Dory's Avengers (20 page)

‘I will. See you soon, Rick.'

This time, having the advantage of streetwise company, Louis did manage to make it back safely to the Lonsdales' flat. Like Louis's group, Lisa and Rick clearly hadn't slept at all that night, so Lisa was making coffee for everyone pretty much the whole time it took to swap news. Louis introduced his new friends, all of whom now crammed into the flat and sat on every available surface. The Lonsdale children appeared, eyes wide with curiosity, and no one had the heart to shoo them back to bed, so it was very cosy indeed in the living room. For the second time that night Louis shared the details of his conversation with Theo and all that had happened since. Rick and Lisa then told the group about Lysander's unexpected phone call, and Sarah's escape from London with Jenny. Right on cue, the phone rang just as the Lonsdales finished their tale.

‘Allow me,' said Louis, snatching up the receiver before anyone could stop him.

‘Lonsdale residence,' he said, grinning and holding the receiver away from his ear as Sarah screamed in delight from the north of the country.

‘Louis…' she began, but then the receiver was taken from her and a familiar, grumpy voice said, ‘Where the bloody HELL have you been Trevelyan?'

‘Hello, Gideon, good to hear your voice,' said Louis honestly; his mentor's bad temper had never sounded so sweet.

‘Good to hear yours too, Louis,' said Gideon softly. ‘Now, some of Lord William's henchmen are here. They arrived yesterday evening. Your mother…'

‘She's in trouble too, Gideon. She lied for me when I was with Theo. I knew the thugs were on their way; I haven't had a chance to warn…'

‘Your mother is safe, thanks to a timely warning from your father of all people. Your home is not safe. If you're coming back to Applethwaite, and I hope you are, I suggest you head straight on up to my place. Sarah and Jenny are here already.'

‘I'll do that, Gideon. God knows how I'm going to get home, but I'll do it somehow. Please tell Dex and Alan that Dyer and co are after them too. I think they mean to give Alan a kicking to teach Dex a lesson…'

‘I'll warn them first thing in the morning, Louis; I promise. Get home quickly. I miss you.'

Without giving Louis time to reply, Gideon cut off the call.

‘Louis, that was very foolish snatching up the phone like that,' said Rick. ‘What if it had been the Sponsors?'

‘Oh yes, sorry. Talking of Sponsors, I ought to phone my father.'

The Unsponsored looked at him in alarm.

‘I'll go back to the phone box, if you prefer,' Louis continued. ‘But he's put himself out to protect Jenny and me tonight, and according to Gideon he's to thank for my mum being safe too. I owe him. Besides, unless any of you have transport, he could be my best hope of getting home.'

‘Phone from here,' said Rick shortly, handing Louis the phone and Lysander's unregistered phone number. Like Rick earlier, Lysander answered almost immediately. Obviously no one was getting a lot of sleep that night!

‘Dad,' said Louis when Lysander answered.

‘Louis!' said Lysander. ‘How are you?'

‘Safe,' said Louis cryptically.

‘Of course you're safe, Louis; I wouldn't expect you to be in danger from the Lonsdales!'

Laughing at Louis's gasp of surprise, Lysander continued: ‘The Lonsdales' number appeared on my phone as soon as you called. You don't know much about phones, do you?'

‘I don't know much about anything, Dad, but I'm learning fast. Now, I need to get home. Any ideas?'

Lysander was silent for a while, then said, ‘Yes. It's risky, but I think it'll buy us time.'

‘Us?'

‘You're my son, Louis, and it's about time I started acting like a father. Now, I don't think you should be putting the Lonsdales at risk any further by chatting on their telephone. If they'll be so good as to give you a bed for what's left of the night, I'll pick you up in the morning. Seven o'clock. Be ready.'

As soon as Louis put the phone down, Lysander made another call this time on his official number.

‘I've found him,' he said when the call was answered.

‘Good,' replied Brian Mooreland. ‘We'll see you in the morning.'

Chapter Eight

Unfortunately for Alan Santiago, Louis's warning came too late. Always an early riser, Alan was awake by six o'clock the morning after Sarah and Jenny's return to Applethwaite. Restless, he shook Dexter's arm a few times in the hope of rousing his boyfriend from sleep, but Dex just mumbled and turned away.

