Dory's Avengers Read online

  Louis had a moment to notice two things about the other man's eyes; they were exactly the same colour as his hair and they were filled with anger. Almost as soon as Louis's eyes made contact with those of the stranger, the scene faded from view, and the Trevelyan family bathroom was back in its rightful place.

  Half an hour later Sarah came up the stairs to check on the frail Nicola Trevelyan, and was surprised to find Louis clinging to the doorway of the bathroom.

  ‘Louis, darling?’ said Sarah, laying a gentle hand on Louis's shoulder, her eyes widening in alarm as he jumped violently. ‘Are you feeling OK, love?’

  ‘Sarah,’ gasped Louis, finally letting go of the bathroom doorframe and grabbing hold of her soft arms instead. ‘Have you ever seen anything…er…weird in the bathroom?’

  ‘Weird, love? What do you mean by weird?’

  ‘Well, has it ever turned into a room that's not the bathroom? With a bloke in it? Looking cross?’ Even as he spoke, Louis realised how ridiculous his words must sound to the down-to-earth Sarah.

  However, Sarah's reaction was not the one Louis would have expected. Instead of teasing him gently and telling him not to be so silly, she asked him exactly what he'd seen, her usually cheerful expression full of concern.

  ‘Well, it was a right nice room, with all t'stuff the toffs have, velvet and silk and that,’ said Louis, his northern accent thickening in his anxiety to express himself to Sarah. ‘There was a fella on t'bed, and he looked proper fed up…Sarah, what the bloody hell's happened to me tonight?’ Louis's voice trailed off as Sarah continued to gaze at him in concern.

  ‘I'm not sure, love,’ said Sarah finally, ‘but I'm glad it's me you told. Sometimes it's wise to be a little cautious about who you trust. Now,’ she continued, regaining her composure, ‘how about I run you a nice hot bath?’

  Louis looked fearfully back into the bathroom, which remained the familiar room he'd known since childhood.

  ‘I'm not sure I'm up for spending too much time in the bathroom tonight, thanks, Sarah. Think I'll leave it until the morning.’

  ‘OK, my love. How about I go and check up on your mam, then we'll have a chat over some hot chocolate. Oooh, I made some ginger biscuits today too; we could give them a try. I hear you saw Abi today; how is she getting on…?’

  Louis adored Sarah. She always knew exactly what to say to make him feel better no matter what life decided to throw at him. By the time he finally went to bed, full of biscuits (Gideon would not have approved!), he drifted quickly into a sleep filled with dreams not of strange rooms and angry men, but of laying in sunlight that didn't burn his skin, running his fingers through Abi's sleek hair.

  The next day dawned warm and sunny; and even Louis, who had good reason to fear the sunlight, felt his spirits rise at the glimmer of light around the edges of his curtains. Jenny and Sarah were singing happily as Jenny got ready for school in the bathroom, which was clearly still a bathroom, and Louis felt unusually at ease with the world. The strange happenings of the previous evening seemed totally unreal in the light of a new day, and even the thought of another punishing training session with the grump that was Gideon couldn't dampen his spirits. In actual fact Louis liked Gideon a lot, and he had a feeling, despite Gideon's permanent bad mood, that the feeling was mutual. After all, why else would Gideon invest so much of his time in a reasonably good but totally unambitious gymnast?

  Even in the reassuring light of the morning, Louis had no desire to spend too much time in the bathroom, so he showered quickly then grabbed his kit and hammered down the stairs two at a time.

  ‘Goodness, Louis, where's the fire?’ asked Sarah, laughing affectionately at the young man's haste.

  ‘No fire, just a ghost in the bathroom,’ replied Louis, returning Sarah's laughter. ‘Don't look so worried, Sarah, I'm joking…’

  ‘Eat! Now!’ said Sarah, swatting Louis's arm. ‘I've no doubt that Gideon won't think to feed you.’

  ‘Well, I'm lucky that you do think to feed me then. Oh, hello, Mam,’ said Louis, entering the big, cheerful kitchen and noting with surprise that Nicola Trevelyan was sitting at the table, sipping coffee.

  ‘Hello, dear,’ said Nicola. ‘How's the training?’

  ‘Good thanks, Mam. How are you?’

  ‘Oh I'm fine, fine,’ said Nicola vaguely. ‘What is this stuff, Sarah?’

