She's changed. You can see it in her eyes, the way she holds herself now. For years you were scared that she had no purpose in life, with no job, that she would never find that special someone, that she would die unhappy, unfulfilled, alone.
You're lucky in that respect. You have a daughter, who can sometimes be a terrifying woman, but at the end of the day, she loves you just as much as you love her, and you have a granddaughter who's more like a friend than a relative. It's the granddaughter you worry about though, because you know you're not going to be there forever for them.
"I'm waiting," she says, when you ask her about it. She's looking up at the stars, something she's been doing a lot of lately, you've noticed.
"What for?" you ask in return. When you look up, it seems like there is nothing there, at least nothing that you wouldn't expect to see. You've spent a long time watching the stars, but you know she is watching for something. "Christmas?"
She gives an odd laugh, not her usual hearty one, designed to attract attention. This one is more like a quiet, personal one. "Yeah, something like that, Gramps," she would reply. You could do nothing but frown, and wonder. Wonder what it was she saw, what she knew, what she was looking for.
"Don't wish your life away, love," you say, worried about her. No boyfriend, no proper job, just... drifting.
"I'm not, Gramps," she says, smiling in return. "I'm waiting. For him."
"Yeah. The one who opened my eyes."
"Who is he?" You can't help but ask, because it's obvious that she has been influenced by him. You're not even sure how you feel about that – jealous, because someone has finally had that affect on her, and you don't know who it is, or what they want; worried, because instead of day dreaming in the real world, she's taken staring at the stars, and fascinated, because of the way she talks about him. All of these wash over you at once, and you feel drained after the thought.
"Oh just someone I let fly away," she says, smiling.
"Well, fly after him!" you say, laughing to yourself. "You don't give up, Donna. You never do."
"You're right," she says in response. "I'm gonna find him, and then you'll see. It's all out there." As you look at her, you see something you never thought you would on her face – determination. It makes you smile to finally find it in her.
"You do that, my love."
Word Count: 436
“Donna?” Wilf’s call up the stairs to his granddaughter was insistent.
“What?” she replied grumpily. She’d gone upstairs for a nap after she’d gotten home from work, but Wilf didn’t care, not at that moment in time. He needed her downstairs, now.
“Get down here!” he yelled up at her.
“Why?” she said, appearing at the top of the stairs. “Can’t Mum deal with whatever it is?”
“Not bloody likely,” Wilf muttered to himself. “She’s out.”
“Then it can wait,” Donna said, but stopped when she heard something odd. A sound that was out of place in their house.
The sound of a baby crying.
“What,” she started, climbing down the stairs slowly, “the hell is that?”
Wilf was in the front room, and moved over to the strange baby, picking it up and jiggling it up and down in an effort to quieten it down. “Something you want to tell me?” he asked.
“What?” Donna replied, looking first at the cot in which the baby had been in, then at Wilf. “What is a baby doing here?”
“That’s what I want to know. Not yours then?” Wilf said, grinning at Donna.
“Oi! Like I’ve been doing anything lately that would get me a baby. Sure it isn’t yours?”
“I’m a bit past that now,” Wilf said, grinning up at her. “Trust me.”
“Oh don’t think I haven’t seen how Minnie looks at you,” Donna teased. “Well. It ain’t mine, and it ain’t yours. It can’t be Mum’s.”
“God no, not unless she got pregnant and gave birth without us noticing,” Wilf said. “Besides, I don’t know that she... that is...” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. There were things you just didn’t talk about.
Unless of course, you were Donna. “Yeah, she’s been through the menopause,” she said, emphasising the word menopause. “Trust me, Gramps. The mood swings aren’t something you miss.”
Wilf gave Donna a look. “I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he said. “So, who’s is it?”
“And what is it?” Donna asked.
“What? Other than a baby?” Wilf said carefully. He really hoped that she wasn’t starting to remember things she wasn’t meant to.
“No, you muppet. Honestly, head in the clouds, you. I meant is it a boy baby or a girl baby.”
“Oh,” Wilf said, breathing a silent sigh of relief. “Given it’s dressed in blue, I’m guessing a boy.”
“Brilliant deduction work there, Gramps,” Donna said sarcastically.
“Oi. You watch your mouth,” Wilf said, pulling himself up in a solder like fashion.
“Alright,” Donna laughed, which changed to a grimace as the baby started crying. “God, what does it want?”
Wilf started bouncing up and down on the spot slightly, trying to calm the baby down. “I’m guessing by the way it woke up, he’s probably hungry,” Wilf said, looking around.
“Well, you needn’t look at me,” Donna replied, then pointed at herself. “These aren’t a baby feeding station.”
Wilf passed Donna the baby. “Here, hold him,” he said, before wandering off into the hall. “You’ll change your mind one day,” he called back to her. “When your own looks up at you.”
“Not gonna happen,” Donna said, trying to match how Wilf had bounced the baby, but only succeeding in making the baby cry more. “Gramps...”
“One day, love,” Wilf said, reappearing at the door with a hold-all. “Baby milk.”
“You just get it on tap?” Donna asked, looking at him.
“Nah, there was a bag in the hall with it in. I still think this is something to do with your mother, though I dunno where she is. Unlike her to walk away from a responsibility, especially a baby. She always wanted grandkids.”
“Stop it,” Donna warned, pointing a finger at him. “What now?”
Wilf took a bottle out of the bag. “Go heat it up in the microwave,” he said. “Not too long. Don’t want it too warm.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Just because I’m a bloke doesn’t mean that I didn’t do my fair share of looking after your mum or you for that matter. ‘Course, things have changed, but some things never do. Including that familiar smell. Next lesson – changing a nappy.”
The door opened half an hour later, and Sylvia burst in. “I’m sorry. I promised I’d look after Marge’s grandson, but Mr Stephenson at number sixty three had a fall. I had to help...” she started to say as she rushed into the front room, stopping dead at the sight in front of her. Donna was happily feeding the baby, Wilf looking on. “I leave you two alone for a moment,” she said. “And this happens.”
“What?” Wilf said, glancing up at her. “We coped.” He winked at Donna.
Word Count: 794
Not binding to any Donna muse.
Oh you know how to use this thing. If you're looking for Donna, she's not home.