought so little of the bond he had with his mother. This was the same man who repeatedly promised to take care of him and his sister, then given Isabella such a hard time about going to Carnegie. He remembered how Toasty had challenged his granddad constantly about how to run IWF and how he also made things unpleasant for his dad before he left for Germany.

Dempsey quietly went back into the house and into his granddad’s bedroom. All of a sudden he didn’t feel so much at home in his grandfather’s house. He called his mum on Billy’s private line.

“Mum? I know you left early. It’s fine, I understand. Could you come get me as soon as you can? I’ll be watchin’ for you so you don’t need to worry about Toasty seein’ you. I’ll come right out when I see your car. Ta then. Right. T’ra.” He put down the receiver and went outside to wait, hiding behind the house so Toasty wouldn’t try to talk to him again.

Dempsey made a run for it as soon as he saw the family car.

“Mum, you let our Isabella go away down south to school and she is a good year and a half younger than I am,” he said as soon as he got in the car. “Would you consider lettin’ me go away to a college like that, but for wrestling, if it was in Japan, if it was in the dojo?”

“Well, Essex is only a few hours away, it’s still part of England. Japan is so far from here,” replied Claudine. “What’s happening in Japan all o’ a sudden that appeals to you more than IWF? Or is this for IWF?” 98

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“No, this is completely different from IWF. I want nothing to do with IWF right now. This is an offer to wrestle for the next two years over in Japan in the Fujiwari’s dojo,” replied Dempsey.

Claudine felt a jolt, but she didn’t know if it was happiness for her son or sadness that this was all happening so soon. “Who told you about this? Who offered this to you, and when?”

“Stefan Mayer brought a wrestling scout from Japan to meet me today, and we talked and wrestled for quite a while at Granddad’s. I have the scout’s card, if you want to see it later.”

“Well, I certainly do trust Stefan’s judgment,” Claudine said.

“I know you know the dojo is really difficult to get into, and you know your dad did stay in a dojo for nearly four months because he wanted to see how hard the trainin’ was.”

“And?” Dempsey asked.

“Well, he said it was hard, and he would have given it a try if things were different in England. I think you were already born when he went there. He wasn’t goin’ to leave his family for two years when he was already makin’ a great livin’ and doing what he loved. Anyway, he did give it a try,” explained Claudine.

“Well, I want to go there and give it a try, too,” said Dempsey.

“I think there is a lot more positive stuff goin’ on in Japan than there is here for me. I want to wrestle, but I don’t want to do it here. Not right now, with Toasty bein’ so impossible. And this chance has come up, like it’s the answer to me dilemma. I just need to get away, like our Isabella does when she goes to Essex.”

They finally pulled into the cottage driveway and got inside, where Isabella was watching TV on the chesterfield with Mr. Wonderful in her lap and Sally the Bull Terrier sitting next to her.

“Okay, Mum,” said Dempsey. “I was savin’ the worst for last. You’d better have a seat with Belle.” As he told them what he had overheard, Claudine started crying again. Isabella looked mad enough to punch a hole in the wall.

“So, that’s what makes me really want to leave the IWF for now,” said Dempsey. “I’m not wrestlin’ for or with Toasty until he comes to his senses.” He quickly explained his news about the dojo offer to Isabella as he heaped himself on the chesterfield next to Sally.

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“That’s great! Congratulations!” said Isabella, jumping up to hug him before returning to her mum. “Don’t worry, I’ll be up lots to see you, Mum,” she said. “You won’t be lonely. I’m only a few hours away and I can be with home on weekends sometimes, too.”

“Mum, I talked to Granddad loads about goin’ to the dojo,” said Dempsey as he sat down on Claudine’s other side. “He said if he’d ever had the opportunity, he’d have taken it. And I’ve an actual invitation and I’m only sixteen. This is an amazin’ opportunity. I want to go to Japan. The sooner, the better.”

100

9 The Good Life Just over a week later the telephone rang, startling Claudine, sitting all by herself in her kitchen. The disappointment of the Blank Canvas’s finished product weighed on her mind heavily, but she put off dealing with it. She preferred not to spend any of the precious few days with her children before they both left home with sour moments pertaining to her book. She answered the phone despondently, “Hallo?”

“Hi, old girl! I thought I’d leave you alone for a spell while you’re grieving over your dad. I was so sorry to, eh hem, so sorry to hear the sad news. Did you get the flowers Ernie and I sent? We’ve been so busy with this and that, and everything else, we just couldn’t make it up to see you , eh-hem. I heard it was quite the smash! Anyway, I gotta tell you, I am so happy with how the book turned out! I’ve got some free copies that you can come pick up when we talk about your promotion schedule,” Toni said brightly.

Claudine sat numbly on the other end of the line. She could not believe what she was hearing. She had just returned home from dropping Dempsey off at the airport. Isabella left a couple of days after the funeral. Claudine was feeling lonely and upset.

Both her parents had passed; her husband was dead, and now her only brother wasn’t speaking to her either. She preferred not to think about her book at the moment. There was just too much 101

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grief without adding that messy, complicated problem to things.

She realized finally she must face the inevitable and deal with Toni once and for all.

“Urm, hi, Toni,” said Claudine in a strained voice. “Why in God’s name did you not tell me when the book came out? And why didn’t you bother to show me what was in it? I can’t tell you how upset I am. Me brother is suin’ me!”

“Eh hem, well, old girl, don’t be upset,” said Toni. “I knew you would never have allowed the book to be released as it was, but it had to be done. I thought it was for the best and it is. You won’t believe how well the book has been selling. It’s a huge hit!

As you know, according to your contract, Rocket Productions and I had the final say in what went in the book, and we did what we needed to do to make it a success. Now, all we need is a promo tour and we will all be rich!”

“Well, it’s great that the book it doing well,” said Claudine, “But everyone thinks I am a liar or a bloody crazy person now!

I don’t know if you heard, but I repeat, me brother is suin’ me over this! And I still hate the first chapter! You didn’t make the changes you promised me you would make! You totally lied to me!”

“Oh, old girl, you are always so negative. Well, maybe we better get Jeeves in on this. I’ll patch us through to him in a conference call. Hang on…Hi, Jeeves, this is Toni and Claudine,” said Toni when Jeeves picked up.

“Ah, my star team! Congratulations to both of you!” said Jeeves exuberantly.

“Thank you, thank you,” said Toni as though she was accepting an award. “Claudine here is feeling a little depressed about the potential lawsuit with her brother and all his rubbish, so we thought we’d give you a quick call to give us some guidance.”

“Yes, well people often threaten to do these things, but it all comes out in the wash. No need to worry too much at this point...Whatever you do, for the sake of God, do not talk to the press about any of that. Leave that to us, alright?” said Jeeves dismissively. “Claudine, now last time we spoke, you were not

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entirely satisfied with the first chapter, but we seriously needed to press on; we had a deadline. Be that as it may, we are the experts here, and we were happy to hear that you agreed with it in the end. The concession paid off immensely, I assure you...”

“Ya, well I never agreed to it!” interrupted Claudine. “All I ever saw was the first chapter of the draft and a few pages here and there and I told Toni to change the first chapter many times to what she and I discussed at her office.”

There was a long pause. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Jeeves. “That’s not what I was told. I thought you two had it sorted out.”

Toni suddenly started vigorously clearing her throat.

“But, even if that is the case,” Jeeves continued, “we were well within our rights, as a company to publish the book without your final approval. You signed a contract. It’s all there, plain as day. But trust me, Claudine, you should see the numbers! This book is a huge success! I was just getting ready to cut you a cheque for the first week of sales. Normally, we prefer to wait for the quarterly and then pay based on that, but we’re giving you another advance to help finance you during the promotion tour. We’re happy with how it’s all going, and we want you to know that.”

“A cheque?” said Claudine. Her eyes darted to the growing stack of bills on the kitchen table.

“Yes,” said Jeeves. “Also, Claudine, we are aware of the regrettable situation with your brother. His solicitors have contacted us. He wants the book pulled, but that’s absurd. Our solicitors are on it and we’re not worried. There’s nothing you need to do, you shouldn’t even need to appear in court. So let’s all focus on the task on hand, which is pushing The Blank Canvas.

Toni, would you review the promotion plan with Claudine?”

“Of course,” said Toni. “Thank you.”

“Of course, and again, congratulations Toni, and to you too, Claudine. I have another call to take. Cheerio.”

They heard a click as Jeeves got off the line.

“Well then,” said Toni. “I hope you feel better now,” she said, quickly moving on.

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“And before you get too upset about the lawsuit, let me tell you that controversy sells! It’s doing wonders for our book sales.

We’ve already sold close to 25,000 copies. That’s about £35,000 quid for you, old girl! Once we start the promotions, I’d bet we could hit number one on the charts! Maybe sell over 100,000 books before our first quarter, which would be £150,000 for each of us. Fantastic, right?

“Here’s the promotion schedule. We’ll be up in London on Tuesday…”

Claudine hardly listened as Toni rattled off a series of book signings, interviews, and other events for the book.

Pack your bags, Claudine, this promotion tour is going to be one to remember,” Toni said. “Listen, I’ve gotta dash, but I’ll see ya soon! Bye,” she said, just leaving Claudine hanging on the line.

As she put the phone down, Claudine felt severely doublecrossed with the book but she was determined to make it a success because its failing would be even more devastating. She knew she had too many financial obligations that she could not ignore, like the mortgage on her cottage. Her job at the factory was simply not earning her enough income and it would soon be ending anyway when she began touring and promoting her book. Despite her disappointment in Jeeves and Toni, that she had to work with them in order to survive. Blank Canvas was her major source of money now. If it kept doing well, it could really change her financial situation and she would have money to share with her kids now. She sat for a moment and thought about the possibilities of things like flying out to see her kids; of never having to work in a factory again; of getting out of debt; the Bellamys could live a better life through The Blank Canvas’s strong book sales. It was just the beginning of things for her promotional tour; it wasn’t too late to turn her scandalous autobiography into a positive experience for herself.

She had not forgotten how Toasty treated her at her father’s funeral, and she was sick and tired of being bullied by him.

She didn’t expect to be receiving her inheritance in the near future. Toasty, as well as suing to have her book pulled, was also disputing their father’s will. At least with the lawsuit against The 104

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Blank Canvas, she had the support of the Dominion Publishing’s insurance to pay for those legal costs. Until books sales started to come in, she would have to wait for the money she needed to fight Toasty on the will.

The next Tuesday, Claudine drove herself to the first promotion event--a radio interview at The Signal Radio, 102.6 FM in Central Cheshire. She tried to look her best, choosing an old favourite Selfridge dress. It was one that Drew bought her during happier times. With three quarter length sleeves and a periwinkle blue colour that brought out her eyes, the designer dress was an echo of her former affluence. But she hadn’t been to a hair salon in months and she was in desperate need for new makeup. There was only so much she could do before she got the first cheque for the book.

“Hi there, old girl! Wow, it looks like we’ll need to stop and see Ginger before we do any more events,” scoffed Toni as Claudine stepped into the lobby of the station.

Toni was wearing a smart black suit that, combined with her shiny bob, made her look more like a corporate lawyer than a creative writer. Her garish pink nails clashed loudly with the rest of her tasteful ensemble.

The interview took place in a room with a big glass wall and microphones. The radio hosts were nice enough, but Claudine could barely get a word in edgewise with Toni blathering on in her high-pitched voice, sounding frantically excited.

“So, Claudine,” said one of the hosts, seeming to notice this.

Her name was Blaire and her kind face made Claudine feel a little better. “What is it like having everyone know all of these details about your family? Some of this is very personal.”

“Well,” said Claudine, shifting in her seat, “some of the details in the book… at least some of the more… racy ones… aren’t strictly…”

“What she’s trying to say,” interrupted Toni, “is that she felt it was important to be candid. She wanted people to know every juicy detail. Such an interesting life.” The grin she shot at Claudine was venomous.

After that, Claudine knew better than to outright contradict the “facts” in the book at events. This interview was just the 105

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first of a slew of book signings, readings, interviews, and appearances. Toni turned out to be correct about the book’s success. The Blank Canvas shot up to number one on the book charts in a matter of weeks across the United Kingdom.

Despite the book’s success, some of its content was controversial. A few readers were quite supportive of Claudine-they saw her as a victim publicly and privately bullied by her brother, now that his lawsuit against her was public knowledge.

Others, who were close with the Bonham family, were torn. They knew things were not as they appeared in the book. They knew these touchy revelations were also not the bold-faced lies Toasty vehemently insisted they were. Toni had twisted Claudine’s words so much to make the Bonhams and Bellamys look much more scandalous than they actually were. Quietly, these family friends let Claudine know they supported her, but there wasn’t exactly an outpouring of public support.

A few days into the tour – after Claudine received her money and Toni had seen to it that she spent a good chunk of it on a makeover – there was a huge book signing for The Blank Canvas in a Birmingham book store. More than seven hundred people came out to meet Claudine and have her autograph their copies of her book.

Claudine, feeling pretty in a new vermillion sweater dress, tried to smile as fan after fan asked her if the scandalous stories in the book were really true. She really wasn’t comfortable embellishing or encouraging any deception. The whole thing seemed to come quite naturally to Toni, who managed to keep her frightening grin continuously plastered on her face as her vacuous cackle echoed through the store.

After a couple of hours, Claudine’s hand was getting tired from signing so many books. She handed a fan back his book and looked up at the next person in line. She felt the blood run out of her face. As she saw a man take off his cap and jumper.

He was concealing his identity until it was his turn in the queue.

It was Toasty, glaring down at her.

