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  Gideon and Cameron suddenly became very interested in the best-trained large dog competition going on outside the Pet Care tent, leaving Louis feeling very frustrated. Every time he seemed to be getting answers to his questions the subject always changed. His frustration soon took a back seat, however, as Abilene Farrell appeared from the tent dressed in the shortest of denim shorts and a light shirt tied over her breasts to reveal her flat stomach.

  ‘Ding Dong, who is that?’ said an unfamiliar voice beside Louis. ‘I am so going to get to know that little lady better. My God, what happened to you?’ continued the cocky stranger, turning to look at Louis. ‘Take a bath in bleach, did you?’

  ‘Max Barrington,’ the stranger continued, introducing himself before Louis could react to his hurtful words. ‘Freelance reporter, writing a piece on this little fête for the Media Sponsorship Group.’

  Louis regarded the stranger for a while before replying. Tall and slim built, with dark hair framing a strong-jawed face and sparkling green eyes full of self-confidence, Max was undoubtedly good-looking.

  ‘Louis Trevelyan,’ replied Louis eventually, not even attempting to mask the dislike in his voice. However, if Max even realised that he hadn't made a friend of Louis he didn't seem to care.

  ‘Trevelyan? What, as in Lysander? So who is the babe? I've just got to get up close and personal with her! Oh. My. God. You fancy her too, don't you? Bit out of your league though, don't you think, Bleachy?’

  Before Louis could respond a distraction appeared in the whirlwind form of his little sister.

  ‘Louis, there you are! You just missed Mackie; he was so good in the little dog behaviour class and he got second prize. Alex, show Louis Mackie's rosette.’

  Glancing over the heads of the two excited little girls, Louis tried in vain to concentrate on their chatter as he saw that Max was already talking animatedly to Abi. Her head inclined towards Max, Abi seemed to be hanging on every word he said, and Louis felt pain contracting his heart as Abi smiled her beautiful smile over and over again. For Max. Only for Max.

  ‘Out of your league, Bleachy,’ muttered Louis miserably. ‘A million, zillion miles out.’

  By the evening the fair had pretty much finished, the crowds had departed for their homes and the organisers were left happy in the knowledge that the day had been a success. Proceeds from the day were healthy and were divided between Applethwaite Primary School and the Fit Brit programme, brain child of Lysander Trevelyan. Lady Rosanna and her entourage declined Alan Santiago's invitation to stay for the performance of his band that evening. Her Ladyship was heard to comment on her way to her car that she'd rather pull out her own fingernails than be subjected to some faggot's attempts to play an instrument. As a consequence she missed a very fine performance indeed, Alan being an extremely talented guitarist.

  With Lady Rosanna out of the way and the Sponsors’ Fair officially at a close, Dexter and Georgia reopened the bar of The White Lion. Louis joined Gideon and a number of thirsty hangers on from the fair to enjoy the fact the beer was no longer rationed. Alex was sleeping over with Jenny for the night, and Sarah had earlier departed to put the tired children to bed, leaving Jane free to relax in adult company for once. Nicola was also enjoying a rarity: time in the company of her husband who had decided to stay home for the rest of the weekend. Lysander would never have admitted it to a soul, but he was still smarting from a stinging verbal attack levelled at him by Lady Rosanna earlier, and was happy to enjoy a break from the difficult job of constantly trying to please either her or her father. Watching his parents enjoying a drink together, Louis couldn't help but notice what an attractive-looking couple they were.

  ‘What went wrong with me?’ he said quietly, smiling mirthlessly and not even realising he had spoken out loud until Gideon touched him lightly on the arm.

  ‘Nothing went wrong with you, boy. Try looking in a mirror some time.’

  ‘Gideon, you're drinking,’ said Louis, smiling genuinely this time as he noticed the pint in Gideon's hand.

  ‘Oh yes. Live dangerously! Get us another, would you, Louis?’ he added, draining his glass and handing Louis a ten-pound note. ‘My challenged mobility makes it difficult to get to the bar.’

  Louis found Alan propping up the bar, and stood next to him to order beers for himself and Gideon.

  ‘Do you want a beer on Gideon, Al?’ asked Louis, generous to a fault with his mentor's money. ‘Or are you about to help Dex and Georgie behind the bar?’

