by Alison Jack
Stepping into the steaming jets of water, the shower turned up as hot as he could bear in an attempt to ease his aching muscles, Louis immediately regretted his bad mood. The man in the mysterious room had looked so unhappy as he stared back at Louis; he was clearly trying to communicate and Louis felt bad for being so unreceptive. There was no reason why Louis would suddenly start seeing a strange room instead of the bathrooms of his real world, so he deduced that the young man in the room must be the catalyst for the visions. What did he want, though? He always seemed to be in that room – was he trapped? Furthermore, who the bloody hell was he?
Deciding that finding out the other man's identity was a good place to start in his quest for answers, Louis turned off the shower and, grabbing a towel, braced himself for the wrath of Gideon.
‘Gideon, does Rosanna St Benedict have a brother? Oh,’ Louis finished lamely as he realised Gideon had gone.
Louis's day continued from bad to worse. Arriving at the school to pick Jenny up, hoping that she'd got over her earlier bad mood, Louis found his little sister desperately hanging on to Alex Radcliffe as the two little girls sobbed in each other's arms. Jane Radcliffe was talking grimly to the children's teacher Karen Winter, a look of sadness on the face that had radiated happiness only a few days before. Seeing Louis approach, Jenny threw herself, still crying, into her brother's arms.
‘Well, at least I'm getting a cuddle now,’ said Louis to his little sister. ‘Although why such a sad one?’
‘Alex…has …got…to …go…away …for ever!’ Jenny eventually managed between her tears. Picking up the distraught little girl, Louis made his way over to Jane who was comforting her own sobbing child while still talking to Karen.
‘Bob's been moved,’ Jane said to Louis without preamble. ‘Trade Sponsors need more plumbers in Bristol, and Bob's been selected to fill one of the posts. We're going at the end of the week; there's a house all ready for us.’
Jane's words brought fresh crying from the children, and Karen Winter lowered her head, expression unreadable.
‘It's a very good move for all of us,’ Jane finished, her voice flat and unconvincing.
‘You don't want to go, do you?’ Louis observed. Jane was quiet for a while, looking at the children who were once again clinging to each other.
‘Oh to have a child's freedom to express emotion,’ she said eventually. ‘No, Louis, I don't want to go. I want to stay here. Alex wants to stay here. We love Applethwaite.’
‘Can't Bob turn the job down then?’ asked Louis
‘Sweet Louis, you're so naive. No one would guess you were Lysander Trevelyan's son,’ said Jane, smiling sadly. ‘No, Bob can't turn the job down. You just don't turn down opportunities given by your Sponsors, otherwise the Sponsorship is withdrawn. Before you know it, Bob would be out of work and we'd be homeless. Whatever happens we can't stay here. People talk of choices, but in reality there are no choices for people like Bob and me, only orders. Orders that must be obeyed.’
‘How about I talk to my dad, Jane? See if he can influence Trade Sponsors and get Bob a position in the north?’
Once again, Jane smiled sadly at Louis's naivety before replying.
‘Thank you for the offer, Louis; I know it was kindly meant, but that would do more harm than good. If Trade Sponsors got wind of the fact I'd let anyone know I'm unhappy with their offer to Bob, then it would be curtains for him. We must be eternally grateful to our benevolent Sponsors and build a new life for ourselves in Bristol.’
Shocked at the harshness of Jane and Bob Radcliffe's situation, it was a very quiet Louis who walked Jenny home from school, still hugging her against his side as she continued to cry quietly. Once Jenny was safe in Sarah's arms, the kindly woman soothing the child's tears with loving words, Louis made his way back out into the gloom of the day to avail himself of the search engines on The White Lion's customer computers. The Trevelyans themselves didn't have a household computer. The bright monitors hurt Louis's eyes so he could never use one for long; Nicola had no need of one; Lysander used his laptop on the rare occasions he spent any time at home, and Jenny wasn't old enough to show any interest in the cyber world yet. Louis found Dexter in the bar, reading a letter with a concerned frown on his boyish face.
‘You OK, Dex?’ asked Louis. ‘Everyone seems to be having a bad day today.’
