RAINBOW.
By Heck



Foreword.

This is something new, for me. Firstly, it's my first go at a short story;
secondly, the heroine isn't a warrior, or a gladiatrix, or superhumanly
enhanced in any way [although she is muscly, of course], and it isn't an
adventure. I have avoided this format previously, because I didn't believe it
gave me scope to develop my characters or plot. I always admired those who
have mastered it, but I tend to be too longwinded to pack in a beginning,
middle, and end in just one chapter. Perhaps I've succeeded, perhaps not.
That's for you to decide, but I did enjoy writing it.

________________________________________________________________

Rainbow Moonunit Lovelocks Henderson was a child of the sixties.

Don't get me wrong, she wasn't born in the sixties. She wasn't born until
nineteen eighty-two. But her mother had grown up in that decade, and had
absorbed the culture of the time through every pore. She shopped in Carnaby
Street, wore flowers in her hair, and practiced free love. She saw Jagger in
his white dress, reading the Lord's Prayer for Brian Jones, at a concert in
Hyde Park the day after the guitarist drowned in his swimming pool. She saw
Hendrix play on the Isle of Wight, and was there when the Beatles played their
last gig on the roof of Apple Studios in Abbey Road.

Okay, I know that was nineteen seventy, but, well. You know.

When the sixties ended Rainbow's mother, who had re-christened herself Flower
and smoked any number of illegal substances, moved to a commune in South Wales
along with fifteen others. They tried, as far as they could, to live a
self-sufficient life, kept goats for milk, and grew their own vegetables.
Interspersed among the peas and beans were a number of plants that were not
native to these Isles, but were tended with equal care.

The thing about a commune of that type is, everything is shared. Everything
Food, drink, tobacco and other smoking substances and, above all, sleeping
partners. So when Flower became pregnant, nobody was sure who the father was.
They narrowed it down to three but, in reality, it didn't really matter.
Everyone shared in the nurturing of the child, and all participated in the
naming of it.

In its way, it was quite a meaningful ceremony. Everybody got stoned, of
course, to give them inspiration, and each of the possible fathers got to
choose a name. Henderson was Flower's family name, and added for the sake of
the birth certificate.

They sat in a smoke-wreathed circle in the communal living room, cross-legged
on the floor. A short speech of congratulations to Flower, and thanks to her
for enriching the community with a new life, was made. Then each potential
father stood and took the child in his hands, showing her to the group.

"I name this child 'Rainbow'", announced the first. "As the rainbow smiles
through after rain, may she smile through after hard times".

"I name this child 'Moonunit'", said the second. "Because she is a child of
the universe, born under a crescent moon, a unit of the moon's cycle. May the
moon watch over her all her days".

"And I name this child 'Lovelocks'", pronounced the third. "'Cos, like, uh,
you know, it's cool".

Rainbow grew up surrounded, even smothered, by love. Even when it was no
longer cool to be a hippy, no longer trendy to live in a commune, the group
stayed together on the little South Welian smallholding, and the girl grew up
happy and healthy, playing and working alongside the adults and other children
who later came along. They were all home-schooled, because one of the
grown-ups just happened to be a teacher, but as well as literary and numeracy,
their education concentrated heavily on spiritual and ecological matters, with
an hour a day set aside for transcendental meditation.

It all made for a happy, if somewhat sheltered, childhood. Without television
or radio, and no papers delivered, they were naive of the outside world.
Their contact with outsiders was limited, apart from the various rallies and
demonstrations their carers took them to. Stop this war, ban that pollution,
save this mammal. It gave them a highly developed social conscience, but their
social skills were somewhat lacking.

Of course, every child has to have its rebellion, and Rainbow was no
different. As puberty was approached and passed, she found the commune more
and more claustrophobic, and arguments with the adults occurred with
increasing regularity. Eventually things came to a head and, in her nineteenth
year, together with two other girls close to the same age, Rainbow moved out.

Inevitably, they went to London. That's the place most displaced youngsters
gravitate to. Full of big expectations, they took a flat off the Streatham
High Road and set out to look for jobs. That isn't as easy as it sounds, of
course. Then, as now, employment opportunities for unqualified teenagers were
about as common as rocking-horse shit. It didn't take them long to get evicted
for non-payment of rent and, like so many others, they ended up homeless and
on the streets.

