Darcy woke up with a throbbing headache. What a night!

Thank fuck he locked the door! He kept getting woken up in the wee hours of the morning with someone or other forcing his door to open. He had taken measures with a door jammer but who or whomever were persistent. The jammer held but the door knob did not.

He had arrived at Hamish's fashionably late but when he did everyone greeted him in surprise. And the gossip soon started.

He was terrified. I hate parties, hate them, hate them, hate them he said to himself. Hamish just laughed uproariously every time he saw Darcy trying to unsuccessfully leave somebody.

He was accosted by uni mates, army mates, and - once the drinking went into overdrive - propositioned by every drunken sister, niece, ex-wife or wife of some such or other! One woman asked him for a New Year's Day root, and her twin sister soon joined them to ask for a threesome. He regretfully declined saying he'd disappoint them both.

He managed one ceilidh and bolted for the stairs to his designated bedroom "Happy New Year Hamish!" as he excused himself.

XXX

Darcy went downstairs to look for Hamish but was unsuccessful. He texted him and thanked him for his hospitality etc etc.

He was bleary-eyed, his bow tie had disappeared, and his jacket and shirt had several bite marks and lipstick marks. He didn't know how the twin sisters managed to manhandle him but they were half successful in the attempt.

He staggered back to Queensferry and went directly to his shower to get rid of the dirt and Hamish's party on his person.

XXX

Lizzy was already beavering away in the study when she saw Darcy - from the study window - stagger to the door, heard him stagger up the stairs, and stagger back to his bedroom. She heard the full blast of a shower head.

XXX

"Good morning, well midday, actually." Lizzy looked at him in sympathy as he walked into the kitchen to look for her. She had made a cuppa for him but it seemed he needed stronger stuff.

Darcy was red-eyed. He wasn't fit to travel. He hadn't even shaved. This was the most dishevelled she had seen him. He looked...rustic.

He smiled weakly back and took a sip of relatively strong tea.

In comparison, she was positively bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Bloody Lizzy he muttered. How she always managed to look fresh and impossible was a conundrum.

Earlier, Lizzy had gone down to the water and watched fascinated the crowds of foolishly brave people take their first dip of the year in the North Sea. She was reminded of the Bondi Iceberg or winter solstice swimmers back in Sydney.

"Montrose can wait another day," she decided. He nodded back, not really caring at this stage.

"Sorry Lizzy." He uttered his first words to her.

"Fully understand. Hangover. I've had my fair share."

Oh God, he moaned, he didn't want to know what she'd gotten up to or who with!

"Just going for a New Year's Day walk." And she left him to spend the rest of the afternoon to walk to Cramond and back.

XXX

When she returned, he was sprawled on the sofa quietly snoring. She giggled. It reminded her of the siesta they had at the beach.

He sniffed. He smelled something nice. And opened one eye.

"Hello sleeping beauty" she whispered quietly with an amused smile, at eye level.

He stretched his arms. He tried to wake up from his stupor. Lizzy got up and went to the kitchen to get two bowls. She found a bistro that had Cullen skink and ordered them to take away.

She reheated them and by the time they were ready, Darcy had staggered to the dining room.

She sliced and buttered the bread he had already bought and prepared the table.

Darcy looked at the scene. So this is what domestic felicity looks like with Lizzy, he thought.

They ate their meal in companionable silence.