Dory's Avengers (51 page)

‘I haven't called you here today to discuss Theodore. He is nothing to me now. NOTHING! There are far more pressing issues, some of which have come to my attention since I emailed you all yesterday morning.

‘I'll begin with the subject of Lysander Trevelyan, who continues to be conspicuous by his absence. As you all know, I attended a wedding in the troublesome little village of Applethwaite over the weekend. My brother-in-law's wedding. I'm not interested in discussing the ceremony, though. I'm interested in the fact Applethwaite seems to have become a hotbed of Unsponsored activity, and that Trevelyan seems to have become heavily involved in this activity.'

Sighing, Lord William drummed his fingers on his desk.

‘I've had a look at recent records of the Leisure and Fitness group since I've been home, and they do not make happy reading. It would seem Trevelyan is relaxing his control, and many of those benefitting from the myriad rewards of Sponsorship are far from conforming to the codes of conduct we expect. I won't bore you with the details; suffice to say Trevelyan seems to have lost sight of the Scheme's aims.'

Once again Lord William sighed, while Mortimer O'Reilly looked as though he would be anything but bored by details of Lysander Trevelyan's failure to do his job. Lord William collected himself, crossed to the doorway, and called Brian Mooreland into the room.

‘Brian,' said Lord William sadly, ‘please show Ms Maloney in.'

The Sponsors looked curiously at the newcomer as she entered; a very pretty woman of about forty with an impressive mane of dark, curly hair.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,' said Lord William, ‘I present to
you Faye Maloney, the new director of the Leisure and Fitness Sponsorship group.'

Inevitably, it was Mortimer O'Reilly who spoke first. Almost unable to contain his excitement, he asked the question on everyone's lips.

‘Your Lordship, what about Trevelyan?'

‘We'll come to that, Mortimer. I will be speaking with Trevelyan and his Unsponsored friends in that wretched place shortly, but I want to get through business first. I want you all to be acquainted with the decisions I've made before we make contact with the Unsponsored hole.' Addressing David and Julia Foster, Lord William carried on.

‘From Trevelyan the elder to Trevelyan the younger. Your Adam seems to have struck up quite a friendship with Lysander's son; says you gave him the go-ahead to watch… what's his name…training. Well, there's no need. The Trevelyan boy will not be competing at the Games this summer.'

Looking round the room, Lord William wasn't surprised to see Mortimer's eyes shining with delight. The Fosters, on the other hand, looked horrified.

‘David,' said Lord William, ‘would you like to speak?'

‘Yes, Your Lordship,' replied David Foster. ‘Louis Trevelyan is, quite simply, the best British gymnast since…well since Gideon Wallis. Gideon himself was the best British gymnast the world has ever seen. If you want the British gymnastic team to win gold medals at the Games…'

‘I want the SPONSORED gymnastic team to win golds at the Games, David,' replied Lord William, ‘not some Unsponsored SCUM!'

David wisely shut up, despite knowing that no Sponsored gymnast came close to Louis Trevelyan's talent. He had a bad feeling about this meeting, especially where Applethwaite was concerned, and was only too well aware that his son was in a very vulnerable position.

‘I've let you down, my friends,' said Lord William
unexpectedly. ‘I've been so caught up in the sense of occasion, with the Games being held here in the heart of Sponsor-endorsed UK, that for a while I lost sight of the bigger picture.'

Allowing for a pregnant pause, His Lordship continued.

‘There will be only Sponsored sportsmen and women competing for the British team at the Games. David, Julia; I can see you're disappointed, but this is my decision and it is final. I now require you to contact your son; he can serve a useful purpose by providing a means of communication between us and that bloody village. Get on to him immediately, tell him to use his laptop to provide us with a visual link and to stand by until I'm ready. Tell him also that I require to speak with Trevelyan father and son.

‘However, there is one more thing I wish to discuss with you all before we speak to Trevelyan and his Unsponsored friends. I had a rather upsetting phone call from my head of security, Lee Fellows, last night. It would seem that the Unsponsored rabble in Applethwaite have driven my security men out of the village. At present, my men are in a Sponsored hotel in Penrith, but they should be in Applethwaite in case the troublesome piece of SHIT once known as my son shows up. The Unsponsored have closed ranks and will not let them return.