All three of the girls were attractive. Rainbow, in particular, had blossomed
into a startling beauty. She was tall and slender, with corn-blonde curls
tinged with pink highlights, high cheekbones, and glittering blue eyes. But
life on the streets soon took its toll and she became drab and grubby, in torn
clothing, eking something of a living through begging and selling the 'Big
Issue'. Having been brought up in an environment where smoking dope was the
rule, rather than the exception, it wasn't long before they fell foul of the
drug pushers and took to theft and prostitution to feed their habit.

It was a cold autumn night, and Rainbow waited impatiently outside Tooting
Broadway tube station for her pusher. She had turned a few tricks that
afternoon, and had a little money in her pocket. It wouldn't have occurred to
her to use it to buy food, because it was several hours since her last hit and
she was beginning to feel antsy. She shifted from one foot to the other,
watching anxiously for her supplier's appearance.

Later, when the police interviewed her, all she could remember was that three
of them were white and one was black. They came upon her from behind, two of
them grabbing her arms and hustling her away from the station. Too shocked
even to cry out for help, she was dragged off the street to be beaten and
mugged for her meagre cash. They dumped her in a shop doorway and left her
there, bleeding and sobbing and aching for a fix.

That was when she came into my life. It was my shop doorway, you see. I'm
Kevin, by the way. Kevin Spalding. 'Spalding's Tackle Box', the shop is
called, and I sell fishing gear and bait. I'll never get rich, but fishing is
my big thing and it's a happy man who can make a living from his hobby.

Veronica, that's my wife, and I arrived to open up at six a.m., as usual. You
have to open that early, because your keen angler is an early bird and likes
his bait fresh. 'Ronny doesn't normally turn up that early, the dawn shift is
generally left to me, but I was supposed to catch a train at eight to go to a
tackle dealer's convention at the NEC, that day. The best laid plans, eh?

Anyway, we turned up, and there was this ... well, at first it looked like a
bundle of old rags. I nudged it with my toe, and it was only because it let
out a soft moan that we knew it was alive. I pulled back the collar of the
dirty old overcoat and there she was, staring with unseeing eyes and
shivering; through cold, or cold turkey, I didn't know.

"Bloody hell, 'Ronny, it's a girl!" Not the most incisive thing I could have
said, but there you are. I just stared at her, dumbfounded. 'Ronny took
charge.

"Don't just stand there like a tin of milk", she said. "Get the key in the
door, and let's get her indoors".

Inside, we sat her in a chair and I phoned the police while 'Ronny made her a
hot drink. With the lights on, she looked a mess. Her filthy hair was matted
and awry, and her face was beaten and bruised. Her clothes hadn't been washed
for ages and, quite frankly, she smelled like a midden. But looking past all
that, even with her glazed expression and the constant tremors that wracked
her body, I could see that there was a very attractive girl under all the
muck.

So the police came, and with them, an ambulance. They managed to get out of
her that she had been mugged, and her scanty description of her attackers, but
she was in no state to tell them more. They carted her away in the ambulance,
and that was that.

Or so I thought.

I missed the eight o'clock train, and by the time I eventually got to
Birmingham the convention was all but over. Still, I placed a few orders for
some nice bits and pieces and got home about ten that night. The girl in the
doorway had hardly crossed my mind all day.

In the living room, 'Ronny was watching television.

"She's been on the news", she said after I had given her the obligatory
greeting peck.

"Who has?" I asked, slightly peeved that she hadn't asked what kind of a day
I'd had.

"That girl. From this morning. Rainbow something-or-other, she's called. The
police are asking for witnesses".

"Oh, yeah. Is she okay?"

"I think so. She's an addict, you know. Heroin, or something. They've got her
in hospital, and the doctors say she's doing as well as can be expected".

"That's okay, then. Tea?" I went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. 'Ronny
followed me.

"Kevin?"

Oh-oh, I thought. There's that tone again, She's after something. She's always
after something, when she calls me Kevin.

"Mmm?"

"Kev, I've been thinking. Maybe we could do something for her? She's all alone
in the city, with no-one to look after her".

"No", I said flatly.

"But somebody has to. Somebody needs to be looking out for her, poor kid".

"It doesn't have to be us".

"Why not?"

