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

As hard as she tried Delia couldn’t prevent the waterworks any longer.  It was such a relief to discover there were people who were concerned for her welfare and safety, even if her immediate family weren’t.

“In … in the stables,” she sobbed.

“Right,” said Constance, taking command of the situation.  “Stay where you are.  I need to talk to you urgently.  Don’t go back to the Hall.  I’ll pick you up in a few minutes and you can come back here, have a nice bath and as you must be pretty hungry by now and I’ve cooked your favourite, cauliflower cheese and strawberry cheesecake, just in case you ventured our way, you can tuck in and then stay the night.  I’ll ring the Hall and let them know where you are.  You just stay put and wait for us.  Promise?”

Delia gulped again, so grateful to the wonderful Constance who made life so cosy and caring.  No words of derision from her.

“Yes.  I promise … thank you so much.”

“Find something to keep you warm … a horse blanket or something … and we’ll be there in ten minutes.”

The phone went dead and Delia replaced the telephone receiver in its cradle.  Her hands were like blocks of ice.  Venturing into the tack room she was met by the comforting aroma of saddle soap and reached up to the peg next to the saddles for Perkins old working jacket which smelt comfortingly of his tobacco and horses.  Delia hoped he wouldn’t mind her borrowing it, and although it virtually drowned her, felt a lot warmer when it was on her back and she had pushed her hands well down into the quilted pockets.

She stepped slowly outside into the courtyard.  A couple of pigeons, perched above the empty loose boxes opposite the office, looked down at her curiously.  She ignored them and walked around the courtyard, trying to keep warm, passed all the loose boxes where such a lot of horses were stabled many years ago before cars became popular and reliance on the animals was not so strong.  Even when all the ponies were in for the winter, there were only four of them these days.  Star and Dolly, and little Samson and Delilah, the two Shetland ponies on which Delia and Richard had learnt to ride and who were now living in well-earned retirement.

The block on the right of the courtyard was used for storing bales of straw, hay and fodder for the horses.  Above the stables and garages were very large attic rooms where discarded items from the house tended to be dumped.  Over the years the children had enjoyed this fascinating play area and many an afternoon was brightened up by exciting games of pirates and treasure hunts, vampires and ghosts or detectives hunting a murderer following the discovery of a dead body in one of the large boxes.  Squeals of delicious spine-tingling terror often rang round the courtyard during the summer months.

The area above the tack room and office had been turned into a flat for Perkins.  Delia adored Perkins.  Horses were his first love so he and Delia, from the age of two, shared a special empathy from the first time he placed her on Samson’s back, her feet in the stirrups and the reins in her hand.  Delia was a devotee of anything equine from that moment and screamed piercingly when that first lesson came to an end, wanting it to go on and on forever.  She could hear Perkins calming words now.

“Now then, now then, Lady Delia … you carry on making that dreadful din and poor old Samson’ll be so scared he’ll not let you up on him again.”

Delia’s tantrum ceased instantly and in an effort to put matters right, devoted a good ten minutes to restoring herself in Samson’s good books, smothering him with apologetic hugs and kisses.

Riding lessons became a daily ritual after that and if one had to be missed for some good reason Delia was hard to placate.  Perkins taught Delia well, constantly walking the tireless Samson on a leading rein with Delia sitting upright on his back, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed with excitement.  As soon as she could balance without falling off, Perkins cycled his trusty old bike around the estate lanes with his charge proudly trotting Samson beside him, smiling broadly and waving merrily to anyone they came across, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that the child was in her element.

Delia liked Delilah well enough but refused to mount her, considering it rather sissyish to ride a mare.  Amiable Richard, who had discovered at a very early age that life was made a whole lot easier if Delia got her own way, was quite happy to mount the gentle Delilah and leave Samson to her.  He liked riding but hardly excelled at it, which as the children grew older, pleased Delia immensely.  Richard’s academic achievements, especially in the harder subjects such as chemistry and physics were high but his enthusiasm and skill with horses could in no way match hers and for once Delia shone more brilliantly than her twin.

Vicky never joined them, being a reluctant rider from the start.  She was not enchanted by the idea and flatly refused to mount either Samson or Delilah.

“I don’t like them … they’re too big … they might bite me,” she cried the first time she was taken for a lesson.  “I don’t want to get on one … never, never, never!”

Vicky loved her piano and ballet lessons and although she was quite happy visiting the stables, her enthusiasm had nothing to do with live creatures.  Vicky was fascinated by the cars and longed for the day she would be able to drive.  She so badly wanted to get behind a steering wheel and if it was possible to break free from their Nanny’s surveillance,