Dory's Avengers (66 page)

‘Ah; sound medical advice, Dr Donatelli,' said Lysander, laughing as he tried to ignore how much he liked the feel of Jess's hand in his.

When Jess, Lysander and Jenny arrived at the pub recommended by Jim, it was packed with the same people who normally frequented The White Lion. Jim had chosen wisely; the pub was run by a very welcoming Irishwoman who was delighted to have her bar full of visitors from Applethwaite. Max had already introduced himself, and was basking in the praise from the pub's Unsponsored regulars for keeping them so well informed with his newsletter.

‘And to think, you used to work for the Sponsors,' said the pub's landlady, Mary. ‘Did you ever meet His Lordshit?'

‘Once or twice,' replied Max with a shudder, ‘but not as much as poor Theo here…'

‘My God,' said Mary, realising the identity of Theo. ‘You're…'

‘His Lordshit's son, to my eternal shame,' said Theo with a grin and a wink. ‘The one everyone said was mad.'

Dory's Avengers and the Unsponsored in the pub continued to bond and get to know each other, banter and laughter being the order of the day. Izzy was particularly warmly welcomed, especially when a regular arrived who had benefitted from her kindness first hand.

‘I'll never forget what you did for my family, Lady Isabelle…'

‘Please call me Izzy.'

‘OK, Lady Izzy. Years ago that awful Dyer bloke gave my brother such a kicking that it left him brain-damaged,' said the Londoner for the information of the other people in the pub. ‘This wonderful lady here did everything she could to help him, and the rest of my family, through the worst of it…'

Elsewhere in the pub, Lysander and Jess were facing a good-natured grilling from Abi and Cameron, thanks to Jenny spilling the beans as soon as she'd arrived in the pub.

‘Daddy held Jess's hand all the way here,' said the little girl in her clear voice.

‘Oh yes, Mum? Lysander?' said Abi with a grin, glad of a brief distraction from worrying about Louis.

‘I held your hand all the way too, young lady,' said Lysander to Jenny, unable to hide his smile at the pleasant memory of Jess's touch.

‘Yes, Daddy; but you held Jess's hand in a boyfriendy way,' Jenny insisted.

‘Really?' said Alan, grinning over Abi's shoulder.

‘Oh no! Our number-one gossip has heard the rumour.' Jess rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, secretly having found Lysander's touch as pleasant as he had found hers. ‘Might as well print it on a billboard…'

‘No need now I'm on the case,' said Alan, always willing to join in a joke at his expense. ‘HEY EVERYONE, LYSANDER AND JESS ARE GETTING IT ON…'

‘Subtle isn't your strong point, is it Al…'

‘Subtle is
sooo
overrated, Jessica sweetie,' said Alan with a grin. ‘Oh look! The Olympics!'

The rumours concerning who had been holding hands on the way to the pub were forgotten as the North Greenwich Arena loomed large on the pub's big screen.

‘I'm joined now by David Foster, director of the Sports Sponsorship Group,' said the television reporter.

‘Boooo!' called a number of the Unsponsored regulars in the pub at the mention of David's name. Adam glared at them, but Lysander hushed everyone before Adam could defend his father.

‘As we look at the results of the men's gymnastics qualifying round,' continued the reporter. ‘Of course, the main talking point has to be the last-minute decision to include an Unsponsored gymnast in qualifying…'

‘Just tell us if he's qualified…'

‘Shhh, Theo!'

‘Yes,' David was saying on the screen, ‘Louis Trevelyan, trained by none other than Gideon Wallis. Of course, being Unsponsored, Louis had no chance to qualify for the Games through the usual channels…'

‘Here comes the Sponsor propaganda,' moaned one of the regulars.

‘Will you give my dad a break and listen to what he's saying!' snapped Adam, as his father continued to speak on the television.

‘…In the interests of sport, and of putting forward the strongest British team possible, we were able to come to an agreement with the Olympic Authorities and the Gymnastic Federation whereby Louis could compete in the qualifiers today. After all, being Unsponsored shouldn't stand in the way of someone as talented as Louis Trevelyan…'

‘Am I to believe what I'm hearing?' asked Mary incredulously, as Adam smiled proudly at his father's words. On the
television, the reporter was asking the question all of Dory's Avengers wanted answering.

