Dory's Avengers Page 2

  ‘Well now, Mister Seer, as you well know, my first child is due to be born any day now. Let's SEE, shall we, if Nikki has a boy-child. Given that my wife and I are both fair-haired, I think it would be safe for Mister Seer to ASSUME our child would be born equally fair. Now if you'll excuse me, Mister SEER, I feel rather aggrieved at your mystical prophecy, which I regard as a feeble and unwarranted insult to my family. For me, all pleasure has gone from what has, until now, been a very pleasant evening.’

  Turning his back on Mortimer, Lysander addressed the other occupants of the room.

  ‘WSB, Izzy, as ever your hospitality has been of the highest quality. Thank you both. Steph, Fiona, it has been a pleasure to keep you company once again. I bid you all goodnight.’

  Lysander's departure was followed by a prolonged and uneasy silence, finally broken by Brian Mooreland asking whether further refreshments would be required. As the party spirit had died with Lysander's stinging words to Mortimer, the remaining guests politely declined and started getting ready to leave. As he said his farewells, Mortimer made one last attempt to appeal to William.

  ‘It's true, William. I did have a vision of the future. Of course, you're an intelligent man of the world, but don't disregard forces beyond even our comprehension. If my vision did indeed refer to Trevelyan's child, then he needs to be watched closely. What harm could it do to be cautious?’

  ‘What harm indeed,’ replied William, patting the neurotic Mortimer on the arm. ‘Thank you for having the courage to speak to us on this matter, and please try not to worry. The Sponsorship Scheme is growing stronger every day, with the full backing of the government. Indeed, I met with the Prime Minister only two days ago, and she is delighted with the order that has come to society since we introduced the Scheme to the UK. By the time this child of whom you speak has grown old enough to be any threat, he will soon find he is taking on a formidable opponent.’

  Once Mortimer, Fiona and Steph had departed for their homes, William turned to his wife.

  ‘What do you make of that, Izzy? Rather an unusual turn of events.’

  ‘I think Mortimer may have been at the herbal cigarettes again, Will. He certainly gave us girls a good laugh.’

  ‘Yes, I did notice,’ said William, still looking thoughtful. ‘However, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on Trevelyan's family, especially if the child is a boy.’

  ‘I suppose not, darling,’ said Isabelle, her light tone and pretty smile masking the return of her unease.

  By the end of the year two significant events had taken place. It turned out that the radio DJ had been spot on concerning the New Year's Honours List, and the head of the Sponsorship Scheme began the final year of the decade as Lord William St Benedict.

  Two days after both the DJ and Mortimer O'Reilly had made their predictions, a baby boy was indeed born in the north of England. He was a healthy, if slightly unusual, child. It was only when Louis Trevelyan entered the world on a frosty day shortly before Christmas that Lysander and Nicola, his parents, discovered they both carried the albino gene.

  Part One

  Applethwaite Awakens

  Chapter One

  In Cumbria, the north-westernmost county of England, lies an area of outstanding natural beauty known as the Lake District National Park. The ancient landscape is enjoyed to this day by a variety of people, from the keenest walkers climbing to the high summits to those who prefer to explore the souvenir shops and quaint cafés of the towns nestling in the valleys. Dry-stone walls border lanes and paths, deep lakes charm visitors with their timeless beauty, and pretty meadows sit below majestic mountains. The air is clean and pure, the pace of life relaxed. Sometimes the only companions a solitary walker will have throughout the day are the ubiquitous sheep and the birds flying above. Those who have fallen in love with the Lake District are drawn back time after time, and it is a love that will be with them for life.

  Lying beneath arguably the most stunning of the mountains, or fells as they are often called, is the little village of Applethwaite. Tucked in a hollow it is not visible from the main road into the national park, and surrounded as it is by woodland, affectionately known to the locals as ‘’Thwaite's Wood’, it enjoys a sense of isolation envied by the better-known Lake District towns. Only the most dedicated of walkers will attempt the difficult descent from the fell into Applethwaite; but those who do are rewarded with a warm welcome, a pint of fine ale and, if required, a comfortable bed for the night in the village's White Lion Inn. The village also enjoys a tremendous sense of community, and is an oasis for those who like to live their lives in peace and tranquillity.

