Danny’s mum likes me. I can tell. When she opens the front door she basically drags me in and smiles from ear to ear. “Oh! Here she is! The acceptable face of cat lady!” she shouts. I think Mrs. Trudeau is also relieved, as Danny’s last serious girlfriend was mainly mascara-based and there’s only so long you can talk about lash length. “Millie!” she whispers. “He’s upstairs! Tell him that he needs to pack SOMETHING. He can’t JUST wear branches. However much he’d like to.”
This makes no sense, but the Trudeau household often doesn’t. It’s a bit out there.
When I get to Danny’s room he’s looking at an empty bag.
“Hello, Mills! What do you pack for a holistic spa weekend? I’m thinking hardly anything. I might just wear foliage!”
I stare at him. “Yeah, your mum is worried about that. I don’t think branches will work for you. When are you going?”
Danny looks at me with a slightly folded-up face. “Er. Tomorrow. Did I not mention it?”
“No, you didn’t,” I say casually. My mouth is casual. In my brain, I am not casual in any way. I am annoyed. This is Danny. I love that he’s so relaxed, but sometimes this means he lives in an extreme chill bubble. He forgets to tell me key details about his life. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he just floats around the earth a lot. It’s Aunty Teresa disease—just a less severe case.
Danny puts his arm around me. “You’re annoyed,” he says. “I can tell.”
Danny isn’t intimidated by strong women, so I serve it up in a brilliant but not hysterical way.
“It would be nice to know where you are going to be. I do actually like spending some time with you. I’m not being overdramatic. I just love having a laugh with you. And you get the vlog thing even though you don’t really get the vlog thing.”
Danny isn’t really into social media. He can check his phone twice a day and not be completely itchy about it.
“Sorry, Mills.” Danny sighs. “Fair enough. Now, do you think I can just get away with a handful of leaves and some mud?”
He says this with a wink. He makes me laugh a lot. However, at times like this, I can feel my no-nonsense mum invading my brain and it’s fantastic.
“I’m not organizing your wardrobe for you. Pay me to be your stylist and I’ll help. Until then you’re on your own.”
“Anyway,” I say, “I’ve got to go and see my family.”
Danny hugs me very hard and we have a superb kiss. We have perfected this. We’re A-list kissers. “Have a great weekend!” he whispers. “Be you. Be brilliant and go for it. Do a fantastic vlog about bad boyfriends who don’t tell their partners where they are going. That’ll go viral. Actually, don’t do that. I’d rather keep out of it, really. BUT GO VIRAL! Whatever, just BE YOU.”
This is why Danny and I work. He gets me and he gives me an ego turbo-boost. I sort of skip all the way to Granddad’s house. It’s not exactly a skip, as that would be highly embarrassing as I’m not actually seven, but it’s a very positive stompy walk.