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.
âWhere 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?â
âCarry on like that, then yes,â Louis muttered to himself, dragging his kit from his bag.
âWhat? 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.â
âI didn't see you exactly abstaining on Saturday, Gid,â replied Louis, stung at the unfounded criticism of his previous day's training
âI'm not the bloody performing monkey, am I? And DON'T CALL ME GID!â roared Gideon. âIf I don't see some decent gymnastics from you today I may seriously consider killing myself.â
âA minute ago you were worried about catching your death from cold,â shouted Louis, thoroughly fed up with always bearing the brunt of Gideon's mood swings. âI'll open the door again if you like, spare you a job.â
âGet on with your warm-up, Trevelyan!â screamed Gideon, purple with fury. âNOW! WORK!â
Louis's day was as 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 Louisdidn't seem to realise who he was in return. His mind wandered back in time to a warm afternoon in âThwaite'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
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.
âWhere 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?â
âCarry on like that, then yes,â Louis muttered to himself, dragging his kit from his bag.
âWhat? 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.â
âI didn't see you exactly abstaining on Saturday, Gid,â replied Louis, stung at the unfounded criticism of his previous day's training
âI'm not the bloody performing monkey, am I? And DON'T CALL ME GID!â roared Gideon. âIf I don't see some decent gymnastics from you today I may seriously consider killing myself.â
âA minute ago you were worried about catching your death from cold,â shouted Louis, thoroughly fed up with always bearing the brunt of Gideon's mood swings. âI'll open the door again if you like, spare you a job.â
âGet on with your warm-up, Trevelyan!â screamed Gideon, purple with fury. âNOW! WORK!â
Louis's day was as 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 Louisdidn't seem to realise who he was in return. His mind wandered back in time to a warm afternoon in âThwaite'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
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