"Because I know you. Before we know it, she'd be moving in and taking over our
whole lives. You would take in every waif and stray on the streets, if you had
your way". Something orange and furry, flat-eared and cringing, shot past my
feet to cower under the table. "That's how we come to have so many bloody
cats, and not one of them'll give you the time of day"

"Oh, but, Kev ... "

"No, I said. And that's final".

So, with a sense of doomed inevitability, after she had been treated and
discharged, Rainbow moved in with us.

She was a pleasant enough kid, I suppose. Cleaned up, she was strikingly
beautiful, if a little on the skinny side. 'Ronny's home cooking soon sorted
that out. Her communal upbringing meant that she wasn't afraid to help around
the house. Because of her drug dependency, she asked us not to leave her
alone, and she did get a bit twitchy from time to time. Occasionally, she came
to the shop with me, and before long I started to pay her a little bit of
pocket money for the help she gave me. She had a sunny disposition and, all in
all, having Rainbow around wasn't as bad as I'd dreaded.

"Mr Spalding?" she said one day. She'd taken to calling Veronica ''Ronny'
right from the start, but I supposed she wasn't as comfortable with me.

"Rainbow, you can call me Kevin, you know. I won't bite".

"Oh. Right. Okay. Kevin, then. Can I ask you a question?"

"Fire away".

"Can I join a gym?"

"A gym?" That was a surprise. "What do you want to do that for?"

"It's just, well, you and Ronny have been very kind to me, and I'm really
grateful. You're helping me stay clean, and you've taken really good care of
me, and I don't know where I'd have ended up without you. But. You know.
Sometimes, and I don't mean this in a bad way, but sometimes I get, well,
bored sitting in your house night after night. Please don't think it's your
fault. It's not. But I do get fed up with the telly and, sometimes, when the
cravings get bad, I need to do something to take my mind off it".

Her face was a picture. Nervous, expecting me to take umbrage, or what, I
don't know. She faced me bravely, but I could tell she was cringing inside.

"And you think joining a gym could be the answer?"

"Yes. I really do. And I know it's expensive and I know I haven't got any
money, but I'd work in your shop all day every day to make up for it, and you
wouldn't have to pay me any more than you do now".

"I take it you've discussed this with 'Ronny?" I asked, knowing the answer
already.

"Yes, and she said it's all right with her if it's all right with you". She
shifted her feet nervously. "Please? I've never asked you for anything before,
and I won't again".

Well. What could I say? I mean, if I didn't want to be an ogre and put the
backs of both women in my life up against me, what could I say?

"If that's what you want, then, yes".

She squealed with delight and threw her arms about my neck, hugging fiercely.
I have to say, that wasn't unpleasant, either.

"Oh, Mr Spal ... I mean, Kevin, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you".

So she joined a gym. Not a very flash one, you understand, but it still cost
me the thick end of a grand for a year's membership. The man who ran it, a
younger version of George Clooney, except with more muscle, seemed a nice
enough chap. I spent a bit of time talking to him. Cyril, his name was; you
can never tell, can you? I told him about her history of substance abuse and
threatened him within an inch of his life if he allowed her to get anywhere
near steroids and the like. As if I could have taken him - he was built like a
brick shithouse. He smiled and nodded in all the right places, though, and
promised he'd take care of her as if she were his own.

The trouble was, and I'm still not sure if it was a bad thing or not, going to
the gym quickly took the place of drugs in Rainbow's life. She went there
every night, as soon as the shop closed, and was there until Cyril kicked her
out. She couldn't get enough of it, and even took to doing stretching
exercises and what she called 'cardio' in the shop, between customers. Cyril
taught her to eat right and she soon filled out, and even started to show a
little muscle.

"Look at this, Kevin", she would say proudly, and flex her arm. A little mound
of muscle would pop out. "Go ahead, feel it", she'd say, and I would squeeze
the hard little mass between my fingers.

"Very nice", I would comment, and meant it. It did look good on her. I'm of
the old school, and muscles on a woman were not something I'd even thought
about before. I mean, they must have muscles, otherwise they'd just be a sack
of bones on the floor, but it never crossed my mind that visible, useful
muscle was something that could look attractive and even enhance a woman's
femininity.

