A/N: I wanted to get on with the investigation and my muse insisted I write the next two chapters instead.

Part 7

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Entering her home, Donna threw her keys down, dumped her bag, and hung up her coat before sauntering into the kitchen. Her mother was in there, putting a tray of something into the oven.

"How did your date go?" she was greeted with.

She deliberately aimed for the settee and sat down. "What date?" Donna wondered.

"The date with your young man," Sylvia huffed as she slammed the oven shut before moving across the room to sit beside her daughter. "Although I can't say I approve of him carrying you about on the back of a motorbike like that. They're not safe."

"Good job I won't be doing that again then."

"Why?"

Trying not to roll her eyes, Donna stressed, "Because it wasn't a date!"

"Looked like a date to me," Sylvia claimed.

"And how long exactly were you spying on me through the net curtains?"

"Long enough," Sylvia snarled, having been caught out. "You could hardly miss it after all that noise he made on that bike. You could hear him at the bottom of the road. He was certainly full of himself as he showed off to impress you. And you were all girlish in return."

The anger level rose in Donna. "Funny but, last time I looked, I actually was a girl."

"Yes, but you know what I mean." Sylvia got up to pick up her knitting. "You were like two little lovebirds twittering around each other."

"What a lovely image," Donna sneered. "I hope my plumage was up to scratch."

"Well, you were soon thrusting your body up against him, in front of the neighbours."

"Mum! You make it sound disgusting. I got on the back of his bike, and that was it. No funny business."

A happy Sylvia grinned as her needles clacked together. "Good. That's what I like to hear. Where did you go?"

"Nice," Donna acknowledged her mother's unfinished knitting by fingering the bottom hem of the wool. "We ended up near Reading. At a wedding fayre." Sylvia's face immediately lit up in anticipation at this news. "No, don't start. It was to do with work and not some jumped up elopement plan, before you even ask."

Sylvia's face hid a smirk. "You spoil all my fun."

'Spoilt my own too,' she couldn't help thinking. "To think, for a split second you thought you were getting rid of me," she mocked. "Shame."

Nothing unusual in that, Sylvia considered. "You know what else would be a crying shame?"

"What?"

"If you don't make us a nice cup of tea to cheer me up."

"I'll get right on to it," Donna readily promised, and stood to do just that.

John woke up the following morning to the sound of his phone ringing. He growled, rolled over, and grabbed up his phone. "What do you want?" he gruffly answered.

The voice of his old friend Will caustically chastised him. "There's no need for that tone! Especially as I'm phoning to congratulate you. Woke up with a hangover after celebrating, have you?"

Sitting up in bed, John raked his fingers through his hair. "Congratulate me? What for? Why would I be celebrating?"

"Don't go all shy on me. It's all over Twitter," Will answered.

"I'm still none the wiser," John admitted. "Why are they talking about me on there?"

With a deep sigh, Will informed him, "You were seen out with your fiancée."

"I haven't got a fiancée!" John protested.

"I thought it was odd, you being all lovey-dovey, with a woman of all people, but it's definitely you."

"Tell me where I can see this," John demanded reaching for his iPad. "You know me. Where would I get a fiancée?" And then something finally clicked into his brain. Oh dear! "Bloody Twitter! What do I need to type in?"

An amused Will spelt out the URL and waited excitedly for the reaction.

To John's horror, it was as bad as he'd expected. It appeared that Linda, the bride woman, had followed them and taken a photo of him and Donna laughing together. He threw his hand over his mouth as he gazed at the image. Linda announced to the world that he was engaged, and she had seen the evidence. There was a whole conversation about it. What the hell was he going to do?

"It's a misunderstanding," he told his friend, but Will merely laughed at him.

"Can't say I envy you having to tell that woman in the photo that she means nothing to you," Will goaded. "I mean, as if you could ever love someone else enough to marry them."

"Oi! I'm capable of loving someone!"

"Maybe, but more than yourself? Don't think so," Will continued. "I've known you long enough to know you're a miserable sod at the best of times. You'd soon drive this woman away. Promise you'll let me know when you've done it, and come back to tell me all the gossip."

"Your concern overwhelms me," John sarcastically ended the call. "Bye."

He then stared at the Twitter image again; and took in a deep breath.

"Oh shit!"

This needed attending to, he realised, so he dialled the latest number in his contacts