And None Shall Sleep by Priscilla Masters Page B

have accepted Matthew’s offer and moved in with him. But she knew it would be easier to move in than to move out. She filled the kettle awkwardly and sat, pondering, before hunger drove her back into the kitchen.
    Matthew arrived at eight thirty, a take-away tucked under his arm. He grinned at Joanna and held out the brown paper carrier bag. ‘This is a large slice of humble pie,’ he said, bending and kissing her cheek. ‘I’m so sorry.’
    He gave one of his boyish, apologetic grins and rubbed his chin ruefully.
    â€˜The only thing I can say in mitigation is that I really did think it would be better for you to have a couple of days’ rest instead of charging around the place on the hunt for a missing patient.’
    â€˜If this is Chinese humble pie,’ she said, sniffing the contents of the bag, ‘you’re forgiven.’
    â€˜It is,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean you were like Joan of Arc.’
    She met his eyes. But in anger there was an element of truth.
    He smiled and drew her to him. ‘My mother always told me the way to a woman’s heart was through her stomach,’ he said softly, into her hair.
    â€˜Your mother,’ she said, ‘sounds a remarkably sensible woman.’
    He tilted her chin towards him and stared at her. ‘You should meet her.’
    â€˜Should I?’ Matthew drew back and hung up his jacket. She didn’t pursue the subject.
    â€˜Well, as I didn’t think you were going to manage much in the way of culinary adventures with that thing on your arm ...’ He was speaking too quickly, ‘I thought ...’
    Sometimes she wondered whether Matthew’s parents would ever accept her. Perhaps not while he had a daughter and a legally bound wife. Occasionally she would wonder which of the three disliked her most?
    Like Snow White’s stepmother peeping into the magic mirror, the answer never varied. Eloise hated her most and the answer still had the power to wound her. Maybe one day she would cease to care but today, already wounded, it still did.
    She walked into the kitchen and picked up two plates with her good hand.
    Matthew’s voice reached her there. ‘I remember when Eloise broke her arm ...’
    The kitchen seemed suddenly icy, frost edging under the door, through the windowframes, down the stairs. And even Matthew, with his selective, wilful blindness, must have sensed it as she returned with the plates.
    â€˜... anyway, she couldn’t do anything for herself,’ he finished quickly. ‘I only hope your help with the investigation was worth leaving that luxurious hospital bed for. Besides all that delicious free hospital food.’
    She motioned towards the food. ‘Nothing as good as this.’
    â€˜Well,’ he said as she set the plates awkwardly on the table, ‘have you found the old goat yet?’ He clutched his chest and staggered around the room. ‘Lost – man with chest pain wearing pyjamas.’ He shot a wicked glance at her. ‘And did I hear he was dripping blood?’
    She laughed uneasily. ‘Theatrical – isn’t it?’
    â€˜Just a bit. Surely the whole case is quite simple,’ he said. ‘Just follow the blood trail.’ He gave her a mocking glance. And you a Detective Inspector, Joanna. Really.’
    She enjoyed sparring. ‘It ends in the car park.’
    â€˜So,’ Matthew said in conspiratorial tones, ‘an accomplice with a car.’
    She shrugged.
    â€˜What do you think – was he loopy or depressed? Or possibly both?’
    â€˜I honestly don’t know about his mental state,’ she said, ‘and we haven’t found him in spite of the police search.’ She paused for a moment before adding, ‘His wife’s not exactly concerned about his disappearance.’ She put her head on one side, considering. ‘And that always makes me a bit