‘Yeah, I'm OK, Lou; thanks for asking,’ Dexter replied. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Better stick to mineral water, thanks, Dex. I'm in Gideon's bad books enough for drinking on Saturday night.’
‘Sod Gideon,’ said Dexter, a grin lighting up his face briefly. ‘I need beer, and I'm relying on you now not to leave me drinking alone like some old bum.’
‘Go on then; I could do with something a bit stronger than water myself,’ said Louis, returning Dexter's smile.
‘Tell me all about it then, Lou,’ said Dexter, placing two pints of lager on the bar. ‘A problem shared is better than one in the bush, that's what they say.’
Not bothering to tell Dexter that wasn't actually what they say, Louis instead spoke about Gideon's mood, excessively grumpy even by his standards, and about Jenny's pain at losing her best friend.
‘You're kidding me,’ said Dexter, his big, grey eyes widening even more in surprise. ‘The Radcliffes are going?’
‘Afraid so, Dex; at the end of the week too. Bob's got a new job in Bristol.’
Dexter paused to have a quick look round the bar, out of the windows and behind the doors. Satisfied that no one was eavesdropping, he bent his head close to Louis and said, ‘It's their Sponsors, huh? Giving them no choice? No move, no Sponsorship, no job, no home.’
‘That's how it appears to work, Dex,’ replied Louis, taking a long drink from his pint and savouring the taste for a couple of seconds before continuing. ‘Considering I'm Lysander Trevelyan's son, I don't know much about Sponsorship, but I'm learning fast and I can't say I'm impressed. By the way, Dex, people round here seem to trust me, which I'm beginning to find a bit odd given my parentage and the fact none of you seem to trust the Sponsors.’
‘We know you, Louis; we've watched you grow up.’ Dexter paused, frowning slightly for a few moments before continuing. ‘There is a reason we all look out for you, Lou, but I'm not the right person to tell you what it is. I've probably blabbed too much already.’
‘No one ever tells me a damn thing!’ exclaimed Louis, frustrated yet again at his friends’ reluctance to share anything of importance. ‘Who is the right person then?’
‘Gideon probably,’ replied Dexter after a small pause. ‘Please don't get mad, Louis, I really don't know enough to tell you anything that may be of use to you.’
‘OK, Dex,’ said Louis, calming down at the genuine look of regret on his friend's face. ‘Your turn now. What's given you such a bad day that you're hitting the booze and it's not even five o'clock yet?’
Once again Dexter paused, debating whether or not to burden Louis with his problems before finally handing Louis the letter he'd been reading.
‘This,’ he said simply.
The letter was on headed notepaper of fine quality, bearing the Hotel and Catering Sponsorship logo on the top of the page. It was short and to the point:
Dear Mr Montfiore,
I have written several times to you, the senior owner of The White Lion Inn, Applethwaite, regarding your continual rejection of the Hotel and Catering Group's generous offer to endorse your business. It has come to my attention that, following the highly successful Sponsors’ Fair on July 2nd, you allowed a level of drunkenness in your bar that put both your business and the safety of your customers in jeopardy. It has also been brought to my attention that sponsored individuals are using your facilities, which must be brought to a stop with immediate effect. Hotel and Catering representatives will be performing spot checks on your business until such time as I receive your completed application for endorsement. A form is included herewith.
Mr Montfiore, I trust
that you will appreciate the need to proceed in this matter with the utmost urgency. Until The White Lion Inn is properly endorsed it cannot be regarded as suitable for use by those benefitting from the Sponsorship Scheme. The Hotel and Catering Group has no wish to see such a fine inn go out of business. Therefore I wish to be in receipt of your completed application form by Tuesday July 12th. If I am not, I will be forced to consider alternative forms of communication.
Yours sincerely,
Anthony Wright
Director, Hotel and Catering Sponsorship Group
‘Are you going to apply?’ asked Louis, having read the letter twice. It didn't make any happier reading the second time around.
‘No,’ said Dexter simply. ‘My grandfather was adamant to his death that this business should never be crippled by the limitations of endorsement. You heard the rules on Saturday; only up to four drinks per adult per day, maximum of ten per week. Controlled tokens for the fruit machines. Pool and darts can only be played in front of a Sponsored referee. Food on the menu sacrificing flavour to strict Sponsor-controlled nutritional ideals.’