‘Bored,' grumbled Alan to the sleeping Dexter's back, before getting up and pulling on his running gear. Alan liked to keep himself fit, and seeing sun gleaming round the edges of the curtains he decided to make the most of the gorgeous morning by going for a jog before the day got too hot. Locking the door of The White Lion's living quarters behind him, mindful of the fact that unwelcome visitors had arrived in Applethwaite the previous evening, Alan went through his warm-up stretches then set off at a steady pace along the main street of the village.

‘Bingo!' said Stephen Dyer, boss of the unwelcome visitors, watching Alan's progress from the window of the Applethwaite Guesthouse. ‘Job's a good 'un, boys!'

Stationing themselves around the small village, Dyer and his band of thugs were easily able to track Alan's progress. Alan had never been one to blend into the background; his jogging kit was in eye-catching orange and white, which stood out starkly against the green foothills of 'Thwaite's Fell. Following a good run along the familiar tracks and
lanes around Applethwaite, Alan's intention was to return across a narrow packhorse bridge towards the safety of the waking village. However, he was dismayed to find his way blocked.

‘Excuse me please, guys,' he called politely to the pair of Sponsor thugs who were apparently admiring the view on either side of the bridge. The guys didn't move from their positions; they just turned to smile nastily at Alan. Suddenly feeling very scared, Alan halted his steps before he collided with the thugs, and had a fair idea of the sight that would greet him as he turned to look back the way he'd just come. Sure enough, there were five more Sponsor heavies blocking his only escape route, led by the loathsome Stephen Dyer.

‘Mr Dyer,' said Alan, hoping that his fear wasn't too obvious in his voice as he wanted to at least salvage some pride. ‘Can I help you with anything?'

Ignoring Alan's question, Dyer said, ‘Pile in, boys. Let's teach this queer shit a lesson.'

Alan only just had time to wonder what lesson he was supposed to be learning, before his arms were pinned back by the thugs behind him and Dyer's knee slammed violently into his groin. As Alan started to double up in agony, Dyer kicked him in the face and the thugs threw him to the ground. Too dazed by the ferocity of Dyer's initial attack to defend himself properly, Alan lay helpless as the blows rained down on his body, curling up in an attempt to protect the more vulnerable parts. Max had been conscripted by Dyer the previous night to go along with the beating; despite being anxious to redeem himself with the Sponsors, he couldn't help being sickened by the violence of the attack. Long after Alan was clearly unconscious, the beating continued. It was one of the old hands who finally put a stop to things though; Max would never have had the courage to intervene.

‘I think he's had enough, Mr Dyer,' said the old hand, watching in concern as Dyer viciously took out his own repressed sexuality on the prone body of the gay man. ‘His Lordship didn't ask us to kill him.'

With a snarl, Dyer hurled Alan's unconscious body over the side of the bridge and into the stream below. Still snarling, he ordered his staff back to the guesthouse. Such was his fury that not one of his band of thugs dared suggest they'd better make sure that Alan wasn't drowning.

As the thugs were returning to the guesthouse – the owner wise enough not to question why there was blood on their clothes – Dexter was waking alone in his bed.

‘Al?' he called, before noticing Alan's running kit was missing. As the dray would be delivering his latest order of beers before long, Dexter showered quickly, wondering why he felt so uneasy. Get a grip, he told his churning stomach; Al often goes for an early run.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Dexter unbolted the door of the pub to find Sarah Lonsdale on the doorstep.

‘Dex,' she said, ‘where's Al?'

‘Out for a jog, Sarah. Anyway, how are you? Good to see…'

‘Dex, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Al's in danger. Louis asked us to tell you the Sponsors are…'

‘Oh God, no! Not Al!' That'd be why Dexter felt so uneasy. Not even bothering to put anything on his bare feet, Dexter ran out into the road, yelling Alan's name at the top of his voice.

‘Look at that shirt-lifter looking for his boyfriend,' said Dyer, watching from the Applethwaite Guesthouse and laughing. Still a little confused by the ferocity of Dyer's attack on Alan, his companions continued to eat their breakfast and didn't reply. They'd only been asked to give the bloke a bit of a kicking, not beat him to a pulp and leave him in a river.

‘Al! Alan! Alan!' howled the normally laid-back Dexter over and over, running like a man possessed as doors opened and the occupants of the village looked out to see what all the commotion was about. Abi Farrell, her face still bruised from Max's thump, caught Dexter by the arm and attempted to calm him.