  ‘It's toast, Mrs Trevelyan,’ said Sarah, her voice unusually disapproving. ‘Eat some; it'll do you good!’

  ‘Or some Happy Pops, Mammy?’ said Jenny, offering her favourite cereal to her mother. Sarah noted sadly that both of Nicola's children had so little contact with their mother that, whenever she appeared, they both did all they could to please her.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Genevieve, but I think they're for you. I'll have some of Sarah's, um, toast.’

  ‘Mammy! No one calls me Genevieve any more, not even Miss Winter.’

  ‘What do you like to be called then, my little peach?’ asked Nicola, smiling weakly.

  ‘Jenny, Mammy. I'm Jenny, everyone knows that!’

  ‘And now I know too.’

  ‘Time for school, Missy,’ said Sarah, shunting Jenny upstairs to brush her teeth, and leaving Louis to attempt conversation with the stranger who was his mother.

  ‘So, how's the training, Louis?’

  ‘As good as it was last time you asked, Mam,’ replied Louis patiently. ‘Why don't you come along and watch today?’

  ‘Oh, I don't think so, darling. That Giddy bloke scares me; he's always so cross.’

  The idea of anyone calling Gideon ‘Giddy’ to his face was so funny that Louis couldn't help but laugh.

  ‘OK,’ he said impulsively, ‘at least walk with us to Jenny's school! She'd love that so much.’

  It was a high-spirited group that set off into the sunshine towards Applethwaite's little primary school, Nicola having unexpectedly agreed to accompany her children on the short walk.

  ‘Sun block?’ yelled Jenny at her brother, following their usual morning ritual as the group prepared to leave the house.

  ‘On,’ replied Louis.

  ‘Sunhat?’

  ‘On.’

  ‘Dark glasses?’

  ‘On my nose, Miss Jenny!’

  ‘Why do you need them?’

  ‘Because of the sunlight – it burns my eyes!’ Curling his hands into claws, Louis let out a growl worthy of the most fearsome monster and raced off in pursuit of his delighted sister.

  ‘They're so happy,’ said Nicola, watching her children with interest.

  ‘Indeed they are,’ replied Sarah. ‘They're lovely young people, both of them.’

  ‘I know this, Sarah, and you must take credit for that. Heaven knows, Lysander and I have never been much use as parents!’

  Not sure how to answer this, Sarah changed the subject.

  ‘I've got to nip off now, Mrs Trevelyan, but I'll be back shortly. Louis always sees Jenny to school; they like it that way.’

  By the time Louis and Jenny returned, still at full pelt and the pursuer now the pursued, Nicola was standing on her own.

  ‘Louis's a rubbish monster; I'm a much better monster,’ yelled the child happily. ‘I'm ever so much more scary. Sponsors’ Fair this weekend, Mammy; will you be there? Daddy will!’

  Full of energy, Jenny headed off once again at a run in the direction of Applethwaite Primary, leaving Nicola wondering why her daughter's train of thought had jumped from monsters to Sponsors so readily.

  ‘Work it, Louis!’ yelled Gideon, fully alert today. ‘Work it, hold that, hold STILL, boy! Good. Very good.’

  ‘Enough?’ Louis asked breathlessly, having ‘worked it’ for what seemed like decades. To his surprise Gideon, in an unusually good mood, agreed.

  ‘Yes, that'll do for today, Louis. Grab yourself a shower!’

  ‘Will you wait here, or am I locking up again?’

  ‘Questions, always too many questions. Get in the shower!’

  Having fallen foul of Gi
deon's mood swings many times in the past, Louis did as he was told.

  ‘Oh no, not you again,’ said Louis in dismay, opening the shower room door and stepping into the luxurious room he had found in his family home's bathroom the previous night.

  ‘WHAT?’ Gideon yelled from behind him.

  ‘Nothing, nothing,’ Louis called hastily, looking over his shoulder to where all was normality, before stepping a bit further into where all was not.

  The view of the room was different this time. The bed was directly on his left, and sunlight was streaming in through the windows beyond. Finding to his surprise that he didn't need the protection of his dark glasses in this weird other-world, and that his eyes functioned perfectly well for once, Louis found his gaze drawn to the view beyond the window. Tops of clearly mature trees framed the uppermost storeys of a large, red-brick house on the opposite side of what Louis deduced to be a wide street. Wherever this room was, it was obviously a very affluent area. Looking around him for the young man, Louis found him sitting at a desk in the corner of the room.

