'Tinlow Industries, Part 2,' Blackadder, PG
Title: Tinlow Industries, Part 2
Author: edna_blackadder
Rating: PG
Pairings: Edmund Blackadder/Kevin Darling, Anthony Melchett/George St Barleigh, Edmund Blackadder/Kate Parkhurst, Flashheart/Kate Parkhurst, Flashheart/Queenie
Word Count: 4,524
Disclaimer: I'm about 20 years too late, and entirely too American, to own Blackadder. No money is being made from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. Tinlow, of course, is my creation, but not really: it's based on a real place where I once worked. However, luckily for me, none of the managers were anything like Melchett. No defamation of any real persons is intended!
Summary: After making a highly ill-advised bet with Darling, Blackadder finds that his best hope of avoiding bankruptcy lies in a job with George's family's company, Tinlow Industries.
Author’s Note: Written in 2005; has been slightly edited since. Also, just to clarify: all of the characters, except Nursie, are younger in this story than in any series of the show. Blackadder, Baldrick, George, Darling and Kate are 18; Queenie is in her early 20s; Melchett and Flashheart are in their early 30s.
Blackadder wasn’t sure what he ought to have expected from Tinlow Industries, but when he arrived for the pre-sale training, he received three unsavoury shocks. He nearly kicked himself for having thought, even for a second, that one of George’s ideas might actually be good.
It was bad enough that he was working with Baldrick, but Blackadder had already known about that and had managed to come to terms with it. These other three causes of misery had been entirely unexpected.
Loath though he was to admit it, Blackadder knew that the first was partly his fault for having failed to ask George what exactly it was that Tinlow sold. He had figured that it would be something idiotic and useless, like cheap end table knickknacks or some such things-items that, while contemptible, were at least stomach-able. He had not imagined that even George’s family would derive their livelihood from cake decorating.
Apparently, however, they did, and now he, Edmund Blackadder, was committed to doing so as well for the next three weeks in a futile attempt to pay off a cursed bet. His first thought had been to hope against hope that Darling never found out where he had earned the money, a hope that had been dashed immediately when he turned around and saw Darling standing at the register next to his.
For a moment they simply stared at each other. Darling looked just as unhappy to see Blackadder as Blackadder was to see him. Then, all of a sudden, realisation dawned on Blackadder, and he rounded on Darling, furious.
‘You said you worked for Anthony Melchett!’ he nearly shrieked, shaking with rage. ‘And now I come here to avoid having my pockets turned out, bruised, twisted and tied into every possible kind of knot by the old walrus-face, only to discover that you in fact sell icing to a bunch of homemaking crones! Well, I’m almost glad I was tricked into coming here, because now I know that I’m free to leave!’
Darling was biting his lip, looking, if possible, even more uncomfortable than he usually did. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, found himself unable to form any words and pointed lamely in front of him.
Against his better judgement, Blackadder turned around, and there stood Melchett himself. Fortunately, Melchett did not seem to have heard Blackadder’s angry speech, because he was making a huge show of clapping George on the shoulders.
‘George, my boy! Returned to us, I see! Wonderful, wonderful, always good to see a loyal Tinlow employee, very good, very good … and how’s life been treating you then, George?’
‘I … er … sir, it’s been lovely, sir, really, I’m having a swell time, dead chuffed to be back, sir. Oh, and I’ve brought some friends this time, sir … Edmund? Baldrick? Come on over here and meet Mr Melchett! I know you’ll all get along swimmingly! Oh, this year’s going to be so much fun, isn’t it, Edmund?’
‘Oh yes, of course it will,’ Blackadder responded, his painted-on smile doing little to conceal the sarcasm that would have offended its audience had any of them understood it, which of course they did not.
‘Welcome to Tinlow, Blackadder,’ Melchett said genially, extending a hand. ‘I daresay you’ll be proud to be a part of the team! And what’-Melchett abruptly stopped smiling-‘is that?’
‘Oh, that’s Baldrick, sir,’ bubbled George, ‘he’s a friend of ours, sir, really good at following orders, you know, sir …’
Blackadder could tell that Melchett was ready to toss Baldrick headfirst out of the tent, and he couldn’t blame him, but then, when George butted in, Melchett swallowed, and his demeanour seemed to change. That was decidedly odd. Blackadder watched Melchett’s expression closely as the latter turned to look at George.
‘Very well, then, George, very well … just … er … keep him away from the icing. All right then, team, here we are …’
Blackadder and Baldrick returned to their register as Melchett ordered a sullen-looking Darling to come bag for George. That was also strange, for as much Blackadder loathed Darling, he knew full well that George, with a brain only marginally larger than a pebble, should have been bagging for him.
Blackadder hardly listened to the instructions, as George had been right in his assertion that employment at Tinlow was mindless work. Instead he observed the way Melchett seemed to glance in George’s direction every few seconds. When Melchett had the cashiers scan a sample item, Blackadder was not at all surprised that he immediately seized upon the opportunity to point and shout loudly, ‘That’s right! Everyone, look over there, George’s got it!’
Of course George had done it right. The task had been to run a spoon under a scanner. Even Baldrick could do that. If I didn’t know better, Blackadder thought, I’d say old Walrus-Face Melchett fancies George! He would never have guessed it in a million years, but then again, he would never have believed that the one of the richest men in town was in fact the executive manager of Tinlow Industries.
Blackadder did some quick arithmetic. George was eighteen, so it wasn’t illegal now for Melchett to bugger him, but how long had he had this crush? Blackadder began watching George instead, wondering if he could pick up any hints that this unbelievable attraction was mutual. Whenever Melchett praised him, George blushed like a schoolgirl. That wasn’t incontrovertible proof, but it was something. It was possible fodder for a plan so cunning Blackadder wouldn’t have minded going to bed with it, as it was certainly more cunning than Kate. The fact that Melchett had been ignoring Darling completely was also a good sign.
Blackadder was interrupted in his plotting by a tap on his shoulder. Annoyed, he turned around to see a bitter-looking Darling. ‘What?’ he spat, attempting to appear tough.
