The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(42)

‘Won’t take long?’ Donovan said, looking mildly affronted. ‘Miss Winter, if I didn’t think you were joking, I’d say you’re severely underestimating me.’

‘OK, OK.’ Amy laughed. ‘I just need you to check for spiders, maybe get the Hoover in.’

Donovan followed her gaze into the cellar below. ‘Seriously? You want me to hunt for spiders?’

‘Yes, well. I need it cleared if I’m going to use it as a gym again. Pike invited me back to her son’s place, but we’re not on friendly terms anymore.’ She registered the disappointment on his face. ‘Why? What did you think I’d brought you here for?’

‘Where’s the Hoover?’ Donovan’s bemused look suggested he was all too aware of her games.

Within fifteen minutes, every inch of the room had been checked. Amy approached with a mug of fresh coffee and an expression of gratitude on her face. She had fond memories of her time in this space, which her father had converted to a home gym years ago, but since his death she had been reluctant to come down here on her own.

‘Who owns the punchbag?’ Donovan said, running his hand down the length of it.

Amy handed him his cup. ‘It’s mine. Fancy a workout?’

‘I might hold you to that. I did a bit of boxing in my youth – some competitions, nothing major.’

Amy could imagine him in the ring. She’d heard rumours that he had run with a troubled crowd in his youth. Joining the police had been his way of going straight. ‘It’s good for getting rid of pent-up energy,’ she replied, inwardly cringing at the double meaning. Stepping forward, she narrowed the gap between them. ‘Seriously, thank you. I don’t have many friends, and it’s been . . . nice.’

Sipping his coffee, Donovan gazed down at her face. ‘I’m here any time. You only have to call.’

‘You’re hardly living around the corner,’ she said, referring to his Essex abode.

‘What’s an hour and a half between friends?’ Reaching forward, he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Amy’s heart missed a beat as the warmth of his fingers made contact with her skin.

A sudden gravelly bark was followed by the slam of the front door and she groaned at the intrusion. ‘What time is it?’ Pushing back the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she checked her watch. ‘Don’t tell me she’s back already?’ Flora would be quick to draw inferences.

Amy paused. Would that be so bad? She sighed, knowing she had little choice in the matter. Flora would not have missed Donovan’s coat hanging in the hall. ‘Would you like to stay for a drink? A proper one?’ she said. Her father’s spirits cabinet had been left virtually untouched since his demise. She knew he would approve of Donovan being in her life far more than Adam. ‘I mean, if you’d rather not, I understand. It’s a bit soon to be bringing you back to meet Mum.’

‘I’d love to.’ Donovan’s posture was relaxed as he followed her to the steps.

‘Good. Do me a favour, will you? If she jumps to conclusions about us, do you mind not setting her straight? She might give this whole Adam business a break.’

‘Yeah, why not?’ His smile faded and he gave her a look that was hard to read. Was he hoping for something more between them, or frightened at the prospect? It was impossible to tell. She knew he was recently divorced due to infidelity on his wife’s side. They had more in common than just work.

‘It’s hard getting back into the dating scene, isn’t it?’ Donovan rested his hand on the stair railing. ‘It’s changed so much since I was last single. All these dating apps and websites. What’s wrong with going out for a drink, meeting in a bar or . . .’ He looked at her pointedly. ‘Through work?’

‘I can’t even think about dating yet,’ Amy replied, a little more quickly than she meant to.

‘But there’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun, is there?’ Donovan followed her up the steps. ‘Nothing heavy. Just two people enjoying each other’s company. Where’s the harm in that?’

Amy was about to reply when her mother’s voice rose in the hall. ‘Amy? Where are you? Are you home?’

Amy smiled at Donovan apologetically. ‘Come on,’ she said, opening the door. ‘I’ll get you a drink. You’re going to need it.’





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Amy made it to work with only minutes to spare, her legs aching from pedalling her bike against the wind. Last night, the drinks had flowed as she and Donovan curled up on the sofa, chatting about life in the force. She had seen the twitch of Flora’s bedroom curtains as she said goodbye to him on their front step. Hopefully, her mother would drop the subject of Adam once and for all.

Standing in her team’s office, Amy dragged her thoughts away from Donovan as she watched the officers file in. She curled her fingers around a mug from the tray that Molly had left on the table. A porcelain teapot sat alongside a couple of coffees and a packet of digestive biscuits on the side. Molly had the unenviable task of running the tea club and, come afternoon, there would be nothing left on the saucer but crumbs.

‘Can’t we afford any choccy biscuits?’ DC Gary Wilkes asked, sliding a digestive from the plate. His shirt was cobalt blue, paired with a canary-yellow tie. Pink yesterday, yellow today? Amy made a mental note to find out if he was colour blind.