The Yuletide Child

‘Too long,’ she whispered.

Neither of them had heard Ruth coming up the stairs. Luckily a stair on the landing creaked loudly before she walked into the room. Dylan had time to snatch her hand back, and Ross hurriedly stood up, dragging his dressing gown together while his back was towards the door. They were both red and breathing fast.

‘Here’s Mummy,’ Ruth told the baby, carrying her over to Dylan. ‘I said you would see her in a minute, didn’t I? Say Happy Christmas!’

‘Christmas!’ repeated Ross, taken aback. ‘I’d forgotten all about it!’

Holding out her arms, Dylan took the child, smiling into those wide, staring blue eyes.

‘Hello, darling. Happy Christmas to you, too—did you sleep all night?’

‘She was very good,’ Ruth lied. ‘A real Christmas angel.’

Dylan ran a finger down the baby’s cheek. ‘She smells so nice!’ Then she noticed the clothes the baby was wearing and blinked in surprise. ‘Where did you get those?’ The dress was a faded blue gingham with lacy cuffs and collar, and looked a little odd but rather sweet on the baby, especially as it was rather short on her dimpled legs. On top of that the baby was wearing a tiny blue knitted cardigan of a curiously old-fashioned design.

Ruth laughed. ‘I stole them.’

‘Stole them?’ Dylan repeated, wide-eyed.

‘I never throw anything away,’ Ruth admitted. ‘I still have most of my old toys in the little box room, including two dolls with china faces and soft bodies. I know it’s daft...’

‘Of course it isn’t,’ Dylan contradicted, smiling at her. ‘I’ve kept a couple of my own dolls, and my old teddy, although he’s very battered and has lost an eye.’

‘I’m glad I’m not the only sentimental idiot!’ Ruth laughed. ‘While I was getting the room ready for your husband yesterday, I realised my dolls were the same size as the baby, so I took their clothes off and washed and tumbled-dried them. I left them in front of the range all night, and put them on the baby after I bathed her just now—they fit her perfectly. I think my mother must have used some of my old baby clothes to dress my dolls after she bought them.’

‘Recycling with a vengeance,’ said Ross, laughing. ‘How wonderful. She looks adorable in them, too.’ He ran a hand over the baby’s head. ‘Look at all that hair! I had the idea babies were born bald.’

‘Some are, according to Henry.’ Ruth turned her head, sniffing. ‘I smell bacon and coffee. I’ll leave the baby with you, Dylan. What do you fancy for breakfast? Egg and bacon? Fruit and cereal? Coffee or tea?’

‘Whatever you’re having, thank you.’

‘Okay. How about you, Ross?’

‘I’ll have the same, too, thanks. This is really very kind of you, Ruth. It must be a nuisance having your Christmas ruined this way.’

‘It isn’t being ruined! I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed Christmas this much,’ Ruth said, smiling as she went back downstairs.

‘What a nice woman,’ Ross said, about to sit down on the bed again. But Dylan shooed him away.

‘Go and have a shower before breakfast. You haven’t much time, judging by that gorgeous smell of bacon!’

He went, laughing but reluctant, and Dylan cradled her baby, moved by the feel of her small, warm body. ‘You’re beautiful, do you know that?’

The dark blue eyes gazed up at her.

‘Yes, you do know, don

’t you?’ Dylan laughed, kissing the tiny button nose. ‘Hungry? Yes, I thought you would be.’

She opened her nightdress.

Ruth brought up her breakfast on a tray half an hour later and found the baby fast asleep, pink and contented, in her mother’s arms.

‘Give her to me. I’ll take her back downstairs and put her into the basket. Is feeding her getting any easier?’

‘She seems to enjoy it; that’s the main thing. What are you putting in her bottle, Ruth? Cow’s milk?’

‘No, Henry very thoughtfully brought along some more powdered feed, a couple of bottles and some sterilising tablets on his last run. Not to mention some disposable nappies, which make life much easier. Now, you eat your breakfast, then you can have a nap.’