The Yuletide Child, Charlotte Lamb [best novels to read .TXT] 📗

‘She knows what’s going on,’ Ruth said drily. ‘She’s kittened twice.’

‘A pity she can’t talk, then. We could ask her advice!’ Ross groaned.

Dylan laughed, perspiration-dampened hair clinging to her hot forehead. ‘She probably thinks I’m making a big fuss over nothing.’

Ruth laughed. ‘I don’t know about that. Cats hate being undignified, and giving birth is not a dignified process! She probably feels sorry for you.’

Ross wiped Dylan’s face with a cool, damp flannel.‘Where the hell is that doctor? Could you try him again, Ruth?’

‘I just did but the phone lines are down again—not surprising with this wind howling. Maybe one day this country will bury all the phone lines underground and put an end to these winter problems. It’s the same every winter.’

‘You would choose to give birth just when we’re having the worst weather of the year,’ Ross said to Dylan, softly brushing her damp hair back from her face in rhythmic movements which were very soothing.

For such a big, powerful man he could be amazingly gentle. Dylan loved having him there, looking after her; he made it much easier to bear what was happening.

At that moment a male voice downstairs called out. ‘Ruth? Are you up there?’

‘Oh...the doctor...’ sighed Dylan, and Ross’s face lit up with weary relief.

‘Thank God for that! I was beginning to think he’d never get here.’

Ruth hurried out of the room. They heard her call down the stairs, ‘Yes, come up, Henry. Thank heavens you got here!’

She and Henry murmured together on the landing, their voices not quite audible, and then Henry came into the bedroom, his shrewd eyes assessing Dylan’s condition briefly before moving on to examine Ross.

‘Hello, there! You’re the husband, right? Glad you’re here with your wife. It always helps to have a father on call for support and comfort. But just for the moment I need to see your wife alone—why don’t you go downstairs for a few minutes while I examine her? I need to see just how far advanced she is before I decide what to do. You look as if you could do with a break, too. Atrying business, childbirth. It can take a lot out of a fellow. Why don’t you make us all a cup of tea? I could do with one, myself.’

Ross glared back at him, saying fiercely, ‘I want you to find her a hospital bed. She can’t have the baby here; it isn’t safe. If anything goes wrong there won’t be anything we can do about it.’

Henry soothed him, using his best bedside manner. ‘Normally, of course, you’re a hundred per cent right. A first-time mother should be in a maternity ward, being looked after by a midwife, with lots of nursing back-up and all the most up-to-date equipment on hand for emergencies.’

‘Then get on the phone and find her a bed somewhere! ’

‘I’ve already tried to find a bed—the nearest available one is thirty miles off...’

‘Thirty miles!’ interrupted Dylan, face agitated. ‘No, I won’t go all that way, jolting about in an ambulance on dangerous roads.’

Henry gave her a rueful look. ‘My dear girl, there is no chance whatever of an ambulance driving here. They have too many medical emergencies to cope with. It’s a battlefield out there. The roads are littered with abandoned cars. Every operating theatre is working flat out. A woman having a baby is not a priority case, I’m afraid, unless her life, or the baby’s, is in real danger.’

Ross broke out, ‘I’ll drive her there. My car is a four-wheel drive; it can cope with these conditions.’

‘No!’ Dylan shook her head in terror. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

Henry made a face. ‘She’s right. It just took me over half an hour to get here. The roads are murder, I had to drive at a snail’s pace and my tyres wouldn’t grip on themixture of ice and new snow. I kept skidding and sliding—it was like trying to drive on a skating rink.’

Impatiently, Ross insisted, his voice rising harshly, ‘I’ll get her there, somehow!’

‘No,’ Dylan groaned. ‘Please, Ross! Stop shouting. Haven’t I got enough problems without you being so belligerent and throwing your weight around?’

He looked at her uncertainly, his hands screwed up at his sides.

Henry studied her, face expressionless. ‘Your wife is right. She has enough to cope with, just giving birth, and she’s frightened. I understand how worried you are, but you’ll just have to face the fact that we can’t get her to a hospital yet. But we’ll manage somehow. Off you go and make that tea while I examine her, then I can give you a better idea of the situation we’re facing.’

‘I want the truth!’ Ross grated, scowling.

‘You’ll get it,’ Henry promised.

Ross looked at Dylan, trailed his fingers across her limp brown curls without a word, then went out.

She sighed. ‘I’m sorry he was so aggressive.’

‘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 faintedon 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