Dory's Avengers (38 page)

‘More spies, darling?' he asked, seeing a hive of activity on the guesthouse's forecourt as cars were unloaded.

‘Dyer,' she replied in a hiss, as a loathsome voice called from the other side of the street.

‘Miss Farrell! Silly me, I should have brought flowers for your daddy's grave…'

Furious, Louis started across the street towards Dyer.

‘LOUIS!' screamed Abi. ‘Leave it! He's not worth it.'

‘Oh hello, Whitey,' said Dyer in delight. ‘Didn't see you there in the snow.'

Seeing Abi restraining her boyfriend, Dyer started enjoying himself even more.

‘Miss Farrell, it can be MURDER keeping these boys in check, can't it? What's with the testosterone overdose, Whitey? Making up for the lack of pigment?'

‘Louis, no, don't rise to him…' began Abi, holding Louis back once again as he tried to get across the road, yelling that Dyer was a piece of shit.

‘I'll let that go, Whitey, as you're His Lordship's new plaything. I'm a generous man…Ooooof!'

So intent was Dyer in baiting Louis and Abi he hadn't noticed a little, wild-haired whirlwind approach until her boot made violent content with his groin.

‘That one's for my dad, fuckwit,' screamed Matilda. ‘And it's just the start.'

Matilda sprinted away while Dyer was still doubled up in pain, her laughter echoing around the village street. No longer enjoying his encounter with Abi Farrell, Dyer yelled at his fellow thugs to take it out on Louis Trevelyan.

‘Get the albino twat, you idiots! He started it…'

‘Mr Dyer, His Lordship won't like that. Stick to the plan, eh? They'll soon learn!'

Regaining his composure a little as he remembered the fun in store for the thugs' time in Applethwaite, Dyer smirked across the road at Abi and Louis.

‘Yeah, let's behave with some dignity,' he said with unconscious irony. ‘You'll learn, Unsponsored scum!'

Disappearing into the Applethwaite Guesthouse, jeering loudly, the Sponsor thugs left Louis and Abi very shaken.

‘Come on, Louis,' said Abi gently, her love for her hotheaded boyfriend overwhelming her as she put her arms around him and led him off to collect Jenny.

The appearance of the Sponsor thugs dampened the mood of everyone in Applethwaite, apart from the irrepressible Matilda. Delighted at having had an unexpected chance to inflict some pain on the loathsome Dyer, she told the tale to anyone who'd listen long into the night.

‘Matilda, do take care, my love,' said Alan, concern for his daughter overcoming his own impetuous nature.

‘I did it for you, Dad, and it's just the tip of the iceberg,' replied Matilda, leaping to her father's side and hugging him tight. ‘Dex approves, don't you, darling?'

‘Yes and no, Matty,' said Dex, looking fondly at Matilda, whom he loved dearly.

‘Boring! Dex agrees with his boyfriend, again!' said Matilda, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

‘Yes, I agree with my boyfriend. No, not boring; it's because we both love you. Don't let Dyer…'

Turning away, the normally calm Dex found himself a bit overwhelmed.

‘Dex, I love you too. Loads and loads! I'll be careful I promise, but I can't resist hurting that scumbag…'

The day after Abi's encounter with Dyer, Louis resumed his training with a renewed focus, having put his tantrum at his father behind him, and Gideon praised him for his improved concentration.

‘Good job, Louis,' he said at the end of the day. ‘Carry on like that and you'll soon shift all that Christmas fat.'

Louis, having returned to his usual good-natured self, just patted his muscular stomach and grinned at Gideon.

The Sponsor thugs were still casting their evil eye over the village, but everyone tried their best to carry on as normal. Louis's training soon got back to its usual frenetic pace, and the more he focused on his beloved gymnastics the more his anger with his father dissipated. A couple of days after his big row with Lysander, Louis sat down to talk things over a lot more calmly with Nicola.

‘I've been thinking, Mam. I really think Dad's trying to make amends…'

Not letting him say any more, Nicola hugged her son and kissed him soundly.

‘Darling, you're right. Your father's not a bad man. He's been entrenched in the Scheme for so long, and now doesn't know how to get out. The worst he's been is naive sometimes; he's a good man. He loves us, Louis. He loves us so much.'

