Dory's Avengers Read online

  ‘Glad you're awake, sleepyhead,’ she lied. ‘I was getting lonely!’

  ‘Climb back in then, darling,’ said Max, delighted. ‘There's plenty more where last night's action came from!’

  Bracing herself, Abi climbed back into bed next to Max's naked body. Think of Louis, she said to herself repeatedly as Max heaved himself on top of her and satisfied his needs with a series of grunts. Abi was actually glad that Max was an extremely selfish lover as it meant she didn't have to act too much; just make all the right noises as he came, mercifully quickly.

  ‘Enjoy that, gorgeous?’ he asked, flicking on the television and not really interested in her reply.

  Knowing that before long she'd have to distract Max once more, Abi took the opportunity to enjoy a time of respite and actually found the mindless chatter on breakfast TV quite relaxing. Less relaxing, however, were the constant Sponsored adverts reminding the populace how to live their lives. As each Sponsor-endorsed reminder got an approving grunt from Max, Abi found herself loathing the man more and more.

  For the first time in his life, Louis left the Lake District and all that was familiar to him as he, Jenny and Sarah headed rapidly south on the M6. Turning round to chat to the still-excited Jenny, he saw the fells etched on the horizon, his weak eyes crossing in an attempt to focus on the comforting sight. All too soon the fells slipped out of sight completely, and Jenny was starting to get fractious.

  ‘I'm hungry! I need a wee! Are we there yet? Are we there yet?’

  By the time the car started to slow in heavy traffic around Manchester, the child was repeating her mantra constantly, her voice more whiny by the minute.

  ‘Sarah, I think we'd better stop at the next services,’ said Louis, getting heartily sick of Jenny's whinging

  ‘I don't think we'll be able to, Louis love,’ replied Sarah. ‘They're all Sponsor-controlled.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Sarah; just so Jen can go to the toilet!’

  ‘OK, Louis,’ Sarah snapped back, ‘but don't say I didn't warn you.’

  The next motorway service station turned out to be close, only another five miles or so further on. Sarah parked up without any trouble, Louis giving her a smug look which lasted only as far as the entrance door. Large signs on either side of the door read: ‘Insert Sponsorship Card to Gain Entry’.

  ‘What?’ said Louis, shocked. ‘We can't even use the toilets?’

  At that moment a security guard ambled past.

  ‘Insert your card in the slot, lad,’ he said. ‘Either side of the door will do.’

  ‘Err, I don't actually have…’ stammered Louis, but the guard interrupted.

  ‘No card, no entry!’ he snapped, his previously friendly demeanour vanishing in an instant.

  ‘But my little sister needs the toilet, and my father is…’

  ‘I don't care if your father's the Sultan of Brunei, boy. No card, no entry. We don't tolerate Unsponsored riff-raff around here, so get lost before I have to call the police!’

  Totally unmoved by Jenny's tears, the security guard herded the three of them back to Sarah's car and watched as they drove out of the car park back on to the motorway. ‘Unsponsored scum!’ he muttered, before going about his business.

  Thoroughly shaken by the encounter with the security guard, Louis was silent for a while once Sarah started driving south again. Laying his head against the window he tried to focus his eyes on the gradually flattening land as soon even the Pennines were lost from his view. Sarah talked to Jenny, cheering the little girl immensely with promises of a picnic very soon. True to her word, Sarah left the motorway and drove into the countryside.

  ‘I'm sorry I snapped earlier, Sarah,’ said Louis, his voice thick. ‘I didn't know…’

  ‘Of course you didn't, love. It's something we've been protecting you from for so long; I think maybe we've kept you too much in the dark. The reality is that, in the more populated areas of the country, the Sponsors control pretty much everything.’

  ‘Where are we going to stay then?’ asked Louis, worried. ‘If we can't even take Jenny in to use a service station toilet, I can't see many London hotels welcoming us.’

  ‘All sorted, darling. Ah, this'll do nicely.’

  Pulling into a secluded layby deep in the Staffordshire countryside, Sarah made good her promise to Jenny.

  ‘Picnic time, young lady!’ said Sarah cheerfully, unstrapping Jenny from her child seat while Louis sneaked behind a bush to answer the call of nature.

  ‘Louis, did you just wee in a field?’ shrieked his delighted sister on his return.

