by Alison Jack
‘What would be your pleasure today, Mr Wallis?’
‘Parallel bars,’ growled Gideon.
Lifting himself from the ground, Abi enjoying the spectacle of her boyfriend's arm muscles rippling, Louis performed the routine he and Gideon had been working on for weeks. Although they'd seen Louis train many times before, Abi and Nicola still enjoyed watching every time, so skilful was the young gymnast. However it was Lysander who was enrapt, never taking his eyes from his son for an instant as Louis leapt, twisted and spun at lightning speed. When Louis landed on the ground with a light thud and perfect balance, Lysander sprang from his seat and applauded.
‘Crap,’ said Gideon. As Lysander rounded on Gideon, determined to defend Louis's obvious talent, Louis himself started to laugh.
‘Chill out, Dad; crap means fine in Gideon's world. If he really meant I was crap people would be able to hear him yelling at the other end of the country!’
‘Pommel horse,’ snapped Gideon.
An awe struck Lysander continued to watch his son going through extremely complex moves with the greatest of ease as the morning progressed, until finally Gideon called it a day and Louis started his warm down exercises.
‘No training tomorrow, day of rest, do NOT get drunk again Louis!’ ordered Gideon, not offering one word of praise for Louis's excellent display of gymnastics. Lysander once again rounded angrily on Gideon, this time getting a chance to speak.
‘Why do you feel the need to be so nasty all the time? I don't know why Louis puts up with you.’
‘Because he's the best,’ replied Louis simply, stretching his calf muscles.
‘There was me thinking it was because you liked me,’ said Gideon, smiling for the first time that morning before turning his attention to Lysander.
‘I know Louis's good, thank you Trevelyan. I think I'm better qualified to tell than you are. Louis knows that I know he's good, I wouldn't bother to train him otherwise. Louis also knows that I care very much about him. All this is more than anyone can say for you, Mr Sponsor, so if you're going to invade my studio I suggest you learn to SHUT UP!’ Thoroughly chastened, Lysander did as he was told.
Once Louis had showered, the whole group headed to The White Lion for a bite to eat and a couple of beers before the football. As usual, members of Dory's Avengers were having an impromptu practice; this time Matty, Georgie and Dex, while a reluctant Alan served behind the bar.
‘Been training, Louis?’ asked Alan, brightening immediately at the sight of his friends. ‘I bet you've got muscles where muscles have no right to be!’
‘Settle down, Al!’ said Dex from behind his keyboards, while Abi added, ‘Yes thank you, Alan, my boyfriend is fit as you like.’
‘You off to the soccer match, guys?’ Dex asked, grinning as Alan grumbled, ‘It's football, Dexter!’
‘We'll all be going, apart from grumpy behind the bar there,’ Dex continued. ‘He drew the short straw.’
‘Ha ha, I'm splitting my sides with laughter!’ Alan tossed his head and made a great show of rearranging clean glasses on the shelves.
‘Yeah well don't let those split sides make a mess,’ said Dex, laughing. ‘It's your turn on the cleaning rota too!’
Relaxing in the easy going banter of The White Lion, enjoying a pint of beer and a bowl of chips in front of the roaring fire, Lysander found himself wondering if he could wriggle out of returning to London at least until after Christmas. No chance, he thought ruefully. His Lordship's latest message on Lysander's phone had been quite specific.
‘I need you in London, Trevelyan. Stop gadding about in that God forsaken village and report to my office Monday morning, nine o'clock sharp. This is not open for negotiation.’
Lysander found he thoroughly enjoyed watching the Unsponsored play football. A few makeshift terraces had been erected on The White Lion's meadow, a number of large spotlights were serving as floodlights, and spectators were cramming into every available space.
‘Don't you charge for admission?’ Lysander asked Abi.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘We're not about making money like you Sponsors!’
Looking around him, Lysander wondered out loud why Applethwaite Unsponsored didn't play on the school playing fields, which seemed far better suited for the purpose.
‘The school's endorsed, Lysander; we're Unsponsored,’ Abi replied sighing, and Lysander decided that perhaps it would be a good idea to stop asking questions. Joining Max and Chloe, wrapped up warm against the cold, Lysander quietly waited with the others for the game to begin.
