As Scott waited for Virgil to rotate from the lounge into Thunderbird One's hangar, he reflected on the warm glow that he'd been feeling since Virgil had first shown an interest in his plane. The feeling had intensified when he'd seen his father's smile of relief when they'd told him what they were going to do. He knew everything was going to be all right between him and Virgil.
An electronic buzzer warned him that the wall panel was about to rotate. He waited a moment and grinned at Virgil's surprised face when his brother first laid eyes on Scott's pride and joy. His grin threatened to split his face in two when Virgil's first response was to stride over to the edge of the platform, grip the guardrail tightly, and gaze down into the depths of the hangar below. "Wow!"
"What do you think?"
"Impressive. I guess it's not as big as Thunderbird Two, but this close and from this height…" words failed Virgil.
"She's a little smaller. She's built for speed, not for transporting equipment."
"Speed! It looks fast standing there! How fast can it go?" Virgil turned back to look at Scott.
"24,000 kilometres per hour, max."
Virgil looked up at the ceiling of the hangar, hewn out of the rock that formed Tracy Island. He frowned briefly, trying to get his bearings. "That's the wall we came through," he turned his back to the wall, "so the pool must be there…" He pointed and looked towards where he supposed the pool should be. "How does Thunderbird One launch from here?"
"She's on a track system that goes deeper into the earth until she stops on her launch pad, which is under the pool."
"Okay. How do you actually fly through the swimming pool?"
"It retracts when I'm ready to take off. We've got a hidden reservoir for the overflow."
"How about when you return to base? Where do you land?"
"I bring her back to the vertical and then 'drop' back through the opening left by the pool."
"You land it through the pool! That's amazing!" Virgil exclaimed. "I didn't think the pool was that big. You must be a fantastic pilot."
"Not bad," Scott said modestly. "We can all do it, but I've had the most practise obviously."
Virgil looked back up at the red nose cone of Thunderbird One. "How tall is it?"
"35 metres nose to tail."
"35 metres… That's quite a drop." Virgil placed his hands back on the guardrail and admired Thunderbird One's lines. His eyes lowered down to the large '1' painted on the base of the plane.
"Yep. That's why the rail's there. You'd better hang on…"
…Hang on … Hang on…
Words – sounds – echoing…
Scott didn't see Virgil's grip tighten on the rail. "…it's a long way to fall…" he continued.
…Fall… Fall… Fall…
Echoes – fear – horror…
"I'll take you across if…" Scott looked at Virgil, whose face had gone white. "Are you okay?"
Virgil took a step backwards away from the dizzying drop.
"Virgil?"
Virgil shook his head dazedly. "I…" He swallowed and took another step back. "I've got to get out of here."
"Virgil?" Scott asked again confusedly. "What's wrong?"
"Let me out!" Virgil dashed over and grabbed at the twin light fittings frantically. "Let me out of here!"
"Calm down!" Scott said in alarm. "Let me open it for you." He pushed a button and the wall swung open.
Virgil was through before the door had completed its revolution. The light streaming in through the patio doors called to him like a beacon. Ignoring the occupants in the lounge he made a beeline to the welcoming sun.
Scott followed him almost immediately into the lounge "Virgil!"
"What happened!" Jeff asked.
"Dunno…"
Virgil reached the patio and gripped the balcony rail tightly. He closed his eyes and allowed the warm sun to caress his face. He breathed deeply trying to get his racing heart back under control.
"Virgil?"
The sound of his name from behind him caused him to open his eyes. As he did so, he looked down into the courtyard below.
Down.
Once again that inexplicable emotion welled up inside him. He didn't hear Alan repeat his name. He didn't feel Jeff place a concerned hand on his arm. He only knew one thing…
He had to get out of here!
He had to get somewhere safe!
He had to get somewhere familiar!
Virgil turned and ran back into the house.
"Virgil!" Scott called after him helplessly. "What's wrong?"
Down below in the pool, Gordon heard the commotion. He looked up in time to see Virgil flee, and Alan lean over the patio rail to call down to him. Not bothering about getting dressed or even grabbing a towel, he launched himself out of the pool and raced up the steps to the house. There was no one in the lounge so he hurried towards Virgil's room.
Jeff, Scott and Alan were standing outside.
"What's wrong?" Gordon asked.