‘I suppose you’ve noticed it, too?’
‘Noticed what?’ Blackadder continued to make his voice sound irritable, but he secretly hoped Darling would keep talking. Though it wouldn’t bode well for his cunning plan if they were on the same page, Blackadder had a feeling it was best if he knew what his enemy was thinking.
‘Never mind,’ said Darling, and unless Blackadder was very much mistaken, there was a twinge of disappointment in the way he said it.
Blackadder wondered what that could be about, but Darling was now staring straight ahead. Chalking it up simply to Darling’s awkwardness, Blackadder turned his attention back to his plotting and continued not listening to Melchett’s glorification of the menial tasks that were to be his intense pain for a fortnight and a half.
*
On his first day of employment at Tinlow, Blackadder decided that he hated the customers at least as much as he hated his colleagues. George, however, was his chief nemesis for the time being, mostly because his incompetence meant more customers for Blackadder.
There were several rows of registers on long, grimy tables. Each row consisted of three tables. George and Darling had the best register, the one farthest from the sun, which coincidentally was also the worst because in exchange for escaping without sunburn, whoever was running that register got the most customers, or so it should have been. Melchett had placed George and Darling at it based on his erroneous conviction that George was his best cashier. This being the furthest thing from true, the excess of customers that should have George’s moved down one table to Blackadder’s register instead.
The customers were a nightmare. Blackadder now knew what George had meant when he’d said there would be plenty of women he could meet at the sale: There were hundreds of women of all ages, and even a disproportionate number of men, swooping in on the Tinlow tent from all over Britain to buy the most ridiculous homemaking gadgets, baking tools, cake decorating materials, cake decorating books and other sorts of loathsome items. Even worse, many of them found that, once they had found the perfect item that would fit their needs, they had to buy it not only in every single variety, but also, if it was absolutely perfect, in triplicate.
On top of everything else, Blackadder’s feet hurt. He would have thought it wouldn’t be so hard for Tinlow to provide stools at the registers, as there was plenty of room for them, but when he casually suggested it to Melchett during a break from the disgustingly sweet homemakers, the executive manager seemed almost offended at the idea.
‘Stools, Blackadder? Stools? What in God’s name do we need those for?’
‘Well sir, if you don’t mind my saying so, it is rather a strain on the feet to-’
‘A strain on the feet, Blackadder? Well, perhaps for a weakling like Darling here’-Darling winced-‘but hardy young boys like you and George and I should have no problem-’
‘Actually, sir,’-George broke in-‘now that Edmund here mentions it, my feet are rather sore as well, sir.’
Melchett softened instantly. ‘Oh, George, wouldn’t want your feet to be troubling you, not at all, my boy. Why don’t you take a ten-minute break?’
‘Ah, thank you, sir, but I’ve just had one, sir.’
Darling stared at the ground. ‘I’ve not had one, sir.’
‘Oh, shut up, Darling,’ Melchett answered irritably. ‘Go on, George, take a rest. I wouldn’t ever want you to hurt yourself on our account.’
‘I suppose not, sir,’ George said, blushing, and left his post. Melchett started to follow George, but then, to Blackadder’s surprise, stopped and turned to Baldrick.
‘Why don’t you take a ten-minute break, too, er-’
Blackadder swallowed his surprise. If Melchett was favouring Baldrick, then the man was decidedly mental. But when Blackadder saw Melchett’s expression, he recognised it as one of sinister plotting sparked by intense dislike. He knew it well because it was the one that he himself usually wore.
Baldrick looked bemused, but left. Blackadder heard him call for Davey, and half-heartedly hoped the rat would bite Melchett, Darling, George or all three.
Melchett started to follow Baldrick, calling over his shoulder, ‘Darling, why don’t you come bag for Blackadder?’
Blackadder smiled evilly, and Darling seemed to wilt a little as he walked over to Blackadder’s register. Blackadder gave him an annoyed look. ‘All right, so you do work for Walrus-Face, but I can’t see where you have any influence over him that you could somehow parlay into convincing him to force me to keep my end of our bet. He’s known me for less than a day and he’s already favouring me over you, and even if you did convince him, George would butt in and that would be the end of your argument.’
Darling stuttered a bit, but managed to say, ‘Planning to quit, then, are you?’
Blackadder laughed. ‘Is there anything you can do to stop me? Darling, I have just checked through a delightful minibrained woman buying ninety different trivets, three each of all thirty kinds this bloody place sells! Ninety trivets, Darling! What does one do with ninety trivets? I can just see her showing them off to all of her minibrained friends, who will then come back here to buy ninety more trivets they don’t need, thus extending the agony I endure just by being here into absolute torture! Of course I’m quitting, you bloody idiot! You can finally achieve your lifelong ambition of being promoted to cashier in this sodding place, because I’m getting out!’
To Blackadder’s immense surprise, Darling smiled. ‘Blackadder, what you fail to realise is that there is one other thing Melchett fancies, besides George, and that is holding grudges.’
Blackadder’s smile faded. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Darling looked positively happy. ‘If you quit, Blackadder, then Melchett will, as you put it, turn out, bruise, twist and tie your pockets into every possible kind of knot. If George objects, Melchett will slap an arm around his shoulder and give him a pseudo-fatherly lecture. It’s a win-win situation for him, don’t you see?’
Blackadder felt rage begin to boil inside him. He wished he could find a way around Darling’s logic, but based on what little he knew of Melchett’s character, it made perfect sense. ‘And if I stay …’
‘If you stay, Melchett won’t lift a finger to help me extract money from you, but I’ll be able to enjoy watching you suffer as you check through more minibrained women buying cake dyes in every fathomable colour. Did you know that there is a difference between red, red with no taste and Christmas red, and that our customers absolutely must have one of each?’
‘I can’t say that I did, and I also couldn’t have said until now that you have a red dye fetish-’
Darling seemed to turn purple at that. ‘There is nothing fruity about it!’