  Louis Trevelyan was someone who dearly loved to live his life in peace and tranquillity, but he was beginning to feel more than a little stressed as he viewed his surroundings from an unusual angle. Body inverted, his arms held him solid above a pair of parallel bars while his muscles increasingly screamed at him to give them a rest. Although the day was bright and sunny outside, none of the sunlight found its way past the heavy curtains covering the windows, and the electric light was dimmed to its lowest setting.

  ‘Gideon,’ said Louis between heavy breaths, ‘can I stop now?’

  Silence from his companion.

  ‘Gideon? Are you asleep?’

  More silence. With a fluid movement, Louis righted himself and dropped gracefully from the bars to the floor. Crossing to the light switch, he simultaneously turned up the light and placed dark glasses over his eyes, before turning to the slightly built man in the wheelchair.

  ‘GIDEON!’ yelled Louis, his face inches from that of his mentor.

  ‘WHO THE BLOODY HELL TOLD YOU TO GET DOWN?’ roared Gideon in reply.

  ‘You did,’ said Louis, smiling as he opened a bottle of water for himself and handed one to Gideon. ‘You talk in your sleep.’

  ‘You were rubbish today,’ grumbled Gideon, accepting the water with barely a grunt of thanks.

  ‘So why continue to teach me then?’ asked Louis, not for the first time. ‘I'm never going to compete in the Olympics or anything, so what's the point?’

  ‘You're damn good, that's why, Trevelyan; and I for one think it's only right to nurture a talent such as yours. You're damn lucky, and I'd thank you to remember that not all of us have the gift of movement.’

  Long used to Gideon's strange moods, Louis settled himself on one of the large window seats and squinted out into the street below.

  ‘Do you want to go for a walk, Gid? It's a gorgeous day out there, and I've got my sun block…’

  ‘Three things, Trevelyan. One, no to your question. Two, never ever call me Gid again. Three, you're late.’

  ‘Shit!’ Louis's head snapped round and he looked, crosseyed, at the clock above the door. After watching Louis failing to focus on the clock face, Gideon finally said, ‘It's nearly three, Louis.’

  ‘Shit!’ said Louis again. Grabbing a towel he headed for the studio's showers, and by the time he had showered and dressed there was no sign of Gideon.

  ‘I'll lock up again, shall I, Gid?’ said Louis to the empty room. ‘Shall I, Gid? Gid! Gid!’

  Giggling childishly, Louis made sure the studio was secure before donning a wide-brimmed sunhat and heading off to Applethwaite Primary School. It never occurred to Louis to ponder the fact that Gideon Wallis, once world-renowned gymnast until a freak car accident confined him to a wheelchair seventeen years previously, had moved to Applethwaite simply to train Louis. Gideon had bought and equipped a studio with high-quality bars, pommel horse and rings simply to train a gymnast who, although talented as Louis undoubtedly was, would never compete in any tournament. Even had Louis's natural shyness not been enough to prevent him from entertaining the idea of performing publicly, it was not something that Gideon ever encouraged. Although Louis often questioned the older man's reasons for continuing with his daily training, the question was always intended only to goad Gideon into paying Louis one of his rare compliments. Louis didn't question the strangeness of the s
ituation because he didn't actually find it strange. It was the only situation he had ever known.

  By the time Louis arrived, breathless, at Applethwaite Primary School's gates, the lessons had been over for a good ten minutes. Jenny Trevelyan, Louis's six-year-old sister, was waiting patiently for him to arrive. Blonde and pretty, although not as fair as her brother, Jenny was extremely proud of the gap where her two front teeth used to be and the imminent arrival of ‘grown-up teeth’. Waiting with Jenny was the Trevelyan's neighbour, Jane Radcliffe. Good old Jane, Louis thought. He could always rely on her and her little girl, Jenny's best friend Alex, to wait with Jenny whenever he was running late.

  As Louis reached the school gates and his weak eyes finally focused on the scene before him, he saw that Jane and Alex had already departed for home, and that Jenny had actually been keeping company with Abilene Farrell.