‘Once again, I have let you down, my loyal friends. I of all people should only have the interests of the Scheme in mind; instead, I've been allowing myself to get caught up in sentimentality. Theodore, the Games, this wedding last weekend…all manner of trivia has been distracting me. But no more! I promise you that from now on my only priority will be the Scheme; I shall expect the same level of commitment from all of you, and anyone delivering less than 100 per cent will go the same way as Trevelyan…

‘Julia; have you made contact with Adam? Is the link set up? Good. We may proceed.'

As the picture from Applethwaite came into focus on Lord William's big screen, he immediately recognised the bar of The White Lion Inn.

‘Ah, the Unsponsored public house,' he said for the benefit of his inner circle, ‘with all the good-for-nothing Unsponsored drinking their lives away. Good morning, Adam, have you carried out my orders?'

‘Lysander is behind the bar, Louis is on his way,' replied Adam shortly, his failure to say Your Lordship not going unnoticed by Lord William.

‘I can see you're fast sinking into the deplorable way of life of the Unsponsored, Adam,' he snapped. ‘Hanging around in pubs getting drunk all day, not showing due respect to your superiors…'

‘I show due respect to those who are due respect,' said Adam. ‘And we're not drinking, we're cleaning.'

‘Is that really a fitting pastime for the son of two highranking Sponsors?'

‘Why not? I like to keep myself occupied doing something worthwhile; and your daughter's vomit, for example, wasn't going to mop itself up.'

‘Adam, remember to whom you're talking!' warned David Foster, gravely concerned for his son.

‘Sorry, Dad…' began Adam, but Lord William interrupted.

‘This interview isn't about your son, David. Adam, put Lysander Trevelyan on!'

As Adam carried his laptop across the pub, Lysander came into view, casually dressed and wiping the bar with a wet cloth.

‘Trevelyan!' roared Lord William. ‘What the hell are you doing working behind an Unsponsored bar?'

‘Helping out, WSB,' said Lysander, smiling pleasantly and nodding a greeting via the camera to the assembled company in Lord William's office.

‘So this is what you've been doing, is it, while Leisure and Fitness has been going to the dogs?'

‘Hardly going to the dogs, WSB,' replied Lysander, wringing out his cloth under a running tap then setting to work on another part of the bar. ‘Last time I checked, and I do check regularly, Leisure and Fitness Sponsorship was more popular than it has ever been before.'

‘Probably because you've gone soft, Trevelyan,' snapped Lord William. ‘Letting people decide where to work, letting people decide where and when to exercise, allowing your clubs to serve unlimited fast food and alcohol, ignoring blatant flouting of curfews. You've lost sight of the Scheme's basic aims: we make the decisions, the Sponsored reap the benefits…'

‘With respect, WSB,' said Lysander, putting his cloth down and finally giving Lord William his full attention, ‘leisure and fitness are lifestyle choices; choices being the operative word here…'

‘Am I to understand that you don't think we should be making the choices for those we Sponsor anymore? You think we should go back to allowing them to make mistakes and mess their lives up once more, like they used to before they had the benefit of our knowledge and expertise to guide them?'

‘You don't guide them, WSB,' snorted Lysander. ‘You dictate to them…'

‘Actually, Trevelyan, I'm bored of this conversation now. Your opinion is of no interest to me whatsoever as you're fired.'

A delighted Mortimer O'Reilly moved into a prime spot to view Lysander's reaction to being fired, only to be disappointed when his nemesis started to laugh.

‘I was under the impression I resigned at Christmas, WSB,' Lysander said, his voice light and humorous. ‘Have you finally accepted that resignation?'

‘No. I never accepted your resignation, Trevelyan. You were, until a moment ago, my employee. Now you're not. You're fired.'

‘Very well then,' said Lysander, still laughing. ‘Hello, Faye; I might have known you'd be waiting in the wings to jump in my grave…'

‘I have the aims of the Scheme at heart, unlike you, Lysander,' said Faye Maloney, moving into the view of the camera on Lord William's desk. ‘You dug your own grave.'

‘Enough,' snapped Lord William. ‘I now need to speak to your son, Trevelyan. Where is he?'

‘I'm here, Your Lordshit,' said Louis, appearing at Lysander's side and grinning at his father. ‘Dad, may I be the first to congratulate you on your sacking…'

‘SILENCE! Is Wallis with you? I want him to hear what I've got to say too.'