Now that was interesting. ‘Why, Darling, I never implied that there was. I knew you were sensitive, but I thought even you knew that there exists in this world something I like to call a joke. I never suspected it even from you, pathetic cretin though you are, but you like working here, don’t you? You actually enjoy standing around with your feet hurting looking at the world’s largest supply of utter crap!’
Before Darling could reply, another customer came along. This one was a middle-aged woman with two carts loaded with nothing but picture frames. For a moment, Blackadder simply gaped at her.
‘I suppose you want me to check you through?’ Blackadder asked, giving her an appraising look.
The woman nodded, and Blackadder smiled. ‘Good. I’m not going to.’
‘Oh dear, Queenie’ll be terribly disappointed,’ the woman muttered. ‘I remember when she was a little baby, she-’
Blackadder interrupted her. ‘I’m sorry, did you say Queenie?’
‘Why, yes, I did, I-’
‘You, woman, what is your name?’
‘Well, my real name is’-the woman lowered her voice, slightly embarrassed-‘Bernard, but you can call me Nursie.’
‘Then the rumours are true!’ Darling gasped. ‘Queenie does still live with her old Nursie!’
Blackadder turned to him, snorting derisively. ‘Oh, Darling, did you honestly think they weren’t? This is Queenie we’re talking about, the Flashheart-fancying woman-child with the mental agility of a mouse missing half of its brain!’ Blackadder turned back to Nursie. ‘I suppose she’s collecting portraits of Professor Flashheart, then?’
‘Oh no, dear, these are for all the portraits of herself that she’s going to send to Professor Flashheart. It’s very naughty. If she weren’t quite so big it would be time for Mr and Mrs Spank to take a short sharp trip to Bottie-land.’
‘That’s lovely, Nursie. Now I’ve already said that I refuse to handle two carts full of picture frames, so … will you move along? You’re holding up the line.’
Nursie did not argue, probably because she was too stupid to know how, and Blackadder turned his attention to his next customer, a man who, just as Darling had prophesied, was buying tiny bottles of dye in every shade of every colour.
Blackadder glared at the man’s enormous collection of miniscule items, which were difficult to scan due to their lack of size. He had been about to make a snide remark when his hand brushed Darling’s, which proved much more of a distraction than he would have thought.
‘Sorry,’ Darling said hurriedly, jerking his hand away. Blackadder did not reply, mostly because he had just felt a sensation he had never imagined he could feel. When he raised his eyes to Darling’s face, the latter was flushing bright red.
Blackadder swallowed hard, forced a snide expression and said, ‘Hands to yourself, Darling.’
Blackadder and Darling managed to check through four more customers before George returned. Baldrick remained missing in action. Darling tried to walk behind Blackadder to return to George’s register and bumped into him. Blackadder, who by this time was beyond irate, whirled around, leaned forwards towards a terrified Darling and discovered that their faces were barely inches apart.
Blackadder couldn’t believe it. What was that thought that had just crossed his mind? Kiss Darling? No. He was not … he was not that sort. He had been happy with Kate. He had all but fallen in love with Kate. He did not fancy boys, and he certainly did not fancy Darling. That was for sure. That was fact. It had to be fact.
Darling, apart from seeming frightened at the prospect of a murderous-looking Blackadder looming over him, was also blushing. He was turning a shade of scarlet so deep that Blackadder thought he might have drowned in it if Melchett hadn’t chosen that moment to reappear.
‘Lunchtime!’ he called, looking giddy. ‘George, why don’t you come eat with me? Darling, what are you doing? I said to bag for Blackadder. George here doesn’t need any help. He’s our best cashier, you know! Well, anyway, I’ve been told by our new kitchen staff that the food is ready! Come along, then, George!’
Darling ducked out and ran towards the exit. Melchett had thrown an arm around George, who was quickly turning pink. They were also heading for the exit, but at a much more leisurely pace. Blackadder cleared his throat, brushed himself off and turned around. ‘Sod off,’ he said to the customer, who was buying every conceivable flavour of icing, and with that he left the tent.
When he reached the lunch stand, Blackadder received yet another unsavoury shock. The mystery of where Melchett had sent Baldrick on his much-more-than-ten-minute break was solved when his stinking servant’s dirty face appeared at the window. ‘And what would you like, sir?’
Blackadder inhaled deeply, seething as he exhaled. ‘Melchett put you on food detail?’ he cried, unable to comprehend it.
Baldrick nodded. ‘Said he couldn’t have me getting too close to the icing; I might get it dirty.’
Blackadder was struck with an overpowering desire to hit Melchett, which was not an option, so he hit Baldrick instead. ‘The icing is stored in sealed tubes, and even if it weren’t, this tent is grimy enough to where it would hardly matter if you touched it! Look at my fingers! See how much dirt I’ve accumulated just by running that bloody register? But no, Melchett is so concerned with his sodding icing that he thinks it will be safer for the walking ball of dung to cook our food! Bloody hell! His logic is less logical than a logic-challenged ant wearing a sign that says, “I have no logic!” You know something, Baldrick? You know what? He and George deserve each other!’
‘Don’t you want something to eat, sir?’ Baldrick called after Blackadder as he stalked away, fuming. ‘No? All right, more turnip pie for me then.’
The rest of his day passed miserably but largely without incident. He could have sworn, though, that Darling was peering in his direction more often than he would have liked … and he had the sickening feeling that part of him didn’t object. To clear his head, Blackadder tried to make a list of everything that had attracted him to Kate, who was, as he screamed to himself in his head, a woman. Disturbingly, Blackadder could remember only one thing: She had a thing for cross-dressing and liked to be called Bob. When his hand brushed Darling’s a second time, Blackadder was, for the first time in his life, too nervous to retort.
It couldn’t be. Even if he did fancy boys, he would not fancy Darling. That was … impossible.
But with each day at Tinlow, it seemed more and more likely. And he thought, the way their hands continued to brush despite Blackadder’s efforts to prevent it, that Darling wasn’t uninterested. In fact, the phrase ‘desperately attracted’ was what came to mind instead.
