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

what you do with them … and your blazer doesn’t look too good either.  We’ll take the opportunity to do a bit of shopping before I drop you at school this afternoon,” Constance smiled.

She turned to Delia.  “Would you like to come with us?  If Philip’s mouth isn’t too numb, we could have lunch somewhere nice.”

“No, thank you.  I don’t think I could bear listening to his screams from the dentist’s chair … and as for shopping for boy’s clothes ….”

“Um.  Yes.  I see what you mean,” replied Constance as Philip grimaced at Delia.  “Never mind.  I don’t expect we will be long … two or three hours.  What are you going to do with yourself?”

“Spend some time with Demon after I’ve finished the history assignment Thistledown has sent.  Then I’ll probably take Star out.”

An hour later Constance and a tense Philip left Tangles in the ancient Volvo estate car.  Delia waved them off and called Gruff, who rushed to her side.  The assignment could wait for now.  Velvet and Demon were now turned out into one of the smaller paddocks during the day.  Delia and Gruff strolled down to it.  Velvet was grazing and Demon lay contentedly by her side, dozing in the warm sunshine.  Delia approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful scene.  She leaned on the gate while Gruff sniffed eagerly in the bushes, hoping upon hope he would find a rabbit to chase.  With a sudden woof of glee, he found what he had been seeking and set off in pursuit, crashing through the undergrowth and startling Demon out of his snooze.  The foal staggered to his feet and seeing Delia gave a whinny of welcome and trotted quickly over to her.

“Hello you,” said Delia softly.  “Did that silly dog frighten you?”

Demon nuzzled her.  Delia, feeling the usual rush of warm emotion she always felt when near him, patted his head and stroked his long, silky nose.

“I love you,” she said.  “I love you very much and at this moment in time, I love you more than anyone or anything … and I really don’t know what I will do if you’re sold.  I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Delia hadn’t cried since her first visit to Granny’s grave but now the tears glided down her cheeks.  She could taste the salt as they reached her mouth.  Loneliness engulfed her as she remembered what had happened.  She had hardly thought about it since Demon was born but now it all flooded back and Charles would be home soon and now she was on her feet and feeling better, he would probably insist she return to Canleigh.  She hadn’t set foot in the Hall since that day.  She wondered how it would feel, knowing that her mother would never come back, that she would probably never see her again.  How Granny wouldn’t visit every day with her dogs or stay for lunch or dinner.  Then there was her father.  He would probably start apologising again.

Depression and loneliness turned to anger.  She began to feel that urge to lash out … as she had at Parfitt’s car.  Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.  The feeling of power and release that act had given her had been intoxicating.  Wrong but intoxicating.  Suddenly she knew what she must do.  She had to go back to Canleigh and face it, on her own, before her father returned.

Gruff had disappeared but Delia didn’t fret.  He was on home ground and would return to Tangles when he had had enough.  She thought about riding Star to Canleigh but rejected the idea, not wanting anyone to know she was there and with his beautiful grey coat he would stand out like a belisha beacon wherever she left him.  Walking was the best idea and wouldn’t take her long.

An hour later she was gazing at her home from the safety of the trees bordering the vast lawns at the front of the Hall.  There was no activity.  No sign of gardeners, Dick Joyce or the Hardy’s.  The Rolls was parked by the servants’ entrance, indicating Hardy was in the Hall but at this hour of the day the staff were probably assembled in the kitchen for morning coffee.  Delia, keeping to the shelter of the trees, moved nearer.  Memories flooded back.  Parfitt’s car on the forecourt, the feel of the knife entering the tyres, the bangs and hissing that followed, the look on the faces of her mother and Granny.

Delia wanted to vomit.  She clenched her fists and tried hard not to cry.  This was going to be harder than she thought.  She reached the final tree, with only a stretch of grass and the drive separating her from the front steps.  Her watch indicated it was 10.30 a.m.  She had about half an hour before the staff finished their break and returned to their never-ending cleaning duties.

She crossed the grass, walked quickly and quietly up the front steps, gingerly opened the front door and stepped into the entrance hall.  She listened but there was nothing to be heard apart from the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.  The library door opposite was closed.  It had been ajar when her mother and father had their final row.  A despairing sob broke from her lips.  She didn’t know if she could bear it … the pain … the anguish … but if she were to ever live here again past events had to be faced and dealt with.

She walked over to the library door and opened it.  The familiar scent of beeswax met her immediately.  She breathed it in, gazing around the room, instantly noticing that the portrait of her mother over the fireplace had been removed.  One of a young, smiling Granny replaced it.  She looked truly lovely in a pretty cream lace dress, holding a bouquet of pink and cream roses.  It was beautiful and with watery