“Look at you two,” he growled. “You are disgustin’,” he said, holding a meaty finger inches from Toni’s pointy face, “and

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you, you Toni, are a nasty trouble-maker! You ought to both be ashamed o’ yourselves for this crap.”

The crowd shifted nervously. Many of them now recognized Toasty and were clearly hoping to see a fight.

Toasty pivoted to Claudine, squinting his eyes and yelling now, “Dad would be so disappointed if he were alive to see you connin’ all these people with pigshit lies about our family.”

Toasty turned around and stared at all the people in the queue with their new books. He spotted the impressive book display, which showcased over a hundred copies of The Blank Canvas.

Angrily marching over to it, Toasty drop-kicked the six- foot tall book stand, knocking it down completely and sending books flying everywhere. Next, he violently flipped the display table over and began throwing copies of The Blank Canvas in every direction, as far as he could. It was amazing no one got hit by one of the fast-flying books!

During all this chaos, Toni nervously grabbed her mobile phone and dialed the police. Her whole body was trembling.

“Send the police!” she shrieked. “There’s a disturbed man on the loose! Hurry! This was her first time at seeing the wrath of Toasty, and it scared her.”

Toasty rounded back over to the signing table, blatantly scoffing at Toni’s hysterics. He got up close to Claudine’s face, spitting like a mad camel. “If you and your lyin’ partner think I’m disturbin’ now, wait till you see me in court when I sue your ass off. You betrayed Mum, Dad, Drew, and me with that lousy fuckin’ abortion of a book! Even your own kids are so embarrassed they left home! They’re ashamed o’ you!

He turned his attention now beyond the two women and began to yell at the fans watching with morbid curiosity. Many of the onlookers curiously scattered about, still waiting in a now disjointed line for their books to be signed. “Shame on all of you! Shame on you for buying into this farce!” he screamed. “If me father and mother were alive, they’d be disgusted with the lot o’ you for buyin’ this rubbish. It’s a pack o’ bloody lies and me sister’s disgraced me family’s good name!”

His ranting got some of the more rowdy fans to break into a chant. They started cheering “Toasty! Toasty!” like they did 107

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during his matches. Toasty didn’t care to indulge them, but he did give Toni and Claudine a triumphant, imperious look, despite the three security guards now coming to take him away.

The pathetic security guards (who were absolutely no match for Toasty) trembled like jellyfish as they tried to escort Toasty off the premises.

“Oh, get off, ya daft tossers! I’ll leave on me bloody own!” said Toasty in annoyance. “This isn’t over, Claudine!” He stalked off, the officers hurrying uselessly behind him.

Claudine stood up, shaking slightly.

Toni tugged at her arm. “You can’t leave,” she hissed, gesturing to the crowd. “Look at all of these fans.” *** That night, Claudine sat in her living room, trying to breathe deeply. The incredible book sales had done little to lift Claudine out of her slump. She cried uncontrollably most of the time and still had regular panic attacks; her encounter with Toasty that afternoon had done nothing to help her symptoms.

Claudine was just wishing she could talk to someone – her house seemed so empty these days – when suddenly the phone rang. She went to get it, hoping it wasn’t Toni. She simply didn’t have the energy to deal with her right now.

“Hi Mum!” said Isabella’s voice. “Dempsey’s here, too.

We’re having a conference call, isn’t it brilliant? We wanted to see how you are doin’.”

“Hi, Demps, Bella!” Claudine said, smiling genuinely for the first time that day. “Never mind me, tell me about you. Demps, how are you settlin’ in over in Japan?”

“Things are good here,” said Dempsey. “It’s mornin’ right now, I need to get goin’ soon to train. I’ve been trainin’ real hard.

The new techniques here are really helping me. It’s definitely an adjustment sleeping on a futon, though. It’s just a big roll-out mat on the floor. And I keep hittin’ me head on things.”

“I’m glad you are workin’ hard,” said Claudine. “Your dad used to complain about hittin’ his head on things there, too.

Bella, how are you likin’ Essex?”

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“Oh, it’s wonderful!” said Isabella. “There’s loads o’ talented people here, and I’ve got a bunch of auditions comin’ up. They’re doin’ a big production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream this spring. I’ve been practicin’ Helena’s lines like crazy.”

As Isabella continued on about her adventures, Claudine felt a surge of pride for both of her children. For Dempsey and Isabella their new daily routines, not to mention the shock of suddenly living completely away from home, were daunting enough. Claudine decided not to mention her fight with Toasty.

There was no reason to break her children’s good spirits.

Now, Dempsey was giving a blow-by-blow description of a fight he had won the night before.

Claudine pushed her negative thoughts aside and tried to concentrate on her kid’s happy voices, if just for a little while.

Later that night, she decided to write a letter to her brother.

She felt she needed to clear the air between them.

That was the last time Claudine physically saw or spoke to her brother for more than four years. She wrote to him twice, asking him to forgive and forget, and if there could be a chance for reconciling in the first letter. She wrote: Dear Toasty, What is it that I do that makes you still think of me as your enemy? We have been through so many things together, survived through so many hardships and we are family.

My children love and miss their uncle, and I miss you too. I suppose it is safer for you to have forever the enemy as me. I wish I could change your mind, and until I do, I will not stop trying.

Love always, Your sister Claudine He never responded to that letter, but it was not returned so she hoped he at least read it. She wondered if he ever opened it or just burned it, or what he did with it. Apparently Dempsey 109

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wrote to him too and even called him from Japan now and then, but Toasty never responded to him either.

The second letter she sent two years later. It was more congratulatory in theme. Claudine praised Toasty on the success the IWF as it was now doing smashing business. She told him that Drew, Mum and Dad would be happy for him. She went on to tell him the latest updates about her kids, reminding him that her children had no hand in what had gone on between her and him, and aside from her, that he was the only living relative they had. She hoped they would all be on the same side again one day, and reminded him that he was always welcome at her home anytime.

She often wondered how things would end between her and Toasty. She had done her very best to reach out to him and make amends. It was up to him to contact her now and make the tag.

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10 It Is What It Is On a quiet Friday afternoon about two months after Toasty wreaked havoc at the The Blank Canvas book signing, Claudine got a call from a reporter. The hair on the back of her neck stood up when he asked her what she thought about the settlement.

“What settlement?” Claudine replied, her heart lifting. Had Toasty dropped the lawsuit?

“Oh, I beg your pardon - the lawsuit involving your brother Toasty, Toasty Bonham, suing you and your publisher over slanderous allegations about him in your autobiography. The case has been settled now. Do you have any comments? Have you anything to say about that?”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘settled.’ I can’t comment until I know more about it. This is the first I’ve heard about anythin’ bein’ settled,” said Claudine cautiously, remembering that Jeeves had instructed her not to say anythin’ to the press about the lawsuit.

“Well, can you tell me if you are satisfied with Dominion Publishing’s decision to pull your book off the shelf, black market it, so to speak?”

Claudine suddenly felt acutely queasy. “Ermmm, no, I didn’t know that is what you meant when you said things were settled.”

Without another word she hung up the phone and dialed Toni’s number. Her heart was pounding and she felt like she might be sick. This had to be untrue.

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“Toni, I just got a call from a reporter who says the book is bein’ pulled out of the stores and Dominion has settled with Toasty,” Claudine said frantically. “Please tell me this is just some sick rumour.”

“Hang on.” said Toni, sounding just as panicked as Claudine felt. “I didn’t know any of this. Are you sure? Let me get Jeeves on the phone right now for a conference call. Don’t hang up, old girl.”

A long moment of silence went by and all kinds of thoughts rushed around in Claudine’s head. If the book really was pulled, what was she going to do for money? Why didn’t Jeeves communicate with her and tell her they were settling? Why was she always the last one to know anything?

“Are you still there, Claudine?” asked Toni.

“Yes, I’m here,” answered Claudine.

“Okay, I’ve got Jeeves on the line now, too. Jeeves, what in the world is going on?”

“Well, Toni, Claudine, it is what it is,” said Jeeves. He sounded tired. “You know I believed from the beginning you could prove your side of things in your autobiography and I admire your courage, Claudine.”

“We all do, Claudine,” interrupted Toni in her high-pitched voice.

“Yes, as I was saying,” Jeeves continued, “we have realized this feud between you and your brother could go on and on, and since so many of the relevant witnesses are, well, deceased, to be honest… well, it could have continued for years and bankrupt Dominion Publishing. We are only a small publishing firm, so that could have happened, you understand?

“Oh, I sort of understand, but go on,” Claudine replied, unhappily.

“Well, it was a real possibility. We would have needed more than just your convictions and bravery, Claudine. Your brother had quite a squad of names attached to him claiming they were also injured in character by your book and they were prepared to take civil action as well unless there was a cease and desist order put into effect immediately. Were you aware of any of that?” he asked.

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“No, I was not,” said Claudine, her sadness and panic turning to rage. “No one told me any o’ this. Why didn’t either of you tell me any o’ this before? I didn’t even bloody well know the book was released until I literally walked right into it at the store. I never got to see the bloody rough drafts, and I could have stopped this from happenin’ if you had just let me see a final copy before puttin’ it to press. If you had only given me a final read, I could have prevented any of this from happenin’ and the book would still be on the shelves. I was ashamed when I read the first paragraph at Toni’s office, and I told that to both of you that I was. Did you think I was jokin’?”

There was a long silence. Claudine knew she had hit on a truth that even these two connivers couldn’t ignore.

“It’s the publisher’s right to have the final say,” said Jeeves finally. “It was in the contract you first signed. I can send you a copy, if you like, if you don’t have yours immediately available.”

“What about the insurance policy, Jeeves?” squeaked Toni.

“Doesn’t that cover Claudine for this?”

“The insurance policy didn’t cover the huge amount your brother was suing us for,” sighed Jeeves.

Claudine rocked her head back and forth, slowly headbutting the wall in frustration. She felt her throat tightening and her eyes burning as they filled with hot tears.

“There’s more. There won’t be any more disbursements paid out to you either, I regret to tell you. We’re letting you keep the money we’ve already advanced to you, but your brother is getting pretty much all the profits from the book sales – what isn’t going to the solicitors, anyway. Publishing has been stopped.

The Blank Canvas is being pulled off the shelves completely and immediately. What you got is all you’ll get. I am sorry, Claudine.

It’s just business.”

“Eh hem,” piped up Toni. “I wasn’t a part of this damn lawsuit. Will I still get paid?”

“Unfortunately no,” said Jeeves. “We’ve lost pretty much everything to the lawsuit. I’m so sorry, Toni.”

“Wait a minute.” said Claudine, drowning out Toni’s high pitched protests. “Toni wasn’t sued?”

“No, just Dominion Publishing House and you, Claudine,” said Jeeves.

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“What? Why? You and I had the same contract, Toni, and me book says right on the cover your name too, as told by Toni Orr, if I am not mistaken. Toni, Jeeves, either of you, please shed some light on this!” Claudine demanded to know.

“Well, as far as I recall, you and Toni do not have the same contract,” replied Jeeves. “The solicitor who drew the contracts up would know more about that. As for the suit, I do have a theory as to why Toni wasn’t included. I don’t mean this disrespectfully, Claudine, but from what Toni told me, you didn’t have the finances to fight the lawsuit without outside help. Toni did, and bringing her into the mix would have drawn the whole thing out. That is precisely what your brother does NOT want.”

“He knows Ernie and I would have crushed him,” Toni remarked snidely.

“According to the settlement, Dominion Publishing has to pay Toasty the sum of £38,000 pounds, destroy all unsold copies of The Blank Canvas, and never print the book again. If we had the chance to sell the copies we have in our warehouse Toasty would win plenty more, but that’s his whole point. He doesn’t want the money as much as he doesn’t want anyone reading Canvas. He wants Canvas killed, as in ‘dead’, as in stop the presses, cease and desist. And the easiest way to do that was to keep Toni out of it.

He continued in a painfully monotonous voice, “In Dominion’s case, we are in a much more delicate situation than either of you. We stand to lose the most here and we really feel our gains will not be as great as our losses, if your brother won.

It’s best that we settle now and not drag this out for years. If we did that, it could cost Dominion more than the book ever stood to make.”

Claudine felt dizzy now. She felt, like she often did, as though she had entered a nightmarish alternate reality.

“Claudine, we at Dominion sought counsel and we handled things according to our counsel’s advice,” Jeeves said with a tone of finality. “I am deeply sorry, believe me when I say that.

There’s nothing more that we are willing or able to do. I have nothing more to tell you. I hope you understand. I have a meeting to go to, so good day now.”

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The conversation was over. Claudine hung up the phone and slowly slid her back down against the wall. She sat motionless on her kitchen floor until Mr. Wonderful sauntered over and sat with her for what seemed like hours.

“Ahhhh! What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?” she kept repeating through her tears.

115

11 Fair Weather Friends Claudine’s whole life seemed to be below water. She needed to find a way to help get her head up again, just so she could catch her breath. Those Canvas pay-outs that seemed so secure were gone. She had been counting on the money to right all of the financial wrongs, help get her back on her feet again and change the way the media had portrayed her family and their beloved wrestling business. She felt like such a damned fool for believing in Toni’s grand scheme!

As she looked for a job, the bill collector calls and overdue notices were getting more and more frequent. She owed taxes on Drew’s wages in Germany, even though he never lived to bring them home. Property taxes and credit payment notices were piling up. Everything seemed so awful these days.

Desperate to hang onto her cottage, Claudine sold the last of Drew’s investments for pence on the pound, and that bit of money, along with selling her own possessions kept her going.