One day, when Blackadder had been suffering for about a week, Melchett caught sight of Baldrick’s rat, Davey. The next thing any of them knew, Davey had narrowly escaped being ravaged by a mad dog. Blackadder heard Melchett say something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘For the icing, Fluffy!’
‘Not our food, of course,’ Blackadder muttered, ready to poison the open bag of candy melts that Melchett was constantly eating from while forbidding anyone else except George to do the same.
Blackadder and Darling brushed hands again, and Blackadder again declined Baldrick’s proffered lunchtime delicacies, but by this time he was almost used to having his stomach twisted and turned all day long.
The next day Melchett nearly ran over Davey with his car. The rat somehow managed to escape unscathed, and Blackadder watched with distaste as Baldrick cupped the rat in his hands, and noted with amusement that when Melchett apologised, it was to George.
For the next few days Davey stayed out of sight, leaving Blackadder no distractions from Darling, Baldrick’s cuisine, his throbbing feet and the hundreds of fools buying trivets, dyes, picture frames, cake decorating books, Disney pans, candy melts and every flavour of every brand of icing.
One day Darling seemed especially tense, even for Darling. Blackadder got the feeling his downtrodden bagger was steeling up the nerve to do something. He was proven correct when Darling walked behind him again, pretending he needed to replenish the supply of bags. Blackadder tersely sent a customer laden with sixty different kinds of birthday candles off with a death glare and turned to Darling.
But at that moment, Davey reappeared. Blackadder remembered that the rat had once interrupted a conversation between him and Darling by biting the latter. This time he interrupted them by biting George, whose scream had the whole tent turning in his direction.
A furious Melchett raced to one of the filing drawers in the back of the tent, pulled out a pistol and shot at Davey. Blackadder would have wondered why Melchett kept a pistol at the Tinlow tent, but as he thought about it, he really couldn’t blame him. After all, he himself had been ready to shoot half of its regular inhabitants for most of the time he had been there. Melchett raced to George’s side, and the latter slumped over into his arms.
Melchett, flustered and shouting, carried George away for first aid. Baldrick, who had come rushing in at the sound of the gunshot, knelt and for a moment appeared devastated by his loss. ‘Davey’s … gone ….’ he said quietly. ‘Ah well … at least I’ve still got Jimmy the toad …’
Neither Blackadder nor Darling took in the commotion around them. Blackadder had turned around to face Darling and was lost to the outside world due to the internal battle this had caused. He did not want to kiss Darling; he did not want to kiss Darling; he did not want to kiss Darling …
Finally he looked Darling straight in the eye and said, ‘You know as well as I do that the reason you are standing inches apart from me has nothing to do with bags. I want to talk to you, but I don’t want to do it here. As Melchett will likely be gone for the rest of the day tending to his boy-toy, I suggest we both take our first ten-minute breaks of the year. Will you walk with me, Darling?’
Darling looked up at Blackadder. He appeared to both scared and eager. ‘All right, Blackadder, I’ll walk with you.’
Remorselessly abandoning their next customer and fifteen different pans, Blackadder and Darling left their post. Blackadder was amused to notice that Darling kept looking at him, then looking down whenever he noticed it.
Blackadder led Darling past the lunch stand and out into the parking lot. He did not stop walking until he had found a tree not unlike the one under which he had found Darling sitting when they had originally made their bet.
‘Sit down,’ Blackadder said curtly, and Darling did so. Blackadder sat down next to him, and said softly, ‘I’d prefer if you didn’t lower your eyes every time I look at you.’
‘That-that can-that can be arranged,’ Darling sputtered, but he still didn’t look up. Blackadder sighed and continued talking.
‘How long have you wanted me, Darling?’
Darling turned bright red-Blackadder mentally kicked himself for almost referring to it as ‘red with no taste’-and whispered something unintelligible.
‘Darling, while I know that the fact that I converse with Baldrick and George on a daily basis may have confused you, I do not in fact understand Neanderthal. If you want this to go anywhere, you’re going to have to be a bit more lucid.’
Darling sighed. ‘Since before we made that bet. And since you were dating a transvestite who went by the name of Bob, I thought it was … I thought it might be … possible …’
‘You thought that perhaps I was interested in boys and didn’t know it, and that when I came to this revelation I would jump out of Kate’s bed and into yours?’
‘My fantasy is-a bit like that, yes,’ Darling said, his eyes sinking further and further from Blackadder’s gaze.
Blackadder sighed, cupped Darling’s face and pulled it upwards to be level with his own. ‘There are three things you should know about me. The first is that I am a complete and utter bastard. The second is that when push comes to shove, I will always be concerned with myself and my own interests first. The third is that I want to see you tonight.’
Darling’s face broke into a smile. ‘Do you mean that?’
Blackadder grinned evilly. ‘Every last word of it. Oh, and there’s something else: I’m on top.’ He leaned in then and kissed Darling, who responded immediately. When they broke apart for air, Blackadder sighed. ‘I suppose we should go back. As much as I hate this place I’m enjoying the pay, of which I will not be giving you a single penny.’
Darling laughed. ‘That’s all right; I’m … quite content.’ Blackadder offered Darling his arm, and the two began to walk back towards the Tinlow tent. As they passed the lunch tables, they saw George sitting on Melchett’s lap, gazing adoringly into his eyes.
‘That rat of yours was quite the matchmaker, Baldrick,’ Blackadder said when they returned to their register. ‘Of course, that does not change the fact that your next sewer pet will be shot on sight.’
‘Oh, Davey’s not dead, sir. I gave him a bit of turnip, and then he woke up, sir! It was like magic, sir!’
Blackadder snorted. ‘You don’t suppose that had anything to do with the fact that Melchett is awful shot and no bullet in fact entered his body, do you, Baldrick?’
‘No, sir, that had not in fact crossed my mind, sir,’ Baldrick replied, still holding Davey.
Blackadder turned to Darling. ‘There’s one more thing, I’m afraid. You’ll have to put up with Baldrick, because for some reason I’ll never understand, all of my ancestors have done it.’
