Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama), Carole Williams [ebook reader 8 inch .TXT] 📗

as much as I’ve enjoyed my little sojourn, I couldn’t live in a city for long.  I was in London for a while before I went to the Caribbean to see my mother and although, like New York, it had its interesting points, the countryside is my real home,” she said wistfully, thinking of Canleigh with another great wave of homesickness.  She missed the grand old house more than she could say; she missed the peace, the reassuring presence of the Hardy’s, the gallops on Demon … and Philip.  Oh, how she missed him.  His smile, his quiet presence.

Delia grimaced in deep, enveloping pain.  She hadn’t allowed herself to think much about him since leaving London.  There was so much else to keep her mind occupied what with her mother unexpectedly dying and finding out about this Rocky person.  But unbearable images of Philip and that bloody Sue flooded her mind.  She closed her eyes, holding her hand to her forehead and groaned.

“Are you okay?” asked Paul, with a worried look.

“Yes.  Fine,” said Delia, smiling weakly, opening her eyes and studying the New York skyline, trying to shut out the images of Philip and Sue in Philip’s big, comfy bed, making love, where she and Philip had made love so many times in the past.  Delia hated that woman so much, it was frightening.  She wanted to kill her.  She knew she did.  There was no question.  And she almost wanted to hurt Philip too.  For all the agony he had put her through.  But she wouldn’t.  She loved him deeply, with all her heart and soul.  He would be hers again one day.  He had to be or there was no point in living.  It was only a matter of time.  She just had to be patient.

Delia looked at Paul.  He was a gorgeous and very sexy man.  A wee bit younger than her but what did that matter?  His hair had a tendency to flop into his eyes, making him look even younger.  Delia’s pulse raced and she felt the strong rush of sexual desire, not felt since her last fling with Benny in London.  Paul was standing close to her.  She could smell his aftershave.  She looked up at him and into his blue eyes.  He held out his arms and she melted into them.  Their lips met.

CHAPTER 25

 

BOSTON, AMERICA – NOVEMBER 1973

Delia stared moodily out of the bedroom window of the sprawling unattractive detached house on the fringes of Boston.  She hated it.  It was relatively modern, built in the early 1900’s and had no charm or character. The garden below her was a confused tangle of shrubbery, having been left to its own devices for a very long time.  Only the local wildlife appreciated the unholy mess.  The spacious lawn was choked with moss and weeds and shrubs and mature trees which should have been pruned were growing crazily out of control around the edges.  She didn’t even know what some of them were and didn’t really care.  They weren’t like the rhododendrons, grand oaks and beautiful beech trees at Canleigh and when she thought of the luscious, well cared for lawns, the spectacular parterre on the south front, her grandmother’s beautiful scented rose garden, the lake, the swans, the ducks, she could have cried with homesickness.  Her heart ached painfully.  She was tired of being in another country, tired of the drawling accents and most of all extremely tired of her stupid half-brother and his cronies who all thought they had a fabulous future in the music industry but due to their complete dependence on drugs and alcohol had absolutely no hope in hell.  Delia loathed it all and wanted to go home.

She threw open the window and breathed in the chilly fresh air gratefully.  Her head hurt and her body ached with the physical exertions of the previous night and as the man snored loudly in the king size bed in the corner of the room she was filled with disgust.

Thank goodness her purgatory was drawing to an end, now that his money had run out and he was dependant on her for everything, which was just where she wanted him.  When Delia had arrived on the scene, just over a year ago, Rocky had been living frivolously from his share of the proceeds of ‘Phantom’s’ one and only hit single, ‘Catch Me’.  He, and the four musicians who comprised the band, had let their newfound fame go to their heads.  Instead of concentrating on building on their success, they partied crazily, allowing over indulgence and an increasing dependence on alcohol, cannabis and cocaine to take control of their lives, preventing any hope of future triumphs in the music industry.  One great single and then nothing … and now no money to keep them in the style to which they had become accustomed.  Delia grinned to herself.  It had taken a long time to get to this but her patience had won through in the end.  He was completely dependent on her and her money just to live now.  She finally had him in the palm of her hand and her plans could come to fruition.

He knew, of course, that she had been bankrolling them for a few weeks but he hadn’t any real idea of what she was worth, or indeed her real identity but the time was right to tell him.  He was going to be told who she was and what he would have to do if he didn’t want to end up homeless and in the gutter.

“Delia?” came a muffled moan from the tangle of sheets and duvet on the bed.  “God, Delia, I need a drink.”

She forced a smile to her sore and swollen lips and turned.  The room was an unearthly mess.  Empty bottles of Californian wine and champagne lay abandoned on the furniture; ashtrays overflowed with cigarette butts.  Clothes and more bedding were