Dory's Avengers (30 page)

‘For your sake, Trevelyan, he'd better be. Your hold on the Directorship of Leisure and Fitness is very tenuous at the moment.'

Two days later Lord William St Benedict's inner circle was once more seated in his office. Theo was in his usual place on the armchair, this morning with Marina squashed in beside him. Adorning the wall behind Lord William, covering the family photograph, was a big screen on to which Louis's gymnastic performance would be projected. That Louis was good enough to impress Lord William was in no doubt in Lysander's mind. That Louis, and Gideon, would be very put out to have the privacy of their studio invaded in
such a way was also in no doubt, and Lysander felt aggrieved that he'd been unable to warn his son. Anticipating that Lysander would do everything in his power to prevent Louis being put on display, Lord William had forbidden his head of Leisure and Fitness to leave the St Benedict residence since Monday morning. Guarded the whole time, Lysander had experienced a taste of Theo's prison; and it was only the company of the witty, charismatic young man himself that had kept Lysander from despair.

‘What is he up to?' Lysander asked himself, not for the first time, as Lord William greeted everyone and suggested that Theodore and Marina would have a better view if they stood with Rosanna at the back of the room.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,' said Lord William, switching on the projector, ‘welcome to the show!'

As the live film from Applethwaite came into focus on the big screen, Gideon Wallis was in full voice.

‘What the BLOODY HELL is going on here? Get that light out of Louis's face; can't you see it hurts his eyes?'

Louis appeared on the screen, hastily putting his dark glasses back over his eyes as the bright camera light burnt into them. Gideon Wallis, looking furious, wheeled his chair in front of Louis in an attempt to protect his protégé from the camera, suddenly noticing the scene in Lord William's office on David Foster's monitor

‘TREVELYAN,' yelled Gideon, seeing Louis's father sitting awkwardly in the London office, ‘What is the meaning of this? I let you in here, and what happens? You SELL YOUR OWN SON…'

‘Mr Wallis,' said Lord William, his tone of voice so sharp that even Gideon stopped in full flow, ‘I have commissioned this film. I want to see the boy, who is apparently a talented gymnast.'

‘Why?' retorted Gideon. ‘What makes you so interested? I can speak for Louis, he doesn't want Sponsorship…'

‘I'd rather Lewis spoke for himself, Wallis. Good morning, Lewis; do you know who I am?'

‘Yes, Lord Wilfred. Good morning.'

The silence in the room was broken by Theo's failed attempt to stifle a laugh.

‘Theodore, you are lucky to be in the room at all,' said Lord William, rounding on his son. ‘Behave or leave. The choice is yours.' Turning back to the screen, he spoke to Louis once more.

‘What did you call me? My name is not Lord Wilfred.'

‘My name is not Lewis, Your Lordship,' replied Louis, earning another snort of laughter from Theo in London and one from Gideon in Cumbria.

‘THEODORE! LAST CHANCE! OK –
Lou-ee
– as you're so particular I'll indulge you. Can't you take those glasses off? It's the middle of winter!'

‘Only if you have that light turned off,' replied Louis.

‘Turn the lights down!' barked Lord William at the camera crew, before turning his attention back to Louis as the young man took off his dark glasses.

‘That's better,' said His Lordship. ‘You can't do gymnastics in those things, surely. Now, Louis, I'm going to ignore the fact that you seem to have miraculously learned some social skills since the summer. The situation is simple. You're a gymnast. The country needs a gymnast.'

‘Why?'

‘For the Games, Louis. Don't interrupt again, please.'

‘You want ME to compete in the Games?'

‘I want to see if you're good enough.'

‘Don't I have to qualify?'

‘A British gymnastics team has qualified, but only just. It's a weakness. I only want the strongest competitors at the Games, show the world that Team GB is the best.'

‘But don't the gymnasts who qualified have to be the ones to compete?'

‘If I say you're going to compete with the British team, then you compete.'

‘And if I refuse?'

‘I'll use other methods of persuasion. Remember, your father is at my mercy. You wouldn't want Mr Dyer to get upset with Lysander, would you, Louis?'

Gideon started to wheel himself over to the camera, but Louis stopped him.

‘OK,' said Louis, ‘what do you want to see?'

‘Address me as Your Lordship, Trevelyan! I demand respect!'

