She looked at me and said, Four.
Four?
Actually, she said vier. That’s Dutch for four. Vier or four. And then she showed me a wedding ring. So I went down to Tubby’s and put a bet on.
For her to be married four times? said Col, laughing.
For her to win four gold medals.
What d’you put on her? said Ulysses.
Everything.
Jeez, Cress.
Not much then, said Col, disappearing into the snug.
It’s a sure one, Tempy. Your dad was all around me. I could feel him. I could smell him—
Pocketful of loose change?
That’s the stuff. You put on what you can afford, son. This one’s set to go. Trust me. It’s everything on the black all over again.
So Ulysses did. Went on his break down to Tubby’s and put on what he had in his wallet and all he’d saved in his tin.
And in the days that followed, the crowds in the snug increased as word got around about Cressy’s bet. People stopped him in the street and wished him luck. None of it was about luck, though, he knew that. This was destiny.
On 2 August at 4.45 p.m. and 12 seconds, Fanny crossed the line to win the 100m gold medal. Ginny and the kid jumped up and down and Pete screamed and thought he’d coughed up a tonsil. Is that possible, Temps? I don’t think so, Pete.
On the blackboard Ulysses wrote: One down, three to go.
Col said, you’re dreaming, mate. Never gonna happen. Over my dead body.
Don’t tempt me, said Peg.
On 4 August at 4 p.m. and 11.2 seconds Fanny crossed the line in first place to win the 80m hurdles. The crowds were smaller than the previous race due to the earlier start, and Col said, Yeah, but who’s really interested in women’s hurdles? I am, said Denise, hoisting up her skirt and coming a cropper over a bar stool. Ulysses picked up the chalk.
Two down, two to go, appeared on the blackboard.
You’ve gone a bit quiet, Col, said Ulysses.
Fuck off, birdbrain.
On Friday 6 August at 4.30 p.m. and 24.4 seconds, Fanny won the 200m and Cress quietened the snug and urged everyone to raise their glasses to Fanny. To her effortless stride and determination. To her thirty years. To her unassuming beauty. To her singlemindedness. To her— What is it with him and this woman? said Col.
Search me, said Ulysses.
—bravery, said Cress.
The glasses were raised.
To Fanny, they all said.
Three down, one to go, appeared on the blackboard.
That evening, people passed by and shook Cressy’s hand. Wished him luck for the big race tomorrow as if he was running a leg of the relay himself. A reporter from the Hackney Gazette came down to do a piece on him, which started well. Ulysses delivered a couple of pints to their table and heard Cressy say, She’d already missed two Olympics because of the war. And most people told her to stay at home and look after the kids. You tell me what’s right about that kind of thinking.
Ulysses stood out on the street. The evening was dreary, the promise of summer had deflated. If he won money, he thought he might be able to get away, or help Peg out, more like. Do something for the kid, buy a week of sunshine. Cress and the reporter came out onto the street fighting.
Course there’s nothing unpatriotic in my support of Mrs Blankers-Koen! shouted Cressy. Talent’s talent. And you’re a pillock!
The story would never run. Ulysses went back inside to change a barrel.
The following day was a Saturday. The clouds had pissed off to Hammersmith, and they were left with blue skies and a sharp sun, all show and no heat. People gathered around the pub as if a wedding was about to take place. The TV was warmed up and Col thought he was masterful charging entry. No one complained, though, and when Old Cressy appeared, everyone in the snug cheered and led him to a chair at the front.
Ulysses looked about for Peg. He asked Col if he’d seen her and Col shook his head and called him a big old muggins and hadn’t he got the message by now? The front door clattered open and Peg and Ginny and the kid rushed in, all flustered and sorrys, just as the relay teams took their marks. The pub hushed. And at 4.40 p.m. all that could be heard was the sound of history in the making.
Bang!
By the time Fanny Blankers-Koen took the baton, she was 4 metres behind the Australian. Col kept saying she ain’t gonna do it, ain’t gonna do it, and Ulysses could barely watch. Peg and Pete screamed and the kid was up and down, and Claude had a run on droppings. But Cressy, well, Cressy stayed composed, with not a hint of sweat across his face. Fanny Blankers-Koen crossed the finishing line first – 47.5 seconds after the starter gun had fired. It was Fanny’s fourth gold. Cressy was lifted into the air like a king and five streets away Tubby cursed and punched his oldest son in the face for having taken the bet in the first place.