In a frenzy, she sorted through her wardrobe and took her best designer garments, shoes, and jewelry to a consignment boutique, paying bills and buying food with the cheques the boutique gave her whenever her pieces sold. Claudine knew she was only getting a fraction of what she had paid for the clothes initially, but the little morsels of money from the consignment store were all that was keeping her and her animals from starving as she searched for a job.

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Finally, after a few weeks, Claudine found a job in a picture framing shop. With her own affinity for art, she hoped she could find some contentment working with other people’s artwork. She was good at putting pictures and frames together, but instead, her supervisor appointed the majority of the shop’s cleaning to Claudine.

She frequently cleared away the excess broken glass, tiny staples, and paper cuttings. When she slashed her finger badly from picking up broken glass and asked if she could leave early to get it stitched up, her boss told her not to come back the next day.

“If you had been followin’ the proper steps to dispose of the broken glass, you wouldn’t have cut yourself to begin with,” her boss said. “You weren’t following procedures, so I can’t promise you’ll be compensated for missin’ work, luv. But you don’t really seem to want to be here anyway. You don’t have much of a team player attitude.”

The few weeks of unemployment that followed were brutal.

With less money coming in from the consignment shop, Claudine was forced to sell other items.

As she looked around her room for pieces that might fetch some money, her eyes fell on the antique drawing table that Drew bought for her. It was made of burled walnut wood and had little brass wheels on the legs, with little drawers where she kept rubbers, pieces of charcoal, and other supplies.

“This table has history,” Drew had said when he brought it home. “I knew it would mean more to you than a brand new one.” And he was right; it inspired Claudine to think that someone before her had drawn and painted on this same table.

But now, as she looked at it, it seemed too beautiful to belong to a woman like her.

“I don’t deserve to own such nice things,” she muttered as she carefully lugged it down the stairs and into her car with some other odds and ends. When she came home without it hours later, however, she cried.

She went to bed early and stared at the ceiling, listening to Mr. Wonderful purring into her ear. She never felt so low. Right now, Claudine felt like the dried excrement hanging on the back 117

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of a sheep’s tail…so totally unwanted. Maybe she deserved to feel that way, too. She did this all to herself, after all. She made choices and this is what became of them. She should have stood up for herself more when the first draft was read. The warning signs were there right from the beginning.

“This is all my fault, really,” she told Mr. Wonderful. He licked her cheek and went back to sleep.

That night, she dreamed about Drew coming home again.

But this time, he had Billy and Louisa with him. She walked into the kitchen and they were all standing there with Dempsey and Isabella giving them hugs and kisses. But as usual, as soon as Claudine rushed to them, they evaporated.

She woke in a cold sweat, reaching out for these family members she would never see again. Propping herself up on the headboard, she held a pillow to her face and sobbed out loud.

She couldn’t nip round to her father’s house anymore and have the comfort of a home-cooked meal in the wonderful ambience of the farm. She felt so alone, getting farther and farther out on a limb.

A few days later, Claudine found work as a proof-reader for the telephone book company. She was incredibly relieved to be working again at first, but her boss once again turned out to be a tyrant. All of the other workers were too scared of him to ask for clarity on what names, addresses, and phone numbers they were checking, and after just three days of proofreading the tiny digits, Claudine’s whole team of four was sacked for reading last year’s pages instead of the upcoming year’s pages. Two of the four former employees were contemplating filing a claim against him for wrongful dismissal.

Claudine never bothered with making any claims with the framing shop or the telephone book company, however. After what had happened with Toasty’s lawsuit, she had no desire to sue anyone, right or wrong. She shied away from confrontation and debate.

It was soon after this incident, as Claudine checked her inbox for job alerts, that she got an email from Toni. She stared at it as if it were a ghost. It would never have occurred to Claudine to contact her ever again.

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Toni’s email read: Hey my dear Claudine! We can still run with this.

Your book may be on the black list right now, but just as a book. Let’s get together and take a look to see what we can do with Canvas beyond being a book. Ernie has been working hard shopping the screenplay around, and don’t forget, I’m a very powerful player in the entertainment industry, too.

Come by the office and we will talk about some options to help you get a leg up and walking again. I’m here for you old girl. Cheers!

T Claudine blinked a few times as she looked at the email. She re-read Toni’s words, “I’m here for you old girl, and she wondered if Toni really meant it this time. She knew that Toni, who hadn’t been sued, had plenty of money. Maybe Toni would be able to give her a loan so she could get her life back on track. She needed money so desperately.

Money would save her home; it could send her back to school so she could get a better job; it could do so much to improve her position in life. She needed more than just part-time jobs here and there; she needed to upgrade her education so she could change her life and not keep living hand-to-mouth for the rest of her life. She knew money didn’t buy happiness, but it surely would help make bad things better. She wondered if people who said money didn’t really matter had ever been as desperate as she was. “I’d like to meet the lucky sod who is so broke and yet blissfully happy at the same time,” she thought bitterly.

Claudine was in the process of replying to Toni’s email when the telephone rang. Claudine answered it right away this time; it could be Dempsey or Isabella calling nowadays. They couldn’t afford to waste long-distance minutes spent listening to her answering machine.

“Hallo?” said Claudine.

“Hallo? Is that you Claude?” said a female voice on the other end.

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“Ahhh, who is this?” Claudine responded cautiously. She knew this wasn’t Toni, but she couldn’t place the voice.

“Is that you Claudine? It’s me, Claire!”

“Oh my God! Claire! How are you? I’m so glad to hear from you,” replied Claudine. Tears filled her eyes.

In truth, it had been almost 15 years since Claudine had talked to Claire, her best childhood friend aside from Drew. Claire had moved away to Spain with her family before Claudine and Drew married. She and Claudine wrote often to one another up until around the time that Isabella was born.

Claire had been working in a vineyard in Spain and going to university. Then, out of the blue, Claire had stopped answering Claudine’s mail. Claudine found out why when Claire’s mom had sent a hand-written letter.

Claudine still had it somewhere upstairs.

My dearest Claudine, I wish I never had to write this letter. It is very difficult.

Our Claire was led astray out in the outskirts of one of the vineyards she was helping out at. A sick, revolting, disgusting hooligan had his way with my daughter. He assaulted her badly. She’s been in a state of shock since it happened.

She’s gone into a home now, where she can begin to heal. I think it’s best for her, and everyone, to leave her in the care of the psychiatrists and doctors. There seems no point in our family to even stay here.

Claire’s father has found work in Australia and we will be moving down there as soon as Claire is able to travel.

Please pray for our Claire. One day, when she’s ready, I know she’ll be back in touch with you.

I hope you keep well, and God bless you and your family.

Mavis

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Drew, Claudine and Toasty had been enraged when they heard what had happened to Claire. They wanted to fly to Spain and find the beast who violated their dear friend. Unfortunately, Claudine hadn’t heard from her since. She respected Mavis’ wishes and waited for the day that Claire would call her again.

Now that Claudine had her friend on the phone, she didn’t know what to say. She was dumbfounded and shocked! She didn’t want to bring up anything that caused Claire pain, so she decided it was better to wait and see if Claire brought up the incident herself.

“I’m so sorry to hear about everythin’,” Claire was saying. “I wanted to call you or write, but I’ve been such a mess meself... and me brother Greg just told me about your mum, and Drew, and your dad. I’m so, so sorry for you. I feel dead ashamed that I’ve not been there for you.”

“Nonsense, I’m so, sooo glad to hear your voice, Claire! Are you keepin’ all right? Are you in England?”

“I’m actually over in America, in Florida, in Key Largo to be specific,” replied Claire. “I’m living like a slob and I’m bloody lovin’ it! It’s a great place to be. It took me a while to get here, but it’s all good now... but, listen Claude, I’m so sorry I lost touch with you,” Claire said, struggling to get the words out. “I didn’t know a lot about what was happenin’ with anyone, even with me own family. If I had known what you were goin’ through, I’d have left Australia to come for you. Mum told me she asked you not to write for a while, until I was better. Well, I’m better, but I wish me recovery came at a better time for you.

I’m sad to hear about Drew.”

The girls talked for an hour. Claire listened to Claudine’s story and encouraged her dear friend. Claudine was relieved to talk to someone who actually understood her.

Claire, unlike Toni, truly appreciated and understood the family dynamics of the Bonhams and she knew them all, Drew, Toasty, and Claudine, like brothers and sisters. She accepted them unconditionally.

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I can spare. I’m afraid it’s not much, maybe only enough to buy some food or petrol, but I want to help you. I am livin’ day to day, pretty much like a bloody sloth, painting on the beach and selling me work some days. I’m a strugglin’ artist, but at least it’s on me own terms.”

When Claire heard about the The Blank Canvas debacle, she offered a solution.

“I want to ask you a question. Have you considered askin’ your co-author, Toni, to rewrite The Blank Canvas to be more like what you have in mind? You can’t do too much with the book yourself because I suspect she’s got the whole thing copyrighted. Can you find out, luv, who has the copyrights?”

“Well, sure, I guess I could just check in the front of the book,” said Claudine. This thought had never even occurred to her.

“See if you can get her to help you do a rewrite, your way, and that will be a way to reach out to your Toasty,” suggested Claire. “If she won’t help you that way, ask her for a job or a loan before you agree to work with her on this screenplay. If she wants you to work with her again, she should give you some upfront money to get you sorted out. And I think you’re goin’ back to school to get certified in somethin’ that pays better is a good start. Ask her to lend you the money to take some proper schoolin’ so you can get a decent payin’ job.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” said Claudine. “She won’t help me unless there’s summat in it for her, that’s for sure.”

“I think you and I both walk to the beat o’ a different drum, so I know it’s not easy findin’ the right job,” said Claire sympathetically. “We’re too sensitive. It’s hard to cope sometimes. I feel dead hopeless, and I think you’re the same way. That’s why I’m sellin’ me artwork for peanuts on the beach in Florida so I don’t have to work for tyrants. It’s gettin’ me by though, and I’m doing it me own way, so I can’t complain. I just wish I had more money to help you. I promise though, I will send you what I can along the way.”

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would pick up where they left off the next time they chatted; it could be in six months or six days. They would always have their connection.

Feeling more confident about her decision, Claudine emailed a reply to Toni, arranging to meet her at the office and discuss The Blank Canvas options. She then crunched some numbers and figured out exactly what she wanted to ask of her former collaborator.

Walking into the Rocket Productions office the next day felt strange to Claudine.

Toni was sitting there as usual, wearing a pair of glasses with a thick black frame. She looked a bit like a severely strict librarian. “Hi there, old girl!” she said as though nothing had changed. “I was just about to open this great vintage. A pretty big celebrity, Dave Duffy, asked me to write his autobiography with him, and he gave me this bottle of Château Lafite to celebrate the deal. Can I tempt you with a glass?” Her tiny hand, red nails glistening, reached for the wine cabinet.

“No thanks,” said Claudine, pulling up a chair. “Alcohol doesn’t sit well with me lately. Actually, I have summat I need to ask you.”

“Sure old girl, eh-hem, but let me tell you my idea first, then we’ll talk,” Toni said, and winked. “We want to make Canvas into a major film production. I’ve got some big money behind me, and since only the book that was pulled, there are still screenplay options for television and movies. Ernie’s already shopping it around. And we’d love to have you on board with us, after all, it is your story.”

“But we’ll re-write it, and tell the truth this time, right?”

Claudine asked.

“Well, of course we might change a few things, but the story as it is now is what Ernie’s selling. We’ve done the lion’s share of the work already, eh-hem, old girl, so why would we re-invent the wheel when we don’t have to?” insisted Toni.

“Well, we have to re-write it. That’s what I thought we were here to talk about, and I have a few other things that I want to discuss with you,” Claudine began.

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and make things right with her family again. She also had a back-up plan which consisted of her going back to school where she learn new skills that would enable her to get a high paying job and have a better life. She told Toni that she needed a loan of £3000 right away for her mortgage, immediate bills, and education, promising she would pay it all back when she got on her feet again.

She also said that if Toni was willing to work with her, together they could work on the Blank Canvas screenplay with Toni and even assist with film production down the road if necessary as long as she was paid for her time and ideas. The screenplay had to be based on the truth, not on the original Blank Canvas version that basically ruined Claudine’s life.

Toni listened, the vintage wine forgotten now, bored as she examined her acrylic nails while Claudine assertively spoke.

Claudine tried to keep her emotions in check, though it was very hard for her to not get upset when she explained how difficult the past few years had been and how devastating it would be for her to lose her home.

“I am not interested in re-writing Canvas, old girl,” Toni interrupted after a few minutes. “I’m very busy, and I just got this important new contract. Also, I make it a rule to never lend any money to friends. I know you’ll find a way to get the money.

You’re a smart girl. Why don’t you ask your brother for the money? He got all the book’s revenues. I heard he’s going to use it to resurrect your father’s promotion,” she cackled with disrespect.

Toni’s cackle burned through Claudine. “If Toasty does use the Canvas settlement to help IWF, then it wasn’t all for nothing, right?”

Claudine looked up at Toni, still shocked at her callus response. “Toni, I am on the verge of losin’ me cottage and it is the only place in the world I have left to go to,” she pleaded. “It’s the only thing I still have from me whole life. It’s me family’s home! I have animals that I take care of that live there with me.

I need to get a decent paying job, and if you would help me…”

Toni shook her head, her black hair swaying slightly.

“Claudine, I won’t lend you money, eh hem. I don’t lend money to friends, period. I wish you weren’t in this position of needing 124

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to save your home, but that’s not my fault. Besides, what would you do after that, for the next month? You would just ask me for another hand-out. I don’t see the point in redoing the book.