‘Still here, Chlo?’ Abi said, laughing with her new friend.
‘Still here, Abs. Thought I'd watch the match, see what all the fuss is about your little bro.’
Abi just grinned and winked, then called out, ‘Sarah! Over here!’
The football match turned out to be far better than Lysander had expected, Cameron being one of a few highly gifted players on show. The match was against an equally Unsponsored team from the Eden Valley, and ended an exciting 4-3 victory to Applethwaite. Playing on the left side of midfield, in a position very similar to that of his late father, Cameron Farrell made a fool out of the unfortunate defender trying to mark him and scored a spectacular long range goal midway through the second half. Lysander found himself getting totally wrapped up in the game; Jenny sitting on his shoulders, he sang and cheered his way through the whole ninety minutes, oblivious to the laughter at his expense. Many Applethwaite supporters would dine out for weeks to come on tales of Lysander Trevelyan, one of St Benedict's lapdogs, yelling, ‘Come on the Unsponsored!’ at the top of his voice.
After the match, Lysander and his companions filed back into the welcoming warmth of The White Lion along with a lot of the supporters, both Applethwaite and Eden Valley. Alan sprinted back to the bar from the garden where he'd watched most of the game, the pub being empty while the football was on. He, Georgie, Dex and Matilda had their work cut out for a good twenty minutes after the game serving drinks to everyone.
‘Enjoy that, Lysander?’ asked Cameron later, joining his sister and company after he'd changed from his kit.
‘It was good, really good, Cameron. It's a shame…’ Lysander stopped speaking, afraid to voice his thoughts
‘A shame we don't get Sponsored so the world can see what a wealth of football talent there is going to waste?’ Cameron wasn't going to let Lysander off that easily.
‘Actually, I was going to say…never mind.’
Once again, many pairs of eyes turned Lysander's way, most with eyebrows raised.
‘Ok then, have it your way. I was going to say it's a shame you have to sacrifice your careers for your principles.’
‘Do you mean it's a shame that in order to have a career we have to sell out to you Sponsors? Lysander?’
‘Yes,’ Lysander replied eventually. ‘That is what I mean.’
‘Wowser!’ yelled Max, reporter's notebook and pen in hand. ‘I've just got to quote that in the…’
This time it was Max's turn to hold his tongue abruptly as Lysander looked questioningly at him.
‘Oh, come on!’ said Lysander into Max's continued silence. ‘You've got enough blackmail material from this afternoon alone to have me hung, drawn and quartered!’
‘OK then. We have a network, and a newsletter. For the Unsponsored.’
‘What, locally?’
‘That's all you need to know, Mr Trevelyan,’ said Max stubbornly. In fact the network, although started in Applethwaite, was now far from just local. It had been Max's idea to put his skills as a reporter to good use and produce a monthly newsletter for the Unsponsored, which had started up just as Applethwaite news. However it had grown at a surprising rate as word spread from village to town, from town to city. Max found he was getting feedback from as far south as Bristol and as far north as Inverness, with the London Unsponsored very much involved. The feedback from Bristol was especially pleasing; former Applethwaite residents Jane, Bob and Alex Radcliffe were fine
, having joined the ranks of the Unsponsored and finding their lives were very much happier for it. As the Unsponsored network reached out further and further around the country, the power of the Unsponsored grew along with Max's workload. Max loved it that way; no one had any doubt at all now that he was entirely anti Sponsor.
‘You're living very dangerously, Maxwell; you do realise that, don't you?’ Lysander asked, his brow creased with concern.
‘Yes thank you, I know. I think His Lordshit's given up on me though, and I'd rather live dangerously in Applethwaite than kiss Sponsor arse in London. With all due respect of course, Mr Trevelyan.’
‘What changed your mind, Max?’ asked Lysander, intrigued.
‘Alan, initially. He was amazing after that beating he got in the summer. God, Dyer tried to kill him! Instead of hauling me over the coals for being with the Sponsors, however, Al called me into his room and thanked me for helping Dex to find him. It kind of escalated from there.’
‘I'm always amazing,’ said Alan, looking absolutely delighted at having been the catalyst for Max's change of heart.
