Dory's Avengers (9 page)

‘How?' asked Louis.

‘Persuasion they call it, but it's intimidation by any other name. Then, if that doesn't work, strange things start to happen. A car gets vandalised, a family member gets a beating, a beloved pet goes missing.'

‘What, just for not getting fit enough?'

‘Not just that, Louis. It applies to anything people do if their behaviour doesn't conform to Sponsorship standards. No one can enjoy a few drinks, or a bit of a gamble, or greasy food without expecting a visit from the Sponsors' heavies. Every aspect of life is open for scrutiny by the Sponsors, and action is taken if standards fall.'

‘Why don't people complain?'

‘To whom? The government lent their full backing to the Sponsors' proposals right at the start of the Scheme, and now the Scheme is so powerful that not one of the political parties will dare ask questions. The police are Sponsor-endorsed,
as are the newspapers. If people grumble amongst themselves, bad things happen. Really bad things.'

‘Like what?' asked Louis, his light-blue eyes nearly popping out of his head.

‘People disappear. Their family, friends and neighbours are told they've been moved for work, but no one ever hears from them again.'

‘Don't people ask questions, though?'

‘Not if they know what's good for them, no. They realise something's not right, but a lot of people are so scared to speak out now because they think they'll be next to vanish.'

Gideon paused for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was flat and emotionless.

‘Or sometimes they're involved in freak car accidents that leave them confined to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives.'

‘You mean you, Gideon?' said Louis, shocked. ‘Were you Sponsored then?'

‘To begin with, yes. When the Scheme was taking off I had premises in Newcastle, training young people who showed an aptitude for gymnastics. Some were quite good, although none were your standard. Then in comes Sports Sponsorship and out goes freedom of choice. The strugglers were dropped, not by me but by the Sponsors, and of course this annoyed me straight away. I will teach anyone who has a love for the sport – they don't have to be the next Olympic gold medallist – and me being me I just couldn't keep my mouth shut on the subject.

‘That's when the visits started. A representative of Sports Sponsorship, sometimes even David Foster himself, would call and talk in very reasonable tones about the need for total cooperation between the Sponsor and the Sponsor-endorsed, such as my little enterprise. The word ‘‘little'' would feature a lot in relation to my work, a constant reminder of where I stood in the grand scheme
of…well…the Scheme! Cooperation was for the mutual benefit of us all, and Foster or whichever minion he happened to send along would never fail to remind me that the futures of all my protégés were at stake if my endorsement were to be withdrawn. All the time the Sports Sponsorship Group's representative was talking to me, a couple of stereotypical heavies would be flexing their muscles behind him or her.

‘Yet still I couldn't learn to keep my mouth shut, still I couldn't resist arguing every point made by the Group, until one day it was only the heavies who paid me a visit.

‘It took me a month before I was able to come out of hospital. Every day, my benevolent Sports Sponsorship representative would come and visit me to remind me, ever so nicely, that I was benefitting from the finest health care thanks to Pro Spo's continued support for hospitals up and down the land. Naturally, Sports Sponsorship had no idea as to the identity of my attackers, but sometimes people did get a little upset with those, such as myself, who appeared to be critical of the Scheme. That I could readily have identified the attackers as the heavies I'd seen so often in my office was of no consequence to the Group, or to the Sponsor-endorsed authorities, so I soon resigned myself to the fact that no one was going to help me achieve justice for my attack.

‘However, that's where I turned out to be wrong. David Foster, and it was always Foster by now such was my nuisance value, wasn't my only visitor in hospital. Another regular, timing his visits perfectly so as not to encounter Foster, was a young but already very famous footballer by the name of Elliot Farrell.'

‘Abi's dad,' said Louis, grinning.

‘The very same. If Foster's visits were guaranteed to bring me down, Ell's had completely the opposite effect. We had so much in common: a love of sport, a rather offbeat sense
of humour and, most pertinently, mistrust bordering on hatred for the Sponsorship Scheme. In no time at all, we became firm friends, and that was the way we remained until the day…'

Gideon's voice trailed off for a few moments, then with a great effort he regained his composure.