If I do a Blank Canvas film, it will be based on the book as it is written now, not a rewritten bubble-gum and soda pop version of it, which is what I presume you hope to have it turned into.”

Claudine opened her mouth to reply, but Toni cut her off with a wave of her miniature clawed hand.

“Old girl, your family, well, your brother anyway, is the one who sued you, so don’t get snippy with me for not helping you keep your home. I mean, are you even sure you want to keep it? Maybe you should sell it and move on! And why bother with computer courses that will hold you up for six months?”

Toni’s eyes lit up devilishly. “Maybe you should take up house cleaning! It’s a no-brainer job. I could get you some clients right away, but you would have to a brief criminal check.”

“Okay, Toni, can I say this without being cut off?” Claudine interrupted. “You came out unscathed when the book got yanked off the shelves, and the exposure helped you launch your career as a half-baked author. You waltzed out of the whole stinkin’ lawsuit smellin’ like a rose while I got sued. I need to know summat else too – I checked it in the contract, but I need to hear it from you. I don’t own the rights to the book, do I?” “Well, of course not,” said Toni, looking genuinely surprised.

“Did you think you did?”

“So,” said Claudine, pacing, “I can’t even use the book now, even if I wanted to, unless I have your permission to do so, because you have the entire bloody thing copyrighted. I don’t even have the copyrights to my own autobiography. I wish I had never helped you write it. It ostracized me from my family while you went merrily along, prosperin’ nicely, and now here I am now without my husband and both parents gone and my life, as I knew it, gone too. And you made it so much worse.

You’ve broken up a family, me own great family, by deliberately representin’ us in such a brutal way.”

Toni stood up and looked up at Claudine, wearing an expression like that of a schoolteacher chastising a bad student.

“I’m not listening to this anymore,” she said. “As egotistical as you think I am, you sound like you’re pretty sure all my success 125

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is due to you, which is not the case. I have helped many people along the way to get what they want, and I got what I wanted too; that’s just good business. Why do you want to resurrect this book that caused you so much aggravation anyway? Your story has already been told. No one cares about it anymore. As far as your sad old cottage goes, I simply refuse take responsibility for your hopeless situation.”

After a few more terse exchanges with Toni, Claudine left the meeting furious. As her anger subsided, there was a sense of relief that she was not embarking on some crazy movie deal or ever be indebted to Toni because she had borrowed money from her.

For the next few months, Claudine found work wherever she could, from serving tea at the Catholic Club during bingo or cider and ale to customers who were playing darts. She cleaned toilets, sold shoes, bagged groceries, applied skin care products on hands and swept up hair off the floor at salons. Some of the jobs were very doable, but then some people she worked with were mean and nosy, asking why she was so broke despite her famous last name. Nevertheless, she managed to keep her home heated, her car running, and buy food for herself and keep her animals happy.

With Claire’s support and encouragement, Claudine started to write her life story again in her spare time. The two of them talked several times a month. Although it was difficult for Claudine to focus, she would write for hours on end. The rewriting process was more frustrating than she anticipated. She had to be very careful not to infringe on any of Toni’s copyrighted words, which infuriated Claudine every step of the way, because so many of the expressions used in The Blank Canvas were hers or her family’s to begin with. Sometimes at the end of a long writing session nothing had really been accomplished. She just seemed to go around and around, caught in a whirlpool of memories.

Finally, one day, she stepped away from the whole undertaking. It was draining the life out of her, and she needed to get on with the rest of her life.

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12 Never Underestimate Your Opponent One year later, at Christmastime, the kids both managed to come home and spend a couple of weeks with their mum. She felt like a lost cat whose owners finally found it again when she had her children back home. The three musketeers were together again with their animals, all safe and sound in their own little cottage.

They were watching the movie Home Alone on the television when they were interrupted.

Rap rap rap rap! Dempsey got up and looked out the side window. He immediately recognized the severe black haircut and contrasting white fur coat, knocking at their front door and clutching an oversized wicker basket wrapped in way too much clear cellophane. It was Toni!

“Mum, there’s a monster at the door! It’s Toni Orr!” Dempsey exclaimed. “What’s she want?”

“I can’t believe she’s got the nerve to show her face around here!” scoffed Isabella, joining Dempsey at the window.

Claudine wondered what fresh hell was waiting behind her door. Toni’s brisk door knocking sounded like a desperate woodpecker. She shook her head in disgust, looking at her children incredulously.

Reluctantly she opened the door to see Toni boldly standing there, holding the big basket of cellophane wrapped wares. As 127

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usual, Toni’s hair was perfectly styled and she wore a designer scarf tied like an ascot around her neck. She looked so contrived to Claudine. Through the cellophane, she could see a ridiculous assortment of overpriced Christmas goodies inside the basket: glass jars of beet root, olive and truffle oils, sweet and spicy jalapeno gherkins, beer mustard, biscuits, packets of assorted nuts still in the shell, toffees, chocolate liquor-filled bonbons, a bottle of brandy, and a bottle of red wine. None of these items were practical for her family. Claudine wondered if perhaps it had been re-gifted because they were things her family would not have needed or wanted, especially with their present lifestyle.

Claudine’s life was quite different these days than the last time she saw Toni. She was very thin, and her hair was simply tied back in a loose plat. She had no make-up, and was dressed in her pajamas. Her plain appearance was vastly different from Toni’s overdone get-up.

“Eh hem,” said Toni as soon as the door opened, her eyes roving critically over Claudine. “Before you say anything, I just want to tell you how much I’ve missed you, old girl. I brought you and the kids a love-and-care package. Everyone at Rocket threw in a few quid and bought you a bit of this and a bit of that.”

She looked with morbid curiosity through the partially open doorway.

“And I have some amazing updates that I have to tell in person about the Canvas film production,” she continued. “We’re ready to really get things started now and I’m as serious as a heart attack when I tell you that we have Manchester United’s latest recruit, that American lad, Dave Duffy who is still very keen on investing in the project. We are hoping to cast his wife as you.

But she will only do it if you agree to come on board, endorse her, and coach her through it. She is quite the perfectionist, and she wants to do it right by having you on-board. So, she and her husband are both in, but only if you’re in, and I know how much you need money, old girl. This could really help your cause!”

She started to push the basket into Claudine’s arms, attempting to shove her way through the front door. “It’s heavy.

Do you mind if I come in and sit down? I can’t stay long.”

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Claudine took the basket from Toni and still stood in front of the door, blocking her from entering her home.

Dempsey and Isabella were now standing in the stairway, out of Toni’s view, watching to see what was going to happen next.

Claudine looked at the basket again and then at Toni.

Toni seemed to ooze with even more than her usual amount of arrogance and insensitivity. She smiled in what she clearly thought was a charming manner and tried to push herself a couple of steps more inside the Bellamy cottage.

Claudine watched the toe of her shiny boot approach the threshold and conviction seized her.

Before Toni could take another step, Claudine pushed her right back out the door. She lifted the big basket of impractical goods over her head and slammed it with all her might all to the ground, right at Toni’s feet. There was a crash and a resounding smash of glass breaking, along with a horrible high-pitched squeal from Toni. Pickle and beet juice, wine and jam, olive oil, truffles, everything in the basket shattered and splattered everywhere, including all over Toni’s white fur coat and perfectly set hair.

“You are unbelievable.” said Claudine, her eyes ablaze.

“You’re always trying to snake your way into people’s lives.

You took advantage of me, Toni. You saw how vulnerable I was.

I was in no frame of mind to be writin’ my autobiography so soon after me mum and Drew died, but I trusted you. And when I asked for your help, you flat-out refused to help me.”

Adrenaline shot through Claudine as she gave Toni a long overdue piece of her mind. “I wish I had never met you. You defecated all over me life. I can’t believe you have the nerve to come to me home, the place you wouldn’t lend me the money to make mortgage payments on, and ask me to go into business with you again. I will never work on any project with you ever again. I’ll never endorse this movie, and once people figure out that I’m not involved, they’ll tell you to piss off. Now get the hell off me property, you rotten witch.”

Toni, busily trying to wipe herself off, looked at Claudine with contempt. “Obviously you are still thinking you’re the victim, and you always will be because the victim because you 129

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are bloody stupid.” she spat. “You should never look a gift horse in the mouth, especially this one. You are a complete loser. I was offering you something nice because it’s Christmas and I was feeling generous, but never again. Your perverted life story will get made into a film, I promise you that, eh hem, and you and your broken-down lunatic brother can’t stop me.”

Toni maniacally waved her little shrew-like claws in the air, trying to flick pickle juice and wine out of her hair as she shuffled back to her car.

As Claudine watched Toni make a hasty and undignified departure, Dempsey and Isabella rushed up and immediately started to clean up the chunks of broken glass covering the front step.

“Go sit down, Mum. We’ll get this. You’ll cut your feet,” Dempsey insisted.

But Claudine stood there in the doorway, barefooted and cold. She seemed stunned. “Your granddad used to say, ‘never overestimate the power of yourself or underestimate the power of your opponent,” she told her children. “One of these days, by fluke or skill, that monster will overestimate herself and underestimate her opponent, and she’ll get hers.”

Carefully, Claudine stepped around the broken glass and onto the stone-cold footpath that ran along the side of her house.

She began picking up chunks of glass and food, tossing them in the bin as she went. The night was bitingly cold, and sleet was blowing through the air.

“I think that just happened, Mum. You’re harder than you think,” said Isabella, smiling proudly as she continued to pick up rubbish.

“Yah, like a cauliflower ear,” Dempsey concluded. They looked around for more debris, but together they had already cleaned the dangerous glass up.

“Thanks,” Claudine said bashfully. “You two are tough too.

I pity the person who underestimates either of you.” A look of satisfaction swept across her face. “Funny what a good, old fashioned basket-smashin’ can do. I haven’t felt this this good in a while.”

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Together they stepped back into their happy, humble home.

Dempsey shut the door firmly, saying adamantly, “I think that’s the last we’ll see of that awful creature! Well done, Mum!” Claudine gratefully took hold of her children and hugged them tightly. “Thanks for helpin’ me clean up me mess,” she said in a shaky voice. They hugged her back just as tight.

Although nothing really changed, suddenly Claudine felt the future was brighter and clearer. She finally felt like things were going to turn around for her and was grateful for the beautiful mess that was her life.

131

13 Aaron Claudine waited in the arrival terminal of the Manchester Airport, tiptoeing as she tried to spot her son. Happiness bubbled up inside of her. It had been over five years since Dempsey left for Japan. Now he was a real man, and coming back home for good. He was easy to find; he was 6’5” and weighed 18 stone now, the spitting image of his father, except even taller and bigger.

Claudine could hardly wait to see him and tell him about Isabella’s latest off-Broadway play in New York! The Manchester International Airport never seemed so lovely as it did that day.

“It’s so nice to have you back, Demps!” she said, wiping a tear away as she hugged him tightly around his waist.

“Oh, it’s nice to be back too, Mum!” said Dempsey, wrapping her in his big arms. “I really missed you!” He gave her a good squeeze before letting her go, “Mum, I want you to meet me trainer. This is Aaron Gabriel.”

She offered her hand to the man at Dempsey’s side, who she had only just noticed. He was shorter than her son but was clearly a wrestler too, with big muscles that spoke of countless hours in the gym and ring. He had close-cropped light blonde hair, giving him a military look that was only emphasized by the many scars that dotted his exposed skin, including a big one above his left eyebrow. His eyes were a blue-green colour, and 132

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he had an intense gaze that made her feel like she was being X-rayed.

“I’ve heard tremendous things about you from Dempsey and Takeshi,” she said, grasping Aaron’s hand and trying to bury her nerves. “I’m dead grateful to you for coachin’ Demps over in Japan. From what I have heard, you two have become quite good friends.”

What her son actually told her was how regimented and unyielding Aaron was when he trained him. Dempsey explained that his trainer’s patience was immense, except when he was pushing him to train harder in the gym. As a fighter, his son felt this helped him to graduate to higher plateaus over their many months spent together in Japan. Dempsey was his protégé and Aaron began mentoring him in earnest for professional competitions. He found mean, ugly, tough sparring partners for his student and when the lad could beat them he would find even meaner, uglier, tougher and bigger blokes. Dempsey’s belief in himself grew as he progressed and Aaron never let him lose his confidence; but he never made anything easy for Dempsey either. He continually challenged him by gradually bringing him up to the next level. He knew Dempsey had the heart for sure, and the instinct to go very far; he just needed the application and the knowledge, which Aaron had and could teach him. The combination of these two men’s capabilities and fighting spirits was the formula for ultimate success.

The big, soft-spoken Texan responded with a smile, his mouth turning up more at one corner than the other. “It’s real good to meet you, too,” he said in a strong southern drawl. He slowly let go of her hand, which he had held longer than she had expected.

“Hey, Jumbo, let’s get movin’ on outta here!” he said.

Dempsey grinned and said to his mum, “Oh, Aaron calls me Jumbo sometimes.”

It was wonderful to see her son again after what seemed like five years of forever, and now she was meeting, for the first time, the man who had become a father figure to him. Aaron was going to be staying in her home for a couple of weeks, along with Dempsey. No man, aside from those in her own family, had 133

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stayed in her house since Drew passed away, but she tried not to overthink it.

Dempsey and Aaron had spent the past three years in the Japanese pro–wresting circuit after Dempsey had endured two grueling years in the dojo. When he left the dojo, he met Aaron through Takeshi, the scout who originally brought Dempsey to Japan. Aaron had his sacred red armband in Muay Thai instruction and trained in the dojo in his younger days as well. Takeshi thought it was a good idea for Dempsey to enhance his career even more and learn Muay Thai principles from Aaron. Their training relationship was the basis of their strong friendship. Even though Aaron was nearly two decades older than Dempsey, they did seem quite compatible, Claudine thought as she watched them chatting.

