Chapter Text
One Year Later
London
“Has anyone seen Reece? Over.”
“Yeah, he’s getting into costume. Why? Over.”
“I just let him in by the backdoor, he’s was having some fresh air, said he needed a fag before going on stage. Have the boys changed any of the character sequences? Over.”
“What? Reece doesn’t smoke. No, they haven’t changed the sequence. It’s the same as it was in the dress rehearsal. Over.”
“Okay, well, he’s wearing his Lisgoe costume. Over.”
“He doesn’t get into the Lisgoe outfit till Act Two. He starts the show as Benjamin Denton. You should know this. Over.”
“Are you sure? He had the bird tattoo on his neck, and the scar above his eye. Over.”
“What? We haven’t got time to do the tattoo, there’s too many dress changes. Hang on, let me check with Reece. Over.”
* static *
“Just spoke to him. He hasn’t been outside. Doesn’t know what you’re talking about. He’s getting changed into his Denton outfit. Over.”
“He looked like Reece. Over.”
“You better not have let a fan in! You know how mad the League fans are! Over.”
“It wasn’t a fan. He looked like Reece, to me anyway. Over.”
“We’ll have to talk about this later. Haven’t got fucking time. Over.”
“Let’s hope we don’t get murdered! Over.”
~
Leah looked out from the wings as the audience filed in to watch The League of Gentlemen Are Behind You. She’d seen the show many, many times. She decided to tag along to boost morale for the stage crew, her colleagues and employers. It was an enjoyable show. It was even funnier when The League played with the script, trying hard to corpse each other out. It worked effectively and the fans lapped it up.
The lights dimmed over the audience. Their raucous applause exploded from the seats. Leah shivered and a whirl of excitement rippled across her skin. She smiled to herself, proud of all of the hard work they’d done. It hadn’t been an easy ride.
The year had been a whirlwind in far more ways than she cared to give credit for. Jeremy had made a full recovery from his ‘accident.’ He was walking around with the use of a cane. Everyone just thought he had a dizzy tumble and that was the story they had to stick to. He nearly fell into another coma when The League filled him in on what had happened to them and their razor sharp, financial agreements with the Royston characters.
Payments were still delivered every three months via Leah. The train journeys from London to Hadfield, the walks and the Barbara Dickless taxi trips around the fictional town were making her exhausted. It doubled the stress and the paperwork. She was even getting noticed at Royston Vasey, unwanted stares, little smiles, the gossip must have zipped around. She already had to look after The League’s daily errands, the ever increasing acting offers for Reece, Steve and Mark. Then there was TV, film and theatre offers to feed The League machine. Some days she didn’t know if she was coming or going. She’d get back to her flat and collapse on the sofa because she was tired from her tumbling workload.
Of course, there was another major unspoken reason why she was constantly on the verge of exhaustion…
The League marched on stage carrying their mops and brooms. Leah spotted Reece in his dark blue bathrobe and brown slippers. She couldn’t help but think… of him.
Mr Joseph Nigel Lisgoe. Royston Vasey’s notorious debt collector.
Leah thought their ‘relationship’ was just a business transaction, to keep her silence so her employers would not find out that she was secretly in love with one of them. The night she spent with Lisgoe in the church was the first Cupid’s arrow and then after the first delivery of the money, her mind and emotions were swimming in potentially dangerous waters. Lisgoe had ravaged her in his office, sending her back to London with ripped clothes and several love bites plastered all over neck. She had to wear scarfs at The League meetings to disguise the little red secrets. She couldn’t have them finding out about it.
Then she started to receive texts and phone calls from him, she had to make sure she kept her phone hidden from The League as several of the messages were quite erotically charged. In her free time, she was journeying to Royston Vasey, not for business. She thought Lisgoe was only interested in her for primal, animalistic sex.
On her second lone trip to Vasey, Lisgoe had told her to dress up and she obliged. The debt collector showed up at the church, picking her up in his own car. He looked beautiful in a dark expensive suit, he’d ditched the beaten old trainers and was wearing black shiny dress shoes. His shirt was more unbuttoned so she could see the outlines of the tattoo on his chest. Leah remembered her brain turning to mush when she saw him, because she just saw Reece.
