Authors: Sean O'Kane
In the next jam the Yellows completed on four and took the second set.
At least Anna’s group got to sit out the first jam of the third set while Tony worked furiously to try and bring down the swelling to Tracey’s eye and Brian washed out cuts and used anaesthetic sprays on bruises. But at least they could still field a full squad, the Yellows were down one girl now.
The Blue defence held the Yellows to four completed passes and then Anna was back on with Tracey still half-blind in one eye. Brian had told them to try letting Anna burst through with just one girl to help her while the rest guarded Tracey. Anna towered over most of the girls, it was time for her to make it count he said.
Joyfully Anna threw herself at the backs of the Yellow defence, once again that feeling of finding deep reserves of strength inside her buoyed her up. She used an Irish whip to send one girl crashing down. She pivoted before the girl’s companion could react and brought her fist up between her legs. It was a sweet feeling as the soft flesh squashed and the girl’s mouth opened in an O of horror and then she was gone, somersaulting down to the in-field. Tracey was surrounded by a maul as the remaining Yellows tried to break through to her. Anna slowed down and let them catch up then reached over a Blue girl to grab a handful of hair and pull. There was a satisfying scream and the Yellow girl had no choice but to come to her, releasing whoever she had been wrestling with. But this one was no mug and as she came back against Anna she launched the same punch Anna had just used. Pain exploded from her crotch and she let the girl go, who then grabbed her hair and then a nipple as well. Then the next thing Anna knew was the concrete hardness of the ground hitting her. For a moment she lay stunned as her mind replayed the last few crazy seconds as the world had spun around her as she had been thrown clear over the rails. She sat up and checked for any new pains, then tried to stand and found she could, but she saw that without their Receiver the Blue team was getting nowhere, not knowing whether to guard their Passer or try and make a pass to a stand-in Receiver. Grimly, Anna made it to the rails and was about to vault over when a fist caught the side of her head and she went down again, dimly she realised that a Yellow girl had caught her as she skated past and she cursed herself for not being more careful but it was too late and the siren was sounding even as she struggled up feeling sick and weak.
The Blues were down by one set.
And they had big problems. Their two vital players were rocking and almost out on their feet. But the Yellows had lost two players now and as Anna splashed cold water on her face and desperately tried to gather her senses, she realised that Tracey’s eye had begun to improve a little. If they could just complete on three or four passes this time, they might hold the set and force the decider.
The pace was beginning to slow now and Tracey’s guard held firm as the Yellows were nursing their own injuries. She made three passes and Anna held them all, the girl who had been such a thorn in Anna’s side during the previous jam was dealt with by one of the Asian girls who crotch threw her in the second lap and it was the tenth by the time she got back in. They still only made four completes though as Tracey was tying up a bit.
But it was enough and the Blue’s defence managed to concede no more than two from a depleted Yellow offence.
Brian looked at his battered troops as they sat or sprawled in the in-field during the break between sets. He examined bruises and strains, noting winces of pain. Two girls were barely conscious and he discounted them immediately. He turned to Ace.
“You’re going to have to go out both times this set. Use your height to block anything they can throw after you make sure you complete on the offence. Can you do it?”
Anna looked at him, seeing his desperation. She nodded, without having any real idea of whether she could do what he needed or not. At least her head had cleared as she clambered back onto the track. The good news was that only nine from the Yellow team had made it. When the pistol sounded the two squads wearily made it up to speed and Anna crouched low as she was whipped and managed to burst the line at the first attempt. But then she was in the middle of a desperate fight, her hair was pulled so her head was forced down. Her nipple was grabbed and she screamed but clenched her thighs together before an uppercut could land and gritting her teeth she dug deep again, rearing up to her full height and dragging the girl who was hair-pulling back in a reverse headlock. Then she swung her fists, made contact and was through. She spun around and was only just in time to collect a pass from Tracey. Then she turned her back and skated away from the pack, giving her own defence time to operate, then she spun again and Tracey fired off another that scraped over the upreaching hands of the Yellow defence. They made five complete passes and Anna collapsed onto the bench for Brian to massage her legs with desperate haste.
“Come on, girl! You’re our best hope now! They’re all as tired as you! But if you can hold it together and block everything we can do this!”