It gave her confidence, too. Previously, she was a quiet, mousy little thing.
Well, not so little; she must've been five foot eight or nine, but she had
been nervous and distrustful around strangers. Not surprising, when you think
about what happened to her. Now she walked with her head high, proud of her
developing body.

After a year or so, Rainbow was a changed girl. She never went so far as to
become arrogant, but you could tell from her posture and bearing that here was
a strong, confident woman. Her muscles had developed, too. Her body was lean
and hard, with well-defined muscle shapes and density. It was beginning to rub
off on 'Ronny and me, too, and we were starting to understand what she was
talking about when she went on about her delts and lats, her glutes and pecs.

Recognising quite early that she was in danger of overdoing it, Cyril had put
her on a strict regime. One set of bodyparts on Mondays, Wednesdays, and
Fridays, another on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, with Sunday as a rest
day, as it should be. In this way, he prevented her from what he called 'burn
out', and encouraged her to develop symmetrically.

We were in the shop one day, when I caught her looking at herself in the
mirror, admiring the way her triceps looked. I smiled to myself.

"You love it, don't you?" I said. "This bodybuilding malarkey?"

"Yes, I do", she admitted. "I love everything about it. I love the way I look,
the way I feel. I even love the 'burn'". I shook my head as I realised I knew
what she meant by that. "I feel great!" she went on. "So powerful and strong.
Look!" And before I could protest, she had scooped me up in her arms and
waltzed me round the shop.

I'm a biggish sort of bloke. Getting on for six foot tall and, with middle-age
taking a firmer hold with every day, thickening around the middle a bit. I
must be around fourteen stone or so, yet Rainbow picked me up as if I were a
child. I was surprised, not only that she did it, but also at my own reaction.
It felt good. I'd never been carried by a woman before, but if I'd known it
would feel like this, perhaps I'd have asked 'Ronny to have a go. Maybe I
still will.

But I digress. When she put me down at last, I had to go and stand behind the
counter for a while. You know why. I complimented her on her new-found
strength, and she was delighted that I approved.

We had asked her if she wanted to do anything special for her twenty-first
birthday. She had declined, saying that a quiet dinner with 'Ronny and me was
all she wanted. We invited Cyril, as a surprise guest, and went to the Happy
Luck restaurant in Soho. You could tell it was a good Chinese restaurant -
most of the diners were Chinese. We ordered dim sum and drank tiny cups of
green tea while we waited.

"Before the food comes", Cyril said. "There's something I want to say.
Rainbow, you've done so well this last year or so. You've stayed clean and
worked really hard, and your body has responded brilliantly. I'd put you in a
par, mass-wise, with some of the top middleweights and, with a little work on
your definition, I think you could be ready for competition. There's a show in
Shepherd's Bush, just a local one, in about eight weeks. Strictly amateur. I'd
like to enter you for it and, if you say yes, the gym'll sponsor you".

She looked, as they say, gobsmacked. She couldn't have reacted more positively
if he'd given her a Porsche.

"Oh, yes!" she spluttered. "Yes, of course, I would love to!" She looked from
'Ronny to me, seeking approval. "Kevin? 'Ronny? May I?"

"Rainbow, you're twenty-one years old today", 'Ronny reminded her. "Even if
Kev and I were your real parents, you wouldn't have to ask. You're your own
woman. If you want to do it, go for it!"

"That's right", I affirmed. "You have to do what you think is right for you".
I reached out and took her hand. "We'll be proud of you, no matter what".

'Ronny got up from the table and moved to Rainbow's side. She cupped her face
in both hands, a little moistness in her eye. She always was over-sentimental,
that woman. She kissed both of Rainbow's cheeks.

"We may not be your real parents", she said. "Not even your adoptive parents.
But we've grown to love you like a daughter. You go for it, girl, and we'll be
there right behind you all the way, clapping like mad when they give you that
trophy". She cast an enquiring look to Cyril. "She will get a trophy, won't
she?"

"Yes, she will", he smiled. "If she wins. But there's a lot of work to do
before then. Make the most of this meal, Rainbow, 'cos it's the last blow-out
you'll get for a while!"

From then on, all the talk was about the show. We ate, drank, and slept
bodybuilding, and Rainbow worked really hard. I bought a few magazines and,
while I could see the difference between the very top women and the others, to
my untutored eye Rainbow was as good as most.