  ‘Who are you?’ he whispered.

  The young man was clearly aware of Louis's presence, as he turned and looked directly at Louis. However, as soon as the two men made eye contact the scene once again faded, and Louis found himself in the shower room of Gideon's studio, the harsh light burning his sensitive eyes.

  Having showered, with the lights off, Louis found that Gideon was still sitting in his favourite spot in the corner of the studio.

  ‘What the bloody hell were you talking to yourself for? You going mad like your mother?’ asked Gideon rudely.

  Louis gazed steadily at Gideon, deciding it would be futile to try and defend his mother's honour. Impulsively, he decided to trust Gideon as he'd trusted Sarah the night before, his desire to make sense of his visions overriding his fear of looking a fool.

  ‘Gideon, I keep seeing a room I don't know with a man I don't know in it.’

  ‘That makes even less sense than most of your puerile utterings, Trevelyan. Stop gabbling or stop wasting my time!’

  Louis was undeterred by Gideon's bad temper, having encountered it so many times before.

  ‘OK, I've started telling you so I may as well finish…’

  ‘BLOODY HELL, TREVELYAN, YOU'RE NOT PRESENTING MASTERMIND!’

  Still undeterred, Louis told Gideon. He told Gideon everything, slowly and clearly, about the previous night's occurrence then the scene that had just played out in the shower. Louis had been expecting a number of reactions from Gideon – disbelief, mockery maybe, anger. What he hadn't expected was to be believed. Yes, Gideon was angry, his face crimson as he reached out and grabbed Louis's shirt, but clearly he believed what Louis had told him. Pulling the younger man close, he said urgently,

  ‘Don't you ever, ever blab about this! Don't you tell a soul!’

  Shocked by the unprecedented physical contact with his mentor, Louis found refuge in humour.

  ‘Actually, Gideon, I was thinking of telling as many people who will listen. Crazy albino has visions…’

  ‘Do not treat this lightly!’ Gideon cut in, his quiet voice actually far more impressive than his usual full volume. ‘Don't tell a soul! Trust no one! You haven't told anyone, have you?’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Who, you bloody idiot? Who have you told?’

  ‘Only Sarah, Gideon. If I can't trust her, who can I trust?’

  Gideon regarded Louis steadily for a few moments before replying.

  ‘Yes. You can trust Sarah, but I'd still ask you not to talk about this. Be careful, Louis, and do not go looking for the room or the man you have seen.’

  ‘You believe me then?’ asked Louis, eyes wide behind his dark glasses

  ‘Yes, I believe you. If this man appeals to you again, ignore him. It's not safe to follow these visions, not safe at all. Don't put yourself at risk, Louis, and DO NOT talk about this idly!’

  ‘You almost sound like you care about me, Gideon,’ said Louis, laughing nervously in a bid to break the tension.

  Gideon didn't reply.

  Chapter Two

  The heat wave being enjoyed by the British people, so often slaves to their unpredictable weather, continued into the weekend, and the day of the Sponsors’ Fair in Applethwaite dawned gloriously warm and sunny. By the time Louis made his way down to The White Lion Inn to offer help in setting up the fair, the temperature was already in the high twenties. Louis found The White Lion a hive of activity, with stalls, tents and a large marquee already set up around the meadow behind the walled pub garden. Beyond the inn's garden and meadow was a large field bordering ’Thwaite's Wood which was used as the primary school's sports field, the historic and tiny school only having room for a small playground. The Victorian school building, derelict until restored to its former glory by St Benedict Construction, was a flagship for the Education Sponsorship Group.

  ‘Look what we have here!’ the group boasted. ‘A beautiful school especially for the children of tiny Applethwaite. Gone are the days when residents of this tranquil Lake District hamlet had to worry about transporting their children to schools in the big towns, as we have provided one in the very heart of their community. Applethwaite Primary has been proud to include Louis and Genevieve Trevelyan among its pupils, their father being one of the founder members of the St Benedict Sponsorship Scheme benefitting us all…’

  ‘Hey, Louis,’ called Dexter Montfiore, co-owner of The White Lion which had been in his mother's family for generations. ‘How's it going?’

