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

there anything I can do, Philip?  I want to help if I can … after all, I know from bitter experience what it’s like … I gather you have a nurse in the mornings but if you’re busy and want me to visit Sue in the afternoons, I'm more than willing to do so.  You know I nearly became a doctor” she grimaced, “so I can be of use with the nursing … that’s if you would like me to.”

Philip’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled more with relief than pleasure.

“If you can spare the time, Ruth, it would be much appreciated.  Sue needs the company and as much as I want to be with her all the time, there are things I have to see to with the business.”

“Leave it to me,” replied Ruth.  “I have quite a bit of free time, thanks to my nanny, and I would be delighted to help.  You go and see to whatever you have to and I’ll pop in now and say hello.”

“Thanks so much, Ruth.  I have no-one to accompany this party of riders as all the staff are otherwise engaged and as a couple of young ladies can’t ride too well, I would like to go with them to make sure they are all safe.”

“Go,” commanded Ruth.  “I’ll see what needs doing indoors.”

Sue was in bed when Ruth explored the house quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was asleep.  She had only been to Tangles on a couple of occasions and never further than the large, comfy old kitchen with the Aga and great big table in the centre.  She took off her shoes in the hall and in her stockinged feet crept quietly through the kitchen, into the hallway and then up the stairs.  All the bedroom doors were shut apart from one in the middle of the corridor, which was slightly ajar.  Ruth padded up to it and looked in.  Sue was lying in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.  From what Ruth could see of her, she looked frail and thin, which was a shock as the Sue she had chatted to in the village shop a few months previously had been complaining of putting on weight.

“Sue?” said Ruth quietly, not wanting to startle her.  “Hello, it’s Ruth.  Philip sent me up.  I wanted to see if there was anything I can do to help.”

Sue struggled to sit up, her face twisted in pain, her eyes full of unshed tears.  Her face was gaunt, her blonde hair thin and lank.  Her lips trembled.

“Oh, Ruth.  How nice of you … I hate to ask but if I could have a cup of tea, I would be most grateful … my mouth is so dry and I’ve drunk all my water,” glancing at the jug beside the bed.

And so the next few weeks gained a routine.  Ruth would see to her duties at Canleigh in the mornings when the nurse was at Tangles and then after a quick lunch with Stephen and Tina, she would drive over and spend the afternoon with Sue, reading to her, helping her eat, fetching and carrying cups of tea and hot water bottles … and just keeping her company.  Sometimes Sue would want to sleep, other times she would want to chat but even so, with the strong painkillers her oncologist had prescribed, it wasn’t long before she slid into slumber.  As the weeks progressed the periods when she was awake and lucid grew shorter and fewer and only six weeks after Ruth had first visited, Sue died.

Philip was devastated.  He had loved Sue deeply and to have had her taken from him after only four short years of marriage was a sharp blow.  The funeral, held in Canleigh church, which Ruth helped arrange, was well attended.  Philip and Sue knew a lot of people, especially in the horsey world, and they came from far and wide to pay their respects.  Philip was stoic throughout the long afternoon, politely mixing with all the mourners but once the last car had driven away from Tangles, leaving only Ruth to keep him company, his brave demeanour gave way.  He ripped off his black tie, undid the top two buttons of his white shirt, sank into the rocking chair by the Aga and cried piteously for the woman he had loved so much.   Ruth dared not leave him for the long night ahead.  Dr. Arnold had provided some sleeping pills and once the paroxysm of weeping subsided, she managed to persuade him to have a couple.

“I know how they helped when Charles died,” she advised.  “You need them.  Just for tonight, at least … I’ll make you a hot drink and then you can go up to bed and take some.  Believe me.  It will help, just a little.”

Exhausted and drained he did as Ruth suggested.  She gave him ample time to undress and get into bed and then went up with a mug of hot chocolate.  He looked sunk in despair in the big bed by himself; a man who utterly desolate, grieving sorely for the person who had shared his life so completely.

“Ruth … I don’t want to be alone.  Please.  Would you stay with me until I go to sleep?  It won’t be long,” he said tiredly.  “I’m shattered … and those pills will no doubt soon work their magic.”

There wasn’t a chair in the room so Ruth had no choice but to sit on the bed beside him, still dressed in her black silk mourning dress, pearls around her throat and in her ears.  At first, she felt uncomfortable and ill at ease but Philip put out his hand and placed it over hers.  It felt good.  Warm and dry.  Almost … almost like Charles.  If she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was him.  Oh God, the pain washed over her.  She still