‘That’s … all right,’ said Darling, holding his nose.
Author: edna_blackadder
Rating: PG
Pairings: Edmund Blackadder/Kevin Darling, Anthony Melchett/George St Barleigh, Edmund Blackadder/Kate Parkhurst, Flashheart/Kate Parkhurst, Flashheart/Queenie
Word Count: 4,524
Disclaimer: I'm about 20 years too late, and entirely too American, to own Blackadder. No money is being made from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. Tinlow, of course, is my creation, but not really: it's based on a real place where I once worked. However, luckily for me, none of the managers were anything like Melchett. No defamation of any real persons is intended!
Summary: After making a highly ill-advised bet with Darling, Blackadder finds that his best hope of avoiding bankruptcy lies in a job with George's family's company, Tinlow Industries.
Author’s Note: Written in 2005; has been slightly edited since. Also, just to clarify: all of the characters, except Nursie, are younger in this story than in any series of the show. Blackadder, Baldrick, George, Darling and Kate are 18; Queenie is in her early 20s; Melchett and Flashheart are in their early 30s.
Blackadder wasn’t sure what he ought to have expected from Tinlow Industries, but when he arrived for the pre-sale training, he received three unsavoury shocks. He nearly kicked himself for having thought, even for a second, that one of George’s ideas might actually be good.
It was bad enough that he was working with Baldrick, but Blackadder had already known about that and had managed to come to terms with it. These other three causes of misery had been entirely unexpected.
Loath though he was to admit it, Blackadder knew that the first was partly his fault for having failed to ask George what exactly it was that Tinlow sold. He had figured that it would be something idiotic and useless, like cheap end table knickknacks or some such things-items that, while contemptible, were at least stomach-able. He had not imagined that even George’s family would derive their livelihood from cake decorating.
Apparently, however, they did, and now he, Edmund Blackadder, was committed to doing so as well for the next three weeks in a futile attempt to pay off a cursed bet. His first thought had been to hope against hope that Darling never found out where he had earned the money, a hope that had been dashed immediately when he turned around and saw Darling standing at the register next to his.
For a moment they simply stared at each other. Darling looked just as unhappy to see Blackadder as Blackadder was to see him. Then, all of a sudden, realisation dawned on Blackadder, and he rounded on Darling, furious.
‘You said you worked for Anthony Melchett!’ he nearly shrieked, shaking with rage. ‘And now I come here to avoid having my pockets turned out, bruised, twisted and tied into every possible kind of knot by the old walrus-face, only to discover that you in fact sell icing to a bunch of homemaking crones! Well, I’m almost glad I was tricked into coming here, because now I know that I’m free to leave!’
Darling was biting his lip, looking, if possible, even more uncomfortable than he usually did. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, found himself unable to form any words and pointed lamely in front of him.
Against his better judgement, Blackadder turned around, and there stood Melchett himself. Fortunately, Melchett did not seem to have heard Blackadder’s angry speech, because he was making a huge show of clapping George on the shoulders.
‘George, my boy! Returned to us, I see! Wonderful, wonderful, always good to see a loyal Tinlow employee, very good, very good … and how’s life been treating you then, George?’
‘I … er … sir, it’s been lovely, sir, really, I’m having a swell time, dead chuffed to be back, sir. Oh, and I’ve brought some friends this time, sir … Edmund? Baldrick? Come on over here and meet Mr Melchett! I know you’ll all get along swimmingly! Oh, this year’s going to be so much fun, isn’t it, Edmund?’
‘Oh yes, of course it will,’ Blackadder responded, his painted-on smile doing little to conceal the sarcasm that would have offended its audience had any of them understood it, which of course they did not.
‘Welcome to Tinlow, Blackadder,’ Melchett said genially, extending a hand. ‘I daresay you’ll be proud to be a part of the team! And what’-Melchett abruptly stopped smiling-‘is that?’
‘Oh, that’s Baldrick, sir,’ bubbled George, ‘he’s a friend of ours, sir, really good at following orders, you know, sir …’
Blackadder could tell that Melchett was ready to toss Baldrick headfirst out of the tent, and he couldn’t blame him, but then, when George butted in, Melchett swallowed, and his demeanour seemed to change. That was decidedly odd. Blackadder watched Melchett’s expression closely as the latter turned to look at George.
‘Very well, then, George, very well … just … er … keep him away from the icing. All right then, team, here we are …’
Blackadder and Baldrick returned to their register as Melchett ordered a sullen-looking Darling to come bag for George. That was also strange, for as much Blackadder loathed Darling, he knew full well that George, with a brain only marginally larger than a pebble, should have been bagging for him.
Blackadder hardly listened to the instructions, as George had been right in his assertion that employment at Tinlow was mindless work. Instead he observed the way Melchett seemed to glance in George’s direction every few seconds. When Melchett had the cashiers scan a sample item, Blackadder was not at all surprised that he immediately seized upon the opportunity to point and shout loudly, ‘That’s right! Everyone, look over there, George’s got it!’
Of course George had done it right. The task had been to run a spoon under a scanner. Even Baldrick could do that. If I didn’t know better, Blackadder thought, I’d say old Walrus-Face Melchett fancies George! He would never have guessed it in a million years, but then again, he would never have believed that the one of the richest men in town was in fact the executive manager of Tinlow Industries.
Blackadder did some quick arithmetic. George was eighteen, so it wasn’t illegal now for Melchett to bugger him, but how long had he had this crush? Blackadder began watching George instead, wondering if he could pick up any hints that this unbelievable attraction was mutual. Whenever Melchett praised him, George blushed like a schoolgirl. That wasn’t incontrovertible proof, but it was something. It was possible fodder for a plan so cunning Blackadder wouldn’t have minded going to bed with it, as it was certainly more cunning than Kate. The fact that Melchett had been ignoring Darling completely was also a good sign.
Blackadder was interrupted in his plotting by a tap on his shoulder. Annoyed, he turned around to see a bitter-looking Darling. ‘What?’ he spat, attempting to appear tough.