‘I wasn't aware respect was something that could be demanded,' replied Louis, to Theo and Gideon's delight. ‘However, as you so rightly say, my father is at your mercy. Morning, Dad, by the way. What do you want to see, Your Lordship?'

‘Gymnastics!'

‘I meant, Your Lordship, with all
due
respect, Your Lordship, do you want to see floor work? Pommel horse? Parallel bars? Rings…?'

‘Anything, Trevelyan! Just get on with it.'

Raising himself on to the pommel horse, Louis got on with it. Not a word was uttered, either in the London office or the Applethwaite studio, as Louis executed his complicated routine with effortless skill. As Louis landed on the floor, Lord William was already barking out his next command.

‘Floor work.'

Once again Louis performed a series of difficult moves with ease, not even allowing himself to be distracted by the pleasant memories of other activities he'd performed on the mat.

‘Parallel bars,' barked Lord William as soon as Louis finished, but this time Louis raised a hand and said breathlessly, ‘Rest first.'

Louis had to demonstrate every different discipline for Lord William, who then asked to see another routine on the parallel bars before he was satisfied.

‘Come over to the camera, Louis!' said Lord William finally. ‘David, what do you think?'

‘The lad's very, very gifted,' replied David Foster without hesitation.

‘Julia?'

‘Totally agree with David, Your Lordship.'

‘Theodore?' asked Lord William without warning, pleased to see that he'd actually managed to take his cool son by surprise.

‘Your Lordship?'

‘Don't act stupid, Theodore; that's more young Trevelyan's area of expertise. What do you think of Louis's gymnastic abilities?'

Looking past Lord William, Theo addressed the camera beaming the scene in Lord William's office up to Gideon's studio in Applethwaite.

‘I think you're brilliant, Louis. Absolutely brilliantly talented. I've never been so impressed in all my life.'

‘Thank you, Theo,' replied Louis, smiling back at Theo and just managing to stop himself calling his friend Dory.

‘All right, stop the little love-in, you two,' Lord William said. ‘That's settled then. Trevelyan, I'm going to put your name forward to perform with the British gymnastics team at the Games next summer. With the Games being held here in London I want the strongest GB team I can find, so you'll be getting Sponsor-endorsed training. I know the very place here in London…'

‘Whoa, Your Lordship! Whoa!' interrupted Louis, holding up his hand again. ‘If, and it is a big if, I go along with this, I will not be trained by anyone but Gideon, and I will not train anywhere but Applethwaite.'

‘Remember you father is at my mercy…'

‘Remember I have something you want, Your Lordship. You want gold at the Games? I can deliver gold; but if you threaten my family, I'll deliver fuck all.'

‘Proud of you, Louis,' whispered Gideon.

‘Don't you DARE speak to me like that!' roared Lord William. ‘You're even cockier than your father! I make the rules…'

‘Not this time, Your Lordship. I still don't believe I can just rock up and compete instead of the people who actually qualified, but I'll go along with your crazy idea nonetheless. It has to be on my terms, though.'

‘What are your terms then?'

‘Simple. One: Gideon and only Gideon trains me. I wouldn't be the gymnast I am today without him; he's the best. Two: I train here in Applethwaite, and only leave here when required to compete. Three: stop threatening my father. These are my terms, Your Lordship, and they're non-negotiable.'

Unable to hold his tongue any longer, Mortimer O'Reilly's whiny voice cut into the silence following Louis's statement.

‘Your Lordship, is this wise? Putting Trevelyan's son into the public eye in this way? The world's media will be focused on the Games; I beg you to reconsider…'

‘Thank you, Mortimer; that will do! Unless you can find a better gymnast than Louis Trevelyan, he will be performing at the Games next summer. Have it your way, Louis.'

Raising his head from his warm-down stretches, Louis focused with some difficulty on the scene in London.

‘Thank you, Your Lordship. I'm glad we were able to come to an agreement. Good morning, Mr O'Reilly; has that crystal ball of yours thrown up anything interesting recently?'

Gideon didn't make Louis train any more that day. After the
departure of David Foster along with Lord William's camera crew, they stared at each other in amazement for a few minutes, both finding it hard to believe what had just taken place. Eventually, Gideon asked Louis to make them both coffee, then Louis sat down cross-legged in front of his mentor's wheelchair.