  ‘I am not! An artiste doesn't serve behind a bar before a big performance. Yes, Louis dear, I'll have a gin and tonic. With lemon, if you please. For the vocal cords.’

  ‘You don't sing, Al,’ said Louis, laughing.

  ‘So sharp, aren't you!’ Alan replied, laughing along with Louis. ‘OK then, to lubricate the fingers. And don't say I don't play either, OR THERE WILL BE TEARS!’

  ‘Two lagers and a G & T please, Georgie,’ said Louis to Georgia Montfiore, then turning back to Alan he asked how come the pub was again allowed to serve alcohol.

  ‘Today we were hosting the Sponsors’ Show,’ Alan replied, nodding at Georgie to indicate that he did indeed want ice and a slice. ‘So we worked to Sponsors’ rules. Tonight we're freelance.’

  ‘Careful, Al!’ warned Dexter, passing by on the other side of the bar.

  ‘Relax, sweetie!’ Alan replied with a wink.

  ‘Isn't the pub what do you call it? Endorsed?’

  ‘Not as yet,’ Dexter replied, taking advantage of a lull in custom to join the conversation. ‘The Scheme had only been around a few years when my folks came over from Seattle. Nanna and Grandad hadn't applied for endorsement; they were more concerned with Grandad's ill health, and coming from the US Mom and Dad had no idea what it was all about. We just seem to get along OK without it, not sure how much longer though.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Louis, sipping his lager.

  ‘Goodness, Lou, doesn't your dad tell you anything?’ Alan asked incredulously as Dexter went off to serve a drinker. ‘People who are Sponsored are only supposed to use endorsed businesses. We'll end up with no customers if we don't take endorsement. I'm really not sure how we got the fair today, maybe because your dad grew up here.’

  ‘Have you seen Chris anywhere?’ Georgie asked in passing.

  ‘Why don't you go and look for him, Louis sweetie,’ said Alan, feeling he'd possibly been too open with the young man and glad of an excuse to end the conversation.

  ‘OK,’ said Louis, not wanting to encounter Abi with Max but also desperate to know if they were still together.

  ‘Louis,’ called Gideon from across the room, ‘thirsty!’

  Putting both beers on the table, Louis told Gideon that he'd be back soon, then disappeared into the warm evening before the older man could argue. A lot of the tents around the edge of the field were still standing, and Louis guessed Chris would be in the Pet Care tent.

  Chris was indeed in the Pet Care tent, having an animated conversation with his niece and nephew.

  ‘Who was the guy then, Abi?’

  ‘What guy?’

  ‘You know very well what guy!’

  ‘None of your business, little bro.’

  ‘Come on, Abi, I'd like to know too,’ said Chris.

  ‘OK, his name's Max. He's a freelance reporter at the moment; I think he wants to head the Media Sponsors one day. Oh yeah, and he wants to take me out to dinner next Tuesday.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I said ‘‘Why not?’’’

  ‘What about Louis?’ asked Chris.

  ‘Why does everyone ask me about Louis every time I start seeing another guy?’ asked Abi crossly. ‘He's not my boyfriend.’

  ‘But you like him though?’

  ‘He's a nice bloke – what's not to like?’

  ‘You know what I mean, Abi!’

  ‘OK, yes! Yes, I like Louis a lot. As a matter of fact, I think he's damn gorgeous, even more so because he's totally oblivious of the fact,
but what's the point? Every time I go near him he can't wait to get away from me. He won't even speak to me half the time. Louis's so not interested in me; now I'm giving Max a go. Get over it!’ Feeling tears prickling her eyes, Abi turned away.

  ‘Abi…’ began Chris, but Cameron interrupted before his uncle could continue.

  ‘Abs, if you're going out with a Sponsor now, how would you feel about me going for sports Sponsorship?’

  At this point in the conversation Louis approached the tent, and the words started to reach his sharp ears. If only he'd been a little earlier! Torn between respecting the Farrells’ privacy and grabbing the opportunity to learn more about Sponsors, Louis chose the latter.

  ‘Cam, I can't believe you even asked me that! After what happened to Dad and all.’

  ‘Well, Uncle Chris and Mam both have Pro Spo, and I want to play football.’

  ‘So play!’

  ‘How can I without Sponsorship? The local Sunday League team wouldn't look twice at me without it!’