‘Did Louis Trevelyan qualify?'

‘If I were to say that Louis is probably even more talented than Gideon Wallis in his heyday, I think you can guess the answer to that question,' replied David, beaming at the surprised, Sponsored television reporter. ‘Sport won the day today. Louis qualified handsomely for the individual all-round final. He will also represent Great Britain in the parallel bars and floor exercise events…'

David continued speaking, but his words were drowned out by an incoherent scream of triumph from Lysander.

‘Yeeeeeaaaaaarrrrghhhh!' he yelled, leaping from his bar stool and punching the air, his friends following his lead and breaking into jubilant celebrations all around. All the regulars in the pub celebrated along with Louis's family and friends, Matilda delighted to find a handy pole in the corner of the pub from which she could hang upside down. Alan was far too busy cheering along with everyone else to even notice the fact that his daughter was displaying her underwear to a pub full of people.

‘I'm so proud of Louis,' yelled Sarah, dancing round with Jenny in her arms and tears of joy in her eyes. ‘I'm so proud of Gideon.' Appearing with bottles of champagne, Mary added the sound of popping corks to the general chaos in her pub.

‘I was saving these for my daughter's wedding,' she said to Georgie and Marina as they helped pour the bubbly into glasses, ‘but I can always get some more. An Unsponsored gymnast at the Games; that's got to be celebrated!'

The cheering in the pub rose in a crescendo as a montage of Louis's performances was shown on the television. Standing in front of the screen, Abi looked on with her eyes full of love as Louis showed to the watching world what she'd known all along: that he was simply the best.

‘Wow! He is good, isn't he?' said Mary, handing Lysander and Jess a glass of champagne each. ‘I'm guessing you all know him?'

‘Yes,' replied Lysander huskily, savouring what was possibly the proudest moment of his life. ‘We know him well. He's my son.'

Chapter Twenty-six

As Lysander, Abi and the rest of the Applethwaite Unsponsored celebrated Louis's Olympic qualification with the regulars of a Kennington Lane pub, Lord William St Benedict's mood was far from jubilant. It had actually been Brian Mooreland who had informed His Lordship that Louis Trevelyan had not only competed in front of the Olympic judges, he had been the only British gymnast to qualify for medal events. Lord William hadn't watched the day's action from the Olympics; realising that the Sponsored gymnasts weren't good enough to qualify, he had no interest beyond vowing to sack their coaches after the Games. The household staff were a lot more interested in news from the Games, and were very excited when the radio announcer informed them that a British gymnast had not only qualified, he had done it in style.

‘Louis Trevelyan,' said the cook to Mrs White. ‘The name rings a bell…'

‘Well, of course it does. His father used to head Leisure and Fitness,' replied Mrs White with her ready smile as Mooreland walked into the kitchen. ‘They're both now part of the Applethwaite Unsponsored, and Louis is Lord Theodore's friend…'

‘When I walk into the room I expect to find you working, not discussing the underclass,' snapped Brian Mooreland, his facial expression even more sour than usual.

‘But, Mr Mooreland, it's so exciting. A British gymnast has qualified really well for the medal events…'

‘What's that got to do with the Unsponsored?'

‘Well, the qualifying gymnast is Unsponsored. Louis Trevelyan…'

‘Silence! Get on with your work, no more slacking now! His Lordship needs to know about this.'

‘He's done what?' said Lord William in an ominously quiet voice, facing his nervous head of household five minutes later. ‘Turn the television on, Mooreland!'

Lord William was just in time to hear David Foster's jubilant pronouncement that sport had won the day. As Brian Mooreland turned to leave the room, Lord William ordered him to stay.

‘No, Brian,' said His Lordship. ‘I want you to bear witness to this.'

On the screen, David was cheerfully announcing that Louis Trevelyan had the full backing of both himself and his wife, Julia.

‘Does that mean,' said the reporter, hardly believing his ears, ‘that an Unsponsored gymnast is competing with the full knowledge, and blessing, of the Sports Sponsorship Group?'

‘As long as Julia and I head the Sports Group, yes,' replied David with a merry chuckle, ‘but I think our days may be numbered…'

This just gets better by the minute, thought the reporter as the implications of David's words sank in and compounded his belief that he'd been delivered the scoop of a lifetime.

