The restaurant had probably seemed a really good idea to Will. Donnie imagined Will ate at places like this all the time. Cloth napkins, several, different-sized glasses, a basket of fresh bread appearing almost as soon as they sat down. The music in the background was quiet and something classical. The sound of other diners—the chink of cutlery, the occasional chuckle, murmured conversation—was all muted rather than the loud cheerfulness Donnie was used to in pubs and fast food places.
“Are you okay?” Will smiled at him. “How’s the soup?”
“It’s great,” Donnie said. Was his voice too loud? “Really great.” He liked soup a lot. Though even he had never considered cooking chicken in green tea.
“I know how much you love recipes and cooking. The chef here is making all the local papers with his new approach to traditional dishes. The pie has a cheese and nut crust. And the dessert menu is really unusual.”
Donnie tried to banish the immediate vision of ice cream potentially baked in pesto. He sat back in his chair—feeling a long way away from Will on the other side of the table—and placed his soup spoon very carefully on his plate.
Will looked up from his appetiser, caught sight of Donnie’s face, and frowned. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I should have checked the menu with you first.”
“It’s fine. I like it. It’s just…” He glanced quickly around the room. “I think I should have changed after work into something smarter.” He cast his memory through his small wardrobe of clothes, wondering what that would have been. He’d been happy in his red lip-print shirt and the olive green jeans, at least until they’d walked in here. Will had come in casual clothes too, but the shirt was a fine linen mix, an understated colour, the trousers some kind of twill. He looked cool and fabulous, whatever he wore.
“Oh, it’s very easygoing here,” Will said. “No dress code that I know of.”
Will wouldn’t, Donnie thought, rather unkindly. He blended perfectly.
Will had stopped eating by now. He looked worried. “Do you want to leave?”
“No. It’s fine.” Donnie knew he was repeating himself. But this wasn’t the place to have this conversation. He shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have given any hint at all he wasn’t comfortable here.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, everything’s great.” And he had to admit, he was looking forward to trying the pastry crust. Last time he’d baked an unusual pie, it had been because he tipped the wrong pot of seasoning into the mixture.
Will still looked unsettled, but they were quiet while the waiter cleared the soup plates away.
“This is a special thank you from me,” Will said, as soon as they were alone again.
“What for?”
“All the time you’ve been at the surgery. You’re really handling things well. I don’t know how the hell I managed without you. I can leave all the routine work to you and get on with my own job. With the consultations, with the clients. That’s what’s really important, after all.”
Donnie felt his smile tighten involuntarily. “Yes? I mean, yes. It is.”
“I wanted to treat you, after what’s nearly your first month’s work.”
“Will, you idiot. The damn job’s a treat in itself.”
“I’d still like to spoil you.”
It wasn’t worth the argument, so Donnie just smiled and nodded. “Okay.”
Will continued, “And you may say the job’s a treat, but I find it a challenge sometimes.”
“Why?” Donnie was genuinely puzzled. “Your clients are great people. I like talking to them, helping them through it all.”
“I know you do. I mean, I love my job. But don’t you struggle with the owners who get belligerent when they don’t get immediate attention? With pets being poorly trained, with the conditions we see every day which could have been avoided with more knowledge, expertise, or care?”
Donnie was trying to think what to say when Will laughed, a little bitterly. “No, you don’t, do you? How lucky you are, being a glass half-full man.”
“I find it all interesting,” Donnie said. “That’s all. The filing, the mopping up—pets and owners—and the protection duties.”
“Protection?”
Donnie chanced a wink at Will. “From parrots with a spectacles fetish. Incontinent cats. Spiders and snakes, though they’re usually safely in boxes. I protect you from the marauding pets, Mr Cartwright.”
They smiled at each other, and then Will laughed. It was a sensible, full-bodied laugh, probably too loud for the restaurant, but not too loud for Donnie’s liking. Will needed to laugh more often. The sound of it, in his rich, strong voice, made Donnie’s toes curl with pleasure.
“Oh, Donnie,” Will said, and reached across the table to grab Donnie’s hand. “What wonderful things are you doing to me?”
The waiter was fetching more sparkling water for them when, out of the corner of his eye, Donnie noticed movement at a nearby table. A man stood abruptly, tall and elegantly dressed. It was obvious from his manner that he was totally at ease here. He smiled at his companions—a middle aged, impeccably dressed couple who looked as at home here as he did—then glanced over at Donnie and Will’s table. He stilled, his eyes widening. Donnie quickly twisted his head back around, but oh god, the man was walking over! Donnie could hear the man’s confident stride towards their table. It was as if he could feel the man’s breath on his shoulder blades.
“Will? It is you, I thought so.”
Will gave the smallest start, then frowned. “Liam. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“A lucky coincidence, right?” Liam’s voice was bold, brusque, like his whole body language. “And who’s your cute friend?”
Donnie bit back a sigh and swivelled in his chair so he could shake hands. “Donnie. Hello.”
Will’s voice was unusually sharp. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to call anyone cute, Liam, let alone someone you don’t know.”
Liam laughed, a booming sound in the quiet room. “Come on Will, you always were a bit of a prude. Good to meet you, Donnie. And what do you do for a living?”
“I work for Will.”
“With Will. With me,” Will snapped.
To Donnie’s dismay, Liam dragged a spare chair across and sat between them.
“We’re eating dinner, Liam,” Will protested. He’d gone quite pale.
“No, you’re not,” Liam said. “Takes the kitchen a good twenty minutes to arrange the bloody parsley sprig on the top in some artistic way.” He grinned as if they’d agree with the joke, and what’s more, that he was hilariously funny.
Donnie’s heart sank. He knew guys like this, full of jarring laughter and too-loud bonhomie, at least until they didn’t get their own way. How did Will even know this man? And he didn’t like the way Liam’s gaze ran over him; the look Liam darted between the pair of them.
Liam’s attention turned to Will. “I saw the Andersons last week. They’re looking to move out of Kensington. Central London is ghastly nowadays. Full of tourists and oligarchs!” He laughed again. “They’re having one of their infamous parties next weekend.”
“Are they?” Will’s lips looked thin; tense. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Donnie. Are you a party guy?” Liam was staring at Donnie again.
“Not really,” Donnie said.
“That’s enough, Liam,” Will said. “You’re bothering Donnie.”
“Don’t worry,” Donnie said, trying to soothe Will. “It’s fine—”
“No, it’s not!” Will interrupted harshly. “Stop bloody saying that!”
And the whole table fell silent.