Dory's Avengers (31 page)

‘It's OK, Abi darling. I'll be fine, I promise, but I think we've got to try and use this opportunity. I'd be a pretty poor excuse of a boyfriend for Elliot Farrell's daughter if I didn't take every chance to challenge the Sponsors! As for the Games; I'm trying not to think about it, but I can't help daydream a bit. The Games, Abi…'

‘How did His Lordshit know you were a gymnast?' asked Abi, bringing Louis back from his daydream.

‘Not sure, but I think it may have had something to do with Dad.'

‘You mean your bloody Sponsor father sold you out to His Lordshit? I really thought he was changing his views.'

‘Couldn't have put it better myself, young Abi.'

‘Shut up, the pair of you!' snapped Louis, thoroughly exasperated by the ease with which his friends still blamed Lysander for everything. ‘As I've already tried to explain to Gideon, I don't think Dad had any choice. His Lordshit was at great pains to tell me that Dad's at his mercy. What if Dad's been tortured like Theo?'

‘Theo's never sold you out!'

‘I don't think Dad did either. So he may have told His Lordshit I'm a gymnast. Aren't parents meant to be proud of their children's achievements? There's no way anyone could have guessed His Lordshit would want me to perform at the Games!'

‘He wants what?' asked Nicola Trevelyan, entering the studio at that moment and closing the door with difficulty on a blast of icy wind. ‘Who's performing at the Games?'

‘Hello, Mam. I'm glad you've popped by, I wanted you and Abi to know before the rest of Dory's Avengers.'

For the benefit of his mother, Louis went through the story once more, this time a little more clearly than when he'd told Abi.

‘That's fantastic, Louis! I'm so proud! I'm amazed Lysander didn't tell us himself…'

‘Louis thinks His Lordshit's imprisoned and is torturing Lysander, just like he did with Theo…' began Gideon, stopping abruptly when he realised he was talking to Lysander's wife.

‘Well done, Gideon,' muttered Louis as the colour drained from his mother's face.

‘You think he's torturing my husband?' Not waiting for a reply, Nicola took a mobile phone out of her bag.

‘Didn't know you had one of those, Nik,' said Gideon, but Nicola waved at him to be quiet.

‘Lysander? My love, are you OK?…Yes, I've just heard. Our Louis at the Games…yes of course I'm proud…' Nicola started smiling as she spoke to her husband.

‘Where are you?…Still there?… Put His Lordshit, I mean Lordship, on will you, darling? I'd like a word.'

There was a slight pause and the murmur of conversation from London, then Lord William's voice came on the line. ‘Good morning, Nicola. I take it you've heard the news?'

‘Indeed,' said Nicola. ‘I'm with Louis now. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about though, Lord William. I'll be brief, Your Lordship. Is my husband free to leave your house?'

‘Well…yes, I suppose so,' said Lord William, hesitating briefly until he remembered Louis's insistence that Lysander wasn't threatened anymore. ‘So much has happened this morning, I hadn't really thought…'

‘So he can come home for Christmas?'

‘Well, yes Nicola. I'm holding a soirée the day before Christmas Eve which I shall expect Lysander to attend, but he will be free to leave London on Christmas Eve.' Impulsively, Lord William added, ‘Why don't you attend my soirée too, Nicola?'

This time it was Nicola's turn to hesitate. Contempt for the Sponsors competed with curiosity and a desire to be with Lysander. Finally she said, ‘Thank you, Your Lordshit, I will attend.'

Lord William ended the call abruptly, not giving Nicola a chance to speak to Lysander again. Turning to face her companions, she found them doubled up with laughter.

‘What?' asked Nicola, baffled. Finally Louis managed to splutter:

‘You…said…‘‘Your…Lord…
SHIT
''!'

‘Oh my goodness, I did, didn't I?' For a while Nicola joined in the laughter, then she added, ‘I've been invited to Lord William's pre-Christmas get-together. Who'd have thought it?'

‘Not selling out to the Sponsors, are you, Nik?'

‘Not at all, Gideon, although I confess I'm intrigued. Mainly I want to be there for Lysander. If I find my husband's been hurt, I'll rip His Lordshit's Sponsored head off and spit in the hole!'