Dexter paused briefly, then added with a wry smile, ‘No same sex couples allowed to share a bedroom.’
Louis started with surprise. ‘Did you make that last bit up?’ he asked.
‘Not at all,’ replied Dexter. ‘Homophobia's alive and well in the land of Sponsorship. You'll find it thinly disguised as an attempt to instil Christian morals and family values into the minds of the population.’
Dexter ripped the letter and application form into pieces before dropping them into the bin. ‘They can do their worst, I'm remaining true to Grandad,’ he said. ‘After all, we want more great nights like Saturday, don't we? Hey, Jess is back! Hey, Jess, how was Italy?’
Still beautiful in her mid-forties, Dr Jessica Donatelli, the Italian mother of Abi and Cameron, entered the bar with a huge smile and showered Louis and Dexter with kisses.
‘Good to be back, guys,’ she said, her English that of a native speaker as she'd lived in Applethwaite since the age of six. ‘Sorry I missed the fair; Abilene said it was a great success.’
‘Abi said that?’
‘Actually, she said the evening following the fair was the success, Dex. You're right, there's no way my daughter would ever praise anything connected with the Sponsors. Oops, it is just us in here, isn't it?’
‘Sure is,’ said Dexter. ‘Now, can I get you a drink on the house, Jess, or is that going to earn you a public flogging from Pro Spo?’
‘I'll take the risk, Dex, thank you,’ said Jess, laughing. Leaving Jess chatting happily to Dexter about her trip to visit her family in Italy, Louis went over to the row of computers supplied by the inn for customer use. Knowing that Louis was a computer novice, Dexter came over to help him get started, and soon left Louis with the most popular search engine at his service. Hunching over the computer, Louis squinted through his glasses and typed in ‘St Benedict family’.
Immediately a list of options appeared on the screen; most offering more information on the St Benedict scheme, or potted histories starting with the birth of the Sponsorship Scheme over a quarter of a century earlier. Finally, Louis found a site more suited to his needs and, after glancing around him, clicked on ‘William St Benedict and family: Images’.
There he was: William St Benedict surrounded by his family. Most recent pictures were of Lord William and his daughter Rosanna. Occasionally, they were joined in pictures by a self-conscious-looking teenager. According to captions she was ‘Lady Marina St Benedict, age 18’, who clearly didn't like to be photographed and was usually pictured looking at her feet. No son, though. Running his hand absently through his thick, white hair, Louis clicked on the ‘Refine your search’ option at the top of the page and looked for images from further back in time.
Bingo! ‘The St Benedict family in happier times’, said the caption, ‘before the disappearance of Lord William's beloved wife, Isabelle (née Isabelle Farrell) and the subsequent breakdown of his son, Theodore.’
Staring at the screen in disbelief, Louis realised two things. One was that Lord William's absent wife was Izzy Farrell. The same Izzy Farrell who used to visit her family in Applethwaite many years ago when Louis was a child, shaking off the trappings of her privileged lifestyle for a while in the sheer pleasure of being home. Izzy Farrell: Chris's sister, Abi's aunt, mother of…
The other realisation was that Louis knew the mystery man's identity. Of course he did! Izzy Farrell had a son pretty much Louis's age, with whom Louis had shared many happy days when they were children. Memories crowded into Louis's head, including a solemn childhood ceremony he and Izzy's son had performed in the branches of a huge old tree to proclaim themselves blood brothers and friends for life. Louis shook his head in disbelief that he could have forgotten.
‘Dory,’ he whispered, using his childhood nickname for the boy he'd always thought of as Theo Farrell, ‘it's you!’
Many miles south, Louis's words echoed clearly round Theo's head. Clenching his fist in triumph, he allowed himself a small ‘Yes!’ of celebration, before glancing at the security camera in the corner of the room as if he expected it to be shaking from side to side in disapproval.