‘Ask yourself, Lysander,’ Max continued, ‘where would you rather be? Watching every word with your Sponsor cronies or totally relaxed with the Unsponsored? You don't have to tell us, just be honest with yourself.’
Lysander left it until the last possible moment before leaving for London. He didn't want to leave his family, but so entrenched was he in the world of St Benedict that he also didn't dare to disobey a direct order from Lord William. Driving down a quiet M6 in the early hours of Monday morning, he allowed himself to bask in the glow of the pleasant time he'd had at home, glad that this time Louis wasn't angry at him for leaving.
‘I know you've got to go, Dad. Don't antagonise His Lordshit, that won't help anyone. Besides, in London you can keep an eye on Theo.’
As he showered in his luxury, impersonal apartment in London, Lysander laughed to himself. He was going to have his work cut out not to accidentally call Lord William ‘Your Lordshit,’ not to mention the fact he kept catching himself in unguarded moments chanting ‘Applethwaite’ (clap clap clap) ‘Unsponsored’ (clap clap clap)!
Lysander was one of the first of the Scheme's inner circle to arrive at the St Benedict residence, noting to his dismay that Mortimer O'Reilly’s car was the only other currently parked outside. Lord William and Mortimer were already seated in the office on the third floor, with the surprise addition of Theo sprawled in a comfortable armchair.
‘Lysander,’ said Theo, leaping up as Lysander entered the room. ‘Welcome back!’
Clasping Theo by the hand, Lysander greeted the young man warmly while passing on a note from Louis.
‘How are you feeling, Theo?’ asked Lysander as other members of the inner circle filed through the door.
‘Much better, thank you. I can lie on my back now…’
‘Yes yes, very nice,’ interrupted Lord William. ‘Theodore, haven't you got some childish nonsense to watch on the goggle box?’
‘I thought I'd stay here actually, Your Lordship. I've listened to so many of these little get-togethers from upstairs, thought it'd be nice to see one in the flesh as it were.’
Looking round the room and finding that all his most trusted Sponsors were now in attendance, Lord William just shrugged, an expression of mild amusement on his face.
‘Stay or go, Theodore; it's all the same to me,’ he said. ‘Perhaps, however, you would be so kind as to place whatever Lysander just passed to you on the table in front of me.’
Tick-tock, went the old grandfather clock. Lysander felt his blood freeze, and even Theo was too shocked to come out with a smart retort. When Theo finally did speak, it was one word.
‘No.’
So absolute was the silence that the clock's volume seemed to have notched up a few decibels. Drumming his fingers on the table, Lord William regarded his son with an air of amusement that everyone knew spelled bad news for the young man.
‘Theodore, put it on the table or I'll have Dyer break your arms and take it from you forcibly. Either way, I'm going to get to see what's in your pocket. So what's it to be; the easy way or the painful way?’
I seem to bring nothing but trouble to Theo, thought Lysander miserably as Theo put his hand in his pocket and drew out the scrap of paper from Louis. Placing it on the table in front of Lord William, Theo backed away a couple of steps and crossed his arms defiantly. It seemed to take Lord William an age to unfold the note; indeed, most in the room suspected that His Lordship was milking the moment. No one was prepared for Lord William's reaction, though; he started to laugh.
‘‘‘Hapy crissmus theo from Louis,’’’ Lord William read out, before raising his eyes to look at Lysander.
‘I'm not too happy with the teaching at Applethwaite School if this is the usual standard of spelling, or is it just because your son's a halfwit?’
‘Louis finds things difficult, Your Lord…erm…ship; I believe the standards are perfectly acceptable. My daughter's doing very well.’ Stopping himself before he started gabbling, Lysander inwardly rejoiced at his son's genius at giving him a decoy note for Theo. He also rejoiced that Theo had chosen to keep the other, tightly folded, piece of paper in his pocket.
‘Actually, I'm bored already,’ said Theo, cheek masking his own relief at having chosen the correct note to give to his father. ‘I think I'll make myself scarce.’
Before anyone could reply Theo left the room, treating Lysander to the ghost of a wink as he passed, and sprinted up to the privacy of his curtained bed to read the real message from his ‘halfwit’ friend:
Hi there, Theo Dory. I hope Dad doesn't get caught handing you these notes, but if he did I hope the decoy worked. If you didn't need it, then ignore the other note – it's from my imbecile alter ego!
