Page 9 of Short Stack 3

The Prize

This is a short story that was written for my newsletter subscribers. It’s set a few months after the events of My Darcy . I adore writing Freddie and Darcy, and I have other adventures planned for them.

Freddie

We stagger down the hotel corridor, gasping for breath. “Why is this man so heavy?” I groan.

Darcy huffs. “You’ve only got his feet, Fred.”

“Well, they’re heavy enough. He must have cast-iron toes.”

“I’ve got his torso and head. Do you know that the average human head weighs about eleven pounds? That’s heavier than most newborn babies.”

I smile at him affectionately. His dark hair is ruffled, and he has a flush on his cheeks from the exertion of carrying one of our passengers. “I’m glad you’re doing a PhD. It’s so useful at times like these.”

He rolls his eyes. “Lift his left foot a bit. You’re setting our balance out.” I flail a little, and we all tilt to the side. “Shit!” Darcy gasps, righting us with a hand to the wall. “Why do these things always happen to us?”

“Let’s stop. I need a break.”

“This isn’t intermission.”

“So snippy,” I marvel. “Why are you saying things always happen to us? I think we run a very tight ship.”

“Only if that ship was the Lusitania. Have you forgotten last week when someone left the luggage hold door open on the bus, and all the suitcases fell out?”

“That could have happened to anyone. And by someone, we both know you mean me. Next time, don’t give me a blowjob when the group is in Stonehenge. You know how it muddles my brain.”

“We do seem to have more than our fair share of fuckups.”

“It happens to all the tour bus partnerships. Philip, on the Darling Buds of May tour, reversed his bus into an oast house last week. At least you’ve never done that .”

“Thank you for your touching words of support. Linda’s tours are fine.”

I grimace at the thought of the perky tour leader who handles the Thomas Hardy part of our literary tours. “That’s because she smiles them into submission.”

“It’s not a crime to be nice.”

“Darcy, being with her is like watching The Sound of Music on fast play.”

“Not something that can ever be said about you.”

We set the man called Brian down on the floor and lean against the wall, gasping for breath while eyeing him warily. He’s one half of a couple who signed on for our tour. Unfortunately, they had a massive row in the bar this evening, and she stormed out. Brian stayed and decided to drink the bar dry.

I scratch my nose. “I wonder if his wife will come back.”

“Hopefully. I haven’t seen anything in the company handbook that discusses dealing with a divorce in real time on the bus. Barbara seems to stick mainly to meal complaints and on-board toilet regulations.” I lean into him, feeling his arm around me, and snuggle closer. He drops a kiss on my nose. “There’s no one else with whom I’d rather carry a drunk man, Fred.”

I sniff. “You say the nicest things.” He opens his mouth to say something and then stops, and I look closer at him, concern stirring. It isn’t the first time he’s done this today. I know Darcy very well, and it’s clear that he’s got something on his mind. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

His voice is a little high, and I rub his hip comfortingly. “Tell me. I know something’s up. You’ve been a bit weird all night.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“When Dora Watson asked you to pass the mustard at dinner, you said you thought it might rain tomorrow.”

He rolls his eyes. “That was a simple mistake.”

“If you say so.”

We both jump as Brian suddenly sits bolt upright. “What’s the matter?” he slurs.

“Jesus Christ . Do you mean the heart attack you just gave me?” I say with my hand to my chest, but it’s into dead air as Brian sinks back onto the carpet and starts to snore.

Darcy laughs, and I elbow him. “Shut up.”

We both stare down at Brian. “Ready to go again?” Darcy asks.

I snort. “I’ve heard those words from you many times, but they’re usually in much better circumstances.”

He shakes his head. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Because he was about to get kicked out of the hotel and would probably have given us a low mark on TripAdvisor. And our passengers rely on us to set the right tone.”

“It’s as if we became Jiminy Cricket rather than tour guides. I’d have left him downstairs.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re far too kind.”

“Which brings me to the puzzle over why you’re doing this.”

I put a hand on my chest. “You wound me, sir.”

He smiles at me affectionately. “You’re role-playing Pride and Prejudice in your head right now, aren’t you?”

I wink at him. “Don’t stop me doing that. It’s worked in your favour before.”

He drops a kiss on my mouth, and I lean into him, feeling the heat and strength of his body. I open my mouth, letting our tongues tangle. His hands come up to cradle my head so I don’t bang it against the wall when he pushes me into it. I groan, feeling him against me. He’s so right for me — we’re the perfect fit. I love him so much.

“So, when you said you’d take the drunk to his room, was it a euphemism for public indecency?”

We both jump and turn to find Milly standing in the corridor with her hands on her hips. I look her up and down and can’t help but snort with laughter.

“Oh, shut up, Freddie,” she says sourly. “I hate this fucking costume.”

We drafted Milly to help this weekend because we’ve got a large booking with two families. This meant Darcy was driving the coach instead of the minibus, and so I’d need extra help. She agreed because she’s skint at the moment, but it hasn’t stopped her complaining about having to wear a costume.

“You look lovely,” Darcy immediately says.