Closing the search engine down carefully, Louis composed himself a little before saying his farewells to Dexter and Jess, still the only people in the bar, and leaving the pub. He was just thinking that maybe the day wasn't going to be a complete disaster after all when a gleaming BMW shot by, soaking Louis with the muddy contents of a puddle. That wasn't actually what sank his mood right back down to the depths, though; rather it was the sight of Max Barrington, smirking as he drove past with Abi Farrell laughing in the seat beside him.
Back in the pub, Jess watched her daughter driven off by the cocky young man to whom she'd been introduced earlier, noticing with dismay that poor Louis got a soaking as the car sped past him.
‘Did you meet this Max character on Saturday, Dex?’ she asked, looking over her shoulder.
‘Al did,’ replied Dexter. ‘Max was writing some piece about the Sponsors’ Fair, and he grilled Al for a time about the organisation of the event.’
‘What did Al make of him?’ asked Jess neutrally, walking back to the bar.
‘Didn't like him at all. Found him rude and more than a little bigoted. Up himself, was the expression Al used.’
Jess laughed. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I found him rather up himself too. I'm really not sure what Abi sees in him.’
Moving on from the subject of Max Barrington, who had actually made a very bad first impression on Jess, she asked Dexter if they should see what Louis had been looking at so intently and secretively on the computer.
‘I hate to pry on him,’ she said, ‘but he clearly didn't want even us to see. Maybe it might be as well to clear that particular search from the recent history.’
‘I think you're right, Jess,’ said Dexter, remembering the Hotel and Catering Sponsors’ threat do perform random spot checks on The White Lion. ‘We'll share the guilt for prying.’
Crossing to the computer Louis had been using earlier, Jess called up the recent search history and was soon faced with the sites Louis had been perusing.
‘Louis, you're so sweet,’ said Jess quietly, smiling at Louis's naivety in thinking the computer wouldn't retain evidence of his searches, and wishing he were taking her daughter out rather than the conceited Max.
‘Dex,’ she called over to the bar, which was still devoid of any customers. ‘We may have a problem!’
Walking over to join Jess at the computer, Dexter looked at the picture of the St Benedict family, taken many years earlier.
‘Why's he looking at that?’ he mused out loud. ‘Weren't Louis and the St Benedict boy thick as thieves when they were kids?’
‘They were,’ replied Jess, ‘but no one's seen or heard of Theo SB for years. He had some sort of breakdown according to this. Poor kid!’
‘I wonder why the sudden interest in t
he St Benedicts, though. I've a nasty feeling this could be related to the fact that Louis has come face to face with some harsh realities about Sponsorship just recently.’
Wishing more and more that he hadn't burdened Louis with his own Sponsorship woes, Dexter told Jess all about the conversation he'd had with the young man earlier.
‘I hope he doesn't do anything stupid,’ said Jess, concern clouding her pretty face. ‘I know only too well what the Sponsors are capable of doing to anyone who crosses them!’
‘Someone needs to talk to him, fast. We can't go on keeping him in the dark.’
‘Gideon!’ said Jess decisively. ‘We need to talk to Gideon.’
If Louis had thought Gideon had been in a bad mood on the Tuesday, it was nothing compared to the temper he found his mentor to be in by Wednesday morning. Unlike the previous day, though, Gideon was quite specific about the reasons for launching a furious tirade on Louis the moment he walked through the door.
‘Do you know what those things are on either side of your head? They're ears! Do you know what they're for? They're for listening. Do you have anything where your brains are supposed to be? I DON'T THINK SO! Stand over here, boy. There, in front of me, and take those fucking glasses off! It's like the middle of the night in here.’
Surprised, Louis did as he was told.
‘Why the sudden interest in St Benedict?’ asked Gideon without preamble. ‘I thought I told you not to stick your nose in! I thought I warned you how dangerous it is to get involved!’
‘How did you know?’
‘Search engines on computers show their recent history, you imbecile; anyone could have found out,’ snarled Gideon, before sinking his head into his hands. When he raised his head a few minutes later the anger had been replaced by a look of resignation.
‘OK, Louis,’ he said, ‘I've been dreading this day, but I should have known it was inevitable. So, I take it you now know who's trying, in rather unorthodox fashion, to get in touch with you?’
‘Yes, Gideon,’ said Louis. ‘Theo was my best friend when we were kids, but I haven't seen him for years. Until now.’