  Abi Farrell. Smooth skin. Long, dark hair. Slim figure, beautifully toned thanks to Abi's love of sport. The fragrant, the lovely, the unattainable Abi; smiling at Louis as she explained that she'd offered to wait with Jenny – Jane had to rush off, Sponsor paying a visit, really not a problem…

  ‘Er, thanks, erm, Abi…’ Louis managed, blushing frantically and attempting to hide beneath his huge hat. Oh yeah, Lou, he thought, great look. Flustered albino in ancient sunhat pulls exotic Mediterranean beauty. Never going to happen!

  ‘Are you OK, Louis?’ asked Abi kindly, laying a hand on Louis's arm and unwittingly reducing him to a jabbering wreck.

  ‘Thank you, yes I am, thank you, Abi – sorry I'm late – Gideon, track of time, erm…’ Louis's gabbling made him feel a bigger fool with every passing second, while Jenny grabbed his hands and attempted to turn somersaults.

  ‘Really, it's not a problem,’ said Abi. ‘Jenny and I have been having a lovely chat; haven't we, Jen?’

  ‘Yes!’ replied the little girl. ‘Miss Winter made us all draw a poster for the Sponsors’ Fair on Saturday, and she said mine was the best. Abi liked it too.’

  The child grabbed Abi's hands and jumped up and down with excitement, while the two young adults smiled at each other over her head. It was a rare moment of ease for Louis while in Abi's company, and he silently thanked Jenny for breaking the tension.

  ‘Well, thank you once again, Abi,’ said Louis. ‘Say thank you to Abi, Jen!’ he continued, finding it less daunting to speak to Abi through his little sister.

  ‘Abi, come and have tea with us! Sarah won't mind,’ said Jenny unexpectedly, and Louis returned to his previous state of panic.

  ‘I'd love to, Jenny, but I can't today,’ said Abi, stroking the child's hair. ‘My Uncle Chris is picking me up soon and we're going to make some poorly animals better.’

  ‘OK, Abi, see you another day. Will you be at the Sponsors’ Fair?’

  Abi frowned darkly and briefly, so briefly that had Louis not been staring rapturously at her he would have missed it.

  ‘No, darling, I won't be there, but I'm sure I'll see you soon. We'll have tea together one day very soon, I promise. Bye, Louis. Take care.’

  Dragging Louis behind her, Jenny headed off in the direction of the Trevelyan family home. The child's chatter washed over Louis as he continued to think about Abi long after she had disappeared from sight. He wondered why mention of the Sponsors always seemed to dampen Abi's mood. As a trainee vet she must surely benefit from Professional Sponsorship, or Pro Spo as it was affectionately known. He knew that Christopher Farrell, local veterinary surgeon and Abi's uncle, was endorsed by Pro Spo, and as Abi practised alongside her uncle when on leave from university she must come under the Pro Spo umbrella too. Then there was the prestigious veterinary college that Abi attended; Louis knew for a fact that this college was endorsed by both Pro Spo and Academic Sponsorship. Louis realised he rarely thought about the Sponsorship Scheme, despite the fact that his father worked for Lord William St Benedict. Indeed, Lysander Trevelyan was in charge of the highly regarded Leisure and Fitness Sponsorship Group; a position that afforded, among other things, the beautiful house in which Louis and Jenny lived so comfortably. It briefly crossed Louis's mind that he never really got much chance to talk to his father about anything, and that it may be a nice idea to ask him about Leisure and Fitness next time they met.

  Within minutes Louis Trevelyan – highly talented gymnast, head over heels in love with Abilene Farrell and more than a little scatty – had forgotten all about Leisure and Fitness in the pleasure of being home again. Home was a large, slate house in an exclusive little lane leading out of the village towards ’Thwaite's Wood and the fell beyond. Surrounded by mature gardens and bordered by an old stone wall, the grand house sat proud in its seclusion. Inside, a large hallway led to a magnificent staircase; to the left of the hallway lay the cosy family room into which Jenny and Louis now headed, behind which was the kitchen and the kindly Sarah. To the right of the hallway were the more formal rooms of the house – the sitting room with its huge, ornate fireplace, and the dining room, only used when Lysander was at home and entertaining. As Lysander being home was a rarity, the dining room spent most of its time cold and empty; Louis and Jenny preferring the informal comfort of Sarah's kitchen.

