Dory's Avengers (24 page)

‘Yes, I know what sort of man your boss is. One who imprisons and tortures his own son.'

Knowing it would be pointless to answer while Louis was so upset, Lysander carried on eating in silence. Finally, Louis asked, ‘Do you still want to be part of the Scheme, Dad? I don't mean do you feel you have to, do you
want
to?'

‘I still agree with the Scheme in principle…'

‘That's all I need to know,' Louis interrupted, taking his empty plate to the sink and rinsing it. ‘Goodbye, Dad. Safe journey.'

Without waiting for an answer, Louis turned on his heel and walked from the room.

Part Two

Dory

Chapter Nine

Louis's life soon returned to normal, with the very welcome addition of Abi as a major part of it. He spent his first full day back home catching up on his sleep while Abi worked with her uncle. Late in the afternoon Louis finally got round to checking on his mother, guilty at having left it so long. He needn't have worried though; Nicola was quite comfortable, but so lost was she in her drugged world that she barely even recognised Louis. Looking into his mother's vacuous eyes, Louis couldn't help but wonder whatever had happened to Nicola Brown: fine gymnast and challenger of the St Benedict Scheme.

As summer gave way to the first signs of autumn, Louis's training carried on at its usual exhausting rate. Jenny returned to school, grown-up front teeth well on their way, and continued to do well at her lessons. Louis was glad his sister had moved up from Miss Winter's class; he couldn't help but connect Karen Winter with the abrupt disappearance of the Radcliffes. The love between Louis and Abi deepened and flourished, much to the delight of Jess and everyone else who cared about the young couple. Alan made a full and swift recovery from his beating, mainly thanks to the loving care of Dexter and Matilda. Alan's daughter stayed on in Applethwaite after her father's recovery, not wanting to miss out on any plans to rescue Theo and becoming increasingly frustrated with her
friends' lack of action. Despite Alan's beating, or possibly because of it, Dex remained steadfast in his decision never to accept St Benedict endorsement. People still continued to use The White Lion Inn, becoming expert at dodging the Sponsors' spot checks, and the sense of community in Applethwaite grew with every passing day.

It was on a cool day in October that Louis and Abi popped into the pub for a beer to find a very disconsolate Alan tuning one of his guitars.

‘You OK, Al?' asked Louis in concern.

‘No,' was all Alan would say, finishing his tuning and starting to play randomly.

‘The band wants to get Sponsorship,' said Dex from the bar, looking as fed up as Alan. ‘Al doesn't.'

‘But why?' asked Louis.

‘Dislocated jaw, three broken ribs, concussion, loss of my fine looks for weeks, lucky to still have all my teeth. Those enough reasons for you? I hate the bloody Sponsors!'

‘I meant, Alan, why do the others in the band want Sponsorship?'

‘Same reason anyone does,' said Dex glumly. ‘It's the only way to progress. Al's had an ultimatum: either accept Sponsorship or he's out of the band.'

‘But it's your band, Al,' said Abi. ‘You put it together, and there's no way they'll find another guitarist as good as you.'

‘Thank you, Abi; I appreciate that,' said Alan, smiling and continuing to play. ‘But I'll soon be a guitarist without a band, and that's not what I want to be really.'

‘Still moaning about the stupid Pink Pound, Dad?' said Matilda, bursting through the door. ‘Max has got the latest spot check dates.'

Since the summer, Max and Matilda had struck up the most unlikely of friendships. Things having gone quiet in Applethwaite, Lord William seemed to have forgotten all about Max, so the young man remained where he was. The
only move he made was from the Applethwaite Guesthouse to The White Lion Inn, covering his tracks with the Sponsors by saying it would make it easier to keep an eye on Dex and Alan. Every so often he'd email a report back to London, usually completely fictitious, which seemed to pacify the Sponsors as the village now appeared to be towing the line. Whenever a check was carried out on the Montfiores' pub, the only people found drinking there were some worthless Unsponsored. The Sponsors didn't need to know that this was thanks to Max letting Dexter know the dates of the spot checks as soon as he himself was in possession of them. Max knew the situation couldn't continue; sooner or later the Sponsors would catch him unawares and his cover would be blown, but for now he was loving being part of a proper community. He had never forgotten his epiphany the day Alan took his beating, and had become a better man for it. Best of all for Max was his friendship with Matilda, who had been as quick to forgive him when she realised he was disillusioned with the Sponsors as she had been to loathe him in the first place. So far she'd resisted his attempts to seduce her; and as the arrogant Max was a thing of the past he didn't ever assume that he'd be successful one day. Instead, he enjoyed every exciting day he spent as a friend of Matilda and of Applethwaite.