  ‘If it's good enough for the sheep back home, it's good enough for us!’ said Sarah. ‘Come on now, Jenny darling; let's go and use the field toilet too.’

  Thinking that this day was just getting better and better, her earlier whinging forgotten, Jenny was only too happy to use the field toilet. Among Sarah's stash was a packet of baby wipes so they were all able to clean their hands before eating. The Sponsors would have approved!

  ‘Sarah, is there anything you've not got in here?’ asked Louis, laughing as he pulled out the cool-bag containing the sandwiches.

  ‘Once a Girl Guide, always a Girl Guide,’ she replied, laughing along with him. ‘Be prepared!’

  The picnic cheered the three travellers up no end. Sarah had chosen her spot well and they didn't see one single vehicle go past as they ate by the side of her car. Once they'd packed up and started their journey again, Jenny was asleep in no time at all, tired out by the excitement. Sarah put a CD on in the car and hummed along to the songs, leaving Louis to lean his head against the window once again and watch the world speed by. It was a very different world to the quiet, tranquil one he'd always known in Applethwaite. The further south they went the heavier the traffic became, grinding to a complete halt at times, and Louis looked around him with interest, his eyes occasionally focusing on faces in the other cars. Expressions grim, eyes fixed rigidly ahead, no one seemed to be in a very good place as they inched forward in their Sponsored cars to their Sponsored homes.

  ‘Where are we, Sarah?’ he asked at one point.

  ‘Birmingham, darling. We should hopefully get moving a bit more freely once we get past the M5 turn off.’

  ‘M5?’

  ‘It's the main road to the South-West.’

  Louis was silent again, taking in the newness of his surroundings. Birmingham; the second biggest city in England. What a culture shock for an Applethwaite boy, and London would be even bigger. It was a long time before Louis spoke again, once again when Sarah had brought the car to a standstill in traffic.

  ‘Where are we now, Sarah?’

  ‘M25, my sweet. The London Orbital, commonly known as the biggest car park in England.’

  The London Orbital! They must nearly be at their destination. Jenny was awake again, but quiet like her brother as she too took in the unfamiliar surroundings while Sarah continued to drive and hum along to her music. Louis's conjecture that they were coming to journey's end was way out. Having had no previous experience of anything to compare to London traffic, he couldn't possibly have realised that it would actually take them another two hours to arrive at their destination.

  The destination turned out to be the ugliest place Louis had ever seen. As Sarah steered her car into a desolate wasteland surrounded by graffiti-laden garages, the landscape backed by relentless high-rise blocks of flats, Jenny started to cry.

  ‘It's horrid,’ she sobbed, echoing Louis's thoughts. ‘I want to go home!’

  ‘What is this place?’ asked Louis.

  ‘It's somewhere we'll be safe. Don't judge it on appearances, Louis. Don't cry, Jenny darling. Nice people live here.’

  Louis was momentarily alarmed to see a strange man approaching them at a run, until Sarah leapt from the car and grabbed the stranger in a delighted embrace.

  ‘Rick!’ she yelled, laughing.

  ‘Sarah, so good to see you. So glad you're safe!’ replied the man equally happily, return
ing Sarah's hug. ‘Lisa and the kids can't wait to see you.’

  Turning to Louis, who had just unstrapped Jenny from her car seat and was holding tightly to her hand, the man said, ‘You must be Louis Trevelyan, and this pretty young lady must be Jenny.’ Holding out a hand to Louis with a warm smile, the man continued.

  ‘I'm Richard Lonsdale, Sarah's brother. Please feel free to call me Rick. Delighted to meet you!’

  Returning Rick's smile, Louis took his hand and shook it warmly.

  ‘Delighted to meet you too, Rick. Jenny, this is Sarah's brother.’

  ‘What, like you're my brother?’ asked Jenny, eyes like saucers.

  ‘Exactly like that,’ replied Louis, and at his words Jenny's face broke into a huge grin.

  ‘Hello, Sarah's brother,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Jenny. Now then, Sarah, best get the car in here then I'll help you get the stuff upstairs.’

  Walking over to one of the garages, Rick Lonsdale unlocked it so that Sarah could park her car inside, then, once the three adults had laden themselves with things from the boot, they made their way to the nearest high-rise.