"I don't know," Scott said unhappily. "I was showing him Thunderbird One. He seemed fine. I thought he was enjoying himself. He looked over the guardrail and made some comment about the height. Then he just freaked out."
"Any ideas why?"
"No," Scott shook his head.
"Okay. I'll go see what I can do," Gordon sighed. He opened Virgil's door and cautiously looked inside. "Virgil?" he called quietly.
No response.
He took a step in and shut the door behind him. He couldn't see his brother anywhere. "Virgil?" he called again…
"It's me isn't it," Scott said dejectedly. "Something always goes wrong when I'm about."
"It's not your fault," his father tried to reassure him.
"Then I'm the cause…"
"Don't you start," Alan said. "Where were you when he 'freaked out'? How close?"
"I was on the platform and he was holding onto the guardrail."
"So you were at least two metres apart. How can it be your fault?" Alan said reasonably.
"How else can you explain what just happened?"
"I don't know. But I do know that it's nothing to do with…"
"You don't know!" Scott's said heatedly. "I don't know! We don't know! We're as bad as Virg… Virgil! Why can't I remember to say his name properly?"
"Calm down, Scott," Jeff said in a soothing voice.
"Calm down? You saw him!"
"Gordon will…" Jeff started to say
"Gordon! Not me you notice! It always used to be me. Now he doesn't even trust me!"
"He doesn't know you…" Alan tried to say.
"He doesn't want to know me! I'm…" Scott stopped himself before he got too emotional. "I'm going to the gym!" He hurried off down the hallway…
Gordon took the lack of response to be an invitation to move further into the room. He had decided that the studio would be a good place to search until a sound made him look by the bed. Jammed in between his bed and bedside cabinet was Virgil. He had his legs pulled up to his body and his eyes were shut tight.
"Virgil?" Gordon asked in a quiet voice. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Virgil opened his eyes and looked fearfully at his brother. "I don't know."
"Something must have happened. Why'd you run?" Gordon crouched down, leaning on the bed.
"I… I don't know. Scott was showing me Thunderbird… One, and I was fine. I was enjoying myself… Then I looked over the rail and had this sensation of… of falling. I couldn't stay. I had to get out of there."
"I wonder why," Gordon mused. "You've never had any problems with vertigo in the past. What were you doing?"
"Nothing. Just looking."
"Did Scott say or do something?"
"No. He was nowhere near me. I think he was telling me about Thunderbird One… I don't remember." Virgil pressed his head backwards into the wall. "I can't remember. Why can't I remember? What's happening to me?" he asked plaintively.
"I don't know. I wish I did. We all do."
Virgil closed his eyes again. "Do you have any idea what this is like? Do you know what it's like to have amnesia?"
"No," Gordon admitted again. "I've tried to imagine, but I can't. Not really. The closest I can come to it is after my hydrofoil accident."
Virgil cracked open his eyes and looked at him. "Hydrofoil accident?"
Gordon sat on the floor using the bed as a backrest. "Yeah. It was a short time before International Rescue was started. I think Dad was still in the early planning stages. I was with WASP, the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, at the time and a hydrofoil blew itself apart, with me in it.
"It did what!"
"I was unconscious for ages. They didn't know if I'd live, and if I was going to live, whether I'd be a vegetable or be able to walk again, or what!"
Virgil looked at him in concern, his own problems temporarily forgotten.
"When I did eventually regain consciousness all my muscles had atrophied. It was as if they'd forgotten how they were supposed to operate. I'd lie there thinking, 'now arm you are supposed to move like this'," Gordon demonstrated by moving his arm upwards, "but it wouldn't move. It took a lot of work by a lot of people to get me mobile again. And a lot of blood, sweat and tears on my part."
"But you're okay now?"
"Oh yeah. Fit as a fiddle. Otherwise Dad wouldn't let me be on the team."
"So that's how…" Virgil stopped embarrassed.
"Yes?" Gordon asked curiously.
"It wasn't through International Rescue that you got those scars."
Gordon looked down at his torso. "Nope. Well that one was." He indicated a small scar on his forearm. "I was cleaning down Thunderbird Four's tail fin and fell off. I impaled myself on a bolt in the pod," he grinned disarmingly.
"I wondered how you got them, but I didn't like to ask."