  ‘Just because Mam and Uncle Chris choose to betray Dad's memory and sell out to the bloody Sponsors doesn't mean that you have to as well.’

  ‘Cruel, Abi,’ said Chris Farrell. ‘You know full well that neither your mother nor I could practise without Sponsorship.’

  ‘So what do I do? Give up all hope of a career? What are you going to do? You're a bloody hypocrite, Abi; you only got accepted at vet school because Uncle Chris has Pro Spo!’

  ‘I know that, moron.’ Abi's voice sounded close to tears, and Louis longed to reach out to her. ‘I guess I'll just have to drop out. Or sell my soul like the rest of you. I just can't bear it, after what they did to Dad!’

  ‘There's no proof Abi…’ began Chris quietly, but Abi cut him short.

  ‘Oh go on, get your bloody Sponsorship then,’ she said, sounding as if all the fight had left her. ‘Just try not to get yourself murdered, OK?’

  Ashamed at himself for eavesdropping on such an intimate conversation, Louis made out that he was just approaching the tent, calling Chris's name loudly.

  ‘Oh hi, Louis,’ said Chris, poking his head out from the tent.

  ‘Georgie's asking for you, Chris.’

  ‘Oh, OK. Thanks, Louis. I'm pretty much done now clearing up. Come on, guys,’ Chris added, looking over his shoulder, ‘I'll buy you both a beer.’

  Cameron emerged from the tent with his uncle, and whispered, ‘Why don't you walk back with Abi?’ to Louis as he passed. Undecided what to do, Louis was still dithering when Abi exited the tent a few minutes later and started walking towards him. Louis felt like the ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ in the song of the same name; indeed, as Abi joined him he half expected her to announce herself the proud owner of two tickets to see Iron Maiden. Instead, she said, ‘Hi, Louis. Do you fancy a beer?’

  Nodding, Louis decided on impulse to confess. ‘I'm so sorry, I heard a little of your conversation just now.’

  ‘How much?’ asked Abi, sharply.

  ‘Not much,’ replied Louis hastily. ‘Just a bit about Sponsors. You really don't like the Scheme, do you?’

  ‘I have my reasons for that, but please don't ask me what they are, Louis.’

  ‘Is it to do with your dad? What happened to him?’

  ‘Louis!’ snapped Abi, then softened and said, ‘I'll tell you one day, just not now. Not here. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ said Louis, content for the moment with Abi's promise that they would talk again one day. ‘Shall we?’ he asked, inclining his head towards the pub where Alan's band was already warming up.

  ‘Yeah, come on!’ said Abi, treating Louis to her beautiful smile, then she compounded his happiness by grabbing hold of his hand and dragging him at a run towards the pub. When Abi Farrell and Louis Trevelyan burst together through the door of The White Lion, holding hands and laughing, Gideon decided that it was one of the loveliest sights he'd ever seen.

  Chapter Three

  It took a couple of days for Louis to return down from cloud nine after the Sponsors’ Fair. The evening that followed the fair had turned out to be one of the most enjoyable of his life, and Louis smiled every time he remembered jumping wildly around the dance floor, often with Abi pressed tight to his side due to the large amount of people packed around them. Villagers had returned in their droves to enjoy the music of Alan's band, Sponsored mingling with Unsponsored. Alan's band, The Pink Pound, excelled themselves, and the mood of the entire evening had been exuberant. Lady Rosanna's health and safety warnings of earlier were completely forgotten as the beers flowed. Louis wondered at one point if his father's behaviour would have been considered drunken loutishness had Lady Rosanna seen Lysander pull Nicola to her feet and dance an energetic jive with her, both laughing uncontrollably the whole time. Dexter, free from the disapproving stare of Lady Rosanna, watched his boyfriend rocking the room with undisguised adoration. Even Gideon stayed for the whole evening, tapping his fingers to the beat on the arms of his wheelchair. Walking home with Jane, whose eyes were sparkling as much from the pure enjoyment of the day as the many (far more than four!) glasses of wine she'd enjoyed, Louis marvelled at the difference some good old-fashioned fun had made to his normally uptight neighbour. Louis himself was in his own warm little bit of heaven since Abi had placed a kiss on his cheek at the end of the evening and thanked him for being great company. Lysander and Nicola walked home a little ahead of their son and neighbour, arms wrapped tightly round each other. By the time Louis returned from seeing Jane home safely, his parents had already disappeared into their bedroom, leaving him to enjoy a nightcap and chat about the wonderful day with Sarah before finally retiring to bed at silly o'clock in the morning.