She gives him a warm smile. “I don’t but thank you anyway.” She tugs at her long regency dress. “This makes me look like a pregnant stork. How the fuck did anyone pull in the old days?”

“They used the power of their witty ripostes,” I offer.

“Oh dear,” Darcy says, a smile tugging at his lips.

Milly laughs and shoves him. “Shut up.” She looks down at the drunken man, who’s snoring with his mouth open. “So, what are you going to do with him?”

I shrug. “Take him back to his room and put him near the toilet, I suppose. Did you get hold of his wife?”

“She’s not answering her phone. I can’t say I blame her. He’s not exactly the catch of the century.”

“I don’t know how you can judge. Not after going out with Tim, whose party piece was burping the national anthem.”

“Last I heard, he was trying to get on Britain’s Got Talent .”

“I’ve seen that programme. He’d probably win.”

“Are we moving Brian or talking all night?” Darcy asks.

I sigh. “I suppose we’d better move him. We must look after our passengers.”

Milly stares at me. “Okay, what gives?”

“What do you mean?”

“Freddie, you’re sharper than an axe on sharpening day. Why are you helping this bloke?”

“The milk of human kindness?”

Milly and Darcy shake their heads.

“Oh, okay,” I say. “We’re in the running for Tour of the Year, and I don’t want to lose. One bad review could push us over the edge. Brian was upsetting the other passengers with his rugby songs, so we stopped that, and hopefully, he’ll give us a stellar review for our tender care of him. We never win. Last year, we got so close, but then that twatty professor marked us down.”

“Was that for not knowing your subject?” Milly enquires.

“I do know it,” I say indignantly. “I just get a bit bored sometimes. Jane didn’t really do much. Is it so wrong to embellish the facts?”

“ Yes ,” Milly and Darcy say together.

I roll my eyes. “It was only a tiny obscuration.”

Darcy grins. “Nice word choice, but you actually told our group that Jane Austen had a pet hippo called Cynthia.”

Milly starts to laugh.

I grimace. “I knew that wanker was writing his review on the bus. I was so tempted to confiscate his phone before he could get to the bad bits.”

“That only works at senior schools if you’re the headmaster,” Milly says. She prods Brian with her foot. “Oi,” she says. His snores grow louder. “ Oi ,” she says again.

“Do you think we haven’t tried that?” I ask.

“Hard to tell when you were exercising Darcy’s tonsils.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say as she and Darcy laugh.

“Why are you bothered about winning the competition anyway?” Darcy asks, bending to grab Brian’s shoulders. “The prize is just a plaque.”

“A little bird told me that Barbara is making it a cash prize.” I take Brian’s legs, and we start to stagger along. With twenty rooms in each corridor, we have a way to go. “Five hundred quid, babe. We could go away for the weekend.”

He stops dead. “Not on the James Bond tour, Freddie.”

“ Really ?”

“Why would you want to go on that? You had such a lot to say when we watched the film where he spanked that Bond girl,” Milly points out. “You said it was sexist.”

“Darcy spanked me in the same way, and I revised my opinion.”

Darcy shakes his head. “I just want a weekend with lots of sex and no literary references whatsoever. Is that too much to ask?”

“Good luck,” Milly says. “He was talking in his sleep last week about Jane Austen and her brewery business.”

I huff. “She brewed beer for her family . She didn’t own Greene King.” I grin at her. “Will you go downstairs and check if the rest of the guests are okay and give his wife another ring?”

“Will do.”

She sets off down the corridor, softly cursing at her long skirt getting in the way, and we resume staggering towards Brian’s room.

After a few steps, I groan. “This is like the corridor in The Shining .”

Darcy grunts, looking distracted, and I stop walking again, feeling the concern bubble up stronger than before.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I want to know what’s wrong with you. You’ve been distracted all week.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

My stomach drops as if I’m in a free-falling lift. “Oh my god,” I breathe. “Do you want to finish with me?”

“ What ?” He looks panicked, and I relax a little. “No. of course, I don’t.” His eyes widen. “Do you?”

“ No ,” I say forcefully. “Never. I love you.”

His smile fills his face. “Not as much as I love you.”

“Newcastle United,” Brian slurs as his eyes open. “That was a penalty.”

“Oh, shut up,” I snap.

Darcy shakes his head. “What happened to that cash prize?”

We pick up our steps again. My shoulders are screaming at Brian’s weight. I don’t usually lift anything heavier than a cocktail. However, I’m more concerned about Darcy. He means everything to me, and I need to help him if something is wrong.

“What’s up, then?” I say persistently. “And don’t say nothing because I know something is bothering you. Is it university?” I try to think of educational problems. “Has your grant run out? Did you dig up the wrong grave?”

“I’m an archaeology student. Not Burke and Hare.”

“Have you written the wrong paper? Oh my god , are you failing the course? Don’t worry, love. Everything will be fine and —”

“I want you to move in with me.”

The words are loud in the silent corridor, and I gape at him as my heart starts to hammer. “What did you say?”

