The Future King: Logres (6 page)

‘Downstairs toilet.’ She was pushed in the right direction.
Gwenhwyfar strode as Arthur had done, driving angrily through the busy house.
When she couldn’t locate a single bathroom, she tried to find Charlotte again.
She had vanished. There was no sign of Hattie, either.

‘Gwen!’

She was pleased to see a familiar face. Bedivere hurried towards her,
his hair a mess, his clothes dishevelled. His grin split from ear to ear and
when he came to her he crushed her in a surprisingly firm hug.

‘Good to see you! Have you seen Arthur? I’ve got to tell him
something!’

‘What?’

‘Huh?’

‘What have you got to tell him?’ she shouted.

He shook his head vigorously. ‘I can’t tell you! It’s a secret,’ he
slurred. ‘Have you seen him?’

‘No,’ she responded, fighting to get her breath back. He smelt
heavily of Emily’s perfume. ‘Not since he went to look for you. You might have
just missed him.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you seen Hattie?’

‘Who?’

‘Hattie! You know, my friend.’ He shook his head. Emily appeared at
the far end of the room. ‘Never mind!’ she called to him, and then he was off
again, hunting for Arthur. Emily’s greeting was almost as ecstatic as
Bedivere’s, but weaker in the hug department. Soon she too was shouting at her.

‘Gwen! I’ve been looking for you
all
over
!’ Her hands latched tightly onto her shoulders. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Looking for Hattie! Have you seen her?’

Emily shook her head.

‘Charlotte just told me to go find her. She said she was upset about
something?’

‘Upset?’ Emily repeated.

‘Yeah, and that I could find her in the downstairs loo?’

‘Gwen, there isn’t a loo downstairs!’ Emily revealed, smiling at her
as one would a joke. ‘Charlotte’s tricking you. You
know
she’s got a problem with you. Look, I just spoke to Arthur,
and he wants to meet you! He says he
really
likes you. He wants to talk to you upstairs where it’s not so loud.’

Her interest dispelled her earlier suspicions completely. ‘He said
that?’

‘Yep! Isn’t it
amazing
?
Arthur and Gwen, just like I said!’ She squealed, and Gwenhwyfar squealed too.
‘It’s so cute! You
have
to go meet
him. He wants to see you there at ten. That’s in like, three minutes. He’ll be
in the spare room. Tom’s outside, so he won’t know. I have to go though—I
need to keep Charlotte away. She’ll do
anything
to sabotage this.’

She was gone before Gwenhwyfar could register the full implications
of what she had said. Arthur liked her. She felt euphoric. Quickly she checked
the time on her phone. Three minutes? Why so precise? She was too intoxicated
to care, examined her ghostly reflection in her pocket mirror and pinched the
colour back into her cheeks. She had to go. She would be a fool not to.

Hector Browne

Gwenhwyfar’s head
spun as
she carefully
lowered herself onto the bed.

She wasn’t aware of her inability to balance herself, only that the
moments between her being downstairs and entering the spare room had been
consumed by a void. She put her clutch beside her, steadying her breathing with
her head between her legs. Inhaling upside down helped, and when she sat
straight again she felt more human. Organising her hair for the umpteenth time,
Gwenhwyfar observed the room around her. It was plainly decorated, nothing
special. There were a few photo-frames dotted here and there, but apart from
the picture of Tom, none of them were of anyone she recognised.

The opening and closing of the door drew her back to her senses.
Something was wrong. ‘Who are you?’

‘Someone’s had a little too much,’ was the candid response. ‘You know
who I am.’

‘No,’ she bit, though
she knew him from somewhere. She stood, and for a moment her frosty exterior
paused him. ‘Would you leave? I’m expecting someone.’

‘Yeah, I know. Charlotte said.’ He slunk closer. Gwenhwyfar moved
away from the bed.

‘Charlotte?’ Quickly she looked to the door. ‘Hector, right?’

‘So you do know me,’ he smirked.

‘Yeah, I do. Now get out, I’m waiting for someone.’

He laughed and lurched for her. She twisted her arm away as his
fingers grabbed at her wrist. The repulsive mix of beer, solution and sweat
caused her to back away as he encircled her small waist with his thick arm.

‘Get off me!’ She pushed at him, but he barely seemed to feel it, and
then his cold lips pressed hard down upon her own. Shrinking backwards she hit
the cabinet behind her, knocking the photo of Tom flat. Through the clatter of
objects she heard the door open. Immediately Hector backed off. Arthur stood
open-mouthed in the doorway.

‘Sorry—’ he stammered, eyes wide, ‘—I thought—I
mean—’

‘Arthur!’ She pushed towards him, but her plea was rejected. His face
contorted to an expression of pain and he slammed the door. He was gone.

‘Idiot!’ she expelled, gripped by sudden fury. ‘Why did you go and do
that?’

