The Yuletide Child

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ross sat in the hotel reception, thinking hard for several minutes, then he rang the police station in the village close to his home.

‘Hi, John, Ross here—have you been past my house today? I’m worried about Dylan. She isn’t answering the phone, but she was supposed to be staying with her sister tonight and hasn’t arrived. I wondered if you’d seen lights in our house?’

The local constable had a slow, calm way of talking. He took his time replying. ‘No, there weren’t any when I drove by at five o’clock, although everyone else had their lights on indoors—it was pretty dark by then. So, as you’d asked me to keep my eye on the place while you were away, I thought I’d better check Dylan was okay. I rang the doorbell, but nobody came, so I took a walk around, looking in the windows—no sign of anybody inside, and I noticed that the flower wagon wasn’t in the garage, so she must be driving. If she hasn’t reached her sister’s soon I should get on to the police down there.’

‘Thanks, John, I will. Look, this is the sister’s phone number. If you hear anything, you can reach me there.’

He put down the phone and walked out of the hotel, anxiety churning in his stomach. What had happened to Dylan? Where was she? If her car had gone she must have set off for Jenny’s—why hadn’t she arrived yet? Horrific images filled his head as he started the engine and slowly drove out of the hotel car park. God, what had possessed her to leave home in this weather?

It took him what seemed an eternity to drive from York to the Lake District, heading for Jenny’s house; there was no motorway between the two parts of the country—he had to use the ordinary roads, which were icy and dangerous, so that it wasn’t safe to drive at anything but a snail’s pace. It was very

late when he arrived, but Jenny and her husband were still up. There were lights all over the ground floor of the house, and Christmas lights flashed on and off on the Christmas tree in the window of the sitting room.

When he rang the bell the front door burst open within seconds. Jenny, in a hyacinth-colour woollen dress, stared at him in disappointment, looking past him, obviously hoping to see her sister behind him or in his car.

‘She isn’t with me,’ Ross said flatly, his own heart sinking. ‘She hasn’t got here, then?’

Tears welled up in Jenny’s eyes. She had her sister’s colouring, but in a brighter shade; her brown hair had a tinge of red, her eyes were bright sapphire-blue, her skin was matt white and she had a warm, rounded, matronly figure which had always been fuller than her sister’s slight, slender body. Five years older than Dylan, she had looked after her little sister like a second mother and they remained very close.

‘No. Oh, Ross, I’m getting really worried. I rang the local police, but they had no reports of her being involved in an accident, or taken to hospital around here.’

He followed her into the house and nodded to Jenny’s husband, Phil. ‘Sorry to arrive at this hour...’

Phil made a reassuring gesture. ‘My dear chap! We’re as worried as you are. Glad to see you.’

Ross smiled gratefully at him. ‘I talked to our police back home; she isn’t there. Her car had gone, so she certainly left—something must have happened to her.’ His voice deepened, roughened as he said that. He felt them watching him with anxiety that matched his own.

‘Maybe when it started to snow heavily she had the common sense to drive to a hotel and check in there for the night?’ Phil suggested. ‘That’s what I’d do.’

‘She’d have rung to let me know she was okay!’ protested Jenny. ‘She would know I’d be worried sick if I didn’t hear.’

‘If the phones were working, maybe—but some phone lines are down; they said so on the TV news.’

Ross sighed. ‘Maybe I should call the police again?’

Jenny nodded. “The number of our local station is written on that pad beside the phone.’

The desk sergeant Ross talked to was quietly reassuring. ‘There is probably a good reason why she hasn’t rung. I expect she is safe somewhere, sir, don’t think the worst. In weather like this the wisest thing is to get off the road; in fact some roads in the district are quite impassable. We’ve had to close them to stop drivers getting themselves bogged down in snow. We haven’t heard of any accidents involving your wife or her car. I’ll certainly alert all our cars to keep an eye open for her, but as you can imagine we’re stretched to our limit at the moment. There isn’t much else I can do.’

‘She could have had an accident somewhere else, en route, of course,’ Ross thought aloud.

‘Yes, that’s certainly possible. I’ll circulate a description of the car to other areas and see if they have any news. If we hear anything you can be sure we’ll ring at once, but take my advice, go to bed and try to sleep. I’m sure you’ll have good news in the morning.’

When Ross relayed this to Jenny and her husband Phil nodded. ‘I think he’s right. We can’t do anything else tonight. We might as well get some sleep. Now, Jen, be sensible—come to bed. Ross, we got the spare room ready for Dylan—you know where it is. I think you should turn in too. You look dead on your feet.’

Shaking his head, Ross said wearily, ‘I couldn’t rest for a second while I don’t know what’s happened to her.’ Guilt was burning in his stomach. That morning Dylan had begged him not to leave her, pleaded with him to take her with him, and he had refused. He wouldn’t even listen to her, he had brushed her worries aside as typical female jitters, not taken her seriously.

He wished to God he could turn the clock back and have a second chance. If anything had happened to her he would never forgive himself.

‘I’ll be up later,’ Jenny told her husband, who gave her a wry look before turning away.

‘Don’t sit up all night fretting, Jen. It won’t do Dylan any good, you know,’ he said as he left the room.

Ross was staring at the Christmas tree, watching the fairy lights, gazing at the silver bells and delicate glass birds, red, yellow and blue, which nested in the pine branches.

The scent of the tree reminded him of his own home, of the forest he loved so much, the tall, cathedral-like acres of pines, the dark shadow beneath them, haunting and mysterious. God, he wished he was there now, with Dylan, all this misery and guilt forgotten. If only he hadn’t gone off to the conference in York! If only he had taken notice of Dylan’s anxiety, stayed home with her as she’d asked!