‘Until the day Elliot died.'

‘Abi said she'd tell me about that one day,' said Louis. ‘Or maybe you could tell me now?'

‘I can tell you what I know, but it's more Abi's story to tell. Abi and Jessica's story. There's more to my story, though, if you've a mind to listen!'

‘Yes, Gid, sorry.'

For once not picking up on the hated diminutive of his name, Gideon carried on with his story.

‘When I was released from hospital I was allowed to carry on training the young gymnasts in Newcastle, but all the while I had a Sponsor Group heavy in attendance. Foster had the temerity to tell me it was for my own safety; we didn't want me to get another beating, now, did we? Elliot became the only person I could trust.'

‘What about your family?' asked Louis, realising as he spoke the words that Gideon had never made any mention of his parents in all the years he'd been Louis's mentor. Gideon's face darkened alarmingly with anger, and for a moment Louis thought the older man was going to yell at him to get out.

‘My parents had their heads totally turned by the Sponsors,' Gideon replied. ‘I was their only child, yet they chose loyalty to their Sponsors above their son. They disowned me, and I haven't seen them for over twenty years. Not even when this happened,' he finished, gesturing towards his irreparably broken legs.

Louis and Gideon were silent for a little while; Gideon preparing himself for the next part of his narrative, Louis
digesting that which he had already heard. When Gideon continued, his first words took Louis totally by surprise.

‘Your eyes are exactly the same shade of blue as your mother's,' he said.

‘I didn't know you'd spent any time looking into me mam's eyes!' replied Louis quickly, humour masking shock.

‘Nicola Brown was one of the first young gymnasts to come to me for training when I stopped performing and started mentoring. She was immensely talented, and it's no surprise that her son is equally talented. She was also a very bright girl, and shared my immediate distrust of the Sponsors from the moment the Scheme first took off.'

‘What happened then? Did she compete? I never even knew she was a gymnast!' Thinking of his mother's vague allusions to ‘that Giddy bloke' a few days previously, Louis realised he didn't even know Nicola and Gideon had ever met.

‘That's because you only ever knew her after she met Lysander. Obviously,' Gideon said, laughing a little. Louis would have had trouble knowing his mother before she'd met his father! ‘Lysander totally turned her head. I've never seen anyone fall so completely in love with someone so wrong.'

‘I think me dad loves me mam too,' said Louis, remembering his parents wrapped in their own world on Saturday night.

‘That's as may be, Louis, but your father's first loyalties lie with the St Benedict Scheme. Nicola had to change her views very radically, at least to the outside world, and that meant no more contact with an old troublemaker like me. You wouldn't even know that we'd ever met nowadays, so completely does she blank me. Anyway, that's not really relevant to the sorry tale I need to tell you, young man, so if you'd give me a chance to speak without interruption I shall continue.

‘David Foster's visits became more and more frequent after my beating, especially as he became aware that I'd struck up a close friendship with Elliot Farrell. Ell was a constant thorn in the Sponsorship Scheme's side as he refused point blank to accept Sports Sponsorship, and was very vocal about not wanting the St Benedict Scheme to govern his life. He told me many times how worried his sister was about his very public denouncement of the Scheme, but however many times Isabelle pleaded with Ell to go with the flow, and however much he loved his sister, he was just too stubborn. It's a trait his daughter has inherited.'

Louis gulped nervously at the idea of Abi falling foul of the Sponsors.

‘It may amaze you that the Sponsors didn't deal with Elliot quickly and severely,' continued Gideon. ‘The truth is that they didn't dare. You see, from a very early age Elliot Farrell was widely considered to be the best footballer this country has ever produced. When I say widely considered, I mean by those beyond the confines of this island, and beyond the reach of the Sponsors. World greats were watching the progress of this young genius; he was far too much in the public eye to be touchable. Ell wisely made sure it stayed that way, giving interviews to anyone who asked and making sure the world media stayed constantly aware of him, his gorgeous Italian girlfriend and their children. The Sponsors knew that questions would be asked if Elliot or his family were hurt in any way, and the repercussions could be very harmful to the Scheme.