Hector’s confusion transformed to humiliation as he realised his
mistake. ‘Do what?’

Gwenhwyfar strode across the room and snatched up her clutch. ‘Kiss
me! I didn’t want you to!’

He scowled at her. ‘That’s not what I heard.’

‘What?’

‘I said
that’s not what I heard
.’

‘Why would I want to kiss
you
?
I don’t even know you.’

‘Do you think you’re too good for me? Is that it?’ He cut her off
from the door.

Gwenhwyfar tugged her wrist away as he grasped for it. ‘No, of
course
not.’

‘I’ll bet you’ll go off and laugh to all your skanky friends about
this, won’t you?’

‘What?
No
.’

‘Yes you will, you and Charlotte. This was a real funny joke, wasn’t
it? Real funny.’

He grabbed at her angrily. She slapped his hands away and hit him in
the face, kicking at him as he forced her down her onto the bed. The moment he had
her pinned he paused, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with her. His vacillation
cost him. A lamp smashed across the back of his head, shattering the hollow
ceramic. Terror paralysed Gwenhwyfar as Hector slumped across her, but then
large hands pulled him off and launched him across the room. For a moment she
thought it was Arthur and was crippled with hysterical relief, but then a
not-so-familiar face appeared, frowning with concern.

‘Is she all right?’ Viola joined Gavin, who stood beside the bed. She
still had the broken lamp in one hand.

‘I’m not sure,’ the deep voice rumbled. ‘Maybe we should help her up.’

As the two faces floating above her distorted even more, Gwenhwyfar
realised her face was wet with tears.

‘We should call the police,’ Viola muttered, concerned.

‘We can’t do that—not with all that alcohol downstairs.
Everyone will get arrested,’ Gavin argued.

‘If they were interested in arresting teenagers they would have
crashed the party already,’ Viola disputed, dropping the broken light to the
floor. ‘Besides, there’s that protest on in London tonight. They have bigger
things to worry about.’

‘You think they’ll just overlook the booze if we call them?’

‘We’ll just have to get rid of it all, then,’ Viola snapped,
coordinating their movements to prop Gwenhwyfar up. She sat down and offered a
supporting arm, into which Gwenhwyfar collapsed gratefully. She began to sob.

‘Maybe we should just call her parents?’ Gavin frowned.

‘Good idea,’ Viola agreed. ‘Get her phone—it’s on the floor.
And get rid of Hector. I don’t want to look at him.’

Gavin looked down to the crumpled heap and prodded him with his foot.
Hector groaned. ‘He doesn’t look too good. I think you hit him pretty hard, Vi.’

‘Well, then call
his
parents. Say he passed out or something. Here—’ She took the clutch from
him and placed it in her lap. ‘I’ll deal with her parents. They’ll probably
freak if a guy calls them up. You sort him out.’ She glanced at Hector with an
obvious degree of disgust. ‘And tell Tom to shut this party down. It’s a
disaster.’

Gavin hoisted Hector off the floor and dragged him out of the room.
Composing herself, Gwenhwyfar pulled away from Viola, her eyes stinging. ‘Don’t
say anything about this to anyone, will you?’

‘Gavin said he heard Charlotte tell Hector that you wanted to meet
him here,’ she said, eying her sympathetically.

‘Emily told me that
Arthur
wanted to meet me here,’ Gwenhwyfar cried. ‘I didn’t want to meet Hector. I
never wanted to meet Hector.’

‘I know.’ Handing Gwenhwyfar her phone, Viola removed her arm from her
shoulders. ‘Arthur will understand, once he knows. It’s not your fault Hector’s
a drunken lout.’

‘You didn’t see the look on his face when he opened the door. He
didn’t even let me explain… practically locked me in with that… that…’ A
strangled burst of tears ended her words. Viola fished some tissues out of
Gwenhwyfar’s clutch, and she took them, shaking.

‘It’s all right. Hector’s gone. You could get him into a lot of
trouble for this.’ She offered a strained smile. ‘He’s been asking for it for
ages.’

‘Why do you hang around with him anyway?’ Gwenhwyfar accused.

‘I don’t. He’s obsessed with being part of Tom’s entourage, and Tom’s
too eager for one to tell him to get lost.’

Slowly, Gwenhwyfar felt herself calm down.

‘You can’t go home like this. How about we get you cleaned up? Then
we can call your parents, go downstairs and show those bitches that their plan
failed.’

Gwenhwyfar nodded, and Viola offered a serene smile. ‘Come on. The
bathroom’s this way. We’ll worry about Arthur later.’

When Gwenhwyfar descended to the dwindling party, Emily, Hattie and
Charlotte had already gone, even though she was supposed to be spending the
night at the Rose household. Slowly, all evidence of the party was removed,
until at long last the only indicator of the alcohol consumed lingered in the final
few houseguests. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Gwenhwyfar stared down at
her mobile, wondering what excuse she would use when she called her parents. It
was past twelve and her father would be getting ready for bed.