  Like the good weather, though, Louis's good mood couldn't last for ever. In fact, by the Tuesday morning following the Sponsors’ Fair the clouds had rolled in from the Irish Sea, sitting low on the Lake District fells, and Louis was having a truly rotten day. Nicola Trevelyan had sunk back into her usual drug-induced stupor following Lysander's return to London the previous day, oblivion being preferable to dealing with the pain of being once again separated from her husband. Jenny, unusually for her, didn't want to go to school and grumbled all the way that she had tummy ache, before dissolving into tears as the first rainfall caught her and Louis by surprise, soaking them both. Louis left Jenny being dried off by the young teaching assistant Bella, returning a little later with dry clothes for his little sister. Jenny, still moody, didn't even acknowledge him as he handed her clothes to Bella, and he walked to Gideon's studio feeling gloomy at having not had a hug from his little sister to start his day nicely.

  Gideon's mood was also matching the weather, Louis observed miserably, as the older man started yelling before Louis had even closed the door behind him.

  ‘Where the bloody hell have you been? I've been sitting here like a spare prick at a wedding for half an hour, and you waltz in here as if you've a divine right to take the piss. And CLOSE THE BLOODY DOOR PROPERLY! Do you want me to catch my death?’

  ‘Carry on like that, then yes,’ Louis muttered to himself, dragging his kit from his bag.

  ‘What? Speak clearly, Trevelyan! Hurry up about getting changed; you've wasted enough of my time already. I hope you're going to put some bloody effort in today; you were pathetic yesterday. Too much bloody booze on Saturday.’

  ‘I didn't see you exactly abstaining on Saturday, Gid,’ replied Louis, stung at the unfounded criticism of his previous day's training

  ‘I'm not the bloody performing monkey, am I? And DON'T CALL ME GID!’ roared Gideon. ‘If I don't see some decent gymnastics from you today I may seriously consider killing myself.’

  ‘A minute ago you were worried about catching your death from cold,’ shouted Louis, thoroughly fed up with always bearing the brunt of Gideon's mood swings. ‘I'll open the door again if you like, spare you a job.’

  ‘Get on with your warm-up, Trevelyan!’ screamed Gideon, purple with fury. ‘NOW! WORK!’

  Louis's day was a
s miserable as he suspected it would be, Gideon making him regret having answered back by driving him harder than ever before. Nothing pleased the older man, and by the end of the day Louis was tired, aching and totally dispirited by Gideon's constant barrage of criticism. When he once again walked into the mysterious man's room instead of the shower, Louis didn't even make an attempt to communicate. He just stood by the door, arms folded, glaring at the other man until the scene faded and the shower was once more a shower.

  Many miles south, in one of the most affluent areas of London, Lord Theodore St Benedict gazed sadly back at the furious Louis until the young gymnast faded and Theo found himself once more alone in his bedroom. Theo was well aware of Louis's identity, and found it sad that Louis didn't seem to realise who he was in return. His mind wandered back in time to a warm afternoon in ’Thwaite's Wood; two boys sitting in the broad branches of an old tree making little cuts in their fingers so they could combine their blood and become blood brothers. Friends for ever. Obviously, Louis hadn't regarded the ceremony with the solemnity that Theo himself had, and it looked like Louis had forgotten his blood brother altogether once Theo's visits to his mother's childhood home had ceased. Amazingly not one to wallow in self-pity despite the terrible place his life had become since those happy childhood days, Theo had learned to escape into the only part of himself that the tyrant he once called father couldn't imprison. Theo's mind travelled freely up to the north of England, to Applethwaite and the memories it held of the happy time when his mother protected him and love was a part of his world. Finally, and as much to Theo's surprise as Louis's, he had made silent contact with his friend from that happy time. Louis would make it all right again. Louis wouldn't let him down. Theo didn't hope this; since he'd managed to contact Louis he instinctively knew it. Louis would answer Theo's call for help sooner or later, for now he just had to be patient and wait.

  Looking round the fading luxury of the room that had been his prison cell for so long now, Theo smiled sadly. Of course he could wait; it wasn't as though he'd be going anywhere in the foreseeable future!