Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama)

by Carole Williams

  He remembered the night well, when the band had enjoyed a reasonably good gig at their regular venue in Boston. Delia had been in the front row, watching them intently, and literally scrutinized him. Then she had intriguingly turned up at the bar where they always adjourned to have a few beers to wind down afterwards.

  She was a real stunner and he hadn’t been able to resist her. As tall as him, a fabulous figure with a good set of boobs, hair that was thick and luxurious, a face that was just beautiful with fiery dark eyes and a luscious wide, full mouth. She was dressed in designer jeans, a dark blue top with a plunging neckline and a black leather jacket. She wore a gold chain around her neck but there were no rings on her fingers.

  The only thing she had ever really told him about herself was her name … Delia Marshall. He knew she was English of course by her cut-glass British accent and she obviously had money, and plenty of it, as she never looked for work and spent lavishly and generously on him and the boys. She had moved in with him only days after he had met her and never left. He felt a tremor of fear. He hoped to God that she wasn’t going to tell him that she was leaving. What the hell would he do? For a ghastly second, he felt his world really falling apart. He couldn’t exist without her and her money. Surely she wouldn’t go … but what if someone had upset her last night? He would kill them if they had. That’s if he could raise a finger to do so. He rubbed his aching brow and groaned. God, he felt rough.

  “My name isn’t Marshall,” Delia stated suddenly.

  “Oh?” He sighed. What was in a name anyway? He had changed his from Peter to Rocky when the band started up. Who cared what she was called? It didn’t matter a jot to him.

  “It’s Canleigh. Lady Delia Canleigh actually and my mother was Margaret Percival before she became the Duchess of Canleigh … so … we have the same mother.”

  Rocky looked vaguely puzzled, screwed up his eyes and peered at her. “What the hell are you talking about? Have you been on the dope?”

  But she didn’t appear stoned. In fact, it would be most unusual if she was. She did a cracking deal with their supplier and produced a plentiful supply of whatever he and the boys required but oddly enough never touched the cocaine, or even the weed. She drank, having a particular liking for brandy and champagne and smoked cigarettes incessantly but drugs never entered her system.

  Delia looked at him intently. “Don’t you know why I didn’t tell you before? Don’t you want to know what I’m doing here?”

  “Oh God, woman. I don’t know and quite frankly I don’t really care,” he mumbled. His stomach was churning, his throat was dry, he was terribly hot one minute and cold the next and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He felt like he was about to die. It was unbearable and the panic he knew so well was rising fast.

  “Well, you should care. Don’t you realise what I am trying to tell you?” asked Delia crossly. Her half-brother might be a decent looking man but brains were sadly lacking but then their mother hadn’t turned out too bright in the end and goodness knows how intelligent his unknown father was.

  “Please, Delia. Please … I need something … now!”

  “No. You can wait and just listen to what I have to say first.”

  Rocky shifted uneasily in his seat, realising from her attitude that he would have to do as she said. Desperate to keep her on his side he tried to smile. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. How can we have the same mother? My mother was called Elizabeth. I know she was British, as was my father, George, but they moved to America when I was a baby. There was never any mention of a Margaret, let alone a Duchess … of … of ….”

  “Canleigh,” said Delia helpfully.

  “Ring Mother. She’ll tell you. Her number is in the telephone book in the hall.”

  “I don’t need to. I have a copy of your birth certificate and a letter from Elizabeth to our mother.”

  “How did you get my birth certificate?” he asked, sitting upright and staring at her with surprise. “I’ve never seen it. Mother told me she had lost it and I’ve never bothered to get a copy.”

  “You are joking. Never seen it? Weren’t you called up for Vietnam? You would have needed it then.” Delia was also puzzled as to why none of the band seemed to have been involved in such a ghastly war.

  “I was at college when it started and then, by the time I left, three years ago, I was hooked on drugs … we all were. They didn’t want the likes of us,” he said, remembering how they all had done their best to dodge the draft. None of them wanted to get involved with what was going on so brutally far away from America. They had seen pictures and heard the news for years. So many injured American soldiers returning to the States, their lives destroyed forever, either physically or mentally. They had no intentions of getting mixed up in it.

  “So, you’ve truly never seen your birth certificate,” Delia stated, bending down to open her black leather handbag at her feet. She took out a large leather purse and opened the wallet section, drawing out two pieces of paper and handed them to him.

  Rocky winced and screwed up his eyes to try and decipher Elizabeth’s scrawl and then examined the British certificate.

  “Christ! You’re right. So … so if we both have the same mother … that makes you my … my sister,” he uttered, finding it difficult to take it in. This gorgeous, sexy, insatiable, crazy woman, with whom he had enjoyed incredible sex, was his bloody sister. It was madness.

  With disbelief written all over his face, he watched her smile and remove the tiny packet of cocaine from her bag. He felt a rush of anticipation, forgetting that he had just discovered he had been committing incest with her. In the general scheme of things, it didn’t really matter. So what if they had had sex? No-one here knew they were related. He wasn’t going to tell anyone and he doubted very much if she would. All that was important was getting his hands on that cocaine. He reached out but she held it away from him. He stumbled to his feet, and crashed against her, desperate to get to the one thing which would make him feel okay for a while. “Bitch! Let me have it … now!”