Louis was eternally thankful that he'd had this conversation with Nicola, coming when it did. The next day he kissed his mother goodbye before heading off to training,
looking forward to her coming to watch him after she'd put some washing on. Sarah had already left to collect Gideon and drive him to the studio, before she and Jenny headed off to the January sales in Carlisle. Louis felt pretty cheerful and optimistic about the forthcoming New Year as he met up with Gideon. Later, he searched his memory for any feeling of foreboding, but every time came to the same conclusion; he had no idea of the horror to come.

Nicola, too, was feeling content as she sorted out the washing, loving the fact that she could now help Sarah with the running of the house. Earphones plugged in, she was listening to her favourite songs on her MP3 player and singing along tunelessly, so she never heard Lord William's thugs entering her house. Even though she knew the thugs were in town, Nicola hadn't locked the door, thinking she'd be out and on her way within minutes.

‘Silly cow!' said Dyer, laughing as he and his thugs entered the house, bold as brass, by the unlocked front door. ‘Talk about sealing her own fate.'

Nicola, coming down the stairs with a basket of washing, took a second to register the scene in front of her: Dyer and the rest of the thugs waiting in her hallway, some with baseball bats, all with nasty smirks.

‘Hello, Mrs Trevelyan,' began Dyer, before noticing the earphones in Nicola's ears.

‘Oh dear, Mrs Trevelyan. Door unlocked. Can't hear us…'

The basket of dirty washing suddenly flew down the stairs, hitting Dyer in the face as Nicola ran back upstairs. As soon as she'd turned and run, Nicola realised her mistake. Where could she go from here? Sooner or later Dyer and his thugs would find her. Deciding she couldn't bear to be dragged from her children's bedrooms, Nicola headed for her own room. She was almost at the door of the room she'd shared with Lysander for so many years, the room in which both
her children had been conceived, before an arm wound round her neck.

‘Got her, Mr Dyer,' called the thug, dragging the struggling Nicola back into the midst of his companions. Walking up to Nicola, Dyer kicked her soundly in the stomach then punched her face, breaking her jaw with one blow.

‘Very silly move, that washing basket thing,' said Dyer, as the sounds of cheerful music still came from Nicola's headphones. ‘Goodbye, Nicola. Should have stuck with the drugs…'

Louis was executing a difficult routine on the rings with his usual unconscious skill when the studio door opened. Looking over with a smile, expecting to see Nicola arriving to watch Louis train, Gideon was surprised to see a wild-eyed and distressed Jess Donatelli instead.

‘Jess…?' began Gideon, but Louis had already dropped to the ground and was at Jess's side in an instant.

‘Louis,' Jess said, starting to cry. ‘Louis my darling, oh Louis…'

‘What the bloody hell's happened?' asked Gideon, panic overwhelming him.

‘Thugs, Louis… your house…,' Jess managed eventually.

‘Oh no!' Louis ran through the door into the cold December day still in his gym kit. Grabbing Gideon's chair, Jess wheeled him off after Louis as fast as possible, and the unusual convoy attracted attention as it made its way through the village. By the time Jess and Gideon got back to the Trevelyan household, they had been joined by the Montfiores, Alan, Matilda and a good many other people. Within minutes Chris and Abi arrived too, Jess having phoned Chris hysterically on her way to Gideon's studio.

‘Oh my God, Louis,' Abi whispered, moving forward from the crowd to take her boyfriend in her arms as he stared in shock. He stared in shock at his mother – hanging by the
neck from a large tree in the Trevelyan's garden, cold and dead.

In Lord William's office on the third floor of the St Benedict residence, a Sponsors' meeting was in full swing. As usual, Lord William was anxious to tie up any loose ends before the New Year, and he was listening to each member of the group reporting on the progress of their particular endorsements. Wanting to make amends for being late back from Applethwaite, Lysander had spent all his time since his return putting together a detailed report on Leisure and Fitness. He was delivering this report to his boss and colleagues when Lord William's phone rang.

Glancing at the caller display, Lord William said, ‘Sorry, Lysander, I'm going to have to take this.'

The call was brief. ‘Hello…Exactly as planned?…Excellent. Now listen, Dyer, I need you personally back here. Leave three, no make it four, men behind, and return today. Understand?…Good man. Well done.'

Replacing the receiver, Lord William turned back to his inner circle.

‘Sorry about that,' he said, unusually amiably. ‘Please continue, Lysander.'