She could never recall too much of that final jam when she had to go straight out again and block, which was something they had never practised before. It seemed dreamlike, a slow motion pantomime. The skaters stumbled around the track locked together, half trying to take the other girl down, half trying to use each other to stand up. The Yellows could only field seven girls and the Blues only had eight who could still stand. Anna decided to stay close to their Receiver, like the Yellow girl had done earlier to her. She was taller than their Receiver and even though it only took two laps before she was through, Anna tormented her by getting between the Passer and her, but even so they managed four passes. Anna got elbows in the ribs and grabs to her breasts as she fought for each ball, but that meant the Receiver’s hands weren’t catching anything more. And the compere’s voice was telling them that the Blues were leading by one pass. Time was running out for the Yellows and they were still one pass short.
With the compere screaming that only one lap remained, desperation won out and the Yellow Receiverl grappled Anna to the floor and tried to punch her out. Anna tried to dig into her reserves just once more, but there was nothing there this time. All she could do was hold the screaming blonde harridan’s breasts and twist while at least she was keeping the Receiver from doing her job. But the girl realised this and looked up then leaped off Anna who scrambled up after her as quickly as she could. Both girls held onto the rails and looked back to see where the pack was but they were barely able to skate anymore. However, Anna saw the Passer come onto the final straight with a ball held ready to pass. She pushed herself away from the railings one more time just as their Receiver barged into her side and tried to leap. Anna staggered sideways and watched as, almost in slow motion, the girl’s arm, pale in the harsh lights, stretched up towards the spinning ball. Then she herself was launching. Every muscle in her achingly tired legs propelling her upwards one last time. Her own arm stretched up, and then up further. Her hand was almost touching the Yellow Receiver’s hand as the ball came spinning down out of the night and Anna felt it thud into her palm as she fell back to earth with it safely clasped to her breast and the siren sounded for the completion of the final lap.
Clive Mostyn reckoned that taking the applause from an ecstatic crowd in an arena while he waved graciously from the Owner’s box and felt the key to Downing Street almost in his pocket was every bit as good as he had imagined. He looked forward to doing it a lot more in the future. However, he did notice the slaves being carried and dragged off the Derby track and made a mental note to watch that tall girl’s progress.
Epilogue
The letter bore the name of a famous firm of solicitors who, they said, were acting on behalf of Mr Mark Cavanagh who wished to bring to light something he had found in the possession of his late partner, Mr Conor Brien.
Brian read it again while Peter Lang paced up and down his office at The Lodge.
“It was forwarded to us from the Proteus owners, because we’re involved, both in the present and the past.”
Brian read it again, still not believing what was set out in calm legal terms. The enclosures lay scattered on the desk before him. He had read them already. They were copies but the solicitors had verified all the originals.
It concerned Blondie.
Of course he knew that Blondie had been discovered by Conor Brien and she had rebelled against his ownership of her and had thrown a fight in order to make him sell her. That much was legend on the arena circuit. Carlo, who at that time was Conor Brien’s trainer had also rebelled and had taken her away, afraid of what Conor’s fury might do to his star pupil. He had brought her here, to The Lodge, from where he had built up the CSL stable. That was also legend. But this!
Brian tried to summarise the disclosures to help him assimilate them. “Without Blondie knowing, presumably under general anaesthetic or when she was unconscious, during the time he owned her, he had eggs removed and stored. Then some time after he lost her he impregnated the eggs with his own sperm and had the child given birth to by a surrogate mother who was married to an employee of one of his companies? That’s weird and...and...well it’s...”
Words failed him and Peter finished for him.
“He selected the wife of a middle ranking executive in one of his companies, and made sure the couple lived a comfortable life. Apparently he kept tabs on her all the time and sent her money regularly. But then...when he’s ready! And this is the bit that is
really
incredible...he sets out to ruin her and land her in the arenas. His own daughter! But at the same time he’s working his way back in to the British establishment so that, as far as Mr Cavanagh can see – and he’s as appalled as we all are – he can actually control her in some way, perhaps his aim was to actually buy her. He’s convinced the girl will be as great as her mother and this time he’s going to be in full control of her and no one will steal her from him. That’s why he had her condemned in this country. It’s all street legal here.”
“Insane!”
“Yes. But in one thing he was totally right. She is a superb talent.”
Brian put the letter down and drew a deep breath. “Okay, the Proteus stable legally owns the daughter of Blondie herself. So how do we break the news to Blondie and Carlo? And what do we - or they - do about the other daughter, the one she had with Carlo?”
“Ah, that’s the question isn’t it? What about the other daughter? And do we tell this one her full family history?”
The story will continue in Blonde Fury!