He took her to Luigi’s and she couldn’t contain herself when she noticed Charlie and Stella Hull were also in there, bickering with each other, making the waiters uncomfortable. Lisgoe’s mean spirit from his work certainly had a reputation. They were seated pretty much immediately and the staff were very polite to them, in a fearful, sickly manner. They wined and dined. Leah found out about more Lisgoe’s family. His father was a drunk and a bully. It made sense with his personality, conflict and violence being at the core of his upbringing.
Leah thought she’d be heading back to London. Lisgoe drove her to his flat and she spent the night with him. It changed everything for her.
Steve and Reece weren’t lying when they said Lisgoe’s mother had twenty kids. It was in the stage script of the panto show, and it was the truth. Leah had seen it with her own eyes. Nineteen little square photographs of his siblings were lined across the bookcases in his lounge. Their names all began with a J.
Sex with Lisgoe was very different that night. It was the first time she’d seen him unclothed. His body was pale and chiselled like marble. It was more defined than Reece’s. It reflected against the gold chains around his neck. The tattoo on his chest was of an eagle, the feathery wings had been drawn with great detail and they wrapped around to the groove of his spine. He was usually a fast and rough lover. This time, he was slow and sensual, and he worshipped her body. Her leg had been wrapped over his hip. It was a pleasant torture, the way he moved against her bones. She almost screamed when she felt his seed spilling into her. Their heavy breathing filled his bedroom, just like it had done back at the church. All the while, those haunting blue eyes burned into hers.
Vasey was scary at night times. After they’d made love, she remembered watching him sleep. She stared at his hands, covered in gold rings, wondering how many teeth had been knocked out with them. There was always glass breaking, or somebody screaming, for good, and bad reasons. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she first heard the behaviour and she was silenced when Lisgoe’s body coiled around her so much her ribs hurt. It silenced her thoughts.
As Leah’s mind sailed, the play continued. Reece was now dressed as Ollie Plimsolls, directing the Nativity. A cold spread of fear trickled within her and she felt a pulse in her abdomen. She’d noticed that her affections indeed were shifting. She’d spent years trying to kill her feelings for Reece but when Lisgoe crashed into her life - she didn’t want to let them go.
After her Vasey visits, she’d be lying in her bed, alone, her mind and body aching, not for Reece… but for the frightening debt collector. And that’s when she knew she was in trouble. Where was the relationship going? Would Lisgoe just discard her and move on to the next woman? Would Leah even recover from it?
She’d told Lisgoe about the aches in her body, especially down below, at dinner one night.
The debt collector responded classically, his blue eyes shining against the candlelight. “That’s because you haven’t had sex very much. You’re the equivalent of an amateur boxer sparring with a professional.” She remembered his dark smirk as he sipped his wine, he seemed proud of it. “You need to keep working those muscles, that’s how you get strong. We’ll remedy that.”
And that’s what he did. He took her back to his flat, bent her over his bed and made her scream till the early hours of the morning. She practically waddled through Hadfield on the way home. She couldn’t sit down on the tube and she spent the whole day on the sofa with a hot water bottle nesting against her abdomen.
The wind changed behind her. She heard the metallic click of a cigarette lighter and felt the heat of slim muscled arms caressing her waist. Her heart leapt in her chest. She smelt Lisgoe’s aftershave. Her clothes were normally covered with it.
“What are you doing here?” Leah whispered.
She felt the vibration of his laughter against the shell of her ear. “We’ve got a date remember.”
“Tomorrow. Not tonight. The show’s tonight. I told you.”
“I wanted to surprise my girl at work,” said Lisgoe, his fingers slid under her blouse, cupping her breasts, gripping them.
My girl. Her knees nearly buckled when he first called her that.
She gasped, her heartbeat ramping up. “Not here, Joe. Someone could see you, and they’ll think you’re Reece. If that happens, then we’re royally and truly fucked.”
“We’ve been doing plenty of that.” Lisgoe brushed his fingers against her thighs, teasing the hem of her dress. “Managed to convince the stage hand that I was that prick you’re obsessed with. The twat let me straight in. This showbiz shit isn’t very fucking secure. I fucking hate London. It’s too big and it stinks of shit.”
“Oh my God. You need to go, please, you can’t be here.”
“Why?” Lisgoe tightened his grip on hip, his other hand roamed into her underwear. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“No, but think about the agreement. If they see you, it could be all over.”
