A few mornings later, Maisie dropped in on Donnie on her way to work early, but apparently with enough time to share breakfast with her best mate. She followed him into his open-plan kitchen/living room.
“Wow, it smells great in here,” she said, wrinkling her nose. She had another new piercing in it, Donnie noticed. And this week’s hair colour appeared to be violet with lilac streaks. He liked the way she was a walking advertisement for the salon. Her expression was a little sly as she glanced at the kitchen counter. “Are those cookies?”
Donnie smiled and nodded. He often got up early to bake before work, and always baked extra for his mate Mais: she was usually his first taste test, “just to help you out” she’d protest with a greedy twinkle in her eye. Now she giggled and bit into one, warm from the oven. Some of them had broken into odd-shaped pieces, though the dough had gone into the oven in similarly-sized round lumps. But the blissful look on her face? It told him he’d got the recipe right, if not the look of them.
He nudged past her to pick up his messenger bag, slung on the back of the kitchen chair. “I have to leave soon, Mais. My shift’s starting half an hour earlier this week.”
“Extra workload?” Maisie frowned through a mouthful of crumbs. “You know there’s the working time directive to protect employees?”
Donnie had signed his rights away to that, the first week he started at the factory, but he wasn’t going to provoke Maisie with that reminder right now. “No, I’ve flexed the start and finish time, so I can leave earlier.” It meant he could arrive home in time to meet Will as he left the surgery. He was growing used to that routine, it was something to look forward to after the factory. Will, glowing with pleasure from the work he’d done, from the people he’d helped.
And okay, to be honest, the white coat was a hell of a turn on.
“To meet Will, isn’t it? That’s every day for a week!” Maisie crowed. “You’ve pulled a sugar daddy there, kid. How unutterably cute.” She sat herself down on the vacated kitchen chair and reached eagerly for another of the biscuits. “These are great, Donnie, even better than your sultana snaps. I could do with six trays of these for the next bake sale at the community centre, is that okay?”
Donnie knew only too well he’d give in to her begging, even if he had to stay up all night to bake. But that wasn’t what had struck him most. “Sugar daddy? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you can’t deny Will’s older than you.” Catching sight of Donnie’s frown, she amended it to, “A bit older than you.”
“He’s only in his thirties.” Well, actually, very late in them, but who cared? “And I’m late twenties.” And only just, at twenty-six.
“Well, he’s obviously got money. No one starts up their own business without some financial muscle, and probably a lot of smart contacts. Brainy, too. Yeah, you fell on your feet there.” Then she must have remembered how Donnie had, in reality, fallen at Will’s feet when they met, and burst into a cackle of laughter.
Donnie had some trouble mustering up a smile in return. Yes, Will had the age advantage, with all the mature looks and life experience that came with it, but Donnie wasn’t sure about the sugar daddy implication. He wondered how many other people looked at them together and thought that. “It’s not really like that, Mais.”
“Well, you look good on it,” Maisie said with a sigh and rather dreamy eyes, though that may have been choc chip overload: Donnie was always over-generous with that ingredient. “You haven’t stopped smiling all week and I may even wheedle a few cakes off you as well as the biscuits, while you’re in this good mood. Just make the most of it, is all I say. Though you always bounce back from any upsets.”
Donnie loved Maisie, he really did, and although she was a bit too free with her judgements sometimes, he’d never thought she was deliberately malicious. Well, except perhaps to Henry when they got into one of their legendary verbal fights. But something about her careless words caused a slow, twisting lump in the base of his gut. In the space of a few sentences she’d suggested he was after Will for his money, and implied he should take advantage of it for as long as it lasted. Because, presumably, that wouldn’t be for long, what with Donnie being such an immature youth in comparison, though luckily—and as always—Donnie would take any heartbreak in his stride.
And, rather sadly, that was based on reality. Donnie rarely planned his dates beyond a couple of days, judging on past experience. It was pure luck that he’d met a hot guy like Will, and Will wanted to spend all this time with him. Donnie didn’t really dare expect more. And it wasn’t because he considered himself some kind of loser, he was being realistic. What was he doing, acting like he was in a sappy romcom every time Will’s name was mentioned? Imagining, if this were a movie, the focus would blur, the music would swell, and everyone would be wandering in slow-mo? After all, Donnie didn’t see himself in the hero when he watched those romcoms: he was usually the plucky best friend.
Ah, but Will…
“Your eyes have gone funny,” Maisie said conversationally, still munching.
They left the flat, bickering casually. Donnie was still thoughtful as he walked to his car, parked behind the parade. He glanced quickly at the vet’s as he passed, but it wasn’t open yet. Starting work early meant he missed Will arriving. But tonight, they were staying in: Will was coming around for supper. Donnie had pored over his cookery books for inspiration, washed his sheets, and thrashed the dust out of the old sofa’s cushions with manic enthusiasm. He was hoping Will would stay over.
Will… the violin strains teased inside his head.
“Oh, for god’s sake, let it go!” he yelped aloud, startling a woman with a buggy as she passed on the pavement.
But the kid in the chair giggled and started humming the song, making Donnie grin back.
He hoped it was a good omen.
Because maybe things were starting to come together for him at last.