  ‘Lift's working, luckily,’ said Rick, punching a code into the keypad by the lift doors. With a ping they opened smoothly, and the four of them stepped inside to be carried up to Richard and Lisa's home on the tenth floor. Louis looked around, noticing how well maintained all the flats seemed to be. Their doors were nicely painted, windows sparkling clean, often well-kept plants decorating doorsteps or sills, and not a scrap of litter to be seen. Seeing Louis's approving expression, Rick smiled and said, ‘It's all we've got, so we take pride in it.’

  ‘All who's got?’

  ‘Us,’ said Lisa Lonsdale, opening the door to their home. ‘The Unsponsored, the underclass. This is where we live. Welcome to our home!’

  Hugging each of them in turn, and echoing her husband's earlier sentiments to Sarah about how good it was to see her, Lisa led them into the cosy and welcoming flat. Delighted to see toys everywhere Jenny immediately made herself at home and, with the unselfconsciousness of children, was very soon firm friends with Matthew and Charlotte Lonsdale. Louis, older and shyer than his sister, perched himself awkwardly on the edge of the Lonsdales’ sofa and listened while Sarah swapped news with Lisa and Rick.

  ‘Really?’ said Lisa, unpacking Sarah's food into her fridge before preparing supper for everyone. ‘They won't even let a child use the toilet?’

  ‘Not without a Sponsorship card, no,’ replied Sarah, referring to the earlier nasty encounter with the security guard. ‘You know what the Sponsors are like.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Rick. ‘We don't have much to do with the Sponsors. As long as we behave ourselves, they pretty much leave us alone, which is exactly how we like it.’

  ‘How do you manage? Don't the Sponsored take all the jobs?’

  ‘Not all of them. There'll always be some that the Sponsored view as being beneath them. We sweep their roads, collect their rubbish, clean their offices, that sort of thing. In return, we get food tokens and areas such as this to call home.’

  ‘Where do you shop?’

  ‘We get a market once a week, pretty much supplies us with all we need. It's all stuff the Sponsored reject from their shops; misshapen vegetables, dented cans, the less popular cuts of meat. All perfectly good enough for us!’

  ‘It's not the most pleasant experience in the world, though,’ commented Lisa. ‘The Sponsored who run the market consider it a huge imposition to have to mix with the likes of us, and they never miss an opportunity to tell us so.’

  ‘What about the children's schooling?’ asked Sarah, appalled at all she was learning about the treatment of her brother's family.

  ‘We teach them ourselves, in the community centre over there,’ said Rick, gesturing out of the window. ‘Only the basics, though. The Sponsored don't want the likes of us getting qualifications!’

  ‘Why do you put up with it?’

  ‘Because anything, and I mean anything, is preferable to having our lives dictated by the Sponsors. You know that, Sarah!’

  Nodding at the truth in Rick's words, Sarah asked, ‘Who maintains the flats?’

  ‘We do. We're a pretty skilled bunch, unbeknown to the Sponsors. We have to be. Something goes wrong no one's going to fix it but us, so we've had to learn fast.’

  ‘I think it's amazing,’ said Louis suddenly. ‘I think you're all amazing.’

  ‘You sure this is Lysander Trevelyan's son?’ said Rick, laughing. Noticing Louis blush uncomfortably, Sarah replied quickly.

  ‘Louis and Jenny can't help who their father is. They are fine young people, both of them.’

  ‘Sorry, Louis, I never meant to offend. I had the misfortune to meet your father once and found him to be an arrogant pig. You couldn't be more different…oh, sorry. Shouldn't speak of your father like that. Bad form, so sorry…’

  ‘It's OK,’ said Louis, laughing to reassure the older man. ‘I had the misfortune to meet my father once too, and he can be a bit of an arrogant pig!’

  Into the laughter that followed Louis's words, Lisa called, ‘Supper's ready, people; time to wash your hands, kids. Sit where you like, Louis love, we don't stand on ceremony here.’

  Supper turned out to be a delicious chicken casserole, which had been cooking when Louis, Sarah and Jenny had arrived, with new potatoes and green beans. The three travellers ate hungrily; even little Jenny asked for a second helping.

  ‘That was yummy,’ she declared, clearing her plate a second time, ‘for my tummy!’

  ‘I can't think of higher praise,’ said Lisa, beaming.

  Later on, when the children were finally bathed and settled into bed, the adults once again gathered on the Lonsdales’ threadbare but comfortable sofas to discuss Louis's reason for being in London.