“Nah, they don’t scare me. We’ve got them by the bollocks if they try to terminate it.” His breath tickled her earlobe. “Have you told them our good news?”
She shook her head and her belly bloomed when he massaged his fingers between her legs. “It’s, it’s still early days. Better not to right now.”
His free hand trickled up to her belly, his thumb stroking the seams of her blouse. “If you don’t, your body will do the job.”
Lisgoe’s fingers slipped inside her blouse, brushing her nipple. Leah looked around. Her skin becoming clammy. The play was still going, the audience were laughing. He flicked his tongue against the curve of her neck. Her skin tingled and an instinct moved against his fingers. They slipped inside of her. Leah’s head arched against him. His body hardened from her touch. Leah’s breath was caught, her mind fell into those deep, dark waters again, swimming with this dark and dangerous man.
“You’re not his,” Lisgoe whispered against her earlobe, his breath quaking. “I told you to take him and you wouldn’t do it.”
Reece was now in his Pamela Doove outfit and he leapt around the stage. Steve sat as Dave Parkes, watching him, looking perplexed.
“You love what we’ve been getting up to you, haven’t you, my girl.” Lisgoe squeezed her clit. She gasped, her body moulding to Lisgoe’s strong physique. She felt his hardness, rubbing against the curves of her legs. “It makes you come harder knowing we’ve been doing this, right under their fucking ugly noses.”
Her eyes fluttered. The hand that was now squeezing her breast, slid to her stomach, tickling her.
“Too bad,” Lisgoe whispered again, following her gaze, watching Reece. “He missed his fucking chance. If he tries anything, the ignorant bastard won’t be writing anymore fucking sketches.”
Her eyes opened in a jolt. Leah turned in his arms. Shadows wafted over his face. Her heart danced. She saw Reece again, just for a split second. Then she took note of Lisgoe’s pale greyish cheekbones and that gelled jet black hair. His lean body grabbed her, pressing her up against the wall. He gripped her wrists above her head and pushed his mouth against hers. She was engulfed by his taste. Peppermint, whiskey and cigarettes. Her senses were smothered by the strength of his aftershave.
Lisgoe kissed her deeply, parting her lips, rolling his tongue into her mouth. Leah groaned loudly, remembering where she was, her heart thundering. What if somebody caught them?
His hands slid down from her wrists and he lifted her off the ground, using his body as leverage. His burning kiss continued to devour her. Those fingers were at her underwear again and they pulled at the fabric. Pleasure and warmth shuddered within her. Leah heard the buckle of metal and the clicking of a zipper.
Leah’s neck arched, she gripped onto him, spluttering against his sliding mouth as he entered her. He moaned into her mouth. She heard the clapping audience, the rumble of the set music. He moved his hips with powerful and rhythmic movements. The pleasure slammed into her. Her cervix pulsed and contracted, clenching against Lisgoe’s slick length. Her head was in the clouds. She was drunk, loved up by this dark, dangerous, beautiful man. Her nails dug into his suit, staining the material. It spurred him on, bucking faster and harder against her. His mouth never broke from hers.
The League were back in their Legz Akimbo theatre company characters. She heard them arguing. The audience were loving it. Terror spiralled within her. They weren’t being quiet. Someone was bound to hear them. But Leah didn’t care. She wanted Lisgoe more and more each day.
The pleasure climbed, she was getting there. His movements were shortening, he was joining her. He ripped his mouth from hers. Pressing his face to her chest as he rocked back and forth against her. Leah held onto him, her fingers smearing his skin, sinking into his gelled hair. Her cervix tightened, her back rippled. Lisgoe’s guttural moan escaped him. She shunted against him, her orgasm pouring out as his seed spilled. Lisgoe shuddered, their foreheads pressed together, sweet sweat looming on his brow.
Lisgoe looked at Leah, long and hard, and he panted deeply. She watched him, not wanting to let go. He reached up, cupping her face, caressing her skin, his expression was pure electricity.
A gentle breeze caressed the couple and an unwanted heartbeat lingered by their space.
“Mr Shearsmith?” asked a frightened, shocked voice from the stage wing.