"Don't be afraid to ask anything. You've got to ask questions. You'll never find anything out if you don't."
"Don't say never. I refuse to even consider that this amnesia is permanent."
"Fair enough. But in the meantime ask! How else are you going to learn? As my brother you already know most of it anyway. And…" Gordon's grin intensified, "as your brother it's my right to tell you where to go if I don't want to tell you something."
Virgil managed a smile of his own and stretched his legs.
Gordon was relieved to see him start to relax.
The relief reverted back to concern when Virgil pulled his legs back up again. "Scott probably hates me now," he said sadly.
"Scott! Hate you! Never," Gordon said dismissively. "He's out there wondering what he did wrong and kicking himself for it. He's probably in the gym using himself as the punching bag."
Virgil sighed. "I'm upsetting a lot of people aren't I?"
"It's not your fault."
"No. But I'm the cause."
Gordon was getting heartily sick of that turn of phrase and tried not to show it. "You know you and Scott are good friends."
"So I'm told. That's why I asked him to show me Thunderbird One. I wanted to try to get to know him better – And I think I was… I didn't expect this to happen."
"I'll bet he didn't either…"
The punch bag railed backwards under the force of the blow. It had little time to recover before it was forced away from the perpendicular again.
Another blow… and another… and…
"Scott?"
"Grandma? What are you doing here?"
"I came to see how you were, Darling. I heard what happened."
Scott hit the bag.
"Now stop doing that and come and talk to me."
"What's there to talk about, Grandma? He doesn't like me, pure and simple. Nothing to talk about." The punch bag was punished again.
"You don't believe that do you?"
"What else can I believe? Every time I go near him something happens."
"Now don't exaggerate and come and sit next to me!"
When Grandma Tracy used that tone of voice, the safest option was to obey. Scott removed his gloves and sat on the form beside the diminutive figure that was his Grandmother. "I thought he was beginning to like me."
"He always has liked you, Scott. He's just getting…"
"To know me!" Scott threw the gloves angrily against the wall. "Everyone tells me that! How long does it have to take?"
"I don't know."
"I thought we were getting somewhere! I told him the story of how I'd hoped he'd be a girl when he was born. He was warming to me. I know he was! And then I told him some tales about Gordon! He was laughing with me."
Mrs Tracy chuckled. "My, the grief you gave your poor mother over not wanting another little brother. She was concerned over how you'd react if she had another son. I told her, 'Don't you worry; boy or girl, Scott will look after, and love this child because it'll be his younger sibling.' I was right wasn't I?"
"Yes, Grandma."
"I'm always right aren't I?"
"Yes, Grandma."
"So I'm telling you not to let this one episode worry you." She ruffled his hair affectionately.
"But it's not only one, is it? First there was on the flight deck of Thunderbird Two. Then the nightmare…"
"Nightmare?" she asked.
"Oh," Scott reddened slightly. "We weren't going to tell you about that."
"Oh, weren't you?"
"We didn't want to worry you."
"Honey, I'm already worried. Do you think a nightmare's going to make it any worse? Now tell me what happened."
"Virgil's been having nightmares every night. The first night I went in to see if he was all right. He woke up, took one look at me and cringed away as if I was going to attack him. It took Gordon to calm him down."
"What are these nightmares about?"
"We don't know. He can't remember."
"And this has been going on every night?"
Scott nodded. "I hear him yelling, and Gordon going to help him, but I daren't do anything myself." He leant forward, elbows on his knees and grasped his hair in anguish. "He won't let me help him."
"Oh, Scott…" Grandma Tracy put her tiny, frail arm around his big, strong shoulders and held him close. "I wish I could help you."
It had been many years since Scott Tracy has needed the embrace of his Grandmother so desperately. He accepted her attentions as he had as a child. "I want my little brother back, Grandma."
"I know, Darling. We all want him back…"
Gordon had an idea. "Tell you what. To show Scott there's no hard feelings, how about a game of traceball? You and Scott against me and Alan."
"Traceball?"
"Yeah. It's something we made up. Kinda a cross between basketball and volleyball. We made it up one day when you and Scott wanted to play basketball and Alan and I wanted to play volleyball. Do you want to give it a try? You could partner Scott."
Virgil thought for a moment. "Traceball."
"Yes."
"Me and Scott."
"Yes."
