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

and Richard and this revolting specimen of a human was a problem no more, her tension would evaporate and she wouldn’t need this nicotine crutch any longer.  “I’m going to get dressed.  Don’t be long.” She snapped again.

He watched her leave the room and then attempted to get out of bed but as soon as he moved, nausea and dizziness caused him to hold his head in his hands as he stood up.  He walked gingerly into the bathroom and groaned at the awful mess.  Scenes from last night came flooding back.  All the male members of the party had had sex with Delia in the shower, one after the other.  She had been insatiable; her stamina incredible.  He remembered a couple of tarts had amused themselves in the bath, which was still full of water with abandoned soap and sponges bobbing up and down in the slight breeze caused by the extractor fan.  The floor was awash.  He pulled the plug out of the bath and chucked a couple of dry towels on the floor and watched as they quickly soaked up the liquid on the tiles.  He wanted to pick them up but knew if he bent down his head wouldn’t be able to stand it.  He left them to lay in a sodden mess.

He stepped into the shower and let the water flow over him, not sure if it was making him feel better or worse but daren’t linger long.  Delia had looked annoyed and determined and now he was pretty reliant on her for their very existence, he didn’t want to upset her more than necessary.  Although he wished she could have left whatever it was so important to discuss until later, at least until he had recovered a bit more and could string a few sensible words together.

Refreshed and slightly more alert after his shower, he donned a pair of jeans and a sweater and left his bedroom.  The place was abnormally quiet.  Usually after a night such as the last someone would be wandering about, if only to look for medication and coffee.  He peered into all of the bedrooms.  They were all unoccupied but it was apparent they had been slept in.  Puzzled he went down to the kitchen, which was also in an unholy state of disarray with half eaten sandwiches, pork pies, peanuts, crisps, and chocolate cake on paper plates having been chucked onto the counter tops with dirty coffee cups and glasses and bottles of booze beside them.  He had wanted their usual caterers to provide the food for the bash last night but Delia had insisted it was a waste of money and they could do it on the cheap.  She had been right, as usual.  No-one had complained or commented on the far lower standard.  They had only been interested in the music and sex …  and lots of it, he grinned sheepishly.

He made himself a coffee, adding a hefty shot of brandy …  hair of the dog and all that … and then ventured into the conservatory where Delia lounged on a chair drinking orange juice from a crystal glass.  The light was dull.  It was threatening to rain outside.  The wind was increasing and the clouds were swirling and dark.  The depths of winter would soon be here and it would be time to hibernate.  He looked forward to long cosy days and nights curled up in bed or by the television with the heating on full blast.  That’s if Delia would let him.  She had a grim and determined look on her face and he hoped she wasn’t going to give him a lecture about getting some work done.  He really didn’t feel like it.

“Where the hell is everyone?” he asked, flopping down in the chair next to hers, wishing his head would stop spinning crazily.  He sipped the coffee gently, hoping the brandy, caffeine and four spoonfuls of sugar would make him feel better.

“I sent them on their merry way … although I must admit none of them looked particularly merry this morning.  Quite the opposite in fact,” Delia mused.  The moans and groans from the four young men and their female companions had been pathetic but she had been firm.  They all had their own homes to go to and she wanted them out. She needed to be alone with him and didn’t want anyone overhearing what she was going to say.

Waiting for her to expand he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply as his hands began the inevitable shaking.  He needed a fix and needed it now.  Hopefully, Delia would have bought extra from their supplier at the beginning of the week.  After the way they had gone at it last night there couldn’t be much left but she hadn’t let them down before so he couldn’t see any reason why she would this time.

He sat back in the chair and tried hard to focus on a swaying tree in the garden but it made him feel worse.  He turned his gaze on Delia who was staring at him with an odd expression on her face.  He couldn’t make it out.  She looked tense as if she was about to impart something dreadful.  He took another drag of his cigarette and shut his eyes.  He couldn’t deal with anything now.  He just wanted to go back to bed and not get up until the next day.  God, he was tired and felt so rotten.  What the hell was so important that she had sent everyone home and made him get up and come down here?  He began to feel mildly annoyed.  Who the hell did she think she was … this Delia Marshall … who had come into their lives all those months ago?

He remembered the night well, when the band had enjoyed a reasonably good gig at their regular venue in Boston.  Delia had been in the front row, watching them intently,