~
The League sat in the dressing room, tension webbing. It was the halfway intermission. They should have been resting, hydrating, conserving their energy for Act Two. None of them wanted to get changed. None of them were in the mood to entertain. They just wanted to call it quits.
“Leah…” Steve said sternly. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t. She wanted the ground to swallow her up.
Jeremy sat, half leaning on his cane. His attention was on Lisgoe, he was entranced by him. Lisgoe stood against the fire exit door, it was propped open, he was busy smoking, without a care in the world.
“How long has this been going, Leah?” Mark asked.
She felt sick, wanting to ball her eyes out. “Since the day I was kidnapped.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy uttered.
Mark looked at Steve. “I knew something had happened.”
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?” Reece growled, his arms were folded over his chest. She’d seen him angry, but this was another level. She practically ran from him, Steve and Mark had to hold him back as he was throwing strips of his Ollie costume at her. If he’d gotten any closer, he would have thrown a chair. “I got called a cheating, piece of shit by the makeup lady just now. Gossip travels like wildfire in this industry. My wife will find out about this. She’ll think I’m having an affair with my fucking PA!”
“Calm down Reece,” Steve said.
“No, I fucking won’t! I have every fucking right to be upset. It’s my head in the guillotine. She’s ruined my bloody life. She’s taken advantage of me. What if the makeup woman goes to the tabloids?!”
“We’ll convince her not to,” Mark said.
“How? ” Reece growled again.
“Pay her off?,” uttered Jeremy.
“The tabloids will double it,” Steve replied.
“I can sort her out,” Lisgoe muttered.
Leah looked at him, shaking her head. “No, Joe. Don’t get involved with this. It’s my mess.”
Reece walked up to her. “Oh, so you’re on first names now, is it?”
Lisgoe stomped on his cigarette and closed the fire exit door. “Yes, we are. Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”
Steve stood up, insulted. “You…are our business actually. We made you what you are.” His gaze trickled to Leah. “But why, Lee? Why him? I knew you were seeing someone, I saw some of those saucy texts on your phone. Why not somebody else from Vasey?”
“You could have gone with Dr Chinnery,” Mark suggested.
“Yeah, or Dave Parkes, or Benjamin Denton. Someone mundane. Somebody nice,” Steve said.
“It’s not a dating service,” Jeremy said, half shocked from Steve’s comments.
“She shouldn’t be touching any of them,” Reece said.
“Guys, focus on what’s urgent here.” Mark rubbed his face in frustration. “What are we going to do about Carol?”
“Who?”
“Carol. The makeup woman.”
“I said, I’ll talk to her.” Lisgoe walked up to Leah, his hands caressing her hips. She flinched, unable to look at him. He faced Reece who watched them in quiet disgust. Lisgoe walked up to him, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “By the way, yell at my girl again, throw anything in her direction-“
“And you’ll do what?” Reece said. “You’ll cut my fat?”
It was a bizarre moment. Creator and character stood opposite each other. Same height. Same nose, same jawline, same luminous blue eyes. They were practically mirroring each other.
Something clicked in Lisgoe’s hand. The blade of his flick knife suddenly rested against Reece’s cheek. There was a gasp from everyone in the room. “I was thinking…, I’ll cut your face. You need this mug for your work. Fuck with me, pretty boy, and you’ll never act again.”
“Joe…” Leah said softly. “Enough.”
Lisgoe watched Reece, drawing him out. Reece was clearly scared, and so were the others. The debt collector smiled, stepping back, pushing the blade of his knife back into its guard. He walked back to Leah, curling his arm around her waist.
“Who’s going to talk to Carol?” Jeremy asked.
Leah stepped forward. “I will. I’ll bring her back here.”
“Are you fucking insane?” Reece raged.
“We’ve got no choice,” Steve said.
Leah left hastily, zipping past her employers. Her surroundings felt numb, she was floating on thin air, her feet operating on autopilot. The stage crew sauntered past. She found the makeup and wardrobe department. Carol was middle aged, with grey eyes and curly blonde hair. She’d been doing the make up for The League since series one of the TV series. She was a vital cog in their creative world.
“I’m really disappointed in you, Leah,’ she said, thinly sipping her cup of tea. “How could you do that? He’s married. He’s got a family!”
They argued back and forth like sisters. Leah felt the desperation clawing at her. She grabbed her hand and pulled her down the corridor. Leah pushed Carol into the dressing room. The make up artist stiffened, her face went ashen. Leah closed the door the behind her.