Virgil stretched his legs again. "Okay. I guess I'm trying a lot of new things at the moment. Why not traceball?"
"That's the spirit. Come on then," Gordon stood and waited.
Virgil tried to extract himself from his position between the bed and cabinet. "I think I'm going to need a hand getting out of here."
"You drip," Gordon laughed as he grasped Virgil by the wrists and pulled. "Why'd you jam yourself in there in the first place?"
"I felt protected," Virgil protested as he popped free. "Anyway, you're a fine one to call me a drip when you've just soaked the carpet and bedspread."
"Oh, yeah," Gordon appeared to notice the wet patch on the floor. "Mind if I swipe some of your towels?"
Virgil shrugged noncommittally. Gordon grabbed a couple of towels and started patting dry the carpet and blankets.
"Thank you," Virgil said sincerely.
Gordon looked surprised at the depth of the emotion expressed. "For what?"
"For helping me through this. For supporting me."
Gordon was silent for a moment. "I'm just repaying the favour, Virgil. After my hydrofoil accident you were a real help to me. You helped me believe that I could walk again. You and all the guys." He thought briefly. "You know, if it wasn't me supporting you, it would be any one of our brothers. We always have and we always will…"
"I want to help him, Grandma. But how can I if he won't let me get close enough?"
"I know, Darling. I know how you feel. I want to help too."
"He'd let you."
"Would he? You didn't see him react to me…" sadness coloured her voice.
"That first day?"
She nodded.
Scott reversed their positions. Now he was comforting his Grandmother. "I know what happened. But he didn't know you then. He didn't know any of us. You caught him unawares and he reacted accordingly."
"You didn't see the expression on his face. It was… almost… revulsion."
"Well if you didn't know anyone, and this crazy old lady suddenly grabbed your face, wouldn't you feel uncomfortable?"
"I don't know that I appreciate your description of me, Scott Tracy!"
Scott chuckled. "I guarantee that he doesn't feel like that about you now. He knows you're not crazy…"
"But I'm still old."
"Not old, Grandma. You're a recycled teenager."
She laughed.
"And now he knows about your talents. He's pretty quick getting to the table at mealtimes."
She smiled briefly. "But I can still picture his face that first day. I don't want to see that expression again."
"Come on, Grandma. Wasn't it you who was just telling me to let him get to know me better? Now I'm going to give you that same advice."
She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Darling. Thank you for listening… and talking. Everyone else seems to think I'm this little old lady who needs cosseting."
"Not old, Grandma," Scott reminded her.
"A recycled teenager," she corrected herself, "who's got work to do. Are you coming with me?"
"Yeah," Scott agreed. "I think we both need to get out of here."
Gordon and Virgil found their traceball partners in the lounge.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked Virgil anxiously. "I'm sorry…"
"It wasn't your fault," Virgil reassured him. "I don't know what caused it."
"Anyway," Gordon butted in, "we're not going to worry about that now. How about a game of traceball? Virgil and Scott versus me and Alan."
"Sounds good," Alan said eagerly.
"Do you want to?" Scott asked Virgil warily.
"Gordon hasn't explained the rules to me yet, but yeah, I'd like a go."
"Maybe we'd better get into something more appropriate," Gordon was looking down at his own attire, which was consisting solely of his swimming trunks.
"Okay. Meet you on the court in ten," Scott said. He waited until Alan and Gordon had left the room and then cautiously sidled up to Virgil. "Do you mind being my partner?"
"Depends on what we have to do," Virgil replied and grinned. "I'm fine with this, Scott. I wouldn't mind your help to show me what I should be wearing too."
Scott smiled in relief. "I'll give you a hand with that and then we can explain the rules."
The four of them met down on the court. Alan dragged Tin-Tin along. "She's volunteered to be the umpire."
Tin-Tin pouted. "No I haven't, Alan. I can never understand the rules of this game. I'm sure you boys change them each time you play."
"Please, Tin-Tin. Just this one time," Alan turned his most beseeching expression towards her. "For Virgil?"
"Don't bring me into your argument," Virgil said. "If Tin-Tin can't understand, how am I supposed to?"
"So, you'll both learn the rules at the same time," Alan persisted.
Scott ignored the argument and started to explain the game to Virgil. "You've got two teams made of two. One player is offensive…"
"That's Scott," Gordon offered. "He can be very offensive at times."