‘Oh, thanks, Max,' said Dex, taking the page from the young man. ‘What can I get you? On the house, of course.'

Max accepted a bottle of lager, then turned to Alan. ‘Why don't you form a breakaway band?' he asked. ‘Call it the Applethwaiters or something like that?'

Alan laughed at Max's band name suggestion. ‘Form a band with whom, Max Sweetie?'

‘People from the village,' replied Max. ‘That's why I came up with the name, which I know is rubbish by the way.'

‘Good. So we've got a guitarist; we just need a singer, bassist, drummer, keyboard player…'

‘I can play drums,' said Max unexpectedly. ‘And Matty can sing, as you well know Al.'

‘Cool idea, Max,' said Matilda, eyes shining. ‘I'm sure someone can learn to play bass, and we don't really need a keyboardist…'

‘I used to play piano,' Dex interrupted.

‘Stop, the bloody lot of you! Yes, this is all very fine, but it's not much use being able to play instruments if we've no instruments to play.'

‘There's a piano in our house,' said Louis, thinking of the grand piano in the cold, unused living room and feeling a bit foolish as he added, ‘It's a bit big, though.'

‘I've got a keyboard somewhere,' said Dex. ‘I think Georgie used to play on it when she was a kid so I don't know how good it'll sound, but then we're not talking about playing the Royal Albert Hall, are we!'

‘And I've got my drums,' added Max. ‘It'll be good to get them out and give them a blast again.'

Smiling round at everyone, the treachery of his former band mates forgotten in the excitement of something new, Alan said, ‘I think this could work. I love it! Well done, Max!'

As usual, Max felt delighted to be praised by one of his new friends.

‘I'm not working with the Applethwaiters name, though,' Alan continued. ‘Any name suggestions?'

‘The Anti-Sponsors?' said Abi.

‘The Unsponsored,' countered Matilda.

‘The Underclass!'

‘St Benedict Sucks.'

‘Dyer Sucks Harder!'

‘Not in a good way,' said Alan, winking at Dex. ‘What about: Dyer's in the Closet?'

‘Can we move away from the Dyer theme, please?' asked Abi, grimacing.

‘How about: Theo's Avengers?' Louis suggested.

‘You know, I quite like that, but we could hardly go public with it,' said Alan. ‘May cause us some bother, not to mention Theo himself.'

‘OK then, Dory's Avengers.'

‘Who's Dory?'

‘I know,' said Abi, grinning. ‘That's what Louis used to call Theo. Theo
dore
– Dory. No Sponsor would ever know who we meant by Dory; we could just say we're sticking up for the rights of John Dory fish or something.'

‘I love it!' said Alan again, clapping his hands and laughing with delight. ‘Fish have rights too you know, Mr Sponsor. Ha-ha!'

Dory's Avengers became the focus for Louis and his friends that autumn, taking their minds off the fact that the time still wasn't right to actually do anything to rescue Theo. The keyboard that Dex had mentioned turned out to be little more than a child's toy, but luckily the newly Sponsored Pink Pound members felt so bad about their desertion of Alan that they let Dory's Avengers have some of their old instruments.

‘Don't know why they're persisting with the Pink Pound name,' grumbled Alan as the familiar keyboard and bass guitar of his old band were unloaded from Chris Farrell's van and brought into the pub. ‘I was the only one who's gay.'

‘Get over it, Dad!' Matilda grumbled back. ‘The Pink Pound is so last season.'

As soon as the keyboard was in place, Dex and Georgie both made a beeline for it, each trying to stake their claim to be the band's keyboard player.

‘No, Dexter, I do not want to play bass. You play bass! Listen to this Al…'

‘Get off it!
My
idea,
my
keyboard…'

‘Piss off, Dex!'

‘Piss off yourself, Georgia!'

