Free A Donation of Murder by Felicity Young Page B

with Margaret, to become friends with a patient of whom she knew very little. By doing so she was breaking every rule in her professional rulebook. This was far worse than Doctor Lamb’s show of affection towards Florence. Business and pleasure must remain separated, all her instincts told her that. Her job included working for the police and it was too easy to be compromised. Her love for Pike and his for her made things complicated enough, and they needed no more salt added to that pot. The only thing she and Margaret had in common was an unfortunate shared experience and some mutual respect. That did not constitute an intimate friendship.
    God, how much had she revealed to Margaret about her special friendship with Pike? Already the conversation was muted in her memory by a whisky fug. All sherecalled was that she had confided some personal things about herself while receiving almost nothing from Margaret in return. It was so unlike Dody to talk intimately with any female other than Florence. Even her mother did not know of her fondness for Pike. Thank goodness she had not revealed his name or his occupation.
    Dody pulled the plug and watched the whirlpool of water, listening to it scream as the plughole sucked it down. Surely her relationship with Margaret would fizzle out in the end?
    Her toes curled. The tiles through the bathroom mat felt like ice. She wrapped herself in a towel, gazing out of the small window as she dried herself. Snowflakes spiralled from the inky sky. She shivered as she pulled her nightdress over her head, marvelling how Margaret had survived the night outside in weather such as this. Her mind travelled to the sick and homeless women who slept in the park. How would they be faring tonight? And what would happen to them when the clinic closed its doors? She prayed to the God she did not believe in that they could sweet-talk the landlord into letting it remain open at least until the spring, when the worst of the weather would be over.
    The church clock chimed two. The copper warmer Annie had put in her bed would be cold by now.
    But at least the fire was still in; she saw its gentle glow as she stepped from her bathroom. She didn’t bother with the light, instead heaping the fire with coal before turning to her dressing table to pull the pins from her hair. Too tired to run her brush through it, she’d face the resultant bird’s nest in the morning.
    In the glow of the firelight, she made her way over to her large bed and slipped under the covers, bracing herself for the chill sheets as one might for a dip in the North Sea. The bed felt comforting and warm, as if a body had just rolled off it.
    â€˜I kept your side warm for you,’ said a sleepy voice. Pike pulled her into his arms, his warm legs twisting around her cold ones.
    They were both too exhausted for passion, but to hold one another as close as this was, in its own way, as good.
    They made up for it the next morning when the curtains seeped a grey, watery light. A second sense must have prevented Annie from delivering Dody her usual morning tea, which meant they had almost an hour alone together before breakfast. Pike gave her one last lingering kiss before rolling over to lie on his back. She gazedinto his face, his dark blue eyes glowing like coals in the soft firelight. He picked up her hand and absently kissed her fingertips.
    â€˜What happened after we parted yesterday evening, Matthew?’
    â€˜Shepherd told me to report to him when I was finished for the day, but when I got to his office, he’d gone home. There was a note on his desk telling me to call by his house.’ He paused. ‘I did just that, but found all his house lights off. I look forward to seeing him this morning.’
    Dody smiled. ‘Do I detect a certain irony in your tone?’
    â€˜A smidgeon, perhaps.’ Pike got up from the bed and began to dress, removing his folded clothes from Dody’s Queen Anne