Scott did his best to ignore him. "… and is on one side of the net. The other plays defence on the other side. The goal is for the offensive player to score points while the defensive one tries to stop the other teams offensive player from scoring."
Virgil listened politely and tried not to look confused.
"You can score three ways. One is for the offensive player to get the ball to touch the ground on the other side of the net. That's one point."
"I thought it was two," Alan interrupted.
"It's one," Gordon confirmed.
"If the offensive player can get the ball to hit the ground within the two point scoring zone on the basketball court, then that's three points."
"Two!" Alan insisted.
"Three!" Gordon reiterated.
Alan went into a sulk.
"If the offensive player manages to sink a basket, that's ten points."
Virgil looked at Alan as if he were expecting him to disagree. "The basket on the opposing side of the net?"
"That's right," Scott confirmed.
"Where's the two point scoring zone?" Virgil asked.
Four hands pointed it out for him.
"What is the defensive player doing while all this is going on?" he asked.
"Trying to stop the other team from stopping your team from scoring, stopping them from trying to score, while attempting to return the ball to his own offensive player, so that his team can score," Scott said.
"If the defensive player can't get the ball back to the offensive player in one shot, then that's a non-scoring round," Gordon added.
"So you've only got one chance each time the ball's on your side of the net," Virgil tried to make sense of it all. "Sounds difficult."
"It is," Scott agreed. "But…"
"There's always a but," Gordon said cheerfully.
"You can dribble the ball, basketball style, so you can get into a better position for returning it to your team-mate," Scott continued.
"Dribble?" Virgil asked.
"Bounce while running," Scott explained.
"Only three bounces though," Alan added.
"Two!" his brothers corrected him.
"Fine," he muttered. "Make it two. See if I care."
"So you can catch and hold onto the ball," Virgil said.
"Uh, huh. But not for longer than two seconds," Gordon confirmed "That's why we need an umpire."
Tin-Tin rolled her eyes and said nothing.
"Make sense?" Gordon asked.
"No," Virgil replied. "But I'll give it a go."
"Okay, you and Alan can head down to that side of the net," Scott started giving directions. "Gordon and I are up here. I'll go on offensive first, that means you're defence, Virg…il." He cursed himself quietly.
"Hang on!" Gordon held up proceedings. "Tin-Tin, where's the timer?"
"What timer, Gordon?" she asked patiently.
"Each session is quarter of an hour long. Then we change roles. First team to 50 points wins."
His brothers looked at him. "Since when?" Scott asked.
"Since now."
Alan cast his eyes heavenwards in an 'I don't know' gesture.
Virgil followed Alan to one side of the volleyball net that was strung across the basketball court. "So I've got to stop you from getting the ball and scoring, and at the same time try to get it back to Scott."
"I guess so. They've changed the rules since last time we played it."
"Are you ready, Virgil?" Scott called across the net.
"As I'll ever be."
Scott hit the ball, volleyball style. Virgil went the wrong way. Alan parried it back and scored.
"Nil… Two?" Tin-Tin called.
"That was worth one point," Gordon told her.
"Nil – one," she amended and made a note on a pad.
"Sorry, Scott," Virgil apologised.
"Don't worry," Scott replied. "You're still learning."
"Aren't we all," Tin-Tin muttered under her breath.
Scott served again.
This time Virgil went in the right direction, but was too slow.
"Nil – four," Tin-Tin called.
"It was outside the zone," Scott protested.
"Tin-Tin's the umpire," Alan told him. "What she says goes."
Scott decided not to argue. He served again.
Alan caught the ball and tried to send it back. This time Virgil managed to intercept his return shot, but only succeeded in knocking the ball to the ground.
"Sorry," he apologised again.
"My serve," Alan cheerfully said.
Virgil was glad to have a break and watch how Gordon fared.
Scott intercepted Alan's serve and attempted to blast it back over the net. Gordon intercepted, dribbled two steps and then passed the ball back to Alan. Virgil wasn't expecting the move and didn't react when Alan attempted to score again. Scott intercepted and slam-dunked the ball over the net.
"Three – one," Tin-Tin called.
"So that's what you're supposed to do," Virgil said to Gordon.
"Yeah. Nothin' to it."
By half time, Virgil was starting to get some idea of what was going on and he and Scott were only behind by seven points.