  Dexter had been born in Seattle, USA. He had never quite lost his American accent, having been eighteen by the time his American father and English mother returned to Applethwaite to take charge of the inn following his maternal grandfather's stroke. Once Dexter and his younger sister, Georgia, were both old enough to run the inn, their parents had returned to live in Seattle, leaving their children as co-owners of the beautiful old pub and its cosy guestrooms.

  ‘Morning, Dex,’ Louis replied with a warm smile, Dexter being one of the rare people who always managed to put him at his ease. ‘I wondered if there was anything I could do to help out?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Dexter, returning Louis's smile. ‘All may look calm, but there's still loads to do. The books need to be displayed on that stall over there, we need tables and chairs setting up in the marquee for refreshments, the race track needs to be cordoned off for the kids’ sports events later on…’

  Chatting at a phenomenal rate, Dexter thoughtfully led Louis out of the already harsh rays of the sun and into the marquee where a number of folding tables and chairs were leant up against the side.

  ‘We need these tables set up around the room, Louis, if that's OK? You sure? The big trestle table needs setting up over there, but be careful; it's a demon for trapping your fingers. You just yell if you need help. We're gonna have soft drinks, tea and cakes in here. Why anyone wants hot tea on a day like this is beyond me, but hell! This is the UK! I think there'll be a ‘‘guess the weight of the cake’’ competition too, all proceeds going to the school…’

  Dexter was still talking as he went out into the sunshine to give instructions to the florists who had just arrived. Louis set to work on the smaller tables first, being heedful of Dexter's warning about the large trestle table's finger trapping tendencies. Christopher Farrell arrived right on cue when Louis only had the trestle table left to tackle. Between them the two men got the table up and in place without losing any fingers, and congratulated each other on a job well done.

  ‘Do you know which is earmarked as the Pet Care tent?’ Chris asked, looking out into the meadow.

  ‘I don't, Chris, sorry,’ replied Louis. ‘I've not been here long myself. Wouldn't Georgie know?’

  ‘She would, but she's had to go into Penrith to try and get all the things Dex forgot. Ah, here's Al; he'll know.’

  Flamboyant as ever, Dexter's partner, Alan Santiago, entered the marquee, the ribbon around his sunhat exactl
y the same shade of pink as his shirt. Where Dexter liked to keep his sexuality as his business, Alan wore his as a badge of honour, defying anyone to even hint at homophobia. No one was ever going to mistake Alan Santiago for a straight man, and that was the way he liked it.

  ‘Guys,’ he said to Louis and Chris, ‘this room looks fabulous! Who set out all these tables? You, Louis? Wow, you work fast! Now all we need is some colour. Oh fab, here's Georgie with the trimmings.’

  Georgia Montfiore entered the marquee laden with a heap of tablecloths, napkins, bunting and balloons which she dumped on to the nearest table before grabbing Chris Farrell in a warm embrace.

  ‘Get a room, you two,’ said Alan absently, padding barefooted over to look at Georgie's purchases. ‘Fab! May I?’

  ‘Yes, dig in, Al,’ said Georgie. ‘Set everything out as you see fit, then I'll change it round so it looks nice.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Alan replied, affectionately cuffing the young woman he regarded as a sister. ‘We both know I'm the one with artistic flair.’

  ‘Well, put your artistic flair to good use and blow up those balloons, will you?’ said Georgie, arms still around Chris. ‘Artistically!’

  ‘Before you two start scrapping again, where's the Pet Care tent?’ asked Chris.

  ‘It's the one over the far side there,’ said Alan, dark eyes full of mirth as he pointed to a tent with ‘Pet Care Advice and Best-Kept Pet Competition’ clearly displayed over its entrance.

  ‘I think love's made your fiancé blind, Georgie,’ he continued, opening a pack of balloons. ‘Be a love, Chris, and ask the florist to pop in here on your way past, will you?’

  ‘Louis, do you want to stay and listen to these two bicker, or shall we go and suss out the vet tent?’ said Chris to the shy Louis, who had drifted into a corner in an attempt to go unnoticed. Despite the fact that Abi had told Jenny a few days previously that she wouldn't be attending the Sponsors’ Fair, Louis surmised that the most likely place to find her if she did in fact turn up would be the Pet Care tent and so he happily agreed to accompany Chris.