‘I suppose you’ve noticed it, too?’
‘Noticed what?’ Blackadder continued to make his voice sound irritable, but he secretly hoped Darling would keep talking. Though it wouldn’t bode well for his cunning plan if they were on the same page, Blackadder had a feeling it was best if he knew what his enemy was thinking.
‘Never mind,’ said Darling, and unless Blackadder was very much mistaken, there was a twinge of disappointment in the way he said it.
Blackadder wondered what that could be about, but Darling was now staring straight ahead. Chalking it up simply to Darling’s awkwardness, Blackadder turned his attention back to his plotting and continued not listening to Melchett’s glorification of the menial tasks that were to be his intense pain for a fortnight and a half.
*
On his first day of employment at Tinlow, Blackadder decided that he hated the customers at least as much as he hated his colleagues. George, however, was his chief nemesis for the time being, mostly because his incompetence meant more customers for Blackadder.
There were several rows of registers on long, grimy tables. Each row consisted of three tables. George and Darling had the best register, the one farthest from the sun, which coincidentally was also the worst because in exchange for escaping without sunburn, whoever was running that register got the most customers, or so it should have been. Melchett had placed George and Darling at it based on his erroneous conviction that George was his best cashier. This being the furthest thing from true, the excess of customers that should have George’s moved down one table to Blackadder’s register instead.
The customers were a nightmare. Blackadder now knew what George had meant when he’d said there would be plenty of women he could meet at the sale: There were hundreds of women of all ages, and even a disproportionate number of men, swooping in on the Tinlow tent from all over Britain to buy the most ridiculous homemaking gadgets, baking tools, cake decorating materials, cake decorating books and other sorts of loathsome items. Even worse, many of them found that, once they had found the perfect item that would fit their needs, they had to buy it not only in every single variety, but also, if it was absolutely perfect, in triplicate.
On top of everything else, Blackadder’s feet hurt. He would have thought it wouldn’t be so hard for Tinlow to provide stools at the registers, as there was plenty of room for them, but when he casually suggested it to Melchett during a break from the disgustingly sweet homemakers, the executive manager seemed almost offended at the idea.
‘Stools, Blackadder? Stools? What in God’s name do we need those for?’
‘Well sir, if you don’t mind my saying so, it is rather a strain on the feet to-’
‘A strain on the feet, Blackadder? Well, perhaps for a weakling like Darling here’-Darling winced-‘but hardy young boys like you and George and I should have no problem-’
‘Actually, sir,’-George broke in-‘now that Edmund here mentions it, my feet are rather sore as well, sir.’
Melchett softened instantly. ‘Oh, George, wouldn’t want your feet to be troubling you, not at all, my boy. Why don’t you take a ten-minute break?’
‘Ah, thank you, sir, but I’ve just had one, sir.’
Darling stared at the ground. ‘I’ve not had one, sir.’
‘Oh, shut up, Darling,’ Melchett answered irritably. ‘Go on, George, take a rest. I wouldn’t ever want you to hurt yourself on our account.’
‘I suppose not, sir,’ George said, blushing, and left his post. Melchett started to follow George, but then, to Blackadder’s surprise, stopped and turned to Baldrick.
‘Why don’t you take a ten-minute break, too, er-’
Blackadder swallowed his surprise. If Melchett was favouring Baldrick, then the man was decidedly mental. But when Blackadder saw Melchett’s expression, he recognised it as one of sinister plotting sparked by intense dislike. He knew it well because it was the one that he himself usually wore.
Baldrick looked bemused, but left. Blackadder heard him call for Davey, and half-heartedly hoped the rat would bite Melchett, Darling, George or all three.
Melchett started to follow Baldrick, calling over his shoulder, ‘Darling, why don’t you come bag for Blackadder?’
Blackadder smiled evilly, and Darling seemed to wilt a little as he walked over to Blackadder’s register. Blackadder gave him an annoyed look. ‘All right, so you do work for Walrus-Face, but I can’t see where you have any influence over him that you could somehow parlay into convincing him to force me to keep my end of our bet. He’s known me for less than a day and he’s already favouring me over you, and even if you did convince him, George would butt in and that would be the end of your argument.’
Darling stuttered a bit, but managed to say, ‘Planning to quit, then, are you?’
Blackadder laughed. ‘Is there anything you can do to stop me? Darling, I have just checked through a delightful minibrained woman buying ninety different trivets, three each of all thirty kinds this bloody place sells! Ninety trivets, Darling! What does one do with ninety trivets? I can just see her showing them off to all of her minibrained friends, who will then come back here to buy ninety more trivets they don’t need, thus extending the agony I endure just by being here into absolute torture! Of course I’m quitting, you bloody idiot! You can finally achieve your lifelong ambition of being promoted to cashier in this sodding place, because I’m getting out!’
To Blackadder’s immense surprise, Darling smiled. ‘Blackadder, what you fail to realise is that there is one other thing Melchett fancies, besides George, and that is holding grudges.’
Blackadder’s smile faded. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Darling looked positively happy. ‘If you quit, Blackadder, then Melchett will, as you put it, turn out, bruise, twist and tie your pockets into every possible kind of knot. If George objects, Melchett will slap an arm around his shoulder and give him a pseudo-fatherly lecture. It’s a win-win situation for him, don’t you see?’
Blackadder felt rage begin to boil inside him. He wished he could find a way around Darling’s logic, but based on what little he knew of Melchett’s character, it made perfect sense. ‘And if I stay …’
‘If you stay, Melchett won’t lift a finger to help me extract money from you, but I’ll be able to enjoy watching you suffer as you check through more minibrained women buying cake dyes in every fathomable colour. Did you know that there is a difference between red, red with no taste and Christmas red, and that our customers absolutely must have one of each?’
‘I can’t say that I did, and I also couldn’t have said until now that you have a red dye fetish-’
Darling seemed to turn purple at that. ‘There is nothing fruity about it!’