“I love you, and I want you to move in with me,” he says, his ears turning red.

“Oh, babe .” I move towards him, dropping Brian’s legs without a second thought. He lands with a thud as Darcy lets go of his shoulders simultaneously, but we don’t pay any attention.

He takes a deep breath. “I love you so much, Freddie. I don’t want to live apart anymore. I want you in our bed every night and to see your face every morning. It’s my favourite face in the whole world.” He tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls me to him, dropping a kiss on my forehead that warms me all the way through. “There’s that gorgeous smile,” he says fondly. He pulls back. “Well?”

“Of course I want that. I’d love nothing more than to live with you.” He shudders in relief and wraps me in a big hug. “Did you actually think I’d say no?” I say incredulously.

“I never know what you’ll say next. It’s part of your charm.”

“Well, you should have known this. I love you, Darcy. You’re the most important person in my world and always will be. Being together is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. What could be better than being lovers and best friends when it’s with you?”

He kisses me then, and I smile into it, feeling the warmth and joy ease through my body. My Darcy has powerful magic in him because just being with him calms and soothes me while making my whole body tingle.

We pull apart and smile helplessly at each other.

“You’re moving in,” he says, and I nod.

“I certainly am.”

“Why is Brian on the floor?” Milly’s voice makes us jump apart, and she rolls her eyes. “You don’t need a plaque prize. You need a course in time-management skills. It’s taken you ten minutes to get down this corridor in between snogging.”

We pick Brian back up and resume our faltering progress down the corridor. “We had important things to discuss,” I say.

She paces at our side, her skirts swishing. “Well, the good news is that Brian’s wife is on her way back to take charge of him,” she says. I grin widely at her, and her eyes narrow. “What things were you discussing?”

“We’re moving in together.”

“You’re moving out of my spare room?”

“Oh, do you mind?” I ask, suddenly worried. Milly is one of my best friends, and I adore her.

She snorts, and I relax. “Not even a millimetre of my body is bothered, Freddie. Julia can move in, and she’s single.”

“Well, I’m sorry you’ll have such a hard time replacing me.”

“You’re the worst wingman since Fred Noonan.”

“I’m a very good wingman.”

“Telling my potential bedmates about how long Darcy’s eyelashes are isn’t a pulling technique.”

“You like my eyelashes?” Darcy asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I like every part of you.” I wink. “Some parts more than others.”

“Please issue me with earmuffs,” Milly mutters.

“They might suit you more than that bonnet.” I give a sigh of relief as we get to the door of Brian’s room. “Thank god we’re here.”

I drop Brian’s feet, and Darcy shoves him against the door of his room while fumbling for the key he took off Brian earlier.

We let ourselves in and stumble across the room before dumping him on the bed. He snores loudly and rolls onto his side, clutching his pillow.

“Aww, he looks almost sweet,” Milly says.

“You’re far too easily impressed.” I look around. “Where’s the bin? We need it for vomit patrol.” We all look but can’t see it anywhere. Finally, I put my hands on my hips. “What sort of hotel is this? Where do we put the rubbish?”

“They’re probably wise to the vomit manoeuvre,” Darcy offers. “What shall we use instead?”

I snap my fingers. “Milly, give me your bonnet.”

“You’re using it to catch sick? Good luck getting me back in it tomorrow.”

“As if that was happening. I’ve heard more complaints about bonnet strings today than a full-time milliner. Hand it over. He can upchuck in your hat. That’s surely deserving of a good review from him.”

“If someone had told me that all my degrees would lead me here, I honestly don’t think I’d have believed them,” Darcy points out.

I smile at him. “I’ve just realised something.”

“Yes?” he asks with an understandable note of caution.

“Even if we don’t win the tour competition, I’ve already won first prize.”

His eyes twinkle. “What have you won?”

I step closer to him. “You.”

Brian’s snore stutters, and he opens bleary eyes. Then he blinks, and a panicked look comes over his face. “Who the fuck are you?” He clutches the pillow tight as he looks us up and down. “Oh my god, have I time-travelled?”

I consider playing along for a wild second, but I’m forestalled when Darcy shakes his head reprovingly at me. “For shame,” he whispers. He leans over our drunken customer. “We’re wearing historical costumes, Brian. You’re on the Jane Austen coach tour. Don’t you remember?”

“Who’s Jane Austen? Does she own the coach company?”

“I don’t know why I bother,” I say loudly. “I might just as well have made Countdown my specialist subject. Your wife’s on her way back, so we’ll leave you to it, Brian.” I pat his head. “I do have some good news to make your evening better. I’m moving in with my boyfriend.”

He gapes at me like a drunken owl. “Congratulations,” he offers with a question in his voice.

“Ah, as Jane Austen once wrote, ‘Nobody minds having what is too good for them’. Don’t you think that’s true?”

“Erm, probably.”

“But then Jane never had to carry a drunken guest through a hotel while he sang rugby songs.” I give a happy sigh. “I guess we’re just lucky, Darcy.”

His smile is broad and bright enough to light up the dim room. “We really are, Freddie.”