‘So,' he said, choosing his words carefully, ‘Louis Trevelyan has qualified with the full knowledge, and blessing, of the Sports Group, but not necessarily of Lord William and the overall Sponsorship Scheme.'

‘I should imagine His Lordship has full knowledge by
now,' said David, laughing heartily. ‘I think the blessing of the Sponsorship Scheme may be a little more difficult to come by.'

‘Don't you realise that this could cost you and your wife your jobs?'

‘Jobs, Sponsorship; yes, I'm guessing we've lost the lot. Do I feel like a loser? Not at all! Sport won today, and I'm proud to have been a part of it…'

‘Mooreland,' said Lord William, muting his television and silencing the ecstatic David Foster, ‘fetch my laptop!'

The following morning Lord William's inner circle, with the notable exception of the Fosters, arrived for probably their most tense meeting since the dawn of the Scheme. No one was in any doubt as to why they had been summoned; it had been impossible to turn on the television the previous night without being confronted with discussions about Louis Trevelyan's qualification, and Gideon Wallis's emergence from obscurity for the first time since his accident. His Lordship wasn't in the office as the Sponsors arrived and sat down, allowing the tension in the room to build before making his entrance.

‘Mortimer,' barked His Lordship, sweeping into the room and making the money man go cold with fear, ‘may I congratulate you on the accuracy of your prediction all those years ago. It would seem that Trevelyan's son has indeed come back to haunt us in a most unexpected manner. It is a shame, is it not Mortimer, that you couldn't also have predicted the TREACHERY of some of the people I used to call friends?'

As Mortimer trembled in his chair, Lord William glared around the room.

‘First, Lysander Trevelyan,' he growled. ‘Lysander; my Leisure and Fitness expert, my friend, my ally, BETRAYED ME! Then David and Julia Foster. I gave them the world of
sport at their feet. I never expected gratitude, but I also never expected them to BETRAY ME TOO! My wife, my children; everywhere I turn, people are waiting in the wings to stab me in the back. Do any of you have plans to do the same? Faye?'

‘No, Your Lordship,' replied Faye, her voice as steady as ever. ‘I joined the Scheme as a keen advocate of its benefits and methods, and I remain so.'

‘Thank you, Faye. Fiona?'

‘I'm still with you, Your Lordship. I can't understand why anyone would be opposed to the Scheme.'

‘Thank you, Fiona.' Lord William asked each Sponsor in turn to pledge their allegiance to the Scheme, staring at each person as he or she replied to gauge their integrity. Mollified a little by his Sponsors' assurances, Lord William sat back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin.

‘Good,' he said finally. ‘Thank you, my friends. Your support is invaluable to me. The Scheme is not, I repeat, NOT in crisis. The defectors will be dealt with severely, and Louis Trevelyan will not be competing in the Olympics. I'll get some of my best security men on the case, and once they find young Trevelyan then gymnastics will be a thing of the past for him.' Laughing nastily, Lord William added, ‘Walking will be a thing of the past for him!'

‘Your Lordship, is that wise?'

‘Faye? Explain!'

‘Well, the world knows about Louis Trevelyan now, like it or not. The world knows that David condoned Louis's inclusion in qualifying. We don't have control over the world's media, Your Lordship, and I fear that to…er…punish either David or Louis at this time would be…er…detrimental to the Scheme's reputation…'

‘Louis? David? First-name terms, Faye; anyone would believe you had some affection for these wretched people.' Lord William was silent for a while, his expression
unreadable, before finally agreeing with his director of Leisure and Fitness. ‘Unfortunately, I fear you might be right. Once again, it's down to Faye to point out unpalatable truths to me. Am I really such an evil tyrant that nobody dares disagree with me?' Smiling all of a sudden, Lord William waved a hand at his Sponsors and said, ‘On second thoughts, don't answer that please. I think I'd rather not know.'

‘So, what next, Your Lordship?' asked Mortimer tentatively.

‘Ah, it speaks,' said Lord William, jeering at his money man. ‘Can't you get your crystal ball out and tell me, Mortimer?'

‘I'd rather you told us, Your Lordship,' said Mortimer, still feeling terrified but determined to show that Faye wasn't the only Sponsor with some backbone, ‘being as everything we say seems to be wrong.' To the surprise of all the Sponsors, not least Mortimer, Lord William roared with laughter.