Free Billy Rags by Ted Lewis Page A

tell that Arnatt is already embarrassed, dreading the gauntlet, but not daring to turn back.
    â€œDo you reckon they’re off to the bushes?” Clapson says, loud enough for them to hear.
    â€œNaw,” says Arnatt. “You don’t do things like that when it’s True Love. That’d spoil it.”
    â€œOr when your dad’s a copper,” I say. “That’d never do.”
    Anita Dent’s face is crimson.
    â€œHere, Arnatt, how many villains did your dad catch last night?” calls Jarrow. “Twenty-six or was it twenty-seven?”
    â€œForty-nine,” says Clapson. “That’s where he gets his name from. PC Forty-nine.”
    â€œForty-eight and a Half,” I say.
    Arnatt stops and turns to face us.
    â€œAll right, clever sods. Now pack it in,” he says.
    â€œI thought that’s what you were going to do in the bushes,” I say.
    The others burst out laughing.
    Arnatt takes a few steps towards us.
    â€œI’m telling you,” he says.
    â€œWhat?” I say.
    â€œShut up or I’ll shut you up.”
    â€œWhat he means is he’ll tell his Dad,” says Clapson.
    â€œNo point,” I said. “His dad’s even a bigger ponce than he is.”
    Arnatt lunges forward and tries to pull me up off the grass but I grab his blazer and pull him to the ground, next to me.
    â€œSo that’s what you want, is it boy?” I say.
    â€œGo on, Billy,” says Clapson. “Murder him.”
    Arnatt and I stand up. Clapson and the others move away to give us room.
    â€œCome on then,” I say to Arnatt. “You first. Put one on me.”
    Arnatt lashes out with his right and tries to land it on the side of my head but I parry the blow with my forearm and punch him hard in the chest. I am well set on my feet and there is a lot of weight behind my punch but it doesn’t have the effect I expect it to have. It rocks him all right, but it doesn’t seem to hurt him very much, and while I am considering this he has given me a left and a right to the head. Stars burst and he hurls himself at me, toppling me. I try and roll out of the way but I’m not quick enough and he jumps astride me, punching as he lands. I stretch up my arms to pull him off me but his blows scythe down my arms and I take punch after punch on my head. I thrash about and try to arch my body but I can’t dislodge him. He has a furious strength I didn’t expect. I know I’m tougher than he is, I know I can beat him. Yet he is winning and I’m unable to do anything about it. All my mates are watching, and a crowd is growing. I hear someone shout from across the pitch, “Billy Cracken is getting a beating.”
    Tears of frustration well up in my eyes and I am weakened by the fear of losing.
    â€œDo you give in?” breathes Arnatt, pinning my arms to the ground. I shake my head and more blows clang down on me. The tears roll down my cheeks and the watchers think it’s because I’m hurt but they don’t know the real reason. Suddenly Arnatt jumps off me. I don’t move straight away because his action has surprised me. I raise my head. Arnatt is walking away, proving to the crowd that he has finished with me. Anger and frustration rush through me and I get up and rush after him. Voices cry out and Arnatt spins round and grabs hold of me before I can throw any punches and hurls me to the ground. This time I don’t get up. The humiliation has left me too weak to carry on. The rest of the crowd begins to drift away.
    Except for Potter and Jarrow and Clapson.
    They know better than to try and help me up.
    The office was eighteen feet by twelve. Most of the twenty-two were inside it. The noise was deafening. Everybody was talking at once. The radio had been turned on full blast. Records and files and papers and smashed furniture were scattered all over the floor and most of the cons were down on their hands and knees