The Yuletide Child

‘Oh, I’m quite used to bad-tempered fathers-in-waiting,’ Henry said jovially. ‘The old tradition was for them to go to the pub and drink while their wives got on with it, which was quite useful because they were rarely much use and only got in the way.’

‘Well, I’d rather have him here than down at the pub!’

‘Of course you would. You need him, I know,’ soothed Henry. ‘In the old days it was much easier if you had a granny or an older sister helping out; they knew what to do and were often as good as a trained nurse. Today, the father is expected to share every stage of the birth, and some of them find the whole process terrifying. I’ve had them pass out! One young lad fainted on top of his unfortunate wife just as I was actually delivering their baby. I didn’t know which one to catch first.’

Dylan laughed. ‘Oh, I’m sure Ross won’t do that! He’s been wonderful, hasn’t he, Ruth? He’s coping better than I am! I’m afraid I’m not very brave.’

‘With first mothers fear is the worst enemy. They don’t know what to expect so they panic a bit. Easy to understand. You’re always afraid of what you don’t know,’ said Henry. ‘Well, let’s see how your baby is doing.’ He smiled at Ruth. ‘Is that a hot water bottle in bed with her?’

‘It helped her backache, and I thought it might help the pain—wasn’t it the right thing to do?’

‘Of course it was. Don’t often see them in modern houses, with all this central heating, but they are a real boon. I can warm my stethoscope before I put it on her tummy. It can be quite a shock to the system, a chilly stethoscope, especially in this sort of weather.’

By the time Ross brought up a tray of tea Henry had finished his examination and was talking quietly to Ruth while Dylan lay back with closed eyes, resting after her latest contraction.

Ross’s hard grey eyes flashed to her, then moved on to Henry, his brows lifting anxiously.

‘Is she okay?’

‘She’s fine—she’s doing very well.’

Ross’s tension relaxed a little. ‘And the baby?’

‘Baby’s fine, too—positioned perfectly for a straightforward birth. Don’t worry. Dylan is a strong, fit girl, with excellent muscle tone. I gather she is a trained dancer, so she could cope very well with giving birth,’ Henry told him in a reassuring voice. ‘It won’t be long now—another hour or so, I’d say—and I don’t anticipate any serious problems at all.’

Ross gave a long, audible sigh of relief. Ruth poured the tea and handed Henry his cup.

‘Have you had lunch?’ she asked him, observing the tired lines around his pale eyes, the weary droop of his lips.

He shook his head. ‘Not yet, and I’m starving. I’ve been working flat out for most of the last couple of days; I’ve had very little sleep and not much to eat, either.’

‘I could heat up some soup and grill a steak for you.’

His face brightened. ‘Would you, Ruth? That sounds wonderful; I would love a steak. I don’t suppose you’ve got mushrooms and tomatoes to go with it?’

Her eyes amused and affectionate, she nodded. ‘Of course—and some chips?’

‘Marvellous. Ye

s, please!’ he said with enthusiasm.

Ruth raised her brows at Ross. ‘Does that suit you too? I have plenty of steak in the deep freeze and I’ve been thawing some of it, which should be ready to cook by now.’

‘Thanks, that would be terrific.’

Henry cheerfully told Dylan, ‘Afraid you can’t join us—eating interferes with the birth process. Can’t have food being digested while baby is trying to be born.’

‘I couldn’t eat anyway. I’m not hungry.’ Dylan looked across the bedroom at the window, where snow eddied in great white flakes against a sky which had suddenly turned bright blue. ‘Look, the sun has come out!’ she murmured, her mood lifting a little. Odd how much better you felt when the sun was shining. Why was that?

After Ross had finished his meal he went back upstairs to sit with Dylan while Henry and Ruth sat in the kitchen drinking coffee.

‘You’re looking a little better now. You obviously needed blood sugar,’ Ruth said, watching the ruthless sunlight picking out deep-bitten lines in his face.

‘I’m old,’ he said without regret.

‘Nonsense! You’re nothing of the kind! Middle-aged, that’s all.’

He grinned at her. ‘What a nice woman you are! Why didn’t you ever marry when you were young, Ruth?’