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

“What?” Richard gasped, staring at Rocky, who had sunk into the nearest chair.  “What on earth are you talking about Delia?”

Delia loved the drama and couldn’t wait to explain.  “Yes, our darling Mother, before she married Father, was a little indiscreet and got herself in the family way.  I found Rocky in America and brought him home to meet you.  Close your mouth, Richard.  You look like a fish,” she joked at his expression.  “Anyway, we are gasping for a coffee, not having stopped since we left Heathrow.  Do you mind if I make us one while you two get to know each other?”

Richard nodded and sat heavily in the chair opposite Rocky.  Although he was pleased to see Delia was safe and well, and  obviously in good humour, he was deathly tired and found it hard to take in what she was saying about the useless specimen of humanity sitting in his flat and obviously heavily into drugs.  He really didn’t know what to say to either of them.

“I shan’t be a moment,” said Delia, dashing into the kitchen, pouring water into the kettle and turning it on.  She removed the gun from her bag, hardly able to hold it as her hands perspired and began to shake.  Flashes of the past sprang into her mind.  She remembered Richard as a boy, their games, their quarrels, their pact about the future of the estate.  She wavered and then recalled that last dreadful encounter in the library at Canleigh and how he had spurned her desires in an instant.  All that work, all those years of studying and planning.  He had destroyed it all in an instant. She let the hate flood over her, through her body and her mind.  Her hands steadied and she moved to the kitchen door, concealing the weapon behind her back as she re-entered the lounge and moved behind Rocky’s chair.  She wanted to shoot at the correct angle, just as if Rocky had pulled the trigger and not her.

“I’m sorry, Richard, but I did warn you that you’d regret reneging on our deal,” Delia said firmly, pointing the gun straight at his heart.  “You only have yourself to blame.”

Richard rose slowly to his feet, completely mesmerised by his twin pointing a gun at him.  “What the hell … Delia … are you mad?”

“No.  Just bloody angry, as I have been for as long as I can remember.  You know I have always wanted Canleigh and now I am going to have it … with you out of the way it will naturally come to me when our darling Father has departed this earth.”

Richard put his hands up in front of him as if to ward off the bullets.  “Just hang on Delia ... there’s something you obviously don’t know … Father … he married Ruth … and she’s had a baby … a boy.”

Delia paused for a split second, trying to digest this crazy information.  It couldn’t be true … he was lying to play for time but even if it was, she couldn’t stop now.  Whatever happened he was still in her way and had let her down badly.  No.  He had to go.  Delia’s hand holding the gun was steadied and she focused entirely on what she had come to do.  Nothing was going to stop her now.  “Don’t try to wheedle your way out of this,” she said softly.  “Say your prayers, darling brother, because this is as far as you go in this life.”

Without hesitation, Delia pulled the trigger twice.  One bullet went straight through Richard’s heart, the other smashed through his skull.  He hit the floor with a thud.

Rocky jumped to his feet.  Delia moved swiftly round to Richard’s inert form so that she was exactly opposite Rocky and fired at his chest.  She would never forget the look of shock on his face as he slumped back into his chair, blood gushing from his mouth.  She pulled the trigger again, wanting to be certain.  He couldn’t be allowed to live and tell any tales.

The silence was deafening as Delia worked quickly to have the scene ready for the police.  She wiped the gun thoroughly with tissues from her bag, placed it in Rocky’s right hand, forcing his fingers into the firing position and then picked it up again so that her fingerprints covered his and then dropped the gun on the floor.  She ran a hand through her hair, ripped her blouse and slapped her face hard, causing a red mark to appear rapidly.  She scratched Rocky’s face and hit his cheek with her fist.

Then she stood for a second, remembering her grandmother and the day she died.  Granny certainly wouldn’t be proud of her now and Delia hoped to God she couldn’t look down and see what her granddaughter was doing.  It worked, the tears began to fall, helped along by vivid scenes of Philip telling her he didn’t love her anymore.  Seconds later she was crying uncontrollably and not far from hysteria as she looked at the two bodies at her feet.  She staggered to the front door and outside into the fresh, cold November air, screaming for help from two men who were sheltering behind the half-open door of the house on the other side of the road.

“Here, love.  Come over here,” one shouted, dashing across the road towards her, pulling her back with him to the safety of their downstairs flat.  “Are you alright?  We heard shooting.  We’ve called the emergency services.  What’s happened?  Where’s Richard?”

Delia fell dizzily into his arms.  “It was Rocky,” she blurted out, her voice rising tremulously, “he’s killed … he’s killed my brother … he was going to kill me too,” she gasped, “but we struggled … I managed to get the gun from him and I ….”

She whimpered as the man held her in a close comforting