  ‘No one's seen anything of the St Benedict boy for years,’ said Rick. ‘The official word is that he's too sickly to be seen in public, but some think he's dead.’

  ‘He's neither,’ said Louis with conviction. ‘His father keeps him a prisoner in his bedroom.’

  ‘How can you know that?’

  ‘He contacted me…’ said Louis slowly, knowing how his next words would sound to the down-to-earth Lonsdales, ‘…with his mind. I guess he's been cut off for so long he's managed to find a way to communicate the only way he can. Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but I also know what I saw.’

  Looking unhappily down at his hands folded in his lap, Louis waited for someone to speak.

  ‘Why did he contact you?’ asked Lisa. ‘I wouldn't have thought the son of one of his father's right-hand men would be a likely candidate.’

  ‘Theo and I were friends when we were kids,’ replied Louis. ‘Good friends. Blood brothers we called ourselves. He used to spend a lot of time in Applethwaite back then, visiting his mother's family…’

  Louis's voice trailed off as, inevitably, mention of Isabelle's family made him yearn for Abi.

  ‘Ah, Isabelle,’ said Lisa, softly. ‘Things were different when Lady Isabelle was around. The voice of reason keeping the power-hungry Sponsors in check.’

  ‘Did you meet Isabelle?’ asked Louis. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘No one knows, dear. She just disappeared off the face of the Earth about ten years ago. Her husband blames her disappearance for the breakdown suffered by his son. We never had the luck to meet Lady Isabelle in person, but we knew of her. Everyone knew of her; she was so unfailingly kind. She didn't care whether a person was Sponsored or not; if she could help out, she would. Anyone suffering misfortune of any kind, she'd seek them out and offer her support. Wonderful woman, just wonderful.’

  ‘Unlike her husband, and that bitch of a daughter!’ said Rick sharply. ‘They stop at nothing to feed their addiction to money and power, and without Lady Isabelle to soften things they have made life increasingly difficult.’

  ‘For you?’

  ‘More for the Sponsored actually, Louis,’ replied Ric
k. ‘They control their minions in every aspect of their lives. God, I'd rather be considered underclass than live like the Sponsored!’

  Shuddering, Rick opened another bottle of wine and offered refills all round. No one refused.

  ‘So, young Louis,’ continued Rick, sitting down again, ‘do you know where St Benedict lives?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ replied Louis, ‘but I'd know it if I were to see it. I can describe what I've seen if you like.’

  Lisa and Rick both nodded, so Louis continued.

  ‘One time Theo contacted me he was standing by the window. I guess it was his way of showing me as much as he could to help me find him.’

  Stopping for a moment, once again realising how odd his words must sound, Louis looked helplessly at Sarah.

  ‘Go on, darling,’ she prompted.

  ‘OK,’ said Louis, reassured as ever by Sarah's comforting presence, ‘I saw a wide, tree-lined road. Big houses. The one opposite Theo's is a huge, red-brick mansion with a black fence in front of it and a big green front door. It's five storeys high, with attic rooms at the top. Theo's window is level with the storey below the attic. The road is very clean, and all the cars are shiny. I don't know about cars, but they all look expensive.’

  ‘I thought you had bad eyesight,’ said Rick, not wanting to offend the sensitive young man but anxious to make sense of Louis's words.

  ‘I do,’ said Louis shortly, ‘but Theo doesn't. I'm not in the room, he is; so I guess I'm seeing through his eyes.’

  Lisa and Rick looked at each other.

  ‘Are you sure you've never been to the St Benedict residence?’ asked Rick. ‘Not seen a picture maybe?’

  ‘No,’ said Louis, ‘never!’

  Walking over to a bookcase behind one of the sofas, Lisa picked up a magazine. Called High Life, it boasted on its front page that readers could enjoy full-colour photos of the St Benedict residence. ‘At Home with Lord William St Benedict’ proclaimed the front page proudly.

  ‘Have a look,’ she said, dropping the magazine on to Louis's lap. ‘Pages 15 to 20. See anything familiar?’

  Louis looked, and gasped in surprise. There, in the magazine, was the tree-lined road. There were the cars, there was a glimpse of the red-brick mansion, all as Theo had shown him. However, in the magazine there was also a picture of something Theo hadn't been able to show his friend: the St Benedict family home itself. Theo's prison.