‘You can still stay at mine,’ Viola offered again. ‘We can stop off
at the garage to get you a toothbrush.’

‘No, it’s all right.’ Gwenhwyfar attempted a smile. ‘I think I’d
rather just go home.’

There was sudden shouting. A breathless boy ran hollering through the
house, his skin sweat-glazed, eyes wide.

‘Police!’ he yelled. ‘
Police
!’

The news brought an onslaught of wordless cries. Gwenhwyfar stood dumbstruck;
watching as Tom rapidly waved the dwindled few out through the back door.

‘Go, go! Hurry up!’ He pushed the next one across the threshold as
Viola blitzed the kitchen. A strong air freshener was fired around the premises
while windows were flung open. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Cheeks
were pinched and ice-cold water was rubbed into flushed faces. Someone stuffed
the last of the illicit substance into a bin liner and ran with it out into the
garden and beyond the back fence, the bag dripping as they went.

‘You should go, Gwen, before they get here,’ Viola advised. She
pushed two small spray-bottles into her hands. ‘Here. Use the pink one for your
mouth, the yellow one for your eyes. You don’t want your parents to know that
you were drinking.’

‘Thanks.’ The music was switched off, the litter cleared away. It was
almost like magic, seeing the evidence of the whole evening vanish before her
eyes.

‘I’m going to head off too. I’ll walk you,’ Gavin declared. Suddenly
he didn’t seem so intimidating. He was more like a large guard dog than
anything else: her guard dog. Abruptly she realised that there was an
unmistakable gentleness to his eyes. ‘We shouldn’t wait here.’

‘All right.’ She collected up her belongings. Her hands still
trembled when Viola handed her coat to her. ‘Thanks, for what you did.’

Viola merely nodded. ‘See you Monday, Gwen. Don’t let any of this get
to you.’

Soon Gwenhwyfar and Gavin were out in the cold, pulling on their
coats as they hurried down the garden, through the fence and along an alleyway
that led out onto the street. The sirens grew ever louder until, eventually,
they stopped. As they paced Gwenhwyfar searched for the new house phone on her
mobile. Gavin stood patiently to one side while she recounted some tale of not
feeling well, the excuse a migraine. Angrily she stabbed the disconnect button
with her thumb.

‘I have to meet him at Emily’s. How am I supposed to do that?’

‘He won’t pick you up here?’

‘No, he can’t. He thinks I’m at her house. And they still have my
bag. That’s if they haven’t burnt it already.’

‘Where does she live?’

‘High Ashbourne?’

Gavin frowned. ‘I know it. That’s through patrol. When will he be
there?’

‘Fifteen minutes.’ She drew in a sharp breath of cool night air. It
expanded softly in her head. ‘How bad is it?’

‘They’ll stop us if they see us,’ Gavin said. ‘It’s after twelve. I
know how we can avoid it, though. It shouldn’t be too difficult here. It’s a
rich neighbourhood.’

‘You’ll come with me?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Of course I will.’

‘Thanks.’ They set off at a brisk pace. Gwenhwyfar kept her phone
clutched in her fist, just in case her father called. ‘And thank you, for
saving me earlier.’

‘Viola was the one who smacked him round the head with a lamp,’ he
confessed.

‘Still, if you hadn’t been looking out for me…’ Once again her eyes
threatened to overflow.

‘Not everyone calls them Charlotte and Emily, you know. We call them
the Furies. Emily’s the Avenger and Charlotte’s the Jealous. You know,
Trisiphone and Megara.’

Gwenhwyfar’s frown told him that she didn’t.

‘From the legend?’ Gavin tried. ‘They torment sinners in Greek
mythology. Except everyone’s done wrong, in Megara’s eyes.’

She eyed him curiously, and smiled. ‘Who came up with that one?’

‘Arthur. It was brilliant, because they had no idea what we were
talking about. They still don’t.’

‘Arthur?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, surprised. ‘Are you friends with him then?’

‘I used to be.’ Gavin shrugged. ‘He’s all right, but he keeps his
distance and I keep mine. Lance hates Arthur and usually reminds everyone else
to as well.’

‘Lance…?’

‘Yeah, he’s suspended.’

‘You mean the idiot that slashed the principal’s tyres?’

Gavin snorted. ‘He didn’t do anything. Lyndon framed him. He knew
Lance would get blamed for it.’ They turned onto a new street. ‘Lance and
Arthur used to be best friends, until the Furies started a rumour about Lance
and a girl Arthur liked. It got pretty nasty. Arthur ended up spending all his
lunches in Mr Caledonensis’ room. Until Bedivere arrived, at least.’