Page 31 of The Yuletide Child


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Henry made a wry face. ‘My dear girl, no taxi could get up here tonight. The hills are far too steep, everywhere is snowed in and the police are advising people to stay put except in real emergencies. I had the devil of a job getting to the farm, and I’ve got chains on my four-wheel drive. The phone lines are down, too, I’m afraid, and my mobile isn’t working.’

Her face falling, Dylan sighed. “Oh, dear.’

Looking at the food on the table, Henry said, ‘You were just going to eat? Don’t let it get cold. It looks and smells delicious.’

Ruth smiled at him. ‘Wash your hands and face and sit down, Henry—there’s far too much for two.’

‘I was hoping you’d ask!’ With alacrity he went to the sink while Ruth piled spaghetti and sauce on Dylan’s plate, offered her a dish of grated cheese, then held out a woven basket heaped with sliced home-made bread.

Henry sat down, his face pink from cold and wind, running a hand through his curly white hair, and Ruth served him before taking what was left in the dish for herself.

‘I’ll take a look at you later,’ he told Dylan. ‘Then I’ll have to go—this is the sort of night when medical emergencies pile up. I must get back to my surgery in case I get called out again.’

‘I hope your patient is okay now,’ Dylan said shyly.

‘My patient?’ he repeated, looking puzzled.

‘At the farm?’

His face darkened, and he said curtly, ‘No, he died, I’m afraid.’

Ruth looked at him in concern. ‘Oh, I’m very sorry, Henry. We’ll miss him.’

Dylan wished she hadn’t asked, but Henry shrugged his broad shoulders.

‘Oh, he was in his eighties and had been very ill for a long time. It was a blessed release for him, and for his family. Can I have some more bread, please, Ruth?’

Dylan watched Ruth cutting bread, giving him two slices, saw their eyes meet and a smile flash between the two of them. Obviously they were very close—just good friends, like her and Michael, or something more than that? She didn’t know them well enough to guess.

‘More wine?’ Ruth asked, and he sighed.

‘Wish I could, but I can’t afford to drink too much tonight. I need all my reflexes working perfectly.’

Dylan found him an uneasy companion; his combination of hard common sense and offhand courtesy had a bitter tang to it. She sensed he did not like women much. There was a coldness in his eyes whenever he looked at her, amounting almost to rejection, and it hurt. She was in a state to find any rejection, even that of a stranger, painful to take.

Suddenly he said, ‘What the hell’s that?’ staring at the glass door out of the kitchen into the garden.

Ruth and Dylan looked round and both laughed.

‘It’s only Fred,’ Ruth said. ‘I must go and put him in the shed when I’ve finished eating. He must be freezing out there, but he almost knocked the shed down a few hours ago. He hates being locked in there. What he wants is to get in here, but he would cause havoc’

Pushing away his empty plate, Henry gave a satisfied sigh. ‘That was terrific, Ruth. You’re a good cook. You should open a restaurant; I’d be one of your best customers.’

‘Too much like hard work,’ Ruth said.

He laughed. ‘Well, if you’ve finished eating, Dylan, I’ll check you out before I have to go. Ruth, will you be our chaperon?’

The examination was brief but thorough; he looked at her bruises, listened to her pulse, took her temperature, then listened to the baby’s heartbeat through his stethoscope, inspected her ankle and agreed with her own diagnosis.

‘You’ll do, but I think you should stay here tonight—it would be unwise to try to travel in these conditions. By morning the phones should be working okay.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Sorry, must dash. Thanks for the meal, Ruth, best I’ve had for ages.’

Dylan caught sight of Ruth’s face, saw something in the twist of her mouth, her hazel eyes, that made Dylan wonder. Maybe this was not such a platonic relationship after all, at least where Ruth was concerned. Or was she imagining things?

Ross was just leaving his hotel when the receptionist called him back. ‘Mr Jefferson, an urgent phone call for you!’

It must be Dylan, he immediately worked out, hurrying back, but the voice was that of her sister, Jenny, sounding upset

‘Ross? Oh, thank goodness. I remembered Dylan told me you were going to some meeting in York but I wasn’t sure which hotel she had said you would be staying at. This is the third one I’ve tried! Ross, Dylan hasn’t arrived yet. There’s a blizzard raging outside, and I’m worried about her.’

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