The score was 28 – 21.
They all changed roles.
"Do you want to serve, Virgil?" Gordon asked.
Virgil shrugged. "Guess so."
Somehow, more by accident than design (and through a bit of help from Gordon) Virgil's scoring managed to stay within seven points of the other team.
The time was counting down…
"30 seconds remaining," Tin-Tin called.
Gordon scored a point bringing his score to 46.
Virgil scored a three pointer bringing his score to 41.
"15 seconds!"
Gordon scored two points.
Tin-Tin started a countdown. "Ten – nine…"
Gordon served.
"Eight…"
Virgil intercepted, but Alan blocked his scoring shot sending it back towards Gordon.
"Five…"
Scott grabbed the ball before Gordon was able to get his hand on it again. Time was running short, so he trusted his instincts and lobbed it backwards over his head to where he hoped Virgil would be standing.
"Four – three…"
Amazingly Virgil was in position. He pulled the ball out of the air.
Alan was blocking his shot.
Virgil turned and dribbled the ball twice. He then leapt into the air, spinning as he did so. At the apex of his leap he threw the ball…
"One…"
Gordon made a grab at the ball, and missed…
The ball fell through the basket.
The buzzer of the timer went off.
Tin-Tin cheered. "Virgil and Scott win!"
Scott let out a whoop. "That's ten points! We won! You did it, Virg!"
Virgil was standing there in amazement looking at the basket, which was still swaying from the force of his shot. "I did it?"
"Nice shot, Virgil," Alan congratulated him.
"I did it? How? How'd I do that? How'd I know that he'd throw the ball to there?"
"That type of shot is why you made Captain of your basketball team," Gordon told him.
"But I don't…"
"Well done, Virgil," Tin-Tin gave him a kiss on the cheek. Alan gave her a strange look.
Virgil blushed and took a couple of steps backwards so he was partly hidden by Alan. "It was a team effort… I still don't…"
"Time for a swim," Gordon announced. "Everybody into the pool!"
Scott clapped Virgil on the back. "I thought they had us. That was a brilliant shot."
Virgil gave up trying to understand it all. "Thanks."
"Come on," Scott suggested. "We can cool off in the pool."
"Uh, the pool?" Virgil said. "Can I swim?"
Scott looked as if he'd only just remembered his brother's condition. "Uh, yeah you can. If your basketball skills are anything to go by, you'll remember as soon as you touch the water. Come on!" he led the way from the basketball court to the pool.
Alan and Gordon were already enjoying themselves, having decided to forgo their swimming costumes and had only divested themselves of their shirts and shoes. Tin-Tin had decided that she'd had enough excitement for one day and was relaxing on one of the deck chairs.
Scott stripped off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and dived in.
Virgil looked at them from the pool's edge. "I think I'll just watch you guys."
Gordon and Alan looked at each other. "You know, there's a tradition that must be upheld," Gordon said.
"Tradition?" Virgil asked.
"That's right," Alan pulled himself out of the water, beside his still dry brother.
"Tradition?" Virgil asked again, this time more warily.
Gordon joined Alan on the dry land. He stood. "Yeah, tradition. The losers have to give something to the winner."
"What?" Virgil asked cautiously.
"We have to give you a hand into the water!" Before Virgil had a chance to react Gordon gave a wicked grin and grabbed him by the arms.
"Hey!" Virgil protested.
Alan got hold of his feet and pulled his shoes off. "Now for the ceremonial dunking."
"Guys," Virgil pleaded.
"You'll catch him won't you, Scott," Gordon said to his brother treading water in the pool.
"So long as you don't throw him on top of me..." Scott stated. "Don't you fellas think you're being a bit mean?"
"Once he's in there he'll love it, you know that," Gordon reminded him.
"Well, let him get in by himself!"
"Please," Virgil asked.
"It's a tradition," Alan reminded him. "One!" He and Gordon began to swing their helpless brother.
"Guys!" Virgil protested.
"Two."
"Since when has that been a tradition of traceball?" Scott asked. His comment fell on deaf ears. "Don't throw him too high!"
"Three!" Virgil was thrown into the pool.
He surfaced, coughing.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked.
"Yeah," Virgil said resignedly and his two assailants dove back into the pool. "Just fine. Now how do I swim?"