Now that was interesting. ‘Why, Darling, I never implied that there was. I knew you were sensitive, but I thought even you knew that there exists in this world something I like to call a joke. I never suspected it even from you, pathetic cretin though you are, but you like working here, don’t you? You actually enjoy standing around with your feet hurting looking at the world’s largest supply of utter crap!’
Before Darling could reply, another customer came along. This one was a middle-aged woman with two carts loaded with nothing but picture frames. For a moment, Blackadder simply gaped at her.
‘I suppose you want me to check you through?’ Blackadder asked, giving her an appraising look.
The woman nodded, and Blackadder smiled. ‘Good. I’m not going to.’
‘Oh dear, Queenie’ll be terribly disappointed,’ the woman muttered. ‘I remember when she was a little baby, she-’
Blackadder interrupted her. ‘I’m sorry, did you say Queenie?’
‘Why, yes, I did, I-’
‘You, woman, what is your name?’
‘Well, my real name is’-the woman lowered her voice, slightly embarrassed-‘Bernard, but you can call me Nursie.’
‘Then the rumours are true!’ Darling gasped. ‘Queenie does still live with her old Nursie!’
Blackadder turned to him, snorting derisively. ‘Oh, Darling, did you honestly think they weren’t? This is Queenie we’re talking about, the Flashheart-fancying woman-child with the mental agility of a mouse missing half of its brain!’ Blackadder turned back to Nursie. ‘I suppose she’s collecting portraits of Professor Flashheart, then?’
‘Oh no, dear, these are for all the portraits of herself that she’s going to send to Professor Flashheart. It’s very naughty. If she weren’t quite so big it would be time for Mr and Mrs Spank to take a short sharp trip to Bottie-land.’
‘That’s lovely, Nursie. Now I’ve already said that I refuse to handle two carts full of picture frames, so … will you move along? You’re holding up the line.’
Nursie did not argue, probably because she was too stupid to know how, and Blackadder turned his attention to his next customer, a man who, just as Darling had prophesied, was buying tiny bottles of dye in every shade of every colour.
Blackadder glared at the man’s enormous collection of miniscule items, which were difficult to scan due to their lack of size. He had been about to make a snide remark when his hand brushed Darling’s, which proved much more of a distraction than he would have thought.
‘Sorry,’ Darling said hurriedly, jerking his hand away. Blackadder did not reply, mostly because he had just felt a sensation he had never imagined he could feel. When he raised his eyes to Darling’s face, the latter was flushing bright red.
Blackadder swallowed hard, forced a snide expression and said, ‘Hands to yourself, Darling.’
Blackadder and Darling managed to check through four more customers before George returned. Baldrick remained missing in action. Darling tried to walk behind Blackadder to return to George’s register and bumped into him. Blackadder, who by this time was beyond irate, whirled around, leaned forwards towards a terrified Darling and discovered that their faces were barely inches apart.
Blackadder couldn’t believe it. What was that thought that had just crossed his mind? Kiss Darling? No. He was not … he was not that sort. He had been happy with Kate. He had all but fallen in love with Kate. He did not fancy boys, and he certainly did not fancy Darling. That was for sure. That was fact. It had to be fact.
Darling, apart from seeming frightened at the prospect of a murderous-looking Blackadder looming over him, was also blushing. He was turning a shade of scarlet so deep that Blackadder thought he might have drowned in it if Melchett hadn’t chosen that moment to reappear.
‘Lunchtime!’ he called, looking giddy. ‘George, why don’t you come eat with me? Darling, what are you doing? I said to bag for Blackadder. George here doesn’t need any help. He’s our best cashier, you know! Well, anyway, I’ve been told by our new kitchen staff that the food is ready! Come along, then, George!’
Darling ducked out and ran towards the exit. Melchett had thrown an arm around George, who was quickly turning pink. They were also heading for the exit, but at a much more leisurely pace. Blackadder cleared his throat, brushed himself off and turned around. ‘Sod off,’ he said to the customer, who was buying every conceivable flavour of icing, and with that he left the tent.
When he reached the lunch stand, Blackadder received yet another unsavoury shock. The mystery of where Melchett had sent Baldrick on his much-more-than-ten-minute break was solved when his stinking servant’s dirty face appeared at the window. ‘And what would you like, sir?’
Blackadder inhaled deeply, seething as he exhaled. ‘Melchett put you on food detail?’ he cried, unable to comprehend it.
Baldrick nodded. ‘Said he couldn’t have me getting too close to the icing; I might get it dirty.’
Blackadder was struck with an overpowering desire to hit Melchett, which was not an option, so he hit Baldrick instead. ‘The icing is stored in sealed tubes, and even if it weren’t, this tent is grimy enough to where it would hardly matter if you touched it! Look at my fingers! See how much dirt I’ve accumulated just by running that bloody register? But no, Melchett is so concerned with his sodding icing that he thinks it will be safer for the walking ball of dung to cook our food! Bloody hell! His logic is less logical than a logic-challenged ant wearing a sign that says, “I have no logic!” You know something, Baldrick? You know what? He and George deserve each other!’
‘Don’t you want something to eat, sir?’ Baldrick called after Blackadder as he stalked away, fuming. ‘No? All right, more turnip pie for me then.’
The rest of his day passed miserably but largely without incident. He could have sworn, though, that Darling was peering in his direction more often than he would have liked … and he had the sickening feeling that part of him didn’t object. To clear his head, Blackadder tried to make a list of everything that had attracted him to Kate, who was, as he screamed to himself in his head, a woman. Disturbingly, Blackadder could remember only one thing: She had a thing for cross-dressing and liked to be called Bob. When his hand brushed Darling’s a second time, Blackadder was, for the first time in his life, too nervous to retort.
It couldn’t be. Even if he did fancy boys, he would not fancy Darling. That was … impossible.
But with each day at Tinlow, it seemed more and more likely. And he thought, the way their hands continued to brush despite Blackadder’s efforts to prevent it, that Darling wasn’t uninterested. In fact, the phrase ‘desperately attracted’ was what came to mind instead.
