Читать книгу Roy Shaw Unleashed - He's a one man killing machine. This is his story by those who know him best - Roy Shaw - Страница 9

CHAPTER 1

ONCE A FIGHTER, ALWAYS A FIGHTER

I WAS LATE. It was a quarter-past ten and I had to be at Roy’s for eleven-fifteen. I’d been feeding my ponies, Guv’nor and Geezer, and I’d lost track of time. I scrambled into my posh frock and ran a comb through my hair, no time to look in the mirror – Roy can’t stand to be kept waiting. We’d been invited to Terry Spink’s pub at Upton Park, West Ham. It was for the launch of Terry’s new book. It was an important occasion and loads of the boxing world’s greatest heroes were turning up to give their support.

The plan was that I was going to interview these famous men. I looked at my watch; it was going to take me an hour-and-a-half to get to Roy’s and already my nerves were on edge.

I must have met every single hold-up between Sussex and Essex – there were diversions on the Greenend Road because the council were cutting back bushes. There was a contraflow on the A271 where a gang of workmen were digging up the cat’s eyes. And when I eventually made it to the M25, the traffic was shit.

At last I was in the leafy, upmarket stockbroker belt and pulled into the gravelled driveway of Roy’s mansion. I even started to get out of the motor. I could see Roy coming towards me, his face was like chiselled granite, his fists clenched and there were two huge Rottweilers bounding along at his side. I didn’t have to see their teeth – I jumped back inside and slammed the door shut. The dogs were jumping up and now I could see their teeth. Wow! I wound the window down the tiniest crack.

‘Do the dogs remember me, Roy?’ I yelled. It had been about a year since we’d last met. I’d been filming Roy for my Hard Bastards television series. The dogs are OK if you’re properly introduced but how good were their powers of recall? Were they going to take time to reflect and weigh up the situation? Make a rational decision whether I was friend or foe? No way. They were barking their heads off and coming at me – it was open warfare. It was not the time for taking chances.

I was relieved when Roy snapped his fingers and called them off; they slunk behind him reluctantly but obediently followed him inside. I watched closely as he bolted the door and then came back to the car. Was he going to growl at me as well? But it was all right, he was in a good mood.

‘Hi, Katie. How are you? Good to see you.’

Roy looked fit and sharp, his muscles solid under a light grey silk suit. Roy likes dressing well and looks the part in his Savile Row gear. He opened the passenger door and climbed into the front seat, leaning over to give me a peck on the cheek. He looked pointedly at his gold watch.

I took the hint and started the motor. ‘We’re on our way.’

Roy is now a successful businessman and property entrepreneur, but his reputation as an original hard bastard is unchallenged. He is still one of the toughest men in England today – a man who stands up for what he believes and never, never backs down. As we chatted on the drive back to London, I wondered what had made him like this.

‘I suppose it was when I was a kid. I had to learn to fight, it was punch or be punched.’

‘Were you bullied?’

‘At school I was. There were four of them used to pick on me all the time. One day they collared me as I was going home. They were kicking and bashing me and I just got up. Something in me snapped, I’d had enough, and the adrenalin rush came right through me. I felt powerful. I didn’t feel any fear. I waded into them and I done ’em. It was great. In that moment, when I saw them running away, I knew it was a gift. And then the same thing happened whenever anybody came up to do me again. Anyone who showed aggression to me, I would explode. That’s the way things went on in my life.’

‘You didn’t take any nonsense from anybody?’

Roy shook his head. ‘It worked against me when I was in the nick. The screws would say, “Shaw! Over here!” and the adrenalin would come in and … bang! I’d hit them. So that didn’t work out quite so good.’

‘For them and you both.’

Roy shrugged. That was the way it was.

There were still a lot of questions. What made Roy fire up like this? Why couldn’t he ever back off? His expression had changed, become more thoughtful.

‘What was your childhood like, Roy?’

‘It was good until my dad died – that changed my whole life.’

‘What happened?’

‘He went out one evening on his motorbike and never came back.’

‘Was it an accident?’

‘A road crash. A lorry swerved out of control, and Dad lost control of his motorbike. He was killed instantly.’

‘You never got over it?’

Roy shook his head. ‘I was just a kid – one minute I was sitting in the garden with my dad, I was helping him, he was talking to me, kidding me about me wanting a dog, and going to the greyhound racing with him. My dad used to let me help clean his bike; we’d go down the garden to the shed and work away. He used to grow vegetables as well. I was always there, running round after him.

‘We were best mates. Sometimes he took me out for a ride on the bike, on the pillion. There was nothing like it, going like the wind with me clinging on tight. Everything revolved around my dad in those days, he took me about with him, gave me little jobs to do, he made me laugh, kidding me about something or other.

