Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) by Carole Williams (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

ever come near me again I’ll report you for attempted rape  . . .  and I don’t think you want your career tarnished by such a charge, do you, Richard?”

Terrified by the look of sheer rage in Richard’s eyes, Ruth fled the room, raced down the corridor and up the back stairs to the entrance hall.  Her pace slowed slightly once she reached the central staircase but even so she didn’t breathe easily until she reached the sanctuary of her room and locked the door behind her.  She hated to admit it but Richard had really scared her and she wasn’t taking any chances.

She sat on the bed, shaking like a leaf, unable to believe what had just occurred.  Apart from Richard’s physical attack, the conversation hadn’t been so very different from that of yesterday, with Delia. Did twins not only look alike but virtually act the same way as well?  She thought of Delia, driving away into the night and wished she could do the same but her car was in Oxford.  She rubbed the angry red marks Richard had left on her wrists.  She wanted to cry.  She wanted to have a shower.  She felt dirty …  unclean.  He hadn’t raped her, thank goodness, but it had been a sordid encounter and she wanted to wash it away.  She could still smell the alcohol on his breath and his cologne on her neck and her nightie.  She felt nauseous and ill … and wanted to go back to Oxford as fast as she could but she certainly couldn’t return with Richard … couldn’t be alone in his company again.

She picked up the telephone beside the bed and asked Directory Enquiries for the numbers of the railway station in Leeds and a local taxi firm.  On being informed that a train left for Oxford at six thirty in the morning, she booked a taxi to take her to the station.  Making definite plans made her feel slightly better and back in control but even so, she removed her nightie quickly and stepped into the shower to wash away the smell of Richard and the feel of his hands on her body.  Applying a liberal amount of her favourite lavender body lotion to her skin would hopefully help her sleep but before she slipped into bed she quickly packed her few things and scribbled a short note of thank you to Charles which she would leave on the tray in the entrance hall when she left in the morning.  She was extremely sad she wouldn’t see him again but no doubt he would forget all about her pretty quickly.  He had an absorbing life with his travels and his writing and wouldn’t give much thought to her once she had left.  She drew the bed covers around her and burst into tears.

CHAPTER 22 LONDON JUNE-JULY 1972

Delia’s life was blown apart.  She had never been so low and so miserable.  Her heart ached, her body ached, her soul ached worst of all.  All her hopes and dreams had vanished; disappeared in a whirlwind of a just a few short days. Everything that was precious to her was gone and she was lost; totally and utterly lost.  Thoughts of ending it all seemed almost attractive and the only way out of this dreadful despair which wracked her whole being.  It would be a huge relief to rid herself of all this pain.  No more fighting.  No more struggling.  What was the point of going on?  No-one wanted her.  No-one cared.  All her dreams were in tatters.  There was simply nothing to live for and nothing she wanted anymore.

The rain was sheeting down, hard and fast, almost as soon as she turned her powerful, beautiful car out of the gates of Canleigh and towards Leeds.  As if in competition with her tears, the water lashed hard against the windscreen, the wipers hardly able to keep pace with the torrent.  Leeds was quiet for a Saturday night.  The rain had seen to that and although there were a few taxis parked up waiting for the pubs and clubs to tip out their drunken customers, the pavements were empty; revellers packed inside lit up buildings with loud music booming out into the night.

Delia didn’t know where she was going or where she wanted to go.  She wondered about booking into a hotel but couldn’t face it.  She wanted to be on her own, away from prying eyes.  She was well known in Leeds and didn’t want to bump into anyone she knew or endure speculation from curious receptionists.  Everyone in the world would soon know how she had been rejected by her fiancé and her family.  There was no need to speed up the process.

She headed for the M1 and London.  On reaching the virtually empty motorway with only the odd driver wanting to venture out on such a night, her driving became wilder and more erratic as she gave way to her grief.  She knew she shouldn’t be driving, especially when she virtually slammed into the rear of a crawling black car in the left-hand lane and had to veer sharply to the right to avoid it.  It gave her a jolt and gripping the steering wheel with one hand, she used the other to rifle in her bag on the passenger’s seat for a tissue to wipe away the tears and clear her eyes.

Even though she was heading for London she still didn’t know where she really wanted to go, only possessing a deep desire to get as far away from Canleigh as possible and as fast as she could.  The car sped along the wide road but emotionally drained and exhausted, Delia began to succumb to the continual drone of the engine.  Her eyes grew heavier and heavier.

A hungry fox, desperate to reach a sandwich thrown out of a passing car ignored the danger and dashed into the middle of the road, directly