"One arm over, then the next," Scott demonstrated.
Virgil tried out a couple of strokes and found that the motion came easily to him.
"If you want to see a champion, just watch Gordon," Alan advised.
"Champion?" Virgil asked.
"Yeah. He won an Olympic medal for swimming."
"Olympic medal?" Virgil said in amazement. "What colour?"
"Gold," Alan said proudly.
"You're pulling my leg…"
"Nope. Hey, Gordon!" Alan yelled at his brother who was lapping the pool. "Virgil wants to see your medal."
Gordon ceased his swimming. "Which one?"
"Your Olympic one of course."
"Really?" Gordon said delightedly. "Okay. Come on then." He climbed out of the pool, closely followed by Virgil. They grabbed a couple of towels from a locker before climbing the stairs, Virgil interrogating Gordon about his Olympic triumph.
Scott watched them depart, his mood growing darker.
Alan didn't notice. He swam a couple more laps until he was pulled up short by a shout from the patio. "Alan!"
"What, Gordon!"
"Virgil wants to see your racing trophies!"
"He does?" Alan didn't need a second telling and clambered out of the pool.
Scott remained where he was, wallowing in the water and his deepening depression.
Tin-Tin watched him in concern. "Scott?"
He pulled himself out of the pool. "Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
"Me?" he said bitterly. "I'm fine, just fine."
She looked at him. He was a forlorn figure standing there in his wet shorts with his dark hair clinging to his face. As she watched he pushed a lock out of his eyes and tried shove his hands into his clammy pockets. "Why don't you show him your Air Force medals?"
"He won't be interested. They're nothing special. They give them out if you manage to get a plane off the ground."
"Your Medal for Valour…"
"You get given that if you manage to land the plane again." He sighed and looked wistfully at the patio doors.
"Keep trying, Scott," Tin-Tin begged. "Once Virgil realises that he does like you…"
"He doesn't like me. He'd rather I wasn't around." Scott stubbed at the ground with his toe. "If anyone wants me I'll be in the gym. That's if anyone's interested." He started walking towards the ground level door to the gym.
"Scott!" she called after him.
He didn't turn back. "Later, Tin-Tin."
The pity she felt towards Scott Tracy quickly turned into anger towards his brothers.
She stormed up the steps and into the house. Jeff looked up as she stamped her way through the lounge, but didn't comment. Tin-Tin could be like his mother when she was angry, and in that situation it was better to keep out of the way. Especially if you were the one who was in trouble!
Tin-Tin found her quarry in Alan's room. All three men were there and none of them had bothered to get changed. They were standing in the middle of the room with sodden towels about their waists. Alan was showing Virgil the trophy he'd won at Parola Sands, while Gordon was chipping in with excited comments.
Tin-Tin knocked on the door. When they looked up she fixed them all with a saccharine smile. "Alan. Can I have a word with you please?"
Alan looked as if he were slightly disappointed. "Now?"
"It'll only take a moment."
"Okay," he said grudgingly. "Back in a moment, Virgil. Don't believe anything Gordon tells you."
Tin-Tin walked down the hallway until they were out of earshot.
Alan followed. "What's up? I was showing Virgil…"
Tin-Tin hit him.
"Ow! What's that for?" Alan rubbed his unprotected, and now sore, arm.
"For upsetting Scott," Tin-Tin hissed.
"For what?"
"Virgil was finally getting to know him again and you dragged him away!"
"Dragged him… Now come on, Tin-Tin. It may have escaped your notice but it was Gordon who took him out of the pool to show him his medal. I was invited afterwards."
"And who was it who told him about it?"
"Well…" Alan couldn't rebuke that one. "He was interested."
"He was interested in Scott until you opened your big mouth."
"And now Scott's upset?"
"He's back in the gym again. He thinks Virgil doesn't like him."
"Rubbish."
"No, Alan. Not rubbish. Now what are you going to do about it?" She folded her arms defiantly.
"Do about it? Um… Talk to Gordon?"
"And then?"
"I don't know, Tin-Tin. Let me talk to Gordon and we'll see if we can come up with an answer. It's his fault…"
She glared at him.
"… As well as mine," he added grudgingly.
"Good!" she turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Alan standing in the middle of the hallway looking after her. He bit his lip and wondered just what was going on…