It was the dieting that was hardest on her. The food she ate, high protein and
high carbohydrate, was packed away mechanically and without much sign of
enjoyment. I could see why - it looked so bland. She must have got through a
whole flock of chickens, including their egg output, during those few weeks,
yet seemed to get leaner and leaner every day. Her muscles began to stand out
until she looked like an anatomy chart. To myself, I admitted that I didn't
like the look when she was what she called 'ripped'. I preferred her with a
softening cover of fat but, if that was what it took, so be it. I was a little
afraid that she'd become dehydrated, but Cyril had his finger on the pulse. He
made sure that her fluid intake and output were carefully monitored so she
didn't go over the edge, as he put it.

I will never forget the first time I saw her in her posing outfit. 'Ronny and
I had been watching something on the telly, Newsnight, I think it was, when
the living room door open and Rainbow jumped through with a flourish.

"Tah-dah!"

The tiny pink suit that only just covered her modesty, left very little to the
imagination. I've seen thicker dental floss. However, it displayed her
physique [we had to call it a 'physique', now, not a figure] to its best
advantage. She looked great. Time on the tanning bed had been well spent, and
the scrap of pink material, that matched the highlights in her hair, perfectly
set off her bronzed skin. She threw a few poses, and the muscles rippled and
popped out all over her body. She was like a champion racehorse; muscular and
athletic yet very beautiful to look at. She had cut her blonde hair into what
we used to call a 'shag' style, and it framed her lovely face perfectly.

"Well?" she enquired. "What do you think?"

She looked so wonderful that we were almost robbed of the power of speech.
Despite her hard, chiselled look which, like I said, I didn't care much for, I
had never seen her look so good, or so feminine. 'Ronny was the first to find
her voice.

"Oh, darling!" she gasped, clasping her hands to her bosom. "You look lovely!
Now, there's a winner, if ever I saw one!"

"What about you, Kevin? What do you think?"

"I love it", I said. "Like 'Ronny says, you're a sure-fire winner".

"Don't speak to soon", Rainbow cautioned with a smile. "We haven't seem the
other girls, yet",

"Second-rate slags, the lot of 'em", I said with a dismissive wave. "I've seen
the magazines, and you're as good as any. These local girls won't be able to
hold a candle to you. Not a candle".

"I know you're just saying that", she laughed. "But thanks, anyway".

Almost before we knew it, the day of the contest was upon us. Rainbow had been
like a cat on hot bricks all day and, as we travelled to Shepherd's Bush in
Cyril's Shogun, she worried and chewed at her fingernails.

"Stop that", Cyril warned. "In a posedown, when it comes down to minute
details, a raggy fingernail could be the difference between winning and
losing".

"I thought it was a bodybuilding contest", I commented. "Not a beauty
pageant".

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he said. "But, sometimes, what it comes down
to is the judges' individual preferences".

"Well", I said, slouching down in my seat. "If it was a beauty pageant, our
girl would win it, hands down".

Finally we pulled up outside, of all things, a Bingo Hall.

"This is it", Cyril announced. "Deep breaths, Rain'. Focus, focus, focus".

At ten stone three of solid muscle and five foot nine, Rainbow was entered in
the middleweight class. Only two other girls were up against her and, when we
saw them in the warm-up area, we didn't think they measured up to our Rainbow.
One was just as muscular but smoother, less defined. The other, well, she just
didn't cut it. A pretty enough girl, I suppose, and carrying some muscle, but
she lacked both size and definition.

In the other classes that, for some reason, had more entries, there were a few
who had plenty of definition. One lightweight girl looked as if she had been
flayed alive by a demented anatomist, and every vein and muscle fibre stood
out as if carved in stone. In the heavyweights, there was a woman who should
have had a special weight class all for herself. She must have been around
fifteen or sixteen stone, and not an ounce of it fat. Her back was like a barn
door, and she had muscles in places I don't even have places.

Rainbow was tense and nervous as 'Ronny oiled her up. She had already 'pumped
up', as they call it, and her muscles looked as hard as teak. She looked like
a sculpture hewn from polished oak, and in her pink posing suit looked as good
as any of the photos I had seen. But then, I could not be said to be
impartial.

