Cold Revenge - Alex Howard Page 0,3

or the time it takes to clean your teeth. Three minutes.

Now, consider this.

Try leaning against someone the same weight as you. Put your head on the other person’s shoulder, neck bent so the top of your head is pressing just above their collarbone and you’re staring at the floor. Let them do the same. Interlink the fingers of each hand with your partner’s and take it in turns to push. When the other person pushes forward with their arms, resist as hard as you can, with all your strength. Then it’s your turn to push, theirs to resist. Like pistons working against a heavy mass. Use your legs as well to drive yourself forward, as does your opponent. Do this for three minutes without a break, as hard and as fast as you can, without a pause to draw breath. That’s one round.

That gives some idea of the physical effort inside the ring. Now, imagine too, the other person is trying to hit you in the face and body as hard as they possibly can, as viciously as they can, and they are strong and quick and practised.

All there is, is the ring. That is the world.

You can’t turn away, there’s nowhere to hide; you just have to face them until the round is over. Your eyes fill with sweat, occasionally tears, sometimes blood. You can’t hear anything except your own laboured breathing, sometimes not even the bell.

All there is, is the ring. All there is, is the pain. All there is, is the effort.

You’re unaware of the crowd, unaware of your surroundings. It’s just you and your opponent and those gloves coming at you. And there’s no respite, no let-up, no remorse.

Time seems endless.

Hanlon loved boxing. She was made for it. Being back in the ring just felt so good, like slipping into the sea when she swam, gloriously right.

Her reflexes were as sharp as ever. She let Jay do the work, jerking her head out of the way of his fast jab, which was accurate but not quick enough to catch her. He favoured a sharp right-cross, Hanlon used her fast footwork and ring-craft to circle him. Occasionally she flicked out a lightning-fast left of her own. Jay hadn’t expected this vicious jab and the first one caught him under his right eye, which within seconds had started to swell. Not only did he begin losing all-round vision, but it affected his calculation of distance.

He shook his head in baffled surprise. I’m losing, he thought incredulously.

He dropped his guard slightly and that was enough for Hanlon. Another punch rode over the protective gloves in front of Jay’s face, catching him off balance, and then as his feet moved awkwardly to restore his equilibrium, Hanlon was on him, sending what would have been rib-breaking body shots into his lower body, if she hadn’t pulled the power of the punches.

‘Break,’ said Laidlaw, moving between them, pushing them aside with his hands. He covered his mouth to hide his grin of delight. The old Hanlon was back. Lean and mean, he thought, lean and mean.

Hanlon moved over to a corner and rested against the ropes. She listened critically to her body. She was pleased, her breathing was perfect, her legs felt like steel. Jay came up to her pulling his headguard off and they sportingly touched gloves. She could smell his short, cropped hair and youthful perspiration. He grinned at her, taking his mouthguard out as he did so, his teeth startlingly white against his black face. Hanlon thought, he’s ridiculously good-looking.

‘Respect,’ he said. Hanlon smiled at him. Good boxers are, paradoxically, usually gentlemen. Jay nodded and rejoined his companions.

Hanlon took her gum shield out and rinsed and spat into the bucket that Laidlaw was holding. The water was tinged pink with her blood where one of Jay’s head shots had damaged her mouth. Perspiration soaked through the faded grey fabric of her baggy, sleeveless top and Laidlaw could smell a hint of scent through her sweat.

‘Are you wearing perfume?’ he asked. He’d never known her to do that. Hanlon’s unfriendly gaze met his.

‘I was seeing someone I know earlier,’ she said. ‘A friend.’ Her expression dared him to ask another question. Laidlaw had plenty of experience of reading hostility in faces and body posture; he wasn’t going to make that mistake. He knew the high price she put on her privacy.

He watched Hanlon’s back, her head held high, as she walked back across the gym. Several of the other fighters