One day, when Blackadder had been suffering for about a week, Melchett caught sight of Baldrick’s rat, Davey. The next thing any of them knew, Davey had narrowly escaped being ravaged by a mad dog. Blackadder heard Melchett say something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘For the icing, Fluffy!’
‘Not our food, of course,’ Blackadder muttered, ready to poison the open bag of candy melts that Melchett was constantly eating from while forbidding anyone else except George to do the same.
Blackadder and Darling brushed hands again, and Blackadder again declined Baldrick’s proffered lunchtime delicacies, but by this time he was almost used to having his stomach twisted and turned all day long.
The next day Melchett nearly ran over Davey with his car. The rat somehow managed to escape unscathed, and Blackadder watched with distaste as Baldrick cupped the rat in his hands, and noted with amusement that when Melchett apologised, it was to George.
For the next few days Davey stayed out of sight, leaving Blackadder no distractions from Darling, Baldrick’s cuisine, his throbbing feet and the hundreds of fools buying trivets, dyes, picture frames, cake decorating books, Disney pans, candy melts and every flavour of every brand of icing.
One day Darling seemed especially tense, even for Darling. Blackadder got the feeling his downtrodden bagger was steeling up the nerve to do something. He was proven correct when Darling walked behind him again, pretending he needed to replenish the supply of bags. Blackadder tersely sent a customer laden with sixty different kinds of birthday candles off with a death glare and turned to Darling.
But at that moment, Davey reappeared. Blackadder remembered that the rat had once interrupted a conversation between him and Darling by biting the latter. This time he interrupted them by biting George, whose scream had the whole tent turning in his direction.
A furious Melchett raced to one of the filing drawers in the back of the tent, pulled out a pistol and shot at Davey. Blackadder would have wondered why Melchett kept a pistol at the Tinlow tent, but as he thought about it, he really couldn’t blame him. After all, he himself had been ready to shoot half of its regular inhabitants for most of the time he had been there. Melchett raced to George’s side, and the latter slumped over into his arms.
Melchett, flustered and shouting, carried George away for first aid. Baldrick, who had come rushing in at the sound of the gunshot, knelt and for a moment appeared devastated by his loss. ‘Davey’s … gone ….’ he said quietly. ‘Ah well … at least I’ve still got Jimmy the toad …’
Neither Blackadder nor Darling took in the commotion around them. Blackadder had turned around to face Darling and was lost to the outside world due to the internal battle this had caused. He did not want to kiss Darling; he did not want to kiss Darling; he did not want to kiss Darling …
Finally he looked Darling straight in the eye and said, ‘You know as well as I do that the reason you are standing inches apart from me has nothing to do with bags. I want to talk to you, but I don’t want to do it here. As Melchett will likely be gone for the rest of the day tending to his boy-toy, I suggest we both take our first ten-minute breaks of the year. Will you walk with me, Darling?’
Darling looked up at Blackadder. He appeared to both scared and eager. ‘All right, Blackadder, I’ll walk with you.’
Remorselessly abandoning their next customer and fifteen different pans, Blackadder and Darling left their post. Blackadder was amused to notice that Darling kept looking at him, then looking down whenever he noticed it.
Blackadder led Darling past the lunch stand and out into the parking lot. He did not stop walking until he had found a tree not unlike the one under which he had found Darling sitting when they had originally made their bet.
‘Sit down,’ Blackadder said curtly, and Darling did so. Blackadder sat down next to him, and said softly, ‘I’d prefer if you didn’t lower your eyes every time I look at you.’
‘That-that can-that can be arranged,’ Darling sputtered, but he still didn’t look up. Blackadder sighed and continued talking.
‘How long have you wanted me, Darling?’
Darling turned bright red-Blackadder mentally kicked himself for almost referring to it as ‘red with no taste’-and whispered something unintelligible.
‘Darling, while I know that the fact that I converse with Baldrick and George on a daily basis may have confused you, I do not in fact understand Neanderthal. If you want this to go anywhere, you’re going to have to be a bit more lucid.’
Darling sighed. ‘Since before we made that bet. And since you were dating a transvestite who went by the name of Bob, I thought it was … I thought it might be … possible …’
‘You thought that perhaps I was interested in boys and didn’t know it, and that when I came to this revelation I would jump out of Kate’s bed and into yours?’
‘My fantasy is-a bit like that, yes,’ Darling said, his eyes sinking further and further from Blackadder’s gaze.
Blackadder sighed, cupped Darling’s face and pulled it upwards to be level with his own. ‘There are three things you should know about me. The first is that I am a complete and utter bastard. The second is that when push comes to shove, I will always be concerned with myself and my own interests first. The third is that I want to see you tonight.’
Darling’s face broke into a smile. ‘Do you mean that?’
Blackadder grinned evilly. ‘Every last word of it. Oh, and there’s something else: I’m on top.’ He leaned in then and kissed Darling, who responded immediately. When they broke apart for air, Blackadder sighed. ‘I suppose we should go back. As much as I hate this place I’m enjoying the pay, of which I will not be giving you a single penny.’
Darling laughed. ‘That’s all right; I’m … quite content.’ Blackadder offered Darling his arm, and the two began to walk back towards the Tinlow tent. As they passed the lunch tables, they saw George sitting on Melchett’s lap, gazing adoringly into his eyes.
‘That rat of yours was quite the matchmaker, Baldrick,’ Blackadder said when they returned to their register. ‘Of course, that does not change the fact that your next sewer pet will be shot on sight.’
‘Oh, Davey’s not dead, sir. I gave him a bit of turnip, and then he woke up, sir! It was like magic, sir!’
Blackadder snorted. ‘You don’t suppose that had anything to do with the fact that Melchett is awful shot and no bullet in fact entered his body, do you, Baldrick?’
‘No, sir, that had not in fact crossed my mind, sir,’ Baldrick replied, still holding Davey.
Blackadder turned to Darling. ‘There’s one more thing, I’m afraid. You’ll have to put up with Baldrick, because for some reason I’ll never understand, all of my ancestors have done it.’
‘That’s … all right,’ said Darling, holding his nose.