"Ohgodohgodohgod", she muttered under her breath, shaking out her hands and
shifting edgily from foot to foot.

"Relax", I told her. "I've seen the competition. It'll be a doddle. Isn't that
right, Cyril?"

"As far as her class is concerned, yes", the trainer said. "It should be a
walkover. But then there's the overall trophy to go for. I don't want to worry
you, Rain', but there's a couple of girls who might give you a run for your
money".

"That's okay, Cy'". It was nice that they had nicknames for each other. "It's
better that I know now. Oh, God, I'm so nervous! It's not like this is the
Olympia, or anything. I wish I could calm down".

"Deep breaths", Cyril repeated. "Deep breaths, and focus".

Once the competition had started we weren't allowed in the warm-up room, so we
took our seats in the auditorium. There were less than eighty or so
spectators, mostly friends and family of the competitors, so it was easy to
find a good position. On stage, the bingo machine had been pushed to one side
but was still in plain sight as a tacky reminder of the building's normal
function.

The first thing they did was what Cyril explained to me as 'pre-judging'.
That sounded a bit pejorative to me, but what it meant was that the girls were
called out in groups of three and the chairman of the judging panel told them
to turn this way and that, hit that pose and this. There were only about
twenty girls in the entire show, but even so it seemed to take forever. Quite
frankly, it bored me to tears. It was made worse by the fact that they had
neglected to give the chairman a P.A. system so he had to shout, and his voice
was often lost in the huge auditorium.

Cyril told me that the girls were awarded points for muscularity, symmetry,
vascularity, and definition, etcetera, and these would be added to their
points for the free-posing round. He explained that, at the bigger shows,
there was often a compulsory posing round as well, but at little shows like
this they wouldn't bother with that. The girl with the highest overall score
would be the winner of her class, and then the three class winners would be
judged against each other.

The free-posing round was much more entertaining, more like a show if you
like. The girls performed balletic and acrobatic dance moves to a chosen piece
of music, interspersed with plenty of displays of each muscle group. It was as
much a performance as it was an athletic event, and I have to admit I
thoroughly enjoyed it.

Among the lightweights, the girl with the body like a road map stood out above
all the others. She performed to some weird electronic Jean Michel Jarre piece
and, keeping her face rigidly expressionless, moved robotically to the music.
It was quite riveting, and the audience applauded madly at the end.

The three middleweights were next and, as predicted, there was no competition
for our Rainbow. She blew them away with her stunning dance and powerful
posing. Her muscles sprang into relief and, with a huge grin on her face, she
interpreted her music perfectly. "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks, it was and, true
to the track, she was all things in one woman. The audience went wild for her.

I expected the heavyweights to dance like a herd of carthorses and, for the
most part, I was right. All except the very big girl we has spotted earlier.
Of them all, she looked the most lumbering, the most musclebound, but when she
started her moves the transformation was amazing. She had chosen a pulsing,
throbbing drum and bass number, and executed the most graceful and athletic
moves I think I have ever seen. We're talking about a woman whose arms make my
legs look puny, here, and who wouldn't look out of place in a men's
competition. Yet she moved with a sensuous grace, and hit her poses with style
and maximum impact. This was the girl that would be the biggest threat to
Rainbow, I thought.

The classes were won, predictably, by the three women I have described. Even I
would have judged that right. They announced a fifteen-minute interval before
the final posedown, and we were allowed to see Rainbow for a short time.

Cyril kept complaining that the show wasn't well organised, wasn't following
guidelines laid down by the NWBBA, or something. I could only nod as if I knew
what he was banging on about, but as far as I could see everything seemed to
be going smoothly.

When we went backstage, Rainbow was crying. 'Ronny rushed to her side and
cuddled her close. Cyril and I, like most men faced with a crying woman, stood
around like spare pricks at a wedding.

"Whatever's the matter?" 'Ronny cooed.

"There's a judge's enquiry", Rainbow sniffed. "They're talking about
disqualifying me!"

"What?!" I was outraged. "Why? They can't do that! Why would they do that?
Cyril? Why would they?"

"These", Rainbow sobbed, extending her arm and pointing to the inner hollow of
her elbow. Even after more than a year, the trackmarks of her heroin addiction
were still faintly visible. "Somebody told them I was a junkie. I told them I
was clean, but I don't think they believed me".