Heads turned inside the airport as people looked twice at Claudine’s big, handsome son and his trainer. A small, elderly man collecting baggage carts inside the terminal even stopped Dempsey and asked for his autograph.

“You’re them fighters coming here for CrazyBest!” said the man excitedly.

“I can tell by your size and ‘is ears. I was always a big fan of Billy Bonham’s; crickey he was tough as nails,” he said, pointing to Aaron. “So which ones are you?”

“I’m Jumbo’s trainer, comin’ from Japan. And this guy, Jumbo here, he’s Drew Bellamy’s boy,” said Aaron. The fan suddenly became tongue-tied and looked at Dempsey with awe.

“Bloody hell! You’re Drew Bellamy’s lad? My word! You look jus’ like him, you do! I was a huge fan of yer dad’s too.

What an honour! And then you must be Mrs. Bellamy?” he asked in a more refined manner, facing Claudine.

“Yes, Drew was me husband and Dempsey is me son,” she said proudly. “Billy Bellamy was me father.”

“Well, can I your shake yer hand?” asked the man excitedly.

They all shook hands and both men signed autographs for the cart collector. As they headed towards the exit doors, he shouted emotionally, “Good luck at CrazyBest, son! I’ll be rootin’ for ya.

God bless!”

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Tournament took place. This tournament was Toasty’s brainchild, and he had been planning it for nearly four years. It would be a combination of martial arts, combatives, grappling and submission wrestling (which uses submission holds to force your opponent submit either by suffocation or tapping out). Kicking, closed-fisted strikes, suplexes, throws and head butting would be allowed; but there was an unstated respect for one’s opponent, and biting, gauging, open-hand hits, and lowblows would not be allowed. For Toasty, this exhibition was his version of the UGA tournament in Germany; the one he was not invited to because he was too small, and not a heavyweight like Drew was. Toasty always felt remorse and regretted this because, unfortunately, it was Drew’s last tour. He never made it back alive.

CrazyBest was also Toasty’s last chance to prove to the members of the UGA, which was gaining in it’s popularity these days, that he knew how to shoot-fight and could promote it very well. Toasty had been training with a vengeance for as long as Dempsey had been training in Japan. In spite of his age and many injuries, he was determined to win. He stubbornly wanted to show everyone that he was the toughest wrestler in the world in any weight class. After this WrestleFest, Toasty would hang up his wrestling boots forever but continue training new talent and promoting the IWF. Despite the cold war between the uncle and his nephew, Toasty couldn’t refuse Dempsey a spot in the competition.

Dempsey was a big name now and had easily met all of the entrance requirements. The young grappler had been preparing for something like this for some time now. This was his chance to win and rightfully take his place as the greatest fighter in the world.

Claudine noticed a few more heads turn as they walked made their way towards the car.

Dempsey had barely fit into Claudine’s old Ford Cortina when he was fifteen. Now, as a mature wrestler, it was an even tighter fit. Since Aaron wasn’t exactly petite either, it was a snug but fun drive home.

“So, how are things here, Mum?” asked Dempsey during the ride. “Are you still workin’ at the co-op?”

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“Yea, and that’s fine,” said Claudine. “Just stockin’ shelves and runnin’ the cash, mostly. It’s not so bad.” She didn’t tell him that her feet ached at the end of the day from standing for nearly eight hours straight, or that, just that morning, Mrs. Click had given her a hard time when she asked if she could leave early to pick up her son from the airport. She was too happy to see her boy to think about any of that.

“Oh, that’s good, Mum. I guess it’s better than nothin’,” said Dempsey, trying and failing to stop his knees from digging into the dashboard.

When they pulled up to the quaint old cottage, the animals were excited as usual. Emily the Donkey brayed and Cicero the Rooster crowed loudly. Old Sally was barking frantically from inside the house, peering out the window.

“Oh yah, there’s no place like home, eh,” said Dempsey with a big smile on his face.

“How many hands high is that donkey? Maybe we could have you lifting it up over yer head, son?” jeered Aaron. “Glad ah didn’t bring my alarm clock; that ol’ bird will do the job for me,” he added.

“Oh the animals will be so happy to see ya, Demps. They’ve really missed ya an’ Isabella too. They’ll remember ya when they see ya, I promise,” Claudine excitedly interjected.

Once inside the house, Sally whipped Dempsey on his legs with her fast-wagging tail, jumping all over him and licking his face when he bent down to kiss her.

“Oh, Sally, ya silly girl! C’mere ya big softie! C’mere! Did ya miss me? Oh yes, I can see that! Awwwe, I missed ya too!

Oh, yes Sal, I missed ya! Yes, I did!” Dempsey cooed at the Bull Terrier.

“She’s gotten a little heavier since ya was last home. She still moves ‘round pretty good though. It’s just not as much fun for her without you kids here. They don’t mind me, but I’m like their consolation prize. Mr. Wonderful, well, he doesn’t mind, because he belongs to everyone. Sally, well, she was Drew’s dog, and then Dempsey’s after that. She likes the boys best,” Claudine explained.

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As if on que, Mr. Wonderful sauntered into the front room.

He paused when he made his entrance and immediately noticed Dempsey patting Sally.

“Rawwl!” meowed Mr. Wonderful. He walked right over to his old friend and nudged up against Dempsey’s legs.

“Oh, look at you! You’ve gotten even fatter!” Dempsey said, reaching down to scoop up the cobby feline. “Hang on, Sally!

I get back to ya in a minute. I gotta be fair and say hello to everyone, right.”

Mr. Wonderful was immediately worked up into a purring frenzy, headbutting Dempsey and pawing at his face politely.

“Bloody hell, Mum, what are ya feedin’ him? He must weigh two stone, seriously!” said Dempsey, almost proudly.

After they settled in, Dempsey made some coffee, and Claudine invited Aaron to try out the big chesterfield in the sitting room. He sat down and stifled a yawn. “Maybe I’ll grab some zzz’s when we get settled and then ya’ll can talk. I’m damn tired,” he said.

Claudine peered at Aaron out of the corner of her eye as she cleaned clutter off of the table. He had an interesting look to him, and he sported the same number two buzz cut that Drew used to get, making them look nearly bald and somewhat menacing. Drew, who usually had long curly hair, sometimes shaved his head for the hot Japanese or South Seas tours where the weather was balmy and tropical; it was his best form of air conditioning. By the time Drew got back home after four or five weeks, though, his hair had grown back into beautiful shiny curls. Claudine tried to picture Aaron with long hair. She had never seen his face close-up before, other than in pictures of him and Dempsey locked up in wrestling holds, so it was hard to imagine how longer hair would suit him. As she started looking at Aaron more openly, Claudine could not help but reach out to the scar above his eyebrow as if she wanted to take care of it, even though it was a scar long healed. “How did that happen?” she asked.

“Oh, a head butt when ah was fightin’ on the mat,” he drawled casually. “Ah didn’t really even feel it, and when they stopped the fight ah didn’t know why. Ah didn’t know ah was bleedin’ so 137

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much. See, the other guy, he head-butted me to get me to break my hold. He got his wish, I reckon. It’s okay now, but the scar makes the one eye look way older than the other,” he said with a bit of a smile.

Dempsey joined them, carefully trying to manage a crowded tray with three large mugs brimming with hot coffee. “Here, Aaron, a nice hot, hot brew o’ coffee for you, with six sugars and plenty of cream. That should keep you sharp for a while longer so we can all get caught up.”

Aaron looked knowingly at Dempsey who knew he wanted to go to sleep, but he didn’t protest.

“Say, is there any ice to cool this cuppa joe down?” asked Aaron.

Claudine jumped up and hurried into the back kitchen.

She grabbed ice cubes out of the freezer for her new guest and glanced up at the clock. It was nearly midnight but she was not tired because she was so excited to have her son back home.

Tomorrow was her day off anyway.

When she returned to the front room, Aaron looked up and smiled. “Claudine, ah gotta say, yer son’s a monster fighter! Ah think maybe ah better not get him real, real mad, only just a bit mad. He’s damned scary sometimes, yer boy, but he’s a good son too.”

“Thank you.” Claudine said proudly.

Dempsey smiled bashfully and immediately directed the conversation away from himself. “So Mum, do you think Aaron can stay in Isabella’s room? I’m goin’ to have to rent a car, do you know a good place for that? And where’s the closest gym, these days?”

“Isabella’s room is all set up for Aaron. As fer hiring a car, there’s a new Avis right in the centre of town now; ya can’t miss it. And yer dad used to train at Paddy Roach’s Gym. I think it’s still around. I’d give ‘em a try first,” she suggested.

Within the hour, Claudine, Dempsey and Aaron were all asleep in the front room with the television flashing recorded matches from Japan. Claudine awakened and gently nudged Dempsey to say she was going up to bed. She gave him a big hug and kiss. She gave Aaron a subtle pat on his shoulder, so as 138

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not to awaken him, and went upstairs. From behind her bedroom door, she heard the television shut off and the creaking of the stairs as her huge son and his new houseguest went into their rooms. Before Claudine fell asleep, she thanked God and Drew for seeing her son through everything so well.

139

14 You Might Think I Saved You, But You Saved Me Claudine was up early the next morning, making a brew of coffee for herself, when Aaron came down. He was dressed in a short-sleeved t–shirt, and Claudine could see in the daylight that Aaron had some pretty major scars on his arms, not just the one across his eyebrow.

“Mornin’! Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Like a rock,” he said, stretching his muscular arms over his head and yawning.

“Pardon me curiosity, but did you get all those scars from fighting over in Japan?” asked Claudine.

“Nope, not in Japan. Say, do ya have coffee?” he asked.

“Sure. How do you like your coffee?”

“Cream, please, and if ya got any artificial sweetener?”

“I’ll find summat for you, let me check in the drawers.”

As she poured his coffee, Aaron revealed only a few sparse details about his scars. He pointed to several places all over his torso, providing only a brief description of where he had gotten each one. Claudine also had to pay close attention to what he said because of his strong Texas accent. “Well, this first big ‘un on mah left shoulder, happened in the Middle East after ah joined the US Army. Ah earned this ‘un on my gut over there too, and this ugly scar on my elbow ah got in Turkey, and this

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‘un on when I tore my bicep when ah was trainin’ fer a grapplin’ fight back home in Texas, and this ‘un....”

She handed him his coffee and a spoon. Just before she could get the ice cubes, he took a sip. “Ahhh, can ya cool this down some?” he asked, licking his top lip. “Ah like mah coffee with a lil’ ice.”

“I was just goin’ to get you some ice. Sorry about that.”

She dropped a couple of ice cubes into his big cup. Hot coffee splashed onto his hand.

“Oops. Sorry!” Claudine said, grabbing a napkin.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it; yer boy does it to me all the time, and besides, ah got so many injuries, ah could go on all day...A little hot coffee splash ain’t gonna make no difference, ma’am,” said Aaron with his grin. He stirred the coffee as the ice cubes quickly melted. “Hey, Claudine, ah need to get somewhere that’ll exchange mah money. Can ya take me into town if yer not busy this mornin’? Ah have uh feelin’ Dempsey won’t be getting’ up fer uh while, he’s not much of a mornin’ person.”

“Sure, we can go anytime,” answered Claudine “I don’t have to work today.”

They left directly after they finished their coffee; Aaron grabbed a canned protein shake out of his gym bag as they headed out the door. The morning weather was grey and quite chilly for June. The grass in the meadows was vibrant green against the grey, almost slate-coloured background of the sky. It was rather beautiful, how the grass was brighter so much than the sky.

The short drive into town passed quickly as they chatted about the scenery and what Aaron could expect to find in Chester. It was very pleasant, and Aaron seemed to enjoy letting Claudine do all the talking. She felt quite sociable that morning, and was glad to have a friendly, listening ear.

As they made their way to the Bank of Scotland, Claudine explained how different Chester was from London, where her daughter Isabella lived. “I visited London quite often to see Isabella, so I’m comfortable travelling there, but five years ago, I wouldn’t ‘ave taken it on; too big fer me. But at the moment she’s in New York working on an off-Broadway play.”

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“Wow, you must be real proud of her. Anythin’ to do with Broadway’s a big deal for an actor. New York is a tough city; how’s she doin’ over there?” asked Aaron.

“Oh, things are pickin’ up now for her. The reviews are gettin’ ‘round that it’s a smashin’ production, so the crowds are a little better all the time,” said Claudine. “Isabella’s a very good actress, proper good at improvisation, so she’s a dead natural when it comes to bein’ on stage. She likes the challenge of no retakes in live theatre,” Claudine praised.

The bank parking lot was small and usually full, but today they were lucky to pull in and find a spot just big enough for her car. “I will come in with you, just to make sure things are fine.

You can use me as a reference, in case they need an address or summat,” offered Claudine. As they walked around to the front of the building, a cold wind hit them and rain spattered onto their unprotected heads.

“June is supposed to be sunny!” Claudine laughingly complained as they hurried to the door.

Once they got into the bank, Claudine read her horoscope in the daily newspaper while Aaron talked to the clerk. Her usual habit was to read Isabella’s, Dempsey’s, and Drew’s too. It wasn’t long before the bank clerk converted Aaron’s American dollars to British pounds and he was ready to go.

“That didn’t take long,” said Aaron. “Thank ya, Claudine.