  Louis would never have considered his childhood to have been an unhappy one, but he was blissfully unaware that it was a very unorthodox one. His father had been a virtual stranger for his entire life; a handsome, charismatic man who appeared every so often with an ever-changing flock of admirers in tow, only to vanish within days for another long period of absence. Louis wasn't sure how he was meant to feel about Lysander. He admired his father, it was true, and wished that he could emulate Lysander's easy confidence and ready wit, but beyond that his feelings were sadly indifferent.

  Louis and Jenny's mother, Nicola, was equally strange to her children, but this wasn't due to her being absent from the family home. Although she shared the large house with them, Nicola was usually to be found drifting around in a drug-induced world of her own. Nicola's bedroom was situated over the rarely used dining room, so it often felt to Louis as though the left-hand side of the house was filled with love and warmth, while the right was cold and silent, haunted by the ghostly presence of his mother. Today she was sleeping, not an unusual state of affairs as lack of proper sustenance made her constantly tired. Her children barely registered her absence.

  Unlike both of their parents, Sarah Lonsdale was very much a part of the youngsters’ lives. For as long as Louis could remember it had been Sarah who cared for him, looked after him when he was ill, kissed him better when he was hurt. The loving arms around him following childhood nightmares were always Sarah's. The hand on to which he clung, terrified, on his first day at school was Sarah's. His tears at cruel taunts from other children were mopped up by Sarah; she rejoiced with him at sports day triumphs, tended to his occasional sunburn and reprimanded him for being foolish enough to forget his sun block, fed him, clothed him and gently guided him into adulthood. That Sarah loved the Trevelyan children was beyond doubt, as was the fact that the feeling was mutual.

  Once again, having never known any different, it never occurred to Louis to question who Sarah Lonsdale actually was, where she had come from, and why she never visited or even spoke of her own family.

  Later on, following a hilarious conversation over dinner about a walk in the countryside involving a very vocal donkey, every type of weather imaginable and a group of walkers making weary attempts to climb over a style, Jenny was finally persuaded into her bed. Louis's favourite time of the day was spent at the child's bedside, reading stories to her as her breathing slowly deepened and she gave in to sleep. He often sat for a while after Jenny had disappeared to dreamland, lights and dark glasses both off, watching his beloved sister as she slept. Jenny had been an unexpected addition to the family, a very welcome addition as far as Louis was concerned, although he remembered his constant worries over his mother's state of health during her pregnancy. Still at school himself at the time, he had relied even more t
han usual on the protective eye of Sarah Lonsdale. Happily, when Jenny had been born just over six years previously, she was totally unscathed by her mother's unhealthy lifestyle. Louis absolutely adored his sister and made sure that Jenny's life was as full of as much love and fun as possible.

  Louis felt quite chilled by the time he finally roused himself from Jenny's bedside. Must be because I've been sitting still for so long, Louis thought as he opened the bathroom door with a view to warming up in a hot bath.

  When Louis recalled the next few moments of his life it seemed to him as though time slowed to a virtual standstill, so shocked was he by the scene that greeted him. Instead of the big, friendly bathroom with its freestanding bath and antique iron fireplace, so familiar to Louis all his life, there was a room he'd never seen before. It wasn't an unpleasant room, but that didn't make it any less alarming to Louis. It wasn't his family home's bathroom where his family home's bathroom should be, and that shocked Louis to the core. Luckily for the sake of Louis's delicate eyes, still unprotected by their dark glasses, the room was as dim as the unlit landing behind him.

  Glancing back over his shoulder Louis found that, yes, the landing was still behind him.

  Glancing again into the space that should have contained the bathroom, Louis was dismayed to find that the room was still as unfamiliar as it had been a few seconds before. Never renowned for his decisiveness, Louis remained where he was, clinging desperately on to the doorframe as if that were his last connection with reality, while his shocked brain made a valiant attempt to take in the scene before him.

  As already mentioned, the room was not unpleasant; indeed, it looked rather luxurious. Beautiful silk curtains framed two large sash windows. Deep, exotic rugs covered sanded and sealed floorboards on either side of a large four-poster bed, and the furniture in the room was clearly of the highest quality. All this impressed itself into the back of Louis's mind, but the luxury of the room dimmed into insignificance at the sight of the young man on the bed. Tall and slim, he was laying sprawled on top of the quilt, eyes closed and forehead creased in concentration. Louis took in light-brown, shoulder-length hair and well-defined features before the man's eyes opened and he looked directly at Louis.