Page 51 of Short Stack 3

“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 onBritain’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 gotsoclose, but then that twatty professor marked us down.”

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

“Idoknow 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. “Iknewthat 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.”

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