by Alison Jack
‘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…’
For the first time, Lysander's voice faltered. Theo sat down on the arm of Lysander's chair and put a comforting arm around the older man's shoulders.
‘Very touching, Theodore, but your presence here is no longer required,’ said Lord William. ‘Lysander, I would have shared the news with you after the meeting had my son not decided to take matters into his own hands. Now, continue with your report…’
Standing up, Lysander said, ‘No. I'm going home.’
‘After the meeting, Lysander. Of course I understand your need…’
‘No. I'm going home, now.’
‘You're disobeying a direct order…’
‘I'm beyond caring, Your Lordshit. Here.’ Taking out his wallet, Lysander threw his Gold Sponsor card onto Lord William's desk. ‘Have it. I'm through with your Scheme, St Benedict. Oh, and for the record, I don't believe for one second that my wife committed suicide. Dr Donatelli saw your henchmen leaving my home this morning, shortly before my son made his awful discovery. Oh yes, and another thing; if Nik…if Nik did commit suicide apparently she beat herself up pretty badly first…’
Once again Lysander's voice failed him, leaving the clock to tick into the uncomfortable silence as it had done so many times before. As Lysander turned to go, Theo stood up.
‘Give my love to Louis,’ he said, ‘and to your little girl. My heart goes out to you all, Lysander. I'm so sorry.’
Lysander gave Theo a fierce hug before he left, not trusting himself to speak. As Lysander walked across the room, Dr Fiona Turnbull suddenly said, ‘I'm sorry too, Lysander. Drive carefully!’ Lysander paused at the door while these sentiments were echoed by everyone else in the room, with the exception of Mortimer O'Reilly and Lord William. Then, nodding slightly, he left the room.
Max continued to deliver his report to the host of TV cameras that had converged on Applethwaite as news got out of Nicola Trevelyan's death. Behind him, the Applethwaite Unsponsored had formed a human wall around the scene. Sponsored reporters stood idle an
d annoyed as the Unsponsored Max delivered the news which could have been the scoop of a lifetime for them. However, the resistance of the Unsponsored was so great that the human wall remained impenetrable while Nicola's body was gently lifted down from the tree and covered with a blanket.
‘Nicola Trevelyan was discovered after her son Louis had been alerted by a friend,’ said Max to the cameras, working them well with his natural confidence and good looks. ‘The friend had seen a group of men, known to be in Lord William St Benedict's employ, leaving the Trevelyan residence, and had her suspicions aroused. It is yet to be ascertained whether the presence of the men, one of whom was identified as Stephen Dyer, was connected at all with the sad death of Nicola. What we do know is that, before she allegedly committed suicide, Nicola took a severe beating which left her with a broken jaw among other injuries. Rather a severe beating to inflict upon oneself.
‘For those of you who don't remember, Stephen Dyer came to Lord William's employ after completing his prison sentence for the manslaughter of football player Elliot Farrell. In an unusually premeditated act of…er…manslaughter, Dyer took a knife to…’
As Max continued to hold the television cameras rapt with his insinuations, Jess wrapped a coat round Louis, who was still shivering in his gym kit, and led him into the house. Abi and Gideon followed. The rest of Louis's close friends stayed outside to help keep the Sponsored reporters at bay and protect Nicola's body.
‘I don't want Sponsors taking her away,’ said Louis, speaking for the first time as he huddled next to the Aga in the kitchen. ‘I don't want them involved in any way with…you know…funeral…’
Abi heard the catch in Louis's voice and held him close, understanding his pain only too well.
‘No Sponsored scum are going to get near your mother, Louis,’ said Gideon. ‘You just have to see the solidarity of the human wall out there. I'm so proud to be Unsponsored…’
At that moment, Alan Santiago put his head round the door.
‘Sorry to barge in, Louis, but do you want us to move your mother somewhere a little more private?’
‘Would you, Alan? That's very thoughtful. Sarah will be back soon; I don't want Jenny seeing…’
Once again Louis's voice gave up on him. Alan crossed the room, knelt in front of Louis and took his hand.
‘We're all with you, Louis. We all feel for you, and we'll do anything we can to see you through this. Anything at all, you just say the word. Dex, Georgie, Chris, Matty; they all say the same – we're all here for you.’
‘Thanks, Al, I never doubted it for a moment,’ replied Louis, the ghost of a smile on his face despite his raw pain.
‘Now then,’ Alan continued, looking uncharacteristically ill at ease, ‘I wish I didn't have to be the one to ask you painful questions at the moment, but where shall we take, er, your mother? Do you want us to take her to The Lion?’
‘No thanks, Al,’ replied Louis, doing his best to collect his thoughts. ‘Would you put her in the living room for now, please? It's on the right at the front of the house. It's a horrible room; we never use it normally, but that's not going to worry Mum now…’
Looking up at Louis, his dark eyes full of compassion, Alan squeezed the young man's hand and said, ‘Consider it done, Louis.’
Going back outside, Alan passed Louis's wishes on to Dex and the others. As it turned out they were just in time. Alan and Dex were leaving the cold, impersonal living room where they'd laid Nicola's body as Sarah came through the front door with Jenny. She'd heard the news on her car radio and had returned to Applethwaite as quickly as possible, doing her best to shield Jenny from the barrage of sponsored reporters who recognised Nicola Trevelyan's daughter and started banging on the car windows.
‘She's only a child!’ yelled Sarah desperately. ‘Just leave us alone!’
It didn't take long for the human wall to realise what was going on, and Max cut short his television report to help the rest of the Unsponsored shield Sarah's car as she drove into the Trevelyan's drive. Sarah was relieved to find Nicola's body had been taken away; she didn't want Jenny having to see it. Bad enough that it was poor Louis who'd been the one to make the awful discovery.