‘Shut up!' yelled Alan. ‘You want to be in the band? You audition. Dex, play something!'

‘Oh yeah,' grumbled Georgie. ‘We audition and you choose your boyfriend.'

‘You audition and we choose whoever's better. Not just me, the whole band chooses. Dex my love, play something, please!'

Dexter turned out to be a far more accomplished keyboard player than his casual suggestion had made him out to be, and was the obvious choice for the band. Georgie ended up playing bass, which she actually found she loved. For weeks after the brief audition she was often to be found in the bar with Alan, learning chords and playing techniques. Dex also took his role in Dory's Avengers seriously and spent every free moment in the pub practising his playing. Max's drum kit had taken up residence in the bar along with Dex's keyboard. Max played with rather more enthusiasm than skill, but once he was persuaded that he didn't have to hit every part of the kit at least twenty times a minute he turned out to be perfectly competent at keeping the beat. Bit by bit, Dory's Avengers came together.

It was during that autumn, as his motley band of avengers was attempting to turn a cacophonous din into beautiful music, that life began to change for Theo himself. Rather to his own surprise, Lord William found himself, in quiet moments, thinking more and more often about his son. Whenever yet another of his grovelling Sponsors had been seen out of the house by Mooreland, whenever one or other of his household staff had said all the right things to him, Lord William found himself yearning for the company of someone who'd actually argue with him. Rosanna always appeared to be blunt and outspoken, but was she really? Thinking about it, Lord William couldn't ever remember
her disagreeing with him on anything important, not like Theo did. Lysander was the same; yes, he could be cheeky, but he never actually disagreed with Lord William. The only person in His Lordship's world who had the nerve to tell him he was wrong was Theo, and to his amazement Lord William found he liked it. As a result, he was visiting his son's room more and more often, to Theo's obvious dismay.

‘You again, Your Lordship? I was hoping for a quiet day of looking out the window. I haven't had an opportunity to do that since…hmm…let me see…yesterday?'

‘Can't you just be nice for once, Theodore?'

‘Not sure, Your Lordship. Can you?'

To Theo's surprise his father started to laugh. It didn't take Theo long to realise that his father's increased visits coincided with a distinct improvement in his treatment; his back, although scarred, had healed from his summer flogging, and for two months there'd been no repeat of the painful experience. If only Dyer's cameras-off time could be brought to an end as well, then Theo's life would be positively comfortable.

Dyer's cameras-off time did come to an end, quite dramatically, a few weeks before Christmas. Alone in his office after a particularly grovelly Mortimer O'Reilly had departed, Lord William was in need of some more stimulating company and flicked on the security monitor to see if Theo was awake. Theo was indeed awake; in fact, he was parading, stark naked, in front of his security camera. There was no other way to describe it, Theo was putting on a show. Smiling and winking at the camera, Theo stretched his arms above his head, giving a full frontal view of his body to whoever may be watching before sliding his hands seductively down his bed post.

‘Theodore, what are you playing at?' murmured Lord William, switching off the monitor and making his way downstairs.

In the security room on the ground floor, Stephen Dyer sat alone in front of his own monitor, trousers round his ankles, eyes fixed on Theo. His breathing was ragged and his hand moved faster and faster between his legs. This was his secret, his closely guarded secret – he knew the ridicule he'd suffer if it became common knowledge that he found Theo attractive. More than attractive, actually; he fancied the young man so much it had become a physical ache. Over and over again, Dyer denied his true sexuality. He wasn't gay; of course he wasn't; he just enjoyed the sight of Theo St Benedict naked. Enjoyed it very, very much…

It was unfortunate for Stephen Dyer that just at the moment Theo's show and his own right hand brought him to climax, the door of the security room opened and in walked Lord William. Taking in the scene before him: the chief of security masturbating in front of a large screen on which His Lordship's naked son was blowing a kiss at the camera, Lord William composed himself with remarkable speed.

‘Which are Theodore's keys, Dyer? These ones? Thank you. Now, if you'll be good enough to make yourself decent and clean up the mess you've made, I'd like to see you in my office.'

Leaving Dyer looking as if he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, Lord William went back upstairs, all the way to the fourth floor and Theo's room. Finding to his relief that his son had put some clothes on, Lord William said, ‘Bracelet, Theodore.'