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

ask Alan himself! If Suzy was there, so was he! I have never met her anywhere alone. Dylan, I’m not having an affair with her!’

‘Then why couldn’t you take me to the party? If you aren’t having an affair, why couldn’t I come? I haven’t been to a party for months, and you know I love parties.’

He sighed. ‘I know you do, darling, but I was afraid the drive to York would be too much for you. This hasn’t been an easy pregnancy, has it? I’ve been very worriedabout you, especially during the last few weeks, and the doctor warned me that you ought to rest as much as possible over the final month or two. You’re so small and delicate.’

‘She told me I was as fit as a fiddle. She said I wouldn’t have any problems!’

‘She lied to you. She didn’t want to worry you, and neither did I, but although you were very fit and healthy you were tiny; she thought you might have problems giving birth because your hips are so narrow.’

There was a tap on the door at that second. Startled, they stopped talking and looked across the room as Ruth came in, smiling.

‘Oh, good, you are awake! I thought I heard voices.’

What exactly had Ruth heard? They had been shouting at each other, forgetting that there were others in the house. Embarrassed, Dylan flushed, looking away, and couldn’t force herself to reply.

‘I brought you a cup of tea,’ Ruth went on cheerfully, putting the cup down on the bedside table.

‘Oh, thank you. I was dying for some tea!’

‘Are you hungry, too? You haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast-I made a chicken casserole for Henry, with lots of vegetables and some herb dumplings; there’s plenty left—could you manage some of it?’

Dylan managed a wavering smile. ‘I’d love some, thank you—but first I’d like to go to the bathroom. Am I allowed out of bed?’

‘No!’ snapped Ross, bristling. ‘Don’t be ridiculous—you only had the baby eight hours ago. You can’t get up yet.’

Gently, Ruth said, ‘Well, actually, I did ask Henry when you will be allowed out of bed, and he says he leaves it to the patient. If she feels she wants to get uphe lets her. Years ago patients were kept in bed for a week or more, but not any more; the new approach is to get the patient moving again as soon as they feel up to it. So, if you want to try a walk to the bathroom, Dylan, it’s okay.’

Dylan slid her legs out from under the covers and stood up a little uncertainly.

Ross jumped to put an arm round her. ‘See? You’re shaking like a jelly! Get back into bed.’

She shook her head obstinately. ‘I’ll be fine. It’s only a few steps!’ She began to walk, feeling as if her legs were made of lead; lifting each foot seemed a tremendous effort, and Ross held on to her, taking some of her weight as she moved. At the bathroom door she pushed him away. ‘I can manage alone now, thanks.’

‘Well, don’t lock the door!’ he said tersely as she shut him out.

With the door closed she let herself slacken, leaning on the wall, aware of wobbly legs. She wasn’t going to faint, was she? That would convince Ross he was right to treat her as if she was too feeble to move an inch.

Could she believe everything he had just said? Had she put two and two together after Suzy’s phone call but got the wrong answer? Had the ‘affair’ been the product of an over-feverish imagination? Had he and Suzy simply been planning Alan’s birthday party?

Going over what Suzy had said again, Dylan realised she could have misunderstood—Ross’s explanation might be true.

The trouble was, she wanted so badly to believe him. A tremor of pleasure, of eagerness, ran through her—did he still love her, then? But if he did how could he have been so cool to her these last months? Had herpregnancy turned him off, or was he telling the truth about the advice his sister had given him?

Dylan looked at herself in the mirror assessingly—now that she had had the baby would his desire for her reawaken? How strange her reflection looked without the large bump in the middle of her body she had grown so used to seeing! She flattened her nightie with one hand, and felt a faint flabbiness under her palm. She must start exercising again, get back her muscle tone, get back the figure she had had when she met Ross.

Everything had happened so fast. They had married too quickly, perhaps; she should have realised how big an adaptation she would have to make, but she had been too much in love at the beginning. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of anything but a driving need to be with Ross.

Refusing to think too deeply, she had given up her career, her friends, her family, her home. Her entire life had changed overnight, and then her body had begun to change as the child inside her grew.

Now that it was over she could admit to herself how hard it had been to adapt to all those abrupt changes. She should have given herself time to get used to a new way of life before she started the baby—but then she had never planned to get pregnant; it had been an accident.

The pregnancy had been the real problem all along, she recognised. A dancer needed to be light, free, supple—and suddenly she had been none of those things, and she had hated that. Ross was right. Her slight build had made her pregnancy difficult. She had suffered appalling morning sickness for weeks and when that had passed off she had been miserable about her changing shape, had resented getting fat and heavy.

She had blamed Ross for it, hadn’t she? Oh, not consciously, but somewhere in her mind he had taken the blame, especially when he’d stopped making love to her and seemed to