"Right! Well see about that!" I stormed off. Cyril caught my arm.

"Wait, wait. Where are you going?"

"To see the head judge".

"You can't. They can't be influenced by outside pressures".

"Can't they? Just you wait and see! Take your hands off me, young man, before
I knock you on your arse!"

Normally, the sight of me threatening someone like Cyril would have been too
ludicrous for words. Pathetic, even. But I was so incensed, so full of
righteous indignation, that he dropped my arm like it had bitten him, and
stepped back. I spun on my heel and stalked off.

I would have given them a piece of my mind, tore them off a strip, dressed
them down, and several other clichés. I would have, if Rainbow hadn't put
herself in my way.

"Kevin, wait", she said, stepping into my path and halting me with a hand on
my chest. "This isn't the way. It'll make things worse. It'll get me a bad
name as a troublemaker before I've hardly started. Let them sort it out.
Please?"

Well, when she looks at me like that, with those big blue puppy eyes, she
knows I can't resist her. If that was how she wanted to play it, so be it. I
did try, though.

"But ... "

"Please?"

Oh, crap. That was it. It was useless; she could wrap me round her little
finger, and she knew it.

It was almost an hour before the judges came up with a decision, and getting
quite late. They called Rainbow in to speak to her in private and, when she
came out, I could tell by her face that it had gone in her favour.

"All okay, love?" 'Ronny asked.

"Mm-hm. Just about. They'll let me go on, subject to a blood test. They've
taken the blood samples just now, and will send them off tomorrow".

"The bloody nerve of them!" I began, but Cyril calmed me down.

"No, no, that's a good thing. Almost unprecedented, in fact. It means that
they essentially believe Rain', more or less, but have to go through with the
blood test for the look of the thing". He turned to Rainbow. "Rain', you give
them the best show they've ever seen out there, understand? Knock 'em dead,
all right?" And he leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead.

She smiled and nodded, the sparkle back in her eyes. It was going to be all
right.

They gave a five-minute warning for us to return to our seats. There were some
stares and mutterings as we crossed the auditorium, mostly from the parents of
the girl who had placed second to Rainbow, and those of the girls she was
about to face, but we ignored them with all the dignity we could muster, and
sat down.

All three girls went through their routines again. At first, I thought Rainbow
looked a little off her mark, but within seconds she pulled it together, and
even added a few new twiddly bits and flourishes that made the audience gasp.

Eventually, all three were brought on stage together for a final comparison.
As instructed by the chairman, they simultaneously hit identical poses. There
was a bit of pushing and shoving, especially when the command 'posedown!' was
heard, as they all tried to draw attention to themselves. The big girl, in
particular, tried to hog the limelight, and at one point almost knocked
Rainbow down. But our girl conducted herself with dignity and pointedly
ignored it, shouldering between the other two and popping out a fabulous
double-biceps that showed just who had the fullest, highest peaks and
bringing a gasp from one of the judges.

Trying to be objective, I don't think there was much between them. The
lightweight was the most 'ripped', and the big girl outmuscled them both, but
Rainbow struck a happy medium between them. A superb mixture of muscle and
definition and a picture of symmetry that was, to me, most pleasing to the
eye. It looked like she had worked harder to perfect her body, and it showed.

Cyril, 'Ronny, and I were on the edges of our seats, palms sweating, as we
awaited the decision. It seemed like forever but finally, at eleven minutes
after midnight, they made their announcement.

"And the overall winner is ... Rainbow Henderson!"

The audience erupted. There were some boos and catcalls, probably from those
who had pointed out the trackmarks, but we didn't care. They were mostly
cheers of support. Only eighty people, but it sounded to me like the Last
Night of the Proms.

We probably shouldn't have done it. It probably broke all kinds of
bodybuilding etiquette into shards, but 'Ronny and I were up on the stage,
laughing and hugging Rainbow, almost before the announcer had finished
speaking.

We were all crying, even me, tears of pride and joy. 'Ronny and I never had
kids of our own but if we had, I like to think they would have turned out like
Rainbow Moonunit Lovelocks Henderson.

"Not bad, for a kid you found half dead in your shop doorway", she whispered
in my ear as she hugged me.

"Not bad", I agreed. Not bad at all".

The End