Now, do ya know somewhere where ah can go get a phone card, and maybe some converter cords for mah cell phone and laptop?

Ah can’t get any of mah plugs and cords to work in the wall sockets ya’ll got here.”

“I know what you mean — the amps and the cords are different here than they are in Japan, and probably different than the American ones too. I am not sure at this moment where to get the proper adaptors, but I’ll find out for you. Perhaps a luggage shop?”

They headed back out into rain and wind. As they walked around the corner, Claudine saw out of the corner of her eye a little animal – a kitten. It was sitting all on its own, trying to get some shelter under a little bush that seemed to be shivering too.

The kitten looked truly helpless.

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“Oh my God! Look!” She pointed to the kitten. She and Aaron both gently approached it. When they got closer, they could see that the kitten was just skin and bones. No bigger than Claudine’s hand, it couldn’t have been more than a month old. It was so tiny that its head weighed nearly as much as its soaking wet, muddy body, and it kept tipping forward when it tried to stand.

“C’mon, c’mon. Don’t be scared. We won’t hurt you,” Claudine said in a soothing voice, reaching for the animal.

The kitten just sat there like it was in shock, shaking violently.

Claudine picked it up and immediately put it inside her coat, right up next to her heart. Aaron helped her into the car.

When they were all inside the car, Claudine opened her coat a little.

“Let me look at its eyes,” Aaron said. He cupped the tiny kitten’s face in his hand. “It’s pretty young, ah’d say, maybe four weeks.”

“We have to take her to a vet straight away, before we go to get your phone card, before we do anything else,” said Claudine.

“I hope you don’t mind, but this is an emergency. This poor little thing needs our help.” The kitten meowed a bit under her coat, but it wasn’t protesting too much. It worked its way down to Claudine’s lap where it sat, shaking quietly. “I wish I had some food to give her now,” said Claudine.

“How do you know it’s a girl?” asked Aaron. With one hand, he gently took the kitten from Claudine’s lap. In the other hand, he shook the can of protein shake and opened it, pulling back the tab and carefully dipping his finger into the frothy liquid.

“Oh, I just know it’s a girl. Poor baby, it’s a shame, isn’t it?”

Claudine said, as she started the car.

“Are ya hungry, sweetheart?” he asked the kitten. He held his finger to its nose. Immediately the little animal licked his finger clean and then meowed and meowed for more. “That’s a good sign; looks like she’s a fighter,” said Aaron, and he continued to feed the kitten his protein drink as Claudine drove. The tiny animal dug her sharp, little claws into his big hand, demanding more food.

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“Look at the poor little thing,” said Claudine. “The very idea of someone declawin’ a kitten like this, when their claws are their main form of defense, is ridiculous! Some selfish owners will pay a lot of quid to have the poor cat’s claws yanked out of its paws, yet somehow they won’t spend the money to have the animals spayed or neutered. Maybe people like that should have their own fingernails and first knuckles ripped out permanently, too.” She hoped that Aaron wasn’t the type to hurt an animal like that, but she wasn’t sure. She waited to hear what he said.

“Little cats are just like the big wild cats; they all need their claws. And ya know somethin’ ah heard about a cat scratchin’ furniture,” said Aaron. “It’s real cool! The cat was actually drawin’ out a picture with his claws. And cats usually go to the same places to scratch. They don’ scratch everythin,’ just certain things and in certain places. They scratch out a pattern, like it’s somethin’ they’re drawin’ from their imaginations. Ah find that stuff real interestin’. I’d like to do a big ol’ study on imaginations of animals.”

She could see he had a unique sense of humour and was very insightful. She liked that about him.

“Many of the animals I know, I like and trust better than many people I know,” said Claudine, relieved that Aaron seemed to share her appreciation and affection for the animal kingdom. “One of me favourite quotes is from a man named Thomas Moore. He’s sort of an animal whisperer, and a multidimensional healer. Anyway, his quote goes something like this: “the earth’s not a platform for human life...and the earth’s a living being. We’re not on it, but we’re part of it...and its health is our health.” I like that quote because we do share this planet with animals, too. It’s not just ours.”

The rain was pouring down heavily now; it was a proper summer thunderstorm; so much so that it was not easy to see the roads clearly. At the moment, Claudine was on a mission and was always comfortable driving in any kind of inclement weather. She drove along the narrow, winding, slippy roads, which she knew so well, without apprehension. The windscreen wipers went back and forth at full speed, barely moving the rain away to negotiate a clear view.

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“Please keep yer eyes on the road, darlin’, cuz yer drivin’ kind of fast and yer lookin’ all over the place,” Aaron said, cautiously as he looked worriedly at her and then the kitten. The little cat stood up and walked to wherever Aaron’s finger was, digging her claws into his pants to balance her wobbly body as he dotingly fed her all the way to the animal hospital. Claudine was mildly amused at how this big Hercules type could be scared by her driving and held captive by a little kitten.

Claudine slowed down but continued to glance over at Aaron, trying hard to make sure he didn’t see her take her eyes off the road. His large hands reminded her of Drew and her dad, who had big hands too. During one of her brief glances, she spotted another terrible scar on the inside of his right forearm.

She hadn’t noticed it before, despite how obvious it was now.

This incredible scar was as thick as her finger and about a foot long. It looked like a gigantic wishbone under his skin, running the length of his forearm and then reaching up into his bicep, disappearing under his tee-shirt sleeve.

“How did you get that huge scar?” Claudine asked in amazement.

“Ah got that in the war,” said Aaron. “But ah’ll tell ya another time. Ah should probably get to know ya better before ah tell ya how ah almost lost mah arm, but the arm’s okay now, thank God. My hand’s always a bit numb, though.” He smiled.

“Oh, gee!” said Claudine. All of a sudden, she was very fascinated with Aaron. He looked very different to her now.

The man met the night before seemed quite intimidating. The kind way he presently approached the kitten was wonderful.

Everything about him, including his shaved head, cauliflower ears, scars, and strange accent, was suddenly so intriguing to her.

Claudine looked over at Aaron again and imagined that if things were different and Drew was alive, he and Aaron would be friends. Aaron looked over, his eyes flashing more gold than blue-green. “Now ya keep yer pretty blue eyes on the road and ah’ll keep mah blue eyes on the kitten,” he teased her.

“Oh, sorry,” said Claudine, a little embarrassed. “I was just thinkin’ how lucky it was that you were getting your money exchanged this mornin.’ If we hadn’t been there at that time, we 145

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probably would not have seen her and, well, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened to her. What a nice coincidence, I guess is what I’m trying to say,” she stammered.

“Ya know, there ain’t really such things as coincidences,” Aaron said frankly. “Everything’s part of the big picture and we ain’t got no control of it. It’s all up to God. God gives us the choices. We don’t always do the right things with them choices, but life is what happens through the choices we make.”

Claudine reflected for a moment on Aaron’s words. “Did you ever meet my husband?” she asked randomly.

“No, ma’am,” Aaron replied. “Never had that honour, but no one’ll forget about yer husband Drew in a hurry. Not over in Japan, that’s fer sure! Drew Bellamy’s like a, a… an immortal superhero there. He’s on the DVDs and still on television over there, too. He’ll live on forever, ya know.”

“Oh, look, there’s the animal hospital!” Claudine blurted out, almost missing the turn. Aaron bumped his head on the roof of the car as she made a sharp left into the parking lot, driving over the curb. “Sorry about that; sorry to both of you,” apologized Claudine, addressing the kitten as well as Aaron.

“It’s all right, but ya gotta be careful, darlin’,” said Aaron, smiling. “Here, you carry ‘er in an’ be like her mamma. An’ I’ll get yer door open for ya.” He carefully handed the mewing kitten back over to Claudine. Taking the little cat carefully in her hands, Claudine opened her jacket and tucked her in close to her body. The rain poured down on them as they climbed out of the car.

Inside the clinic, they were greeted by a very peppy young clerk. “Good mornin’. Raining cats and dogs out there!” she laughed with a snort. “Pickin’ up or droppin’ off?”

“Well, I guess we are droppin’ off,” said Claudine.

“Right. Do you have an appointment for this morning?”

“No,” said Claudine as she opened her jacket and began to explain that they found the poor little kitten just a few minutes ago outside at the bank’s car park. “I think she will die if a doctor doesn’t look at her straight away,” stressed Claudine, protectively patting the kitten’s muddy little head.

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“Right. Well, the vet is booked all day,” said the clerk, opening her eyes wide as if to put emphasis on the fact that they did not have a scheduled appointment. Claudine noticed that the woman didn’t even bother to look at the shivering kitten. “Let me just take a quick look–see and maybe he can come take a peek at your kitten.” She disappeared behind a flat white door that closed tightly behind her.

Claudine quietly mumbled to Aaron that the clerk didn’t have enough courage to look the kitten in the face. She was peering into its huge green eyes as Aaron stepped closer to hear her. Reaching into her coat, he scratched the kitten’s tiny back.

“It’ll be okay,” he reassured her. “The doctor’ll come out.

You’ll see.”

The clerk came back out. “The veterinarian says he should be able to spare a few minutes at some point. Please have a seat for now and I’ll call you up when he’s ready.”

They waited, the little kitten mewing inside Claudine’s coat.

When a few more animals whimpered and whined as they and their owners walked in, the kitten dug her sharp tiny claws into Claudine’s skin in response. Aaron could tell there was some commotion going on inside of the coat. “‘Scuse me,” he asked the attending assistant. “Could we wait somewhere more private, like? The animal noises are upsettin’ our kitten.”

The assistant looked Aaron up and down. “Of course,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him and smiling. “Right this way.”

In the empty examination room, Claudine held the kitten close. The cat did seem to be a lot calmer now.

At last, the veterinarian came into the room, the flirtatious assistant following close behind.

“I’m Dr. Cameron Morris, the veterinarian on duty today,” he said dryly. “And it seems you’ve already met my veterinary assistant, Jane Blackstone. Please put the animal on the observation table, miss.”

Claudine gently removed the kitten from inside her coat and put her on the table, where she sat shaking and staring up at them. The veterinarian poked and prodded, checking the kitten’s eyes and ears and listening to her heartbeat.

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“Well, I am actually an avian specialist, I work with birds— the regular vet is on vacation this week—but I deduce this kitten is severely dehydrated,” he said finally in a detached voice, not bothering to glance at Claudine. “It may or may not make it.

We should get it hydrated using an IV immediately. We’ll run some blood tests, take X–rays to see if it has any broken bones, etc. Are you able to take financial responsibility for this animal, before we go any further?”

“Yes, yes I will,” said Claudine. The doctor held the little kitten in the air and lifted up its tail.

“Looks like this kitten is female; maybe five weeks old, not much more than that,” he said in an unenthusiastic tone. “Jane, get the IV set up for the kitten. We’ll keep her overnight for observation, get her fluids back up to normal, and get some nourishment in her through the IV. We can assess things better tomorrow after we get the x–rays and blood work analyzed.”

“Oh, but I don’t want her to be left alone overnight,” said Claudine anxiously. “Can’t you hydrate her now so I can bring her home with me and let her sleep and I’ll take care of her tonight?”

“Oh no, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” said the veterinarian.

“She should be de–wormed, for starters. Who knows what parasites she has? She could pass them on to you and any other animals in your home. She has pretty bad case o’ fleas and ear mites as well,” he said as he stretched her ears out, pulling at them with his thin, and white, latex-gloved fingers. “She really should stay overnight. I suspect she was the runt of the litter, and tsk, tsk, tsk, I’m afraid, she’s dreadfully anemic as well.”

The doctor pulled up the kitten’s whiskers to show how pale her gums were. “She’s literally being eaten alive by parasites.”

Reluctantly, Claudine left the kitten at hospital. It was already almost noon, and she needed to get Aaron home so she could help Dempsey get to the rental car agency.

“Ya knew right from the start, darlin’, that she’s a girl,” said Aaron. “That’s real good. Were ya just guessin,’ or didja really know?”

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that before and she wondered if it meant anything. “I just felt in me heart that she was a girl. I don’t know.”

“Ya know yer responsible fer the little one. Ya saved ‘er life, so ya hafta give ‘er a life now too. Ya know that, right?” he said.

Claudine nodded agreeably. “Yes, I knew that from the second I saw her.”

The next morning, Claudine woke up with a purpose. She got dressed and went straight away to the animal doctor to retrieve her little kitten.

“We are running a special on x–rays, three for £75, just to let you know,” said the clerk at the front desk when Claudine checked in. “The vet put a note in your file that says your cat hasn’t purged in a while. He recommends x-rays to determine if she is suffering from hip deformation or just severe constipation.”

“Well, what about the x–rays you said you were taking yesterday? Won’t they tell us something?” asked Claudine, who was longing to hold her kitten again rather than hearing about purging.

“No, because we didn’t take x–rays of her pelvis yesterday, luv,” said the clerk, checking the file. “Only some x-rays of her tummy, and we ran a battery of tests on her. At the moment, she’s got an IV in her for fluids and nutrients, to help her get some strength.”

“I see,” said Claudine. “Can you tell me about the bill so far?”

“Let’s see… not countin’ the new x–rays, you are lookin’ at £985.”

Claudine gasped. “That’s too much! I can’t afford it, honestly. Is there some kind of payment plan I can go on? Tell the veterinarian I’ll be takin’ her home now, before he does anything else. I hope she at least got dewormed, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she was given a de-worming tablet...now, gettin’ back to the payment,” said the clerk. “You will need to come up with summat, or we can’t let you take the kitten home with you. No money, no cat, luv. We take cash or credit.”