  He was so weak it was easy for Delia to push him back into his chair. “No. Not yet,” she said determinedly. “You have to listen first.”

  “Oh, God. Make it quick,” he groaned pitifully.

  “You’re dead broke, Rocky. The money has all gone. Bills are flooding in and if they’re not paid by next month you’ll lose the house … everything. There’ll be nothing for it but the streets. You’ll have nowhere to live and no money to feed your habit … and if you think I shall hang around, you have another think coming.”

  “We’ll make more. Lots more. Don’t panic. I’ve had an idea for another hit … this one will be really big. I’ve been thinking about it all week and on Monday we’ll get together and start practising. I promise. It’ll be bigger and better than “Catch Me.” We’ll make a fortune with it.”

  “You’ve already spent a fortune … especially on this stuff,” she waved the tiny packet in his face. This isn’t cheap and I’ve been buying it for you for weeks now and I simply can’t keep it up.”

  “Sell something then. Christ, there must be something around here that’s worth a bit. The car, sell the car. It’s a Mercedes. It must be worth something. We’ll get cabs everywhere.”

  “Oh, you jerk. The car is leased. It can’t be sold … in fact it has to go back this week because the payments haven’t been made.”

  “Just give me the bloody packet,” he almost yelled. “I can’t deal with this. I can’t think straight now.”

  He was crying but Delia’s heart was cold as ice and she looked at him with disgust. He was a pathetic specimen of the human race and she had to rely on him to help her achieve her goal in securing her future back at Canleigh. God help him if he cocked it up.

  “Okay,” she pretended to relent. “But only if you promise to do as I say.”

  “Anything. Anything … whatever you want.”

  “I can help out with cash for a while longer. I’ve
a little more money,” she lied, not wanting him to know her real worth, “it will buy you what you need for a while but as for the long term … there’s only one way out I can think of … but you’ll have to help … do exactly as I say. Do you understand?” she urged, flicking the packet tantalisingly.

  “Yes! Oh, God! I can’t wait any longer. You’re killing me,” he screamed. “For pity’s sake ….”

  “Promise me then. Promise that you will do exactly as I ask,” she said threateningly.

  “Okay. Okay. Anything … I promise,” he yelled.

  Smiling wryly, she handed it to him, sat back in her chair to sip her orange and watch her stupid brother roll out a line and snort it up his nose. How many times had she watched him do that now? What a complete and utter idiot he was.

  It didn’t take long before his breathing returned to normal and his hands steadied. Delia grimaced. He thought he was so desirable. The family resemblance was definitely there but he was so simple … couldn’t reason or think things through properly, purely because of his drug dependence. He was totally useless. An imbecile. He hadn’t a clue that she had deliberately sought him out to help her wreck revenge on her family and regain all she had lost.

  It had all been so easy. Arriving in Boston she had checked into a small hotel, made a few enquiries and soon found out where the band was performing. The previous year they had toured America but interest in them was waning since none of their released singles had the same impact as their first and other up and coming bands quickly became the focus of screaming young girls. The only bookings they could get now were a couple of times a month in the Boston locality. Delia went along, curious to see what her half-brother looked like and whether it was worth making herself known to him. She already had an inkling of a plan in her mind as to how he could help her with her main goal in life from what she had been told of him by Paul O’Connor. It was certainly a possibility and all she had to cling to back then … and now.

  Delia looked at Rocky, who was resting his head on the back of the chair with his eyes closed. He wasn’t asleep but in a relaxed, euphoric state which would help her get through to him more easily. She sat forward in her chair and prodded his foot gently with hers.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Um,” came the reply.

  She waited a while before she spoke again. When she first set eyes on him at the first gig she attended it was obvious he was already heavily dependent on drugs, as were the remaining members of the band. Their music was wild and offbeat, notes were missed and they all looked unkempt and undesirable to all but a few in the audience. Watching Rocky staggering around on the stage was mildly amusing for Delia. He looked pathetic. Already a has-been at the age of 24. Totally washed up and just ripe for her scheme. She had pushed herself to the front of the audience, which wasn’t difficult as the place was hardly packed, and managed to catch Rocky’s eye more than once, although it was a miracle he could actually focus on her. At the end of the evening she watched him and the rest of the band lurch towards the bar next door, followed them in and managed to edge her way over to him. Recognising her instantly from the gig, he offered to buy her a drink and the stage was set to reel him in.

  She watched and listened to him closely for the rest of the evening and well into the night. He was perfect for her scheme. Puffed up from his previous success and rambling boringly on for hours about impossible future triumphs. Having just observed the latest performance, Delia had grave doubts that was ever going to happen and she had no experience of the industry. However, she let him waffle on about how they had played to packed concert halls around America the previous year, how everyone loved them, how their fan base was going to increase rapidly once they released another hit single. How they were going to tour Europe and then the world. How they were going to be the most famous band ever. Delia was bored to tears but kept up a good pretence of being fascinated by every word, determined to ingratiate herself with him for the time being. He could be the tool she needed. He could be the one to get her back to Canleigh … back to Philip and Demon. He could be absolutely pivotal to her life.