I don't know if you can imagine how pleased we were to hear from you on my birthday. By the way, nice card. I'll treasure it for ever! Dad came in for a bit of a grilling from my mates, but he took it well. He was able to tell us what's been going on with you. I gather the tyrant's eased up on you a bit, and the piece of excrement Dyer has been demoted. We celebrated that one well, I can assure you! However, we also know that the tyrant still isn't above a bit of torture. We're on the case, Theo my friend; we'll never desert you, but the time's got to be right. The Unsponsored are getting stronger by the day, believe me, and they're ALL ON YOUR SIDE! We've also put a bit of a band together here in Applethwaite, called Dory's Avengers. Hope you like the name!
We'll get you out of there one day. Hang on in there. I know I don't need to tell you to be strong!
Lots of love, right back at ya Dory! Love to Marina. Spit in the eye to Rose the Bitch and his LordSHIT. Louis Trev x
The writing then changed, became gentler and more feminine:
Not much to add to Louis's note, just echo that we're thinking of you all the time. I know you're strong; you're a Farrell, how could you be anything else? Can't wait to see you again, Cuz. Miss you and love you loads, Abi xxx PS So pleased to hear the Dyer SCUM is off your case, wish I'd been there to witness his demotion!
I wish you had been too Abi, thought Theo, you'd have loved it. Finally, one more change in the handwriting:
Hi there, Theo, allow me to introduce myself. My name's Matilda Santiago and I think you are HOT, so if it's OK with you we are so going to get it on when we meet. Matty xxxxxxx.
Lying back on his bed, laughing silently, Theo couldn't remember ever feeling so happy in his adult life. Knowing it was risky to keep the note, but reluctant to part with it, Theo contented himself with stuffing it deep into a hole in his mattress before throwing himself back on to his pillow. Delighted though he was at word from his best friend and his cousin, it was the postscript from the mysterious Matilda that caused Theo the most pleasure. Wondering if Matilda was hot as she seemed to find him, Theo drifted into some very pleasant daydreams.
‘I do hope we meet soon, Matilda Santiago,’ he said to himself, still lau
ghing with joy, ‘I like your style!’
Chapter Eleven
While Theo was lying on his bed, happy thoughts filling his head, Lysander was getting a very hard time in the room below.
‘So, Trevelyan, let me get this straight. Your half-witted son just decided, out of the blue, to send my son a greeting. How nice of him.’ Seeing Lysander squirm, Lord William warmed to his task.
‘So you expect me to believe that, after all these years of no contact, your barely articulate son decides to send Theodore this very touching Christmas greeting?’ Picking up Louis's decoy note, Lord William screwed it up into a ball and threw it in Lysander's face.
‘HAVE YOU BEEN PASSING NOTES BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN THEODORE AND…WHAT'S HIS FACE…LEWIS?’ Lord William bellowed suddenly, causing almost everyone in the room to flinch. His Lordship, even in his fury, was impressed to notice that Lysander was the only one who did not flinch.
‘No, Your Lordship. This was an impromptu greeting; and my son's name is pronounced ‘‘Lou-ee’’, by the way. Not Loopy Louis, just Louis.’
‘Trevelyan, I don't think you're in a position to question whatever I choose to call your half-witted offspring. Impromptu greeting, was it? After all this time?’
‘With respect, WSB, there haven't been many opportunities for me to pass on notes to Theo in previous years…’
‘ARE YOU QUESTIONING HOW I TREAT MY SON YET AGAIN, TREVELYAN?’
Calming himself, Lord William added in a quieter voice that was somehow more menacing for its lack of volume, ‘Has Theodore ever asked you to pass a message to your son?’
At that moment the door opened and Theo came back into the room.
‘It's OK, Lysander; I'll take it from here,’ he said. ‘Your Lordship, Louis sent me his little Christmas card in response to me sending him a birthday card last week.’
‘So it wasn't impromptu at all, Lysander! You were lying…’
‘Lysander was covering for me, for which I thank him wholeheartedly.’