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

There was no doubt the man was besotted by Vicky and would make an excellent husband for her at some point in the future.  He was kind and thoughtful, very like Charles and was also pretty good looking, like Charles, she smiled.  A mop of fair unruly curls adorned a pleasant square face with eyes that lit up when Vicky was near.  He was genuine, sincere, and tender-hearted.  Vicky would be a very lucky woman if she could eventually fall in love with him.  Although it was going to take quite a bit of time for her to get over recent traumatic events … but she would.  Ruth was sure of that.

Ruth worked hard, frantically removing every last trace of the events from the previous night.  Hoping Vicky wouldn’t wake, she vacuumed the bedroom floor and polished the furniture and completely cleared the flat of Delia’s presence as discarded boxes from the spending orgy when she left court were also placed by the entrance door for Alex to remove.

Alex buzzed through to the lounge telephone just as Ruth finished, satisfied that no-one would ever know what had occurred in the master bedroom.  She had made herself a cup of hot chocolate and was sipping it gratefully on the sofa.  Alcohol had been considered but would probably keep her awake and she badly needed rest as she had to be on her toes in the morning.  There was a lot to think about and to do and her mind needed to be fresh and alert.  The chocolate would help her sleep.

“Ruth.  It’s me,” said Alex quietly.  “We’re just closing now but before I go home I wanted to check how Vicky is … and you … you must be shattered.”

“Vicky’s sleeping.  The wounds will heal without too much trouble.  You did a good job of cleaning her up and the lacerations aren’t too deep so she doesn’t need stitches.  A few days and the bruises on her face will heal and I’m going to make an appointment in the morning to visit the dentist to make sure her mouth is okay.”

“Thank you so much, Ruth.  I’ve been so worried.  Thank God, you were able to come.”

“Well, I can stay a week.  She should be well on the way to having her physical injuries fade by then but as for her state of mind ...  she doesn’t want to stay in this flat for long … and that I can quite understand … she wants to go to Canleigh but with Delia and Barrie there, it’s impossible.  That’s my next task.  I have to get them out before my husband returns next week.”

“If you need any help, you know where I am,” said Alex firmly.  There was nothing more he would like than a confrontation with both of them.

“This must be terribly awkward for you too,” said Ruth.  “Barrie being your business partner.  What will you do about that?”

Alex sighed tiredly.  “I’ve no idea, Ruth.  No idea at all.  I only know there is no way I can work with him again … but I’ll worry about that when Vicky is better and we can discuss it properly as I’m sure she won’t want to work with him again either.”

“No, that’s for sure,” replied Ruth.

“Goodnight, Ruth.  I’ll pop round in the morning but if there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ring me.  I mean it.”

“Thank you, Alex.  Goodnight.”

Ruth crawled into bed in the second guestroom, absolutely exhausted, having eradicated all signs of her eldest step daughter ever having been in the flat.  It would be nice if it were so easy to rid the world of the woman herself because Ruth had a niggling suspicion that Delia wouldn’t be content until they had all suffered just a bit more.

CHAPTER 34 CANLEIGH – APRIL 1974

Six days later, it was raining hard and fast in Yorkshire.  It spilled out of the dark, whirling clouds so rapidly it sounded like someone was throwing stones at the windows, making it difficult to see outside with the water cascading down the glass.

Barrie stood beside the window in Delia’s bedroom in Canleigh Hall and looked out glumly.  It had chucked it down all day and looked as if it was going to keep it up all night too.  He had hoped to get out this evening.  Go into Leeds or somewhere, anywhere but here in this vast mausoleum of old paintings and sculptures with old crusty servants who disliked and disapproved of him.  It was ten thirty at night and Leeds would be beginning to hum in the pubs and the clubs.  He wanted to be there; laughing, joking, flirting.  He craved the excitement of loud, throbbing music and happy, intoxicated people.  Since he and Delia had stepped foot in this building they hadn’t been outside the door and he was so bored he could scream.

He glanced at Delia, languishing on the bed, as naked as she was born, smoking cigarette after cigarette.  She was grating on his nerves, teasing him relentlessly with her promises about how much money she was going to give him.  How she was going to set him up for life, all for helping her with bail, but the clock was ticking and so far, talk was all it was.  Nothing concrete.  Nothing tangible.  He began to fear she wasn’t telling the truth.  After all, who else could she have turned to?  The answer was in the white envelope on the bedside table.  Delia had laughed gleefully when Hardy gave it to her that morning but refused to open it all day.  Barrie knew who had sent it.  When Delia was in the bathroom, he had picked it up and examined it.  It bore the frank mark of Rathbones, the family solicitors in London.  No doubt it was confirmation that Richard’s legacy to Delia was unfrozen and safely in her bank account.  Why else would