The room was quiet. Steve and Mark couldn’t look at her. Reece stared at Carol, pleading with his eyes. Lisgoe flashed a dark threatening look at Carol, he was enjoying this far too much. Two Reece’s stood in front of her. The makeup artist staggered, her eyes rolled into her head, and she fainted, hitting the floor.
“Well, that sorts that out,” Jeremy said.
Leah checked her vital signs. “It’s okay, she’s breathing.”
“Seeing as we’re all here,” Lisgoe said. “I think you should hear our good news.”
“No!” Leah hissed, rushing at Lisgoe, prodding him. “This is not the time.”
“What more bad luck can we have in one night?” Mark muttered.
Leah pushed Lisgoe towards the fire exit. “Don’t listen to him. We’ll leave now.”
“No, what’s the news?” Steve said.
Lisgoe watched them and turned to Leah. His gold ringed fingers trickled up to her shoulders and he gripped her firmly.
She stared at him with tenderness. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Stop being afraid. I told you, if you don’t do it now, your body will do it for you.” He wrapped his arms around her as The League watched them. He turned his attention to the creators. “Leah and I… we’re having a baby.”
The silence cut through her. It was agonising. The tension bubbled up, every eye dug into her skin, filling her with dread. She wanted to collapse against Lisgoe.
“Is this true, Lee?” Steve pressed. “How far along are you?”
“Nearly a month,” she replied. “My doctor said it’s still early days.”
“Jesus, Lee. You’re not daft, you’re always sensible,” Mark said out of shock. “Why didn’t you put something on the end of it?”
Lisgoe sniggered as if what he’d said was daft. “We’ve never used protection.”
“Get out of my sight right now,” Reece whispered.
Leah watched him, his eyes were full of anger, at her. “What?”
“You heard me. You’re fucking sacked, and you can say bye-bloody-bye to that agreement. We’re done here.”
Lisgoe watched him. “You can’t break it. You lot signed the contracts remember, dickheads.”
“Getting our assistant up the duff wasn’t in it,” Mark said boldly.
“Just go, Lee…” Steve said. “I’m too tired for this.”
Leah looked at Mark and Jeremy. They nodded at her.
Lisgoe grabbed her, leading her to the fire exit. The tears were already falling from her eyes. The debt collector looked over his shoulder, that threatening look they knew all too well reappeared. “You’ll be hearing from me, and a particular talented butcher.”
The cool rainy breeze from outside blew into dressing room. They watched them leave, Leah looked over her shoulder, at Reece. His gaze was a knife throw, it got her in the gut and she felt it slice into her.
The door closed eerily behind them. Reece collapsed on one of the chairs, his face fell into his hands.
“I’m getting drunk after this show,” Mark said.
Jeremy leaned on his cane. “Me too.”
Reece shook his head. “I’m not going on for Act Two. Just say I’m ill.”
“You can’t cancel the show now.” Jeremy said.
“You bloody do it then!” he hissed. “I feel sick, like my brain’s gonna fucking fall out. I’m too fucking riled up. I could bloody strangle Leah. I thought I could trust her, and she goes and bloody does this. How could she do this to me?! What was going on in her stupid fucking head?”
“It wasn’t just her,” Mark said. “We all know what Lisgoe’s like.”
Reece looked up at him slowly. “You don’t get it, Mark. I am Lisgoe. I put a lot of myself into him.”
“It’s not your baby, Reece,” Steve said.
“Yes, it is, in essence anyway. Lisgoe, hello, spitting bloody image! I created him. My life. My career. Jesus Christ, if my wife finds out about this, I’m finished.”
“She won’t find out,” Steve said. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
A knock rapped on the door. They had five minutes to go till the second part of the play was to start.
~
The rain pattered against the windows of the taxi. Leah couldn’t hold back her despair. She hid against Lisgoe, tears smearing against his jacket. He’d flashed a wad of cash to the driver, ordering them to drive to Hadfield. It would take a while to get there.
Lisgoe held her close to him. He stroked her hair tentatively. “Don’t worry, my girl. I’ll take care of everything.” He rested his chin on her head, continuing to stroke her head, a spark of a dark smile itching at the corner of his lips.