‘Let’s call it, here’, said Kev, looking at me for approval. I hesitated.
‘Maybe. Just give her five minutes to see if she can continue,’ I replied, not thinking for one moment that Rachel would, but knowing that she had to have some say in this.
I rushed over to her and crouched down. Welts covered her arms and legs, and her face was starting to swell.
‘Are you OK, Rach?’
‘Nothing’s broken. Give me some time. She’s a fucking cheat.’
‘I know. Let’s just go home. You fought magnificently.’
She looked at me as if I were insane.
‘I’m. Not. Fucking. Done.’
She sat up, grabbed the water from my hand, and inspected her battered body. Kev and Laura, both on their feet, were embracing, as if they thought the contest was over.
‘Don’t celebrate just yet. It might not be finished’, I called over to them, reluctant to let the match continue but shaken by Rachel’s determination that it should.
The spectator couple had made to move off the bed for the first time in an hour but now they stayed to see if there was more drama to come.
Kev and Laura looked across, astonished that Rachel might want another round. A look of irritation flashed across Laura’s face and then she set about her own line of persuasion.
‘Keep it coming if you want’, she said, ‘but know that I’m only just getting started on her. If she gets hurt that’s on both of you’, she threatened, staring pointedly at me. ‘Maybe you just want to see me do a number on your girlfriend. Sure thing’, she smiled, ‘I’ll fuck her up if that’s what you really want, daddy’. She held eye contact with me for a few seconds too long, and then beamed again. For a nice middle-class English girl, she damn-well knew how to be bad.
Kev looked like he wanted us to call it a day and said that Rach only had two and a half minutes left to get ready for the next round if she wanted the fight to go deeper.
Behind me, my girl had already made it to her feet, but I was concerned that she wasn’t moving freely, stepping gingerly as if her left leg was still suffering from Laura’s earlier attacks. Rach walked around, taking deep breaths, trying to shake it off without letting Laura know that the damage was there. Gathering her strength, she put her hands on her hips and looked accusingly across to her tormentor.
‘We have rules, but you break them, you fucking cheat. If you want to punch bodies, let’s do it; if you wanna stomp, let’s do it. You and I. Are not. Fucking. Done.”
Without saying a word, Laura beckoned her with both hands, as if to say, ‘Come on, then.’
In the middle of the room, Kev and I took several minutes to discuss how we could keep a lid on this pressure-cooker fight. I was trying to buy as much time for Rach to recover as I could.
“If Laura throws a single face punch, that prize-money is off-the-table and I’m stopping it’’, I threatened. Laura heard it and scoffed.
‘Still best of seven subs, though, right?’, Kev checked.
I nodded.
‘No way this is going that long’ he muttered to his girl. ’You can finish her any time you want. One more sends her home.’
In her corner of the room, Laura strutted, menacingly and - I hate to say it – magnificently. She was getting ready to close the show.
‘She’s trying to psych you out’, I whispered to Rach, looking straight into her grey-blue eyes. Rach gulped hard.
’You don’t have to do this’.
‘Yes, I fucking do.’
‘Put it on her then. Make her cry for me.’
Rachel looked straight past me, glaring at her opponent, summoning up hatred, perhaps visualising the violence she wanted to inflict on the younger woman.
Trying to intimidate Rach, Laura had moved in closer, stalking her. I sensed her lurking over my right shoulder. ‘Boo-fucking-hoo’, she said, deadpan, before swaggering back. I heard her laughing about it with Kev.
I kissed Rach’s forehead; she nodded, took another swig of water and gritted her teeth. Laura and Rachel now stood impatiently in their respective corners, itching to hurt each other again. Despite our best efforts, no amount of cajoling would persuade them to shake hands. They wanted this thing done, and as Laura had originally predicted, there could only be one winner of this fight. It had stopped being a contest. Now it was a fight, pure and simple. However long it took, it had to go to a finish.
Kev and I took our positions on the bed. The guy with the whistle was no longer needed. ‘Fight!’ said Kev next to me, and we watched them go at it again, tooth and claw.