“The best I can do is write you post-dated cheques for the £985.00, in increments,” Claudine told the clerk after thinking for a moment. “I promise they won’t bounce. I just don’t have 149

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that much money all at once. Again, I give you me word that I’m good for it. I wouldn’t dare double-cross you because if there’s anythin’ wrong with her, I’ll have to bring her back.”

Finally, they agreed on weekly, post-dated cheques for £100 each week, plus interest, until the full amount had been paid. While Claudine was writing them out, Jane, the assistant, brought the kitten out wrapped in a thin, fraying old, pink towel.

Distractedly, she quickly wrote out the last cheque so she could have her kitten back. Claudine took the kitten in her arms and rushed out of the clinic. Luckily it wasn’t as rainy today as it was yesterday.

“Wait, Mrs. Bellamy!” she heard Jane calling her. Claudine turned and the assistant was standing there, holding a small white paper bag.

“Give her a little of this down her throat every eight hours,” she said quietly. “That should get her bowels to open. Her hips are fine, I’m sure. But don’t say naught about me givin’ this to you.” She turned without another word and walked briskly back to the building.

Gratefully, Claudine accepted the package and shouted a thank you to Jane for her kindness. She knew the assistant went behind the bird doctor’s back to see that the little kitten was released with some proper medicine. She got into her car and peered in the bag. Inside was a glass eye dropper and a little dark glass container of a glycerol laxative.

“Look at you, you had that assistant charmed,” she said to the kitten in her lap as she drove home. “You’re me guardian angel. You might think I saved you, but you saved me, you sweet darlin’. You are so sweet. You truly are…” She soothed her tiny, frightened kitten for their entire car ride home.

When she came in the front door, she saw Aaron sitting in the front room on the chesterfield, reading the paper.

“Here she is!” Claudine announced.

“Hey, it’s the little one! She’s home!” Aaron said happily.

“I’m just going upstairs to put her in the bathroom so she can get acquainted with things,” said Claudine. “She was almost held for ransom at the vet’s office for almost a 1,000 pounds.

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too. I’ve already set up a little place for her in the bathroom.”

Claudine started up the stairs with the kitten still wrapped in the towel.

“Ya, I noticed a few things in the bathroom. How about the name…Buffy?” Aaron called. His voice sounded calculatedly casual, as if he had been pondering names but didn’t want Claudine to know.

“Buffy? Hmmm… That’s pretty. Buffy, Buffy…” Claudine said merrily, and up the stairs they went. In the bathroom, she unwrapped the towel and had a proper look at the kitten, whose fur was still rather gritty and grey from the dried mud. It looked as if someone had tried to wipe some of it off with a sponge, but it was clear that the £985 hadn’t covered a proper bath.

“Buffy Bellamy,” Claudine whispered into Buffy’s ear. “Do you like it?” She let Buffy explore as she drew a nice warm bath for her in the sink.

Claudine washed all the fleas, dirt, mud, and unhappiness out of the kitten’s fur. She ran a washcloth down Buffy’s tail, getting as much dirt out of her fur as she could. The sink water was filthy by the time they were finished. After the dirt had been washed away, Claudine discovered that Buffy had four sparkling white little paws that looked like she was wearing white velvet gloves. Buffy was so bone-thin and looked even thinner now with her soaking wet fur, but there was no doubt she was a goodlooking kitten.

“Oh, Buffy, your ears are full of those bastard ear mites!

They must be drivin’ ya bloody crazy,” murmured Claudine as she wiped the folds of Buffy’s soft ears clean with a cotton bud.

“Poor little thing.” She wrapped the now-clean kitten up in a thick towel that had been hanging on the hot radiator.

Even though she was weak, Buffy was not ready for bedtime by any means. As soon as Claudine set her in the cozy bed, Buffy promptly hopped out and began to explore. She made her way towards the kitty litter box. With a helping hand from Claudine, she managed to climb into it and began digging away. Her head was bigger and heavier than her tiny, starved body, and when she tried to use the litter box, her body trembled and she tipped over forward face-first into the kitty litter sand. Claudine immediately 151

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gave her a squirt of the glycerin, prying her little jaws gently apart. Buffy didn’t want to take the medicine, but she seemed to trust that Claudine was not going to hurt her.

Next, Claudine ran downstairs and heated up a small bowl of warm milk, and made up a plate of food including butter, raw ground beef, left-over gravy, and some canned kitten food, for the little kitten. Buffy sampled the sustenance that Claudine had brought up, but she didn’t tuck into anything in particular. After several minutes of cooing and sweet-talking with Buffy, Claudine eventually left her alone and went downstairs, declaring that no matter what the bird doctor said, Buffy would be fine without further medical attention.

Aaron asked, “What’s the lil’ sweetie think of her name?”

“Oh, Buffy? She loves it! Thank you from both of us,” answered Claudine.

Big, fat Mr. Wonderful was quite curious about the new resident. He patiently waited outside the bathroom door for whoever was in there to come out and introduce herself. He was just getting to know this Aaron character when, all of the sudden, another new guest was living in the bathroom.

When Dempsey came out of his room and saw Mr. Wonderful waiting outside the bathroom door, he knew the kitten was home. He picked up the big two-stone cat and lovingly brought him downstairs to sit with Aaron. Promptly, Mr. Wonderful went right back up the stairs to his new post in front of the door.

“Does that fella get much exercise?” Aaron asked, impressed at Mr. Wonderful’s rather large and majestic presence.

“Oh yes, he’s a tremendous athlete,” said Claudine with a laugh. “He truly doesn’t even eat that much. He just happens to be cobby and heavy-boned, with a huge heart!”

Buffy grew stronger every day and Claudine enjoyed how the boys and the rest of the household bonded with her new baby. The cat soon moved out of the bathroom and started integrating with everyone. Without the coat of grime she was a beautiful, exotic-looking cat, with expressive green eyes that glinted copper in the light and long ears that looked out of place on her little body.

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Claudine continued to diligently administer the glycerin drops and try her on all sorts of foods, now including goat yogurt, baby pablum, and pureed roasted chicken, asking Aaron or Dempsey to fill in for her if she had a shift at work, so she had peace of mind when the kitten started getting better. The glycerin drops appeared to be working, and things began to move along through the kitten’s system. There was evidence of string, cellophane, and grit in Buffy’s very hard little bits of excrement at first. “Poor little thing, you were just constipated,” Claudine said. “And to think that vet was talking about hip defects and surgery! What a quack. No wonder he was a bird doctor!”

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15 The Final Countdown A few days before CrazyBest, Claudine, Dempsey, and Aaron were enjoying a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, beans, stewed tomatoes, and buttered toast. The home was full of life and contentment. Claudine was pleased to see how well Aaron was fitting in. He was reserved in details about his own life, but his added comments about her household and family were humourous, compassionate and insightful. Claudine’s lifestyle, from how she cooked, cleaned, doted over everyone, animals included seemed to make everyone feel comfortable.

This morning, Aaron was especially cheerful mood. “Ya know, ah slept great last night,” he said, beaming. “Maybe the rainy music outside the window hypnotized me. Somethin’ did, ‘cuz ah slept real sound. And this food is delicious, I can’t stop eatin’ it!”

“Yah, it’s real good, Mum,” said Dempsey, dipping his bread into the tomatoes and then the egg yolks. “I wish I’d slept well.

I had a weird dream last night about that horrible Toni Orr lady.

I hadn’t thought about her in ages. You never did anythin’ with her again, did you?”

“No, no, I haven’t made contact with her in ages, thank God,” answered Claudine. “And you know, after cuttin’ me ties with her, I was finally able to get off the antidepressants and anti-anxiety tablets. Life was bad enough before I met her, 154

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but afterwards, well, I was a proper mess! She was the straw that broke the camel’s back!” Dempsey nodded in agreement, folding up the dripping toast and popping it into his mouth.

“I never got much other than heartache from The Blank Canvas... People think I made a killin’ from it, but I didn’t. Even me co-workers now seem utterly dumbfounded that I’m working at all. Sometimes they look at me like they think perhaps I’ve got a dreadful gamblin’ addiction and spent all me savings,” she said wryly. “But I’ll stay where I am at the co-op until summat better comes along, which I hope it does. I never really thought this would be my life, forty–one years old and living like a pauper.”

Aaron, she noticed, looked a bit perplexed by this whole conversation. “Has Dempsey ever mentioned The Blank Canvas to you?” she asked him.

“Not really,” Aaron said shaking his head. “Ah mean, ah know about it a little since ah don’ live under a rock, but ah never heard your side o’ the story, obviously.”

“Uh-oh!” said Dempsey, widening his eyes slightly as he grabbed another piece of buttered toast. “Here we go, it’s a long story,” he said and looked at his mum and nodded for her to begin her sad story.

Encouraged by Dempsey’s response, Claudine found herself telling Aaron everything.

“I was stugglin’ for money because Drew had all his money from the Universal Grappling Alliance tour, which is the UGA in Germany, stolen from him by his biological father Karl, who he only met for the first time during that tour and his dad’s nurse, or whore, named Hagra. They pretty much murdered Drew.

Aaron’s eyes widened and he gasped, “Oh Lord, that’s pretty shitty, if ya’ll don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

She told him about the suspicious circumstances surrounding Drew’s death and how the UGA earnings had gone missing. The last day I saw me husband, he was in so much agony, goin’ in and out of shock, telling his dad to find the grey packet of money with his name written on it in big blue letters, gesturing like he was looking for a pair of pants or something He kept describing this grey packet of money over and over. Drew said they kept it hidden in the freezer and he kept insistin’ that Karl should go 155

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and get it. I never did see this infamous envelope of money, but it was all in cash, close to $100,000, all in American hundred dollar bills.

She raged on about Karl and Hagra and what they had done to her husband. “I suspect ‘Hagra the Whore’ stole everything but they never found her or any of the cash. The police searched the flat inside and out, and couldn’t find it and then, Drew’s dad dies of cancer in prison not too long after he was arrested, and to this day, it’s still a big mystery about where all that money went.”

“Yer kidding! She sounds like a real piece of work; a real rancid individual,” Aaron exclaimed sympathetically. “She’ll turn up again one day, like a bad penny. Those kind of people always do. She’ll get hers in the end,” he added.

Claudine continued, |”Ya, I hope so...Anyroad, a lot of that was supposed to be discussed in me book, along with all the other wonderful stuff about me family and what it was like growing up in the wrestling business.

She went on to explain how Toni Orr had twisted her life story, how she herself had gotten sued and had barely earned anything from the book despite its success. Me own brother Toasty sued me too.

“Somehow the self-servin’ witch, Toni, who co-wrote it with me didn’t get sued at all,” she said, resting her elbow on the table. “She went on to write more books for other celebrities.

When she didn’t get named in Toasty’s lawsuit, it looked like she was innocent of any wrongdoin’ and she got more book deals after that. I was the only one who looked bad.”

“Wow, that’s real unfortunate,” said Aaron, who had been paying rapt attention. “This woman with the book, she sounds real tricky. Ah agree with your son about not talkin’ to her again.”

Aaron seemed to ponder Claudine for a moment. “Hey, if yer lookin’ for work, ever thought about trainin’ people, like at a gym? Ya should be able to get a lot of clients with yer name and experience. Jumbo told me how you trained with him and how you and yer husband went to the gym together too. Ah complimented him on his squat technique, which ah figured he learned from his pa, but he said you taught him.”

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Claudine blushed. “Erm thanks, yer too kind. I’m alright, but enough about me now. Demps, has Aaron told you about how he hurt his arm? He won’t tell me.”

“Yes, that’s pretty amazin’,” said Dempsey, “and he’s still strong with it, even though his hand is kind of numb now. Aaron can hit it dead hard and not feel it too bad, but the bloke on the other end sure feels it!” He laughed and, in an old man’s voice, added, “Our Aaron’s tough as bloody nails.”

“Well, since ya asked, darlin’, I’ll tell ya a little bit, but I ain’t much fer talkin’ about myself. I’m pretty damn lucky,” said Aaron, “that ma hands still look like twins.” He held his arms straight out on the breakfast table, and rolled his hands over, front and back, as he began sharing his story. “This numb hand didn’t stay small and isn’t deformed even though they told me ah’d never use again fer much. And when it happened, ah was sittin’ in some foreign hospital for like six months gettin’ rehab on it and ah didn’t seein’ anything real good happening with it.”

He went on, “So one day ah got fed up and ripped them bandages right off my arm and threw them in the trash! The same lazy ol’ nurse ah’d been seein’ nearly every day for months wasn’t too concerned cuz they already thought my arm was finished. I noticed right from the start that she wasn’t really applyin’ herself when she was workin’ me with through the physiotherapy. It was all bull-crap, pardon my language, darlin’, and the nurse kept giving me pills for the pain. Meantime my whole right arm’s getting like a skinny stick, ya know, it was dyin’. Ah walked out right then and there and started my own rehabilitation, and ‘ta–da,’ it got better. PTL!” “What’s PTL?” asked Claudine and Dempsey in unison.

“Praise the Lord. You ain’t heard that before? Where ya’ll been?” joked Aaron.

“What did your mum and dad say when they heard about your arm? That must have been really hard for them too, not knowin’ if your arm could be saved,” said Claudine, getting back on topic.

“Well, since ah didn’t know what was gonna happen – maybe ah lose my arm, maybe not – ah didn’t tell them for nearly nine months. No point in worryin’ them, they have enough to worry 157

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about. We lived in different cities so we didn’t actually see each other, but ah talked to them on the phone, and said I’m gonna be okay, ah hurt ma arm, but ah’m alright. When ah knew for sure, good or bad, which was nine months later, then ah told ‘em the whole story.”