‘I should have been going with him that night; he’d promised to take me but one of his pals wanted to go, so he said it would be my turn next time. I felt real miserable but that’s the way it goes.’ Roy paused. ‘If I’d been with him … As it was, an hour later he was gone. I’d gone to bed. For some reason, I couldn’t sleep. I heard a lot of noise downstairs and my mother wailing. I got up and looked through the banister rails – there were policemen and everyone was crying. I heard what they were saying but I couldn’t really take it in. It didn’t hit me ’til the day of the funeral. They’d bought me a new black coat. I hated it. And when I saw them lower my dad’s coffin into the ground, it all came over me. I wanted to chuck myself in after him. That’s when I knew I’d never see him again. My uncle had to drag me off. I went mental.’ Roy blinked hard, after all these years, the emotion was still raw.

‘It’s a hard thing for a little child to face,’ I murmured.

‘I started screaming and hollering. My uncle took me home.’ Roy turned his head away.

‘You do a lot of work for children’s charities … does this have something to do with it?’

Roy brightened up. ‘Yes. I try to put something back. Kids don’t have any chance when things go wrong in their life. They can’t sort it themselves – although maybe I did.’

‘How do you mean?’

Roy tapped the steering wheel. The traffic had snarled to a halt again. It was going to be a close thing whether we’d get there in time for the start. We eased forward, stop, start, a few cars at a time. Roy went on.

‘After my dad died, everybody was nice to me at home, but I had to go to school and the bullying still went on. Before, I’d always known my dad would stand up for me – but now I had nobody to back me up.’

‘Why were you being bullied?’

‘I don’t know. It was just kids. There’s always a victim.’

‘And an aggressor.’

Roy smiled at me. ‘Right. Anyway, when they cornered me, I knew I could run away, which was what they were expecting me to do, or I could stand and fight.’

‘You took them on.’

‘It came to me – that I didn’t care about anything any more – after my dad had gone. I felt this load of anger inside me.’

‘Because of your dad?’

‘Yes. That gave me the rush of adrenalin through my whole body. They had their dads and mine had been taken away. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to kill them. It was a strength I didn’t know I had. A powerful feeling like nothing else on earth. All my anger and grief came out in those punches. I didn’t feel any pain myself.’

‘Were you getting hurt?’

Roy shrugged. ‘I suppose I was. It didn’t mean anything to me. It never does when I fight. It’s as though I don’t feel anything. What happens to me doesn’t matter – the only thing is to beat the other guy, to knock him down, finish him. I have to win.’

‘The eye of the tiger?’

‘The same. I’ve always looked on it as a gift from God. I smashed those kids good and proper. They never came near me again. And that’s when I realised that something can come out of even the worst pain. I was never going to be frightened of anybody or anything again.’

As I listened to Roy talking about his childhood, I thought that even his voice has an intensity about it. I had to lighten the mood – we were going into a room full of hyped-up boxers – one false move and it would be a row to end all rows.

We made it to the East End of London and eased our way through the traffic on the double-parked streets. It wasn’t so far now. Roy began chatting about his property investments. He is a real charmer and great company. I learned about the houses he’d done up, his fabulous holidays, the cruises to the Caribbean and Far East. Roy is making up for lost time.

There was only one subject we didn’t talk about – women.

I already knew that he had lots of girlfriends. This is a man who likes to party. So, I had to ask. ‘Is there a lady in your life now?’

Roy shook his head.

‘Come on. You’ve made it, you’ve got a fabulous house, a successful business, you’ve no money worries.’

‘That’s right, Katie.’

‘So why do you live on your own?’ I thought about him coming home to that big empty house.

‘Being rich is terrific. I’ve done skint – I don’t ever want to go there again.’

That wasn’t quite what I was asking. ‘There’s no one to cook you a meal when you get in?’

Roy grinned. ‘There’s no hassle – I can please myself.’

‘There isn’t anyone special then?’

Roy was thoughtful for a moment or two. ‘There was someone once … who was very special.’

‘Who was she?’

‘A girl called Dorothy.’ He kept his eyes fixed on the road, maybe so I couldn’t see his expression.

‘And did you love her?’

‘She was the love of my life,’ he told me simply.

I’d touched a nerve. There was a silence. I somehow knew that for the time being I mustn’t go any further. This was yet another loose piece of the puzzle about this man who has more hidden depths than the Bering Straits. We were nearly there. I let it go. But I was going to ask him about Dorothy again, when the time was right. Who was she? And why had she had such a big impact on Roy? What had gone wrong?

We drove along Upton Park Road. The Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, Jaguars and Mercs were bumper to bumper. Damn. There was nowhere to park. We circled the pub a couple of times and eventually found a space opposite. Standing outside the pub was a bald-headed doorman, who looked a bit fierce and growling until he saw it was Roy, then he stopped immediately.

Roy pushed the swing doors open and we went inside.

I followed, feeling a bit apprehensive. What was I getting myself into? Britain’s most violent gangster, a warrior with the tolerance level of a cornered rattlesnake and the last King of the Unlicensed Ring was about to socialise with the blokes on the other side of the fence – the legit licensed boxers. My heart was going thud, thud, thud – now I knew what it felt like going into the ring – ‘Seconds out …’!