‘Dex, running in circles won't achieve anything. What's happened to Al?'

‘Dyer' was the only answer Dexter could manage, making Abi's face go pale.

‘What do
you
want?' she said in disgust, seeing Max hovering.

‘Follow me,' said Max, looking terrified. ‘Hurry!' Without waiting to see if Abi, Dex and the others who'd gathered were following, Max set off at a run. He needn't have worried about whether Dex would follow; the older man was at his shoulder in an instant.

‘There,' said Max, pointing at the water below the narrow packhorse bridge where Alan had taken his severe beating.

‘What?' began Dex, but Max had already gone. Scrambling down the bank, Dex noticed for the first time that the bridge was splattered with blood, and his anxiety reached fever pitch.

‘Oh no,' he said, seeing Alan lying unconscious on the grassy bank below the bridge, luckily not in the water. ‘Abi, is your mom there? '

‘I'm here, Dex. Oh my God!' Dr Jess Donatelli appeared behind Dex and, spying Alan, scrambled down to his side.

‘Is he-' began Dex.

‘He's alive, Dex. We need to get him out of here, though.'

‘Shouldn't we call an ambulance?' asked Georgia, arriving at her brother's side and taking his hand. Dex looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.

‘No,' he replied. ‘I'm not having a Sponsored ambulance taking him to a Sponsored hospital. Sponsors did this to
him,' he went on, trying his best not to cry. ‘I'm not leaving him at their mercy. Sorry, Jess, it's down to you.'

Sighing, Jess realised the truth in Dexter's words. Alan would have benefitted from hospital treatment, but in light of the fact Sponsors had beaten him in the first place he probably wouldn't be safe there.

‘I'm Sponsored, Dex,' she said.

‘You're not like them. I trust you.'

‘Thank you, Dex. I won't betray that trust. Is Chris there? You got the van, Chris? We need to get Alan home.'

It took a while to make up a stretcher from the contents of Chris's van. It then took a while to secure the still-unconscious Alan to the stretcher and get him into the van. Dex and Jess sat on either side of Alan, keeping his body as secure as possible as Chris drove carefully back to the village.

‘When is he going to wake up?' asked Dex, his voice still wobbly with unshed tears.

‘Not until we get him into bed I hope, Dex,' said Jess, trying to keep her own voice as light as possible. ‘Otherwise it'll be a very painful journey for him.'

Alan did indeed stay unconscious while he was carried up the stairs he'd jogged down earlier in happy anticipation of a lovely day. Dex helped Jess get Alan's running gear off so she could examine the extent of Alan's injuries.

‘Oh my,' she said. Alan's body appeared to be one huge bruise. ‘Now, I've not got the luxury of X-ray at my disposal, so I'm going to have to feel my way, Dex. I promise I'm not touching your boyfriend up.'

‘S'OK,' mumbled Dex, his usual humour deserting him for the time being, watching wide-eyed as Jess ran her hands over Alan's body in an attempt to find broken bones.

‘Nothing's badly broken, Dex, which is good. I think he'll probably have a few cracked ribs though, and that's going to give him some discomfort for a while. Apart from that it's
bruising, cuts and concussion. We can get him through this without any need for hospital; he's just going to need lots of TLC.'

‘He's got it,' replied Dex, his voice a bit stronger and a ghost of a smile on his lips. At that moment, the bedroom door flew open and a young woman stood on the threshold, dark eyes flashing with fury.

‘What worthless piece of Sponsor scum did this? I'll kill them!'

Rushing round like a little whirlwind, the young woman grabbed Dexter in a warm hug and covered his face in kisses.

‘Dex, Dex, Dex, we'll get him through this, darling; I promise!'

‘Matty,' said Dex, smiling properly for the first time and returning her hug. ‘I'm so glad you're here.'

Crossing over to the bed, the young woman took the hand of the still-unconscious Alan and said to him, ‘I am here now, Dad; and I'm not leaving until you're better!'

It was a constant source of amusement to the residents of Applethwaite that the proudly gay Alan Santiago, so at ease with his sexuality, should have fathered a child. Always of the belief that every experience was there to be tried at least once, Alan had a very brief foray into the heterosexual world when he was eighteen. It was such a brief foray that no one would even have noticed had it not resulted in the beautiful and forthright Matilda. She was her father's pride and joy; his love for Matilda was boundless, and the feeling was very much mutual.