‘Finally, the Sponsors came up with the answer. It was ideal, sending a clear message to Elliot that his insubordination wouldn't be tolerated while teaching another troublemaker a lesson he'd never forget.

‘Actually, I think they meant to
kill
me. When I woke up in hospital months afterwards, I often wished they'd
succeeded. For anyone to lose their mobility is cruel; for a sportsman, it's pretty much unbearable.'

Impulsively, Louis reached up and took Gideon's hand. For once the older man didn't pull away from the contact; instead he held Louis's hand tightly as he continued to speak.

‘Elliot never, ever abandoned me. He was there every day as I lay hovering between life and death, and he was there to help pick up the pieces during the long time it took me to come to terms with my new life. He was there when I left hospital, helping me to find somewhere to live out of the public gaze. It was he who brought me to this beautiful part of the world and helped me regain my independence, and it was he who first introduced me to you, Louis. Do you remember that?'

‘Yes, I remember,' said Louis, recalling a summer day many years before. He must only have been Jenny's age at the time, but he could still remember the hot sun burning his skin as his father dragged him by the hand around Applethwaite Primary's playing field. Bursting with pride to be hosting an event in his home village for Lord William and all the top names of the Sponsorship Scheme, Lysander didn't even stop to think of the damage the sun was doing to his child's sensitive skin. Louis was eternally grateful to the man who eventually rescued him from his plight. Murmuring that Louis would be better off in the shade, Elliot led him into the shelter of The White Lion's garden, leaving Lysander free to bask in the positive attention he was receiving from his boss and colleagues. Louis sat with Elliot, totally in awe of the man who even very young boys knew to be extremely famous, while they drank lemonade in the blissfully shaded garden.

‘I hear you like to practise sport at school, Louis,' said the extremely famous man, making Louis flush with pride.

‘Yes, I like running,' he replied, ‘and gym…sticks,' he added, struggling with the difficult word.

‘Gymnastics?' said Elliot, smiling at the little boy. ‘In that case there's someone I'd very much like you to meet!'

The child Louis had almost forgotten the conversation when, a number of weeks later, Sarah Lonsdale met him from school, flushed with excitement and urging him to hurry as they had an appointment.

The appointment turned out to be in the very studio in which Louis and Gideon now sat, then newly acquired and equipped by the Unsponsored but still influential Elliot Farrell. Louis never forgot his first impression of the scowling man in the wheelchair; he was terrified! Elliot, totally unfazed by his friend's bad temper, beamed delightedly as he introduced them.

‘Gideon, this is Louis Trevelyan, a very talented young gymnast. I'd love it if you were to take him under your wing. Louis, don't be scared. Come and meet Gideon Wallis…'

‘Wow!' exclaimed the infant Louis at the mention of Gideon's name. ‘You were the best gymnast, ever!'

‘Good to see the boy knows his stuff,' growled Gideon, his expression softening slightly at the child's heartfelt praise. ‘Come on then, let's see what you can do.'

Beginning shyly, but becoming more confident with every move as his love for gymnastics overrode everything else, Louis soon proved to an increasingly impressed Gideon that he had raw talent. Lots of raw talent.

‘All right, Ell, you win. I'll indulge your latest whim and train the boy,' said Gideon, as the child leapt gracefully over the brand-new vault and landed with perfect poise in front of the adults. Sarah and Elliot were both elated.

‘It makes perfect sense, Gideon. You can help Sarah to keep an eye on him at the same time. He is good, isn't he?'

‘Very,' replied Gideon, reluctantly. ‘So, boy, do you want to learn to be the best gymnast since Gideon Wallis?'

‘Oh aye,' replied the child, delighted.

So began the friendship between Gideon and Louis
which, although often volatile, had remained strong and true to the present day.

‘Gideon,' asked the adult Louis, still cross-legged at Gideon's feet, ‘why did Elliot feel that you needed to keep an eye on me?'

‘This is going to sound a bit crazy,' replied Gideon, ‘but a few days before you were born one of St Benedict's inner circle, the revolting financier Mortimer O'Reilly, made a prediction.'