‘You know I don't give praise lightly, Louis…'

‘That is the understatement of the century, Gideon. Sorry, go on with what you were saying.'

‘What I was trying to say…' began Gideon, attempting to sound grumpy but failing completely as a huge smile lit up his face. ‘What I'm trying to say, Louis, is that I'm so proud of you I could burst! That little stunt of His Lordshit's; I thought you'd go to pieces, I must say, but you were brilliant! Your performance was as good as I've ever seen you produce, and the way you handled His Lordshit! I can't wait until Dory's Avengers hear about this…'

‘Careful, Gideon,' said Louis, delighted at the unprecedented level of praise from the older man. ‘You'll make my ego so big I won't be able to get through the door, let alone perform at the Games.'

‘I'm amazed you agreed to it, Louis. You used to be so shy!'

‘I think I started to change when I went to London and found Theo…'

‘…Who looked as proud of you as I am, Louis.'

‘Do you think so?' said Louis, looking happier than ever.

‘I'm sure of it, Louis. I know your eyesight's bad but mine isn't. Theo was grinning from ear to ear the whole time you were tackling his father. You heard yourself what Theo thinks of your gymnastic ability. Anyway, we digress. What made you agree to go along with His Lordshit's idea?'

‘To start with it was the fact that Dad was at His Lordshit's mercy. I know you don't have much time for my dad, Gideon, and I understand your point, but he's my father. He does his best…'

‘…Which is pretty piss poor…'

‘…He does his BEST, Gideon, and I love him.'

‘Why didn't he warn us about this morning's little stunt then?'

‘God, Gideon! I thought I was meant to be the dim one here. You heard His Lordshit; Dad's at his mercy. Anyone who can imprison and torture his own son won't flinch at doing the same to one of his minions!'

Louis shuddered a little as unwanted thoughts filled his head about the possible horrors his father may have had to endure.

‘I'm sure Dad would have warned us had he been able to, Gideon. He's changing. Anyway, that was my first reason. Funnily enough, it was Mortimer O'Reilly who furnished me with a second good reason. The eyes of the world's media will be on the Games. Let's just say His Lordshit does manage to swing it so I can compete despite not having qualified…'

‘Which, I hate to say, is highly unlikely…'

‘But let's just imagine he does pull it off. Imagine if I win gold. Everyone knows about Sponsorship in this country, how all our sportsmen and women have to be Sponsored. Then, an Unsponsored Brit wins gold at the Games. It gives us publicity, Gideon. It gives us a platform to show the world, just maybe, the oppression going on here. It may even give us a platform to overthrow…'

‘Louis! LOUIS! I applaud your wild notions; God knows, I applaud them, but just remember Elliot Farrell was in the eyes of the world's media too. Just remember what happened to him.'

‘I know, Gideon. Of course I understand your concern, but it's not going to stop me sharing my wild notions with Dory's Avengers later. Besides, what happened to Elliot won't happen to me.'

‘How the fuck do you know that?' growled Gideon, sounding more like his usual self.

‘Oh, hello, Gideon – I'm glad to see you're back and that strange nice bloke has gone. I know it won't,' Louis started to laugh, ‘because Mortimer O'Reilly foresaw it.'

Gideon couldn't help but join in Louis's laughter, and they were pretty much helpless for a few minutes. Eventually, Louis said, ‘There's one more reason I said yes, Gideon.'

‘What's that, lad?'

‘It's the Games, Gid,' replied Louis, blue eyes gleaming with excitement. ‘I just might end up competing…at the Olympic Games!'

In the run-up to Christmas, the only topic of conversation in Applethwaite was His Lordship's wish for Louis Trevelyan to compete at the Games. Abi had dropped into Gideon's studio as Louis and Gideon were still discussing their eventful morning, and she listen wide-eyed as a very excited Louis let her know what had taken place. Torn between euphoria and anxiety, Abi was full of questions.

‘Louis, darling, be careful! I don't want to lose you like I lost Dad. Aren't you nervous?'

‘What about – His Lordshit's thugs or performing at the Games?' Seeing Abi shudder, her eyes filling with tears at the thought of Lord William's henchmen taking her boyfriend from her as they'd taken her father, Louis put his arms around her.