The Yuletide Child by Charlotte Lamb (books to read to increase intelligence TXT) 📗

it?’ Alan pulled Dylan close and began shuffling around the room with her.

‘Hey, watch it! That’s my wife whose feet you’re treading on!’ Ross told him, but laughed as he watched. ‘You must be the worst-matched pair in the universe! It’s like watching a fairy dancing with a giant.’

Alan stood on Dylan’s feet again, and she couldn’t help giving a yelp of pain.

‘Sorry, did I hurt you?’ He let go of her and looked guiltily at her tiny feet in their soft leather shoes.

‘Not really, you just made me jump!’ she quickly reassured him, but was relieved when Alan sat down again.

‘I guess I’m just not cut out to be a dancer!’

‘You said it,’ his wife teased.

As they said goodnight Dylan told Alan and Suzy, ‘You must come to us next time—I’ll ring Suzy to work out when you’re free.’

Driving home, Ross said, ‘I’m glad you asked them back—I had a great time tonight, did you?’

‘It was a good evening. Suzy cooked us a marvellous meal, and Alan is darling.’ A pity Suzy constantly made fun of him, she thought. It must hurt his feelings and he was such a sweet guy. He clearly adored Suzy, too—but Dylan couldn’t quite decide how Suzy felt about Alan. She couldn’t imagine herself teasing Ross and making fun of him in front of other people. But she could imagine Ross’s reaction if she did it He wouldn’t stand for the sort of treatment Suzy dished out to Alan, and Dylan agreed with him. No wife should ever humiliate her husband in front of other people, or nag him—it had been embarrassing to watch it happening.

When Alan and Suzy came to dinner a couple of weeks later Dylan was worried in case something went wrong, but the evening went off well enough, except that there seemed to be even more tension between the other two. Suzy was as scratchy as an old record—she snapped at Alan every now and then—while he seemed edgy and was far quieter than he had been at his own home.

Ross talked to him about their work while the four ofthem drank an aperitif, then Dylan went into the kitchen to get the food ready, quite glad to get away from the uneasy atmosphere.

‘Can I help?’ offered Suzy, but Dylan refused the offer politely.

‘Thanks, but I can manage—you stay and talk to the men.’

Dylan served them grilled prawns with a home made mayonnaise to begin with, then cold poached salmon with salad followed by chocolate mousse she had made herself. The work had taken up most of her day, but she had enjoyed doing it.

‘That was mouthwatering,’ Alan said, eating a second helping of mousse. ‘Did you cook it all yourself?’

She nodded, and met Suzy’s wry eyes almost apologetically. ‘I’m new to cooking so I decided to try and do it all myself.’

But why was she apologising for not having bought the meal ready-made? It had been fun. Some days she went nowhere, did nothing, saw nobody—except Ross for a few minutes in the morning before he went to work and in the evening before she went to bed. Having to plan for the dinner party, do the shopping, prepare the food, had been new and stimulating.

‘Well, congratulations, you get a gold star,’ Suzy said with a faintly acid smile. ‘Aren’t you a lucky boy, Ross? She’s not only talented and beautiful, she can cook, too. How will you ever keep her?’

Ross’s face clouded over, and he was quiet for the rest of the evening. Dylan felt a spurt of dislike for Suzy—why had she said something so spiteful? How had she guessed that Ross wasn’t entirely sure about his marriage? Had Ross confided in her?

Dylan knew he wasn’t certain their marriage wouldwork out—he was afraid she would tire of being married, be bored living right up here in the North, far from any town, let alone a city. He had said as much to her, several times, but she resented the very idea of him confiding his feelings to Suzy.

She didn’t say anything to him after the party, though. She was tired and a little depressed; the evening had been a let-down. She had wanted to make it a wonderful occasion, but Suzy and Alan’s subterranean squabble had made it uneasy, an evening balanced on a knife-edge.

She wished she liked Suzy better, but they didn’t have much in common, and Ross’s other colleagues all lived further away. She had no opportunity to meet any of their wives, and as there were no close neighbours she very rarely had anyone to talk to except the shopkeepers in the village.

There wasn’t that much to do around the house; she could finish her housework in a couple of hours each morning. But she enjoyed working in the garden more and more. A library van visited the area once a week, and Dylan was able to get out books on gardening, learn how to prune and plant, how to plan borders, work out colour schemes.

One morning Michael rang her, making her nerves skip as she recognised his voice. He didn’t waste time with polite preliminaries, just asked curtly, “Changed your mind yet?’

‘No, and I won’t, Michael. Please, accept it...’

‘Never,’ he said. ‘And I’ll never forgive you. You’re deliberately throwing your life away—why? All that talent and you’re burying it. It’s a sin against life.’

The phone slammed down and she jumped, her ear reverberating with the noise.

From around that time she began to feel very off-colour. She couldn’t think what was the matter with her. Her symptoms weren’t serious enough for her to go to the doctor, and they kept changing. One minute she had backache, the next she felt sick, then she had a headache. After half an hour gardening she suddenly felt dizzy, the world going round and round, and had to go indoors and lie down. All those little grumbling problems she kept to herself, because she didn’t want Ross to think she was a hypochondriac. Her health had always