  Within days she had moved into the sprawling grey-stoned building which he had bought when the money from ‘Catch Me’ had poured in. It was soulless and reminded her of a prison with its battleship coloured stonework and black-leaded windows but it was a roof over her head and gave her time and opportunity to work on him. She hadn’t intended to sleep with him but as she didn’t want to reveal who she was and why she was there too early in their relationship, she had no valid reason not to so she had a couple of brandies and closed her mind every time they had sex, pretending he was just another member of the band. Even now, months along the line, she didn’t think of him as her brother. He didn’t speak like Richard, he didn’t look much like Richard and he certainly hadn’t the drive and ambition and aptitude for work that Richard possessed.

  So it had been relatively easy and soon, very soon, it would be over as once they had achieved what she wanted in Oxford, she would erase this whole ghastly episode from her mind. It would be forgotten. It was just a means to an end and that was it. As soon as Richard and Rocky were disposed of and she could get back to everything she held dear at Canleigh, her life was going to be wonderful. She would be so content, so happy. She wouldn’t ever want to leave Canleigh and Tangles again. They were both home to her and the only places on earth she wanted to be. She hadn’t a clue what was happening in Britain. She never watched the news, never read a newspaper. It hurt too much. Just to hear a British accent made her heart turn over. But that would all change in the coming days. Heathrow beckoned brightly. She couldn’t wait to get on that plane. She would be utterly ecstatic.

  Rocky opened his eyes languidly and looked at her. “You can be a bloody bitch at times,” he uttered. “Making me beg. Why the hell didn’t you just give it to me?”

  “Stop whining,” she said impatiently. “Just be grateful I bought the damned stuff.”

  He pulled himself up in his seat, lit a cigarette and scowled at her. “I still can’t believe all the money has gone. What the hell are we going to do?”

  “Well, as I said, I can help out for a bit but I have a plan for the long term but you will have to help me.”

  He winced as he inhaled deeply. “Look Delia. If you’re a real Lady you must have some real money stashed away somewhere. Just lend me some and I’ll pay you back as soon as we make some more. The next single ….”

  “Oh, for God’s sake! That’s all I’ve been hearing for months but you never do any real work. None of you do. You just mess about and idle your lives away. Just face facts. Unless you get yourself clean, you’re never going to get anywhere. ‘Catch Me must have been a flaming fluke and I can’t see any of you achieving anything else like it while you live as you do.”

  “So, what do you suggest, Lady Delia?” he asked sarcastically. “What marvellous plan do you have?”

  Delia waited for a second. It was crucial that her words hit the right note with Rocky. “I have a brother, Richard. He is the heir to Canleigh, the family home. He was left a lot of money by our grandmother … around a million pounds.”

  “Bloody hell! Well, that’s okay then. We can borrow off him.”

  “No,” said Delia impatiently. “I have a better idea. We could have the whole damned lot . . . and more besides if we use our brains … but it’s going to take real guts and I’m not sure if you’re up to it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If Richard dies, I inherit his money.”

  “Well, that’s no damned good. We can’t wait until he snuffs it … just ask him to lend us some.”

  “We’re not too friendly at the moment … estranged as you might say. He wouldn’t give me a bean.”

  “Oh, Christ! So, what do we do then?”

  Delia took a long breath before she spoke. She was banking everything on this.

  “We kill him.”

  Rocky sat up abruptly, his
bloodshot eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “WHAT! Are you bloody crazy?”

  “No … I’m perfectly sane. I want him dead. He’s stood in my way for too long and then let me down really, really badly and I want revenge,” she said through clamped teeth. She was also clenching her hands tightly. Now the words were actually out of her mouth, the resentment and hostility she felt towards Richard was overwhelming but the long years of being jealous of him and all he would possess just because he was a male was about to end.

  “Bloody hell,” Rocky whispered. “I can’t believe you just said that. You can’t mean it.

  “Oh, I do. Believe me. I do. Now, listen. If he dies, I get all his money. Also, as the eldest child, I will then inherit Canleigh on my father’s death.”

  “Don’t tell me you want to kill him too.

  Delia laughed hollowly. “No … I just want to see him suffer when he finds out his beloved son and heir has been murdered … but when my Father does die, I will get everything. We will be set for life. In the meantime, he is hardly ever at Canleigh. He likes to live in Scotland or travel abroad so we will have the place all to ourselves, along with Richard’s money. You won’t need to work another day if you don’t want to. You can just enjoy yourself. Oh, Rocky,” she said eagerly, her eyes lighting up. “You will love Canleigh. It’s so beautiful, so old, so spacious. You can have a room overlooking the lake and the woods, you can be waited on by Hardy … he’s the butler. We have a fabulous heated indoor swimming pool so you can swim as much as you like. I can teach you to ride … it’ll be such fun. Can’t you see?”