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

“I can’t wait to see him,” mused Vicky, peeling off her clothes.  “I worry about him all alone up at Blairness … and don’t you miss him?”

“Not really,” said Delia quietly, helping her sister into her dress and pulling up the zip at the back.  “It seemed a bit strange at first but I soon got used to being the only family member in residence at Canleigh for most of the time.”

“But it’s a huge responsibility for you … running this place.”

Delia’s eyes darkened.  “I haven’t had any say in it.  Father speaks to Dick Joyce on the phone every day and I’m not allowed to have anything to do with such complicated matters as estate management, even though I’ve been studying it.  Father only paid for the course to keep me quiet and occupied until I married, as he didn’t know what else to do with me once I made it quite plain I didn’t want to go away to university.  Oh, dear me, no.  I’m just a mere female and as such should know my place.  Even now in the 1970’s.  It’s quite ridiculous!”

Vicky felt the same faint sense of unease at the expression on Delia’s face as she had downstairs when she mentioned their mother.  To break the tension, she whirled over to the mirror to admire herself, twirling so that she could see herself from all angles.

“This is just gorgeous … and it fits perfectly.”

Delia gave a wan smile and walked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed.  Her head was beginning to ache again and she felt very tired, probably from all the pills taken that day.

Vicky took the hint, took off the dress carefully and returned it to the dressing room.

“I’ll leave you to rest.  Hopefully, you’ll feel a lot better in the morning.”

*   *   *

The village hall was packed with people, coloured lights flashing in time with the throbbing disco music, making it difficult in the semi-darkness to distinguish exactly who was who in the melee at the bar, the couples gyrating on the dance floor and people sitting at tables sipping their drinks.

Philip stood in the doorway, took one look and wished he could have stayed at home … or insisted he spend the evening with Delia and Vicky.  Not being a great socialiser, he relied heavily on Delia to make small talk while he stood beside her trying to look interested in the conversation but unless it was about horses or the countryside, he was mostly tongue-tied.   Even with the people here tonight, most of whom he had known all his life, he had little to say.  The men would discuss football, rugby or cricket and the women would be gossiping.  He missed Delia immeasurably, unable to remember a social event since he was a small lad when she wasn’t by his side.  He felt alone and vulnerable.

“Phil?  Where’s Delia?”

The slap on his back made him jump.  He turned to see Jim standing behind him with a huge grin on his face.  They knew each other well, having sailed through school days and then college together, although while Philip had been engrossed in learning about equines and their care, Jim had studied agriculture so he could assist his father with the farm they owned on the west side of the village.

“Sorry mate.  Didn’t mean to make you jump.  Where’s your other half then?”

“Has a migraine.  Sends her apologies.”

“So … you’re footloose and fancy-free this evening.  Blimey, that’s a first.  I thought you two were shackled to each other.”

Philip gave a faint smile.  “And we will be in two weeks’ time … remember … you are my best man.”

“Don’t remind me.  I’m still struggling with my speech,” grinned Jim, his features only just distinguishable in the dim light.  He was a little taller than Philip, dark haired and soft, kind eyes.  He was a good friend and Philip enjoyed his company when they managed a quick pint or two at the Canleigh Arms every week or so.

“What a racket,” shouted Philip as the disc jockey turned up the volume.  “How can you stand it?”

Jim smiled and shouted back.  “Not like your forthcoming do, eh?  No disco there.  That will be a shade more upmarket, to say the least … four hundred guests … a marquee on the spacious lawns … stately home setting … the finest champagne … and of course, the violins … not to mention the horses.  No doubt they’ll be invited too, knowing Lady Delia.  I’m surprised she hasn’t persuaded you to let that crazy lunatic horse be your best man … what’s it called … De … De?”

“Demon,” yelled Philip over the music.  “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough, my boy.  Come on let’s get you a pint … this can be a great chance for you to let your hair down seeing as you refuse to have a stag night before you tie the proverbial knot … it’s just as well you know Delia so well and what you’ll be marrying into.”

Philip didn’t smile as Jim expected.  In fact, he looked disturbed.

“You are sure about this, aren’t you Phil … you and Delia?” said Jim, noticing Philip’s expression.

Philip’s answer didn’t sound convincing.  “Yes, of course.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jim pushed him towards the bar.  “Come on, let’s get you some alcohol.  I reckon you’re suffering from pre-wedding nerves.  As soon as you get the ceremony over everything will be hunky dory.”

Philip allowed Jim to propel him across the room, nodding as he recognised people he knew.  He glanced surreptitiously around to see if Sue had put in an appearance and wondered why Jim’s words did absolutely nothing to reassure him and by the look of his friend who had obviously made a good start on drinking the bar dry, there would be little point