Claudine thought of Drew in Germany, with his back and ankle, and how fast it all fell apart. “That would have taken a lot o’ restraint, to not tell your family, to keep your pain a secret from them. So you were pretty much all on your own with no one to talk to about it, and no one to tell you not to give up, except for that nurse tellin’ you it would not get better?”

“Well, sort of.” Aaron looked at the clock and stretched, changing the subject. “I’m so full ah almost feel like climbing back into bed, but Dempsey, we have that Dino guy meetin’ us at the gym in an hour,” he said. “He said he’s gonna bring you sparring partners today. We’ll see what he shows up with.”

“Yah, I’ll go get me things now. I guess we should start gettin’ ready,” said Dempsey and as he finished off his last piece of bacon. “Hey Mum, can you make a couple of protein shakes for me and Aaron to take to the gym? We drink them after our workouts.”

“Sure, I’ll do that right now,” said Claudine, more than happy to do anything for her son.

“Say, could ya put a couple o’ raw eggs in those?” Aaron asked.

“O’ course, I’d be glad to. Drew liked a few raw eggs in his protein shakes too,” said Claudine as she methodically threw the ingredients into the blender. She had done this so many times for Drew, Dempsey, Toasty, and Billy that she didn’t need a recipe anymore.

“Save what’s left for you and Buffy, if you two don’t mind raw eggs,” Aaron shouted over the whir of the blender.

Dempsey returned with a heavy nylon gym bag full of clothes, towels and push-up blocks and promptly gave Aaron a big flat-hand chop across his chest. “Let’s hit the road,” he said.

They took their protein shakes, thanked Claudine, and went out the door like big playful dogs.

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Claudine was just thinking about what a great guy Aaron was when he reappeared in the kitchen.

“Hey Claudine, almost forgot,” he said. “Ah wanted to let you know that ah had Dempsey drive me over to the veterinary clinic after our workout yesterday. Ah paid off Buffy’s ridiculous bill in full and made that clerk rip up all yer cheques in front of me before ah left. Ah got a real sweet deal on some investments with my stock broker and it was something ah wanted to do for ya, and Buffy, too. All right, see ya later.”

Before Claudine could say another word, Aaron was out the door.

“Well, that was summat I wasn’t expecting,” Claudine said out loud. She couldn’t believe Aaron had paid the entire bill in full. Smiling broadly, she rushed upstairs to give Buffy a big hug and a kiss.

Dempsey and Aaron made their way to Roach’s Gym in Warrington. It was an authentic hard-core gym that had been around for decades. Water dripped through the ceiling into old pails in the corner of the rooms; there were dirty, cracked windows that shone scant light onto the weights on the main level and the boxing ring and mats on the second floor. The place reminded Dempsey of Bonham farm, which he hadn’t seen in years.

Dino Tsillis, a retired rugby–league player and a multimillionaire, was waiting for Dempsey and Aaron inside the gym at the juice bar. In his late fifties, Dino had a solid 5’9,” 15-stone frame wrapped in an expensive looking velour rust coloured tracksuit and brand new, bright white Adidas trainers, a testament to his vast, self-made wealth. He had salt-and-pepper hair and dark brown eyes that sat heavily under his thick dark eyebrows. His one cauliflower ear and crooked nose evidenced his athletic past. He looked like he had been involved in some rough and wild rugby games.

When Dino saw Dempsey and Aaron, his thick lips spread across his face in a wide smile. One of his front teeth flashed had a shiny gold cap, covering an old chip from his sporting days.

“Hey lads!” he said, clapping Dempsey on the shoulder and gesturing towards the gym. “Wait ‘til you see the sparrin’ 159

Wrestling With Life

partners I’ve lined up for you! But first, please, let me get a picture with ya, Dempsey, fer me wall o’ fame at me studio.

Let’s get a few, eh, for me to put up at me pubs too.”

Dempsey and Aaron turned around to see four massive blokes moving around on the mats rather quickly considering their size, throwing a medicine ball back and forth. Two others were already having a go in the ring, and their moves weren’t half bad either.

Dino grinned proudly. “Recruited them from some of me nightclubs,” he boasted. “They work for me as heavyweight bouncers. Dempsey, when they heard you’d be here, they were all eager to come! They’re big fans, and this whole CrazyBest thing’s got ‘em riled up.” Dino walked ahead, and Aaron and Dempsey followed the trail of pleasant smelling but overpowering scent of his expensive cologne.

The bouncers weren’t the only ones who were excited about CrazyBest. All of Manchester – and the country in general – was abuzz during the last few days before the tournament. Although there was a feeling of wonderful anticipation in the Bellamy household, it really did bother Dempsey that his uncle still would not take a call from him. He left several messages on Toasty’s answering machine, but as usual they were not returned. It was frustrating, especially since Dempsey wasn’t even sure whether he was representing Great Britain or Japan.

Finally, two days before the show, there was a loud rap at the front door. Sally the Bull Terrier was barking, Cicero the rooster was crowing, and Emily the donkey was braying, just like they did every time someone entered to the yard. When Dempsey got up from the couch and opened the door, there was a massive man with a full head of long white-blond hair standing before him.

He seemed to know who Dempsey was straight away.

“Ta, Dempsey. Great to see you, mate!” he said in a thick Scottish accent. “You look well, you do! Aye, you probably don’t remember me, but I’m Grant. I worked with yer dad, and worked with yer granddad a few times too, up in Scotland; loved them both to death. I had some great bouts with your dad in Kilmarnock and East Kilbride.” He looked up to the sky fondly, as if remembering the good old days.

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“Well, thanks,” said Dempsey, surprised by the unexpected visitor. “Would you like to come in?”

“No thanks, I’ve got a load of stops to make this mornin’,” said Grant, waving an envelope in the air. “Yer Uncle Toasty’s got me helpin’ with CrazyBest. He wanted you to have your tickets to the show. Every registered fighter gets four tickets for family.”

He handed Dempsey the envelope. Dempsey glanced down at the glossy tickets. “Great,” he said, looking back up at Grant.

“Me sister’s over in America, so she can’t make it, but me mum will be there. Maybe let Toasty know that, not sure if he’ll be bothered by that or not.”

“Eh, I’ll pass on the message,” mumbled Grant knowingly.

“Just so you know, Toasty’s got no Japanese fighters now, the one he had booked got injured. So he’d like you to fill in that Japanese spot, make it more international, like. So you will be billed as Dempsey Bellamy of England, trained in Japan. Also, you need to weigh in down at the NEC Arena tomorrow. Come down after tea, maybe half past six.”

“Will do. Say, do you know anythin’ about who I’ll be facin’?” asked Dempsey.

“Sure do,” said Grant, pulling a battered-looking paper out of the pocket of his shorts. “You’ll be fightin’ first on the card against a Canadian Aboriginal named Maurice Starlight. He’s a nice bloke. Tough, too; they say he’s got a one-ton kick!” Grant chuckled. “And we’ll go from there. We’ve got Stevie Peacock from South Africa; Sasha Borshov from Russia; Petter Pfister from Switzerland; Bobby Canyon from America; Matheus Andre from Brazil. And, o’ course, your uncle. We’ve got about twenty fighters, sixteen fighters advertised in all, so, and we plan to have fifteen fights, but that can all change if someone gets hurt.”

“Thanks,” said Dempsey. Most of the names sounded familiar to him. “I appreciate you coming ‘round to tell me in person.”

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“Not a problem!” said Grant. He extended out his hand for Dempsey to shake. “Like I said, you look absolutely fantastic, son! Call me if you need anything, I’d love to see you win that £50,000. Here’s me card. God bless.”

Dempsey went back into the house and closed the door. He believed in himself and he had competed plenty of times before; it was not the competition itself that made him anxious as much as it was seeing his uncle for the first time in over five years.

Dempsey wondered what it would be like fighting his uncle at some point in the tournament, if the fates allowed it. That thought was weighing on his mind.

Despite the nerves, Dempsey knew he was ready. He had been training for this his whole life, it seemed. Thanks to his grandfather’s tutoring and mentoring before he ever went to Japan, he knew things perhaps only a handful of people in the world still knew about submission wrestling. He acquired hundreds of combinations of takedowns and variations of nearly every hold there was to know from all his trainers. To top it all off, he was in the best physical condition of his life. Strong, healthy, and confident, he was as ready for CrazyBest as he could possibly be. Come one, come all, including his Uncle Toasty. He was prepared for anything and everything. Let the games begin!

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Coming soon!

Cauliflower Heart Book III

She Who Laughs Last 1 Absolute Best “Welcome, wrestling universe fans! We have a fantastic show for you tonight! We have sixteen of the very best submission fighters in the universe here to compete in the first ever CrazyyyyyBesttt!”

The crowd roared so loud that the announcer had to wait for the noise to die down before continuing. In his black and white tuxedo, he looked like a penguin to most of the fans.

“The winners of the next eight matches will determine who goes on to the next round of fights. All matches are one fall apiece, with a fifteen-minute time limit. Tonight’s main event, our final match of the night, has a 30-minute time limit.

“We have our panel of five judges sitting at ringside and two referees, all sanctioned by the Greater Manchester Boxing and Wrestling Commission. The luck of the draw determines who fights whom in the matches that follow our first round of combat. I promise you fans out there that this is sure to be an amazing night! Now that the formalities are out of the way, let me ask you: Are You Ready?! ... I said, ARE YOU READY?!” he shouted into his microphone again.

The cheers were deafening. Bullhorns went off and the fans screamed.

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“Very well then! I love it!” exclaimed the announcer to the pumped-up, mostly male audience. “Let’s get this show on the road then, shall we?”

Japanese electro-pop music suddenly blared through the speakers. Behind the curtains, Dempsey dimly registered that the music playing was his. He did not feel nervous, but his heart was beating faster nevertheless. His adrenaline was pumping and he felt very ready for his first fight in Manchester in five years.

Aaron nudged Dempsey in the back, and he pushed his way through the heavy black velvet curtains. The crowd went wild!

Aaron held the ropes open for Dempsey as he stepped into the ring.

“Our first fighter of tonight’s CrazyBest WrestleFest Elimination Tournament, representing the Tokyo Dojo in Japan, at 6’4 ½,” weighing in at 17 stone 8 pounds, wearing the white and red shorts and red boots, I introduce to you to Dempseeeeeeey Bellllllllllamy!”

The thunderous applause smothered the next round of ring entrance music - steady Native American drumbeats. Maurice Starlight, his trainer Keith Williams, and his two corner men walked down the aisle to the ring. A lean and lanky Native American Indian from the Stoney Indian tribe in Western Canada, Maurice specialised in kickboxing. As a teenager he had worn his hair in two shiny black plaits, Dempsey remembered from watching matches on TV. Now his hair was cut in a short, thick Mohawk, and his eyes were confident and calm. He danced around the ring, rolling his head from side to side and shrugging his shoulders.

“Our second fighter of tonight’s CrazyBest WrestleFest Elimination Tournament,” shouted the ring announcer “hails out of Gleichen, Alberta, Canada! He is Canada’s reigning heavyweight kickboxing champion! At 6’3,” weighing in at 16 stone, I introduce to you in the green and blue shorts, and bare feet, Mauriceeeeeeee Starrrrlightttttt!”

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—Terry Funk Professional wrestling icon, Hollywood actor, Honorary Lifetime ECW World Heavyweight Champion

DIANA HART

“Diana Hart has tremendous insight to our crazy little world of professional wrestling. She’s lived it, breathed it ,and loved it as a member of wrestling’s pre-eminent first family.

I’ve spent hours reading Diana’s Cauliflower Heart Trilogy and nobody chronicles the stories better of personal lives of some of the biggest stars in the game. Cauliflower Heart: Wrestling With Life is a 5-star must-read!”

Diana Hart is also a trainer, writer, artist and was born into Stu and Helen Hart’s legendary pro wrestling family in 1963 in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Diana studied Fine Arts at the University of Calgary before performing in the WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment), then known as the WWF (World Wrestling Federation) alongside her late husband Davey Boy Smith (the British Bulldog), late brother Owen Hart, and brother Bret Hitman Hart. In 2001, whilst based in Tampa, Florida. Diana’s autobiography, Under the Mat, made Alberta’s top ten nonfiction best-seller list. She has two children, Harry, who wrestles all over the world as Davey Boy Smith Jr, and Georgia, an actress and voice over artist based in England.

Diana now resides back home, in Calgary. For more information visit www.OfficialDianaHart.com

Cauliflower Heart

“Does Diana Hart qualify as a story-teller? I’ve known Diana Hart all of her life. Believe me, she is the ‘heart’ of the Hart Family. She has had to deal with so many tragedies, yet she still dances to the tune of life. Can she write? Damn right she can!”

Award winning author, Diana Hart, authors her second book in the Cauliflower Heart Trilogy, Wrestling With Life. Her first book in the series, A Romantic Wrestler, is the recipient of an Indie Book Award, Runner Up at the Hollywood and London Book Festivals, Silver Readers’ Favorite International Book Award and an Honorable Mention at the Southern California Book Festival.

Wrestling with Life

In the blink of an eye, the idyllic world that Claudine Bellamy knew, brutally turns upside down. While her family struggles with tragedy and permanent loss, their professional wrestling business is publicly exposed. Acutely vulnerable, is Claudine resilient enough to resist being exploited by corrupt vultures of the celebrity world and protect her precious family?

—Gene Okerlund WWF, WCW Professional Wrestling Interviewer, Hollywood actor, co-host of Vintage Collection

Book Two of the Cauliflower Heart Trilogy