The Yuletide Child

His tall, lithe body was heavy with exhaustion, his hard-featured face pale, his mouth taut.

‘Have you eaten? Can I get you something?’ Jenny gently offered.

He shook his head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Cup of tea or coffee?’

‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’

Firmly, Jenny said, ‘Well, I’m making some tea—if I don’t do something I’ll go crazy! I can’t bear sitting here doing nothing while she’s somewhere out there, maybe dying of hypothermia. Even if she’s in her car she’ll be getting colder and colder and—’ She broke down, sobbing, tears beginning to run down her face. ‘Oh, Ross, I’m so scared for her...’

He pulled a paper tissue from a box on the table and dried her face, his arm around her heaving shoulders.

‘Don’t, Jen. I’m sure she’s okay. The police are right; she isn’t stupid, she has probably found shelter somewhere—in a hotel, or someone’s house. As soon as it’s daylight I’ll start driving around to look for her myself. Someone is bound to have noticed that crazy car of hers. How could you miss it?’ He was trying to talk himself into believing that.

Jenny gave a shaky giggle. ‘That’s true. Typical of Michael to paint it with all those psychedelic flowers!’

Ross’s brows jerked together, his face suddenly harsh. ‘Was he into drugs, do you think? I always suspected...’

‘Who, Michael? Good heavens, no. He was a fitness freak, obsessed with taking care of his body, watching everything he ate or drank, spending hours working out. He did yoga, not drugs!’ Jenny gave Ross a thoughtful look. ‘You weren’t jealous of him, were you?’

‘Jealous?’ Ross laughed shortly. ‘Of that guy? You’re kidding.’ His face stiffened. ‘You don’t think she could have gone to him, do you?’

‘She can’t have—he’s still in America on tour.’

‘So he is. I’d forgotten.’ Ross gave a brief, unconscious sigh, then looked at her, forcing a pale smile. ‘Could we have that tea now, Jenny? And maybe you could rustle me up a sandwich or something? I didn’t feel hungry, but I’ve just realised I haven’t eaten all day.’

‘Of course I will,’ she promised, bustling off.

Dylan was already in bed by then, in Ruth’s spare bedroom, floating on a feather mattress which made her feel as if she was sinking into a cloud. Ruth had lit a fire of logs and pine cones in the small, white-painted iron grate to warm the room properly, and for an hour after Dylan went to bed the black reflection of the flames danced on walls and ceiling.

The fire had begun to die down but the faint red glow from the ashes was comforting, as was the soft whisper as from time to time ash drifted down through the iron grating into the pan below. Central heating did not give you the same frisson of pleasure, thought Dylan dreamily, floating off into sleep.

The only thing that would make this experience complete would be to have Ross in bed with her.

If only she wasn’t pregnant. If only her body was the way it had been when they first met. She ached to have Ross’s hands stroking, caressing her, his mouth brushing her skin, kissing her eyes, her mouth, her neck, travelling down to her naked breasts, his lips parting to let his tongue torment her nipples, before he sucked each into his mouth, his fingers sliding down between her thighs... Sensual images made her toss in the bed, hot with desire and frustration

.

What was the point in remembering? At this very moment Ross was probably in bed with Suzy, in York, and she could be sure he wasn’t thinking about her. She couldn’t bear to imagine what he was thinking about, let alone what he and Suzy were doing.

How long had it been going on? Jealousy stabbed inside her. How could Ross do this to her when she was carrying his child? How could he do it to Alan, the man he called his best friend?

Was Suzy behind the change in the way he had been acting these past few months? She had believed he was no longer interested in her because she no longer had the sort of body that had excited him when they were first married.

Sex had been terrific in those early days—was sex all he was interested in? Hadn’t he ever really loved her? Loved her, in every way, the way she loved him—mind, heart and body, every part of him. Had Ross only ever loved having sex with her?

She turned over again, biting her lower lip in anguish. She had to stop thinking about him, thinking about anything—she was so tired; she had to get some sleep.

She had been to meditation classes years ago, when she was dancing. It had been Michael’s idea. He was very into yoga and meditation, he believed a healthy mind meant a healthy body, and she had found the meditation techniques very helpful m preparing her before the curtain went up. You could reach a place of calm where nothing could touch you.

She went through some of those techniques now, emptying her mind, letting her entire body relax, sinking into a state of tranquillity which very gradually became sleep.

Ross made a phone call while Jenny was in the kitchen creating a sandwich for him. ‘Suzy? Look, I’m sorry I had to go. Dylan has got herself lost...’

‘Lost? What on earth...?’ the warm female voice exclaimed at the other end of the line.

‘She set off to visit her sister and never arrived, but we haven’t heard a word from her. There’s probably a perfectly simple explanation, but it’s worrying. Sorry to let you down, though.’