Lysander didn't get the opportunity to continue before his own phone rang. He was just starting to say, ‘Your Lordship, I really should…' but Lord William interrupted.

‘Kill the call and get on with your report, Trevelyan. You're on very thin ice these days, so please don't push it.'

Cutting off the call reluctantly, Lysander tried to continue with his report but his mind kept wandering. Then his phone shrilled again.

‘TREVELYAN!'

Torn between curiosity as to why Jess Donatelli would be phoning him in London and not wanting to annoy His
Lordship further, Lysander looked helplessly from his ringing phone to his irascible boss.

‘My doctor…my kids…' mumbled Lysander, reluctantly cutting Jess off again as he saw the expression on Lord William's face. In the room below, the sound of Theo's guitar stopped abruptly as the television was turned up.

‘Breaking news, just in!' The inner circle could clearly hear the words blaring from the drawing room television below. ‘We now cross over to our North-West reporter in Applethwaite…'

The presenter's voice trailed off in confusion, and the next voice the Sponsors heard was that of Maxwell Barrington, the famous deserter.

‘Good morning. I'm here in Applethwaite where…'

‘This is highly irregular,' interrupted the presenter, trying to regain some composure. ‘We've got Sponsored reporters onsite, where's…'

This time it was Max's turn to interrupt.

‘No Sponsored! Only Unsponsored allowed beyond this point. Do you want to know what's happened? Then you'll have to make do with me reporting.

‘As I was saying,' Max continued, his voice sounding sombre, ‘I'm here in Applethwaite reporting on the mysterious death of Nicola Trevelyan, who was found hanging from a tree by her son earlier today. Louis Trevelyan was alerted during his morning training session by family doctor, Jessica Donatelli, who had noticed some irregularities around the Trevelyan household as she'd driven past. I've yet to confirm what these irregularities were…'

Not a sound could be heard in Lord William's office beyond that of the ticking clock and Max's voice as he went on to say that the official word was suicide. Max then gave some general background information about the family. Two children; Louis, twenty-three, a gymnast hoping to compete at the Games, and Genevieve, aged six. Husband
Lysander, a high-ranking Sponsor. All of a sudden the television was switched off, the sound of running feet came up the stairs, and Theo burst into Lord William's office.

‘Knock first!' snapped Lord William. Theo ignored him and, wild-eyed, addressed Lysander.

‘Lysander, you need to get home, now, urgently…'

‘We heard, thank you, Theodore,' Lord William interrupted. ‘Very tactless, I must say, having the television on that loud. What a way for poor Lysander here to find out…'

‘You knew, didn't you?' Lysander spoke for the first time, his voice sounding thick as he turned to look at Lord William. ‘That call from Dyer. You knew!'

Taking out his phone, Lysander called Jess Donatelli's number. She answered pretty much on the first ring.

‘Lysander…' she began, clearly in tears.

‘I know, Jess; I've just heard Max's report. Yes, yes, I'll leave straight away…'

‘You'll stay here,' growled Lord William, but Lysander ignored him.

‘Yes thank you; I'm OK to drive. Is Louis there? May I speak to him? No, no that's understandable…I'll see him when I get home.'

There was a long gap while Lysander listened to Jess, ignoring his boss's repeated attempts to attract his attention. Finally, his face unreadable, Lysander said, ‘Really? We'll talk when I get home…Yes, you too Jess. Thank you.'

Ending the call, Lysander looked at Lord William without speaking, the silence becoming more and more uncomfortable. Never blessed with compassion, it was Lord William who broke the silence with a highly inappropriate comment.

‘Louis not talking again, Lysander? Shame, his social skills were coming along so nicely…'

‘HE'S JUST LOST HIS MOTHER, YOU INHUMAN TWAT!' yelled Theo, slamming his fists on to Lord
William's desk and causing Mortimer O'Reilly to jump violently. ‘I KNOW HOW THAT FEELS, REMEMBER?'

‘It's OK, Theo,' said Lysander, his quiet voice having more impact than Theo's shouting. Turning to Lord William, Lysander continued, ‘You knew; didn't you, Your Lordshit?'

‘Given that you're overwrought, I'll let that slip of the tongue go, Trevelyan. Yes, I'll admit I knew. Suicide; poor Nicola. If only she'd continued with her course of medication…'

‘Might it not have been…erm…shall we say considerate? Yes, considerate to share the news with me? Being as it concerned…my wife…'