‘Come on, Jenny,’ said Sarah, ushering the confused little girl into the house and away from the crowds as Dex and Alan emerged from the living room. Dex hugged Sarah, while Alan scooped Jenny into his arms.
‘Is Mrs Trevelyan…?’ Sarah jerked her head towards the cold, unused living room, and Dex nodded.
‘Why are you sad face, Alan?’ asked Jenny, still in Alan's arms. ‘Is it because the nasty Sponsors made Mammy dead?’
‘I've told her that Mammy's with the angels now,’ said Sarah. ‘I don't know how she's picked up on the Sponsors, though.’
‘Sponsors are nasty, Sarah,’ said the child. ‘They do all the nasty things. They made my mammy dead, and I don't like them…’
Holding Jenny close as she started to cry, Alan whispered, ‘I don't like them either, darling. One day we're going to make the nasty Sponsors go away; then we can all be happy…’
‘Dory's ’Vengers,’ said Jenny through her tears, as Abi appeared in the hall.
‘Sarah, Jenny; we thought we could hear you. Louis is in the kitchen with Gideon and Mum; come on through! You, too, Dex and Al!’
As soon as Louis saw Jenny in Alan's arms, he leapt up and ran over to his little sister.
‘Thanks, Al,’ said Louis, giving Alan the ghost of a smile once more as he took the sobbing child. ‘Thanks for everything.’
‘Do you want us out of the way…?’ began Dex, taking hold of Alan's hand.
‘No, please stay,’ said Louis. ‘I need my friends round me more than ever at the moment. That is, unless you need to get back to the pub?’
‘The pub is closed until Dory's Avengers wish it to be reopened,’ said Dex. ‘If you need us, Louis, this is where we stay.’
At that moment, the door opened and Cameron joined the group in the kitchen.
‘Sorry, people, only just heard. Louis, I feel your pain. God knows, I feel your pain, and Jenny's.’ Walking over the room he gave Louis and Jenny a quick hug, before asking, ‘What next?’
‘Tea next,’ said Sarah decisively. ‘Then an emergency meeting of Dory's Avengers. Here, I think. It would be best to stay here until Mr Trevelyan gets back.’
‘I'm not making any plans until Dad's here,’ said Louis, equally decisively. ‘Then we'll need Max to write an emergency newsletter. Do you think we'd better get everyone in from the cold?’
‘Not yet, darling,’ replied Sarah. ‘They're doing a grand job keeping the Sponsored away at the moment.’
‘It's cold…’ began Louis, but Sarah held up her hand.
‘It's cold, but they're happy to be helping. Everyone's happy to be able to do something to support us through this; it's the way the Unsponsored work – you know that!’
As the afternoon passed, the Unsponsored human wall didn't falter in its protection of the Trevelyan house. Max popped his head in to the kitchen to let everyone know that he'd finished his TV report and was ready to start the newsletter whenever Louis wanted.
‘We're waiting for Dad at the moment, Max,’ said Louis. ‘Thanks anyway; of course we'll keep you informed.’
Max accepted a cup of tea gratefully, patted Louis on the arm and passed on his condolences, then went back into the darkening winter's day to help reinforce the Unsponsored wall. The wall at that moment needed all the help it could get, as the Sponsored reporters were getting very excited at the arrival of Lysander Trevelyan.
‘Mr Trevelyan! Mr Trevelyan!’ they called, desperately trying to reach through the human shield and bang on Lysander's car. ‘How do you feel about your wife's death? Was it suicide? What does Lord William think? Will the funeral be Sponsored?’
Ignoring the questions, just about holding it together, Lysander drove through the crowds, and the Unsponsored wall closed the gap behind him as he passed. Thanking the Unsponsored for
their support as he left his car, not even caring to lock the expensive Mercedes, Lysander finally walked into the place he'd been longing for all day: his family home. Knowing exactly where everyone would be gathered he made straight for the big, friendly kitchen; his heart contracting with pain at the sight of the Christmas tree in the family room.
‘Too many bittersweet memories,’ he mumbled. ‘Get a grip, Lysander!’
‘Dad,’ Louis called from the kitchen door, seeing his father's agonised face as Lysander stared at the Christmas tree which, only a few days earlier, had presided over the joyful family festivities. Crossing rapidly over the room, Lysander wrapped his arms around his son, and Louis finally lost the composure on to which he'd been clinging so desperately since the morning. Holding Lysander tightly, he sobbed like a child in the safety of his father's arms.
The White Lion didn't open at all that day. Instead, Dory's Avengers gathered in the kitchen of Lysander Trevelyan's house, drinking his wine and swapping news. With nightfall, the temperature outside plummeted and the Sponsored reporters started to give up and drift away, finally enabling the Unsponsored to get out of the cold too. Lysander visited his wife's body with Louis, and it was a good twenty minutes before they returned. Both were red-eyed, and Lysander's face was as pale as his son's.
‘Thank you, Sarah,’ said Lysander, accepting a glass of wine. ‘Best make the most of this. Not sure how much longer I'll be able to afford fine wine. Or this house, for that matter…’
Lysander went on to tell Dory's Avengers how he'd thrown his Gold Sponsor card at Lord William and said he was through with the Scheme.
‘Probably not the best career move of my life,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘but I'm beyond caring. Do you know, the man wanted me to continue with my report, even after I'd heard…?’
Jenny climbed onto her father's lap at that point, knowing with her child's intuition that Daddy was in need of a cuddle. Burying his face in his daughter's hair, he whispered, ‘I love you, Genevieve,’ before collecting himself and looking round at Dory's Avengers.