As word of Louis and Gideon's eventful morning was spreading round Applethwaite, Lysander was still hanging around the St Benedict residence despite His Lordship telling him that he was free to go home. The company of the high-spirited Theo and his gentle younger sister was infinitely preferable to time spent alone in his luxury apartment. Lord William seemed indifferent to Lysander's continued presence in his home, so Lysander stayed, sipping wine by the great drawing-room fire while Theo caught up with the latest goings on in
EastEnders
. Lord William had his laptop on his knee, having no interest in the world of soap operas beyond noting, to his approval, that all the characters were Sponsored. As ever, Marina was curled up on the comfortable sofa beside her brother.

‘Marina,' said Lord William, suddenly looking up from his laptop, ‘what do you want for Christmas, darling?'

‘Umm; not sure, Father.'

‘Well, you'd better make your mind up soon, dear; there are only a few days left. What about you, Theodore?'

Theo looked round in amazement, the world of the sponsored
EastEnders
forgotten in his surprise at being offered a Christmas present.

‘Are you sure, Your Lordship?'

‘Yes, Theodore; what do you want for Christmas? You are, after all, my son.'

‘In that case, please may I have a whore,' replied Theo without hesitation. Lysander nearly choked on his wine while Marina, although quite used to her brother coming out with the unexpected, giggled nervously. Only Lord
William remained unruffled by his son's answer, merely raising his eyebrows a little and repeating, ‘A whore?'

‘Yes please, Your Lordship, a whore. The dirtier the better; I'm a little frustrated…'

Lord William held up a hand, smiling slightly. ‘I think I can do better than that' was all he would say.

The day before Christmas Eve Nicola travelled south to attend Lord William's soirée. As befitted the wife of Lysander Trevelyan, her train ticket entitled her to sit in the luxury compartment reserved for the Scheme's elite. However, to the surprise of a series of ticket inspectors, she chose to sit in the uncomfortably crowded and noisy carriage set aside to carry the Unsponsored.

‘Mrs Trevelyan, you don't need to travel with this rabble,' said one of the Sponsored inspectors, adding, ‘We don't normally allow them to travel; it's a special dispensation as it's Christmas. They don't appreciate how kind the Sponsors are…'

‘Really, it's OK,' Nicola assured the ticket inspector before he could bore her with any more Sponsor-endorsed propaganda. ‘I like the company.'

‘But they're underclass…'

‘Really?' Nicola interrupted again, feeling desperately sorry for the poor, brainwashed man. As the inspector gave up and moved on to the warm and comfortable Sponsored compartments, the people around her laughed aloud.

‘You're from Applethwaite, aren't you?' asked one young woman, excited at her chance to travel to London and spend Christmas with her grandparents. When Nicola answered yes, the young woman beamed warmly at her and announced the fact to everyone else in the carriage.

‘This lady's from Applethwaite, guys.'

The young woman didn't have to say any more. The Unsponsored all knew the significance of Applethwaite as the
hub of their network, and welcomed anyone from the now-famous little village. Nicola was delighted that the Unsponsored accepted her as one of their own, despite her being married to a high-ranking Sponsor. When yet another confused ticket inspector tried a little later to get Mrs Trevelyan to move to the elite compartment, he found to his surprise that she was having what could only be described as a party with the Unsponsored. He also found to his surprise that he felt a little envious; untroubled by the limitations that Sponsorship put on him and his family, the exuberant underclass had filled their carriage with infectious Christmas cheer.

Arriving in London, Nicola was delighted to see her husband waiting for her on the platform. Her new friends crowded round her as the train drew to a halt, all wanting to get a glimpse of the famous Sponsor and have a little jeer at Lysander's expense.

‘Look at the little lapdog!'

‘I'm amazed his lips aren't brown, the amount of arse-kissing he must do…'

‘Excuse me, that's my husband!' said Nicola sharply, shushing her new friends.

‘Sorry, Nicola,' said Lucy, the young woman who'd been Nicola's companion for most of the long journey. Waving her copy of Max's latest newsletter, she added, ‘Dory's Avengers for ever!'

Smiling back at her, Nicola replied, ‘Dory's Avengers for ever, Lucy; and a very merry Christmas!'