Not bothering to reply directly to Lord William, Louis looked over his shoulder and called across the pub.

‘Gideon, His Lordshit wants to talk to you too.' Gideon just gave Louis a thumbs-up from the other side of the room and carried on talking, infuriating Lord William who was unaccustomed to being kept waiting. Needing an outlet for his temper while Gideon finished talking to Georgie, Lord William spied Alan appearing from the backroom of The White Lion. Suspended from Alan's shoulder by its strap was Theo's Les Paul guitar.

‘Oi, faggot,' roared His Lordship, ‘I thought I'd made myself clear. That guitar is NOT YOUR PROPERTY.' Alan didn't look at Lord William immediately; instead, he helped himself to a bottle of cola from the fridge, then wandered slowly over to the bar until he was in front of Adam's laptop.

‘Were you talking to me?' he said, smiling pleasantly. ‘For future reference, my name's Alan.'

‘I'll call you whatever I want, you Unsponsored scum. That guitar is not yours…'

‘Then whose is it, Your Lordshit? Theo…'

‘DON'T MENTION HIS NAME!' roared Lord William, totally losing his temper.

‘Ooh dear, sore subject,' said Alan, chuckling. ‘Hello there, Faye; finally achieved your ambition to sell out completely to the Sponsors then?'

Both Lysander in Applethwaite and all of Lord William's inner circle in London were astonished by Alan's words, all apart from Faye.

‘Hello, Alan, looking gorgeous as ever,' she said, smiling at Alan through the camera. ‘All I need now is to achieve my ambition to get you in bed again for another night of hot sex…'

‘Been there, done that, got the daughter to prove it. It's so not me, Faye dear,' said Alan, returning Faye's smile. ‘As you well know.'

‘So you say, but I'll wear you down one day.' Faye continued to flirt with Alan as her new boss regarded her in open-mouthed surprise. ‘Dexy's a lucky man…'

‘Excuse me, but do you two know each other?' Lysander finally interrupted, causing both Alan and Faye to roar with laughter.

‘Take a good look at Faye, Lysander sweetie,' said Alan, still chuckling. ‘Matty's got hair like her mother, don't you think? Now, Faye, Your Lordshit, other assorted Sponsors – if you'll excuse me, I'm off to play Theo's guitar.' Not waiting for a reply, Alan left the view of the laptop's camera and went off with Theo's beloved Les Paul as Lysander started to laugh.

‘Oh my, WSB,' he said as realisation dawned. ‘Looks like you've traded the father of the Unsponsored for the mother of the Unsponsored. You never said you were Matty's mum, Faye.'

‘Matilda and I don't see eye to eye,' replied Faye, not seeming particularly put out by the fact. Looking at Faye
sitting in Lord William's office, newly appointed director of the Leisure and Fitness group and keen advocate of the Scheme, Lysander didn't have to ask why.

‘Here's Gideon,' he said instead as Gideon finally wheeled his chair over to the bar, successfully distracting Lord William who looked about to launch into a furious tirade.

‘About time,' snapped Lord William. ‘Now you're finally here, Wallis, I'll keep this brief. I've had about all I can take of your Unsponsored friends. Recently I have allowed sentimental trivia to distract me from the original aims of the Scheme, but Theodore's treachery has helped me put things back into perspective. Unsponsored are NOTHING and shall be treated as such. Unless you, Trevelyan' – Lord William nodded at Louis – ‘unless you accept Sponsorship you will not be competing at the Games.'

‘I will not accept Sponsorship, ever,' replied Louis.

‘Then you will not compete at the Games. That is final, and it is non-negotiable. Oh, and one more thing: you may think you're very clever driving my men out of your little backwater, but you will soon find you are wrong. I'm going to crush the Unsponsored. I'm going to crush you once and for all. Goodbye, Applethwaite.'

Without waiting for a reply, Lord William cut off the visual link leaving the Applethwaite Unsponsored looking at a blank screen.

For a long while Lysander, Louis and Gideon stared at Adam's laptop, while the only sound in the bar was Alan playing Theo's guitar. Finally Adam walked over, switched off his laptop, and turned to the trio.

‘Well' was all Adam could think of to say, prompting Gideon back into his usual bad mood.

‘Well what, Foster?' he snapped.

‘Well, what now?' said Louis, finding his voice at last. ‘That kind of screws up our plans a little bit…'