Lysander felt like the proudest man on the planet when he arrived at the St Benedict residence, so stunning did his wife look. Having met Nicola from the train, not surprised in the slightest to see her emerge from the Unsponsored carriage, he took her directly to the shops on Oxford Street. As it was so close to Christmas, the shops were thronging with people and the roads solid with cars and buses, but neither caused
a hindrance to Lysander. His car was registered to travel in the Sponsors-only lane, and his Gold Sponsor card afforded Nicola the undivided attentions of obsequious, Sponsored shop assistants. Loathing the whole business, but in need of an outfit for Lord William's soirée, Nicola continually argued that she could wait in line with everyone else. Lysander just smiled fondly at her.

‘Indulge me, Nikki,' was all he'd say. ‘The sooner we're done here, the sooner we can get back to the privacy of the flat.'

Walking into Lord William's great drawing room that evening, Lysander was delighted that Nicola had indulged him. She was beautiful in a dress of powder-blue silk, with a cream velvet wrap covering her bare shoulders, and her hair and make-up were immaculate thanks to her own skill. Lysander thought she was by far the most stunning woman in the room, and catching a fair few other men giving her admiring glances he surmised that he wasn't alone in his belief. Even Lord William's eyes shone with approval as he lifted Nicola's hand and kissed it.

‘Nicola,' he said, ‘wonderful to see you. You look, well, wonderful!'

‘Lord William,' replied Nicola shortly, taking a tissue from her bag and wiping her hand where his lips had touched it as soon as his back was turned.

When Theo came bounding over a minute or so later, grinning broadly as he'd noticed Nicola's reaction to his father's kiss, her demeanour was completely different.

‘Theo! So good to see you, darling,' she said, hugging the young man and kissing his cheek. ‘You've grown up so handsome.'

‘And you're beautiful as ever, Nicola,' replied Theo, returning Nicola's embrace before shaking Lysander's hand warmly. ‘You're a lucky man, Lysander!'

‘Circulate, Theodore!' snapped Lord William, annoyed at
his son's obvious pleasure at seeing Nicola Trevelyan again. ‘There's someone I'd like you to meet.'

As Lysander and Nicola turned to greet Marina as warmly as they'd greeted her brother, Lord William led his son across the room, explaining himself as they went.

‘I've been giving some thought to your rather unorthodox present request, Theodore, and the answer's no. However, I appreciate that you're a young man, and that your chances to meet the fair sex have been a little…limited, shall we say?' As Theo raised his eyebrows at the understatement, Lord William continued.

‘I've an idea to put to you, Theodore, which I'm hoping will suit your needs rather better than a diseased whore.'

‘It's not Stephen Dyer in drag, is it?' asked Theo, making his father laugh out loud.

‘No, Theodore, it's not,' replied Lord William, eyes still bright with mirth. ‘It's the young lady over there.'

Following the direction of Lord William's eyes, Theo spied a young woman standing shyly next to a man who had to be her father. Dressed in an over-fussy pink dress, golden blonde hair neatly pinned up behind her head, Theo decided she was pretty in a rather boring sort of way.

‘What, the pink bunny?' he began, but Lord William cut him short.

‘That is Catherine Lorimer, Theodore. I'll be brief; I think she's noticed you gawping at her. Her father heads the British branch of a Europe-wide logistics firm. I don't think I need to name them; they pretty much control haulage and shipping throughout the continent. Being a European firm the British branch isn't Sponsored, and therefore I want to develop a good business relationship with Lorimer. I want regular contact with the man. I want…'

‘…Me to start shagging his daughter so you've got an excuse to invite them into your lair – I mean home? Am I right, Your Lordship?'

‘I'd rather you didn't put it quite so crudely, Theodore. Woo her, romance her, flatter her. I'm given to believe that you're a very good-looking young man…'

‘You want me to help your Scheme? You know my views on your oppressive regime, Your Lordship.'

‘Shut up, Theodore!' hissed Lord William. ‘I'm not interested in your opinions. One way or another I will get Lorimer onside; I was merely furnishing you with a means to satisfy your needs. Unless,' Lord William's eyes gleamed with amusement again, ‘you'd prefer Stephen Dyer in drag.'

Without waiting for an answer, Lord William strode over to Philip Lorimer and engaged him in conversation, leaving the painfully shy Catherine alone. She had indeed noticed Theodore St Benedict looking at her, and was wondering why someone that good-looking would even acknowledge her existence. A moment later she was even more baffled – Theodore the Gorgeous was now standing by her side, smiling warmly as he introduced himself.