Rocky was fidgeting in his seat and becoming agitated.
“I’ll be glad when this is over. Give me some more weed, Delia. I can’t go through with this without some.”
“Not here. Let’s get into the flat first,” she said. “Richard won’t mind.”
They walked along to Richard’s front door which was painted a deep, dark red; the colour of blood. How appropriate, Delia thought. She kept a finger on his bell for longer than was necessary, half hoping he wasn’t there and they could go away again and forget the whole idea and the other half wanting to get the task over with as soon as possible but after a few moments Richard opened the door, a big welcoming smile on his tired face when he saw his twin.
Delia stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Gosh, Richard. You look exhausted. Don’t you ever let up?”
“Very rarely,” he shrugged. “If I’m not on the wards I’m studying.”
“You’re mad,” said Delia. “Anyway, I have rather a surprise for you,” she said as Richard stood aside and she and Rocky could walk into the hall. The smell of marijuana emanating from Rocky was sickly sweet and almost overpowering and Delia noticed Richard raise his eyebrows as they moved past him into the lounge.
“Richard … meet Rocky … our half-brother, would you believe,” Delia announced dramatically with a wry grin on her face.
“What?” Richard gasped, staring at Rocky, who had sunk into the nearest chair. “What on earth are you talking about Delia?”
Delia loved the drama and couldn’t wait to explain. “Yes, our darling Mother, before she married Father, was a little indiscreet and got herself in the family way. I found Rocky in America and brought him home to meet you. Close your mouth, Richard. You look like a fish,” she joked at his expression. “Anyway, we are gasping for a coffee, not having stopped since we left Heathrow. Do you mind if I make us one while you two get to know each other?”
Richard nodded and sat heavily in the chair opposite Rocky. Although he was pleased to see Delia was safe and well, and obviously in good humour, he was deathly tired and found it hard to take in what she was saying about the useless specimen of humanity sitting in his flat and obviously heavily into drugs. He really didn’t know what to say to either of them.
“I shan’t be a moment,” said Delia, dashing into the kitchen, pouring water into the kettle and turning it on. She removed the gun from her bag, hardly able to hold it as her hands perspired and began to shake. Flashes of the past sprang into her mind. She remembered Richard as a boy, their games, their quarrels, their pact about the future of the estate. She wavered and then recalled that last dreadful encounter in the library at Canleigh and how he had spurned her desires in an instant. All that work, all those years of studying and planning. He had destroyed it all in an instant. She let the hate flood over her, through her body and her mind. Her hands steadied and she moved to the kitchen door, concealing the weapon behind her back as she re-entered the lounge and moved behind Rocky’s chair. She wanted to shoot at the correct angle, just as if Rocky had pulled the trigger and not her.
“I’m sorry, Richard, but I did warn you that you’d regret reneging on our deal,” Delia said firmly, pointing the gun straight at his heart. “You only have yourself to blame.”
Richard rose slowly to his feet, completely mesmerised by his twin pointing a gun at him. “What the hell … Delia … are you mad?”
“No. Just bloody angry, as I have been for as long as I can remember. You know I have always wanted Canleigh and now I am going to have it … with you out of the way it will naturally come to me when our darling Father has departed this earth.”
Richard put his hands up in front of him as if to ward off the bullets. “Just hang on Delia ... there’s something you obviously don’t know … Father … he married Ruth … and she’s had a baby … a boy.”
Delia paused for a split second, trying to digest this crazy information. It couldn’t be true … he was lying to play for time but even if it was, she couldn’t stop now. Whatever happened he was still in her way and had let her down badly. No. He had to go. Delia’s hand holding the gun was steadied and she focused entirely on what she had come to do. Nothing was going to stop her now. “Don’t try to wheedle your way out of this,” she said softly. “Say your prayers, darling brother, because this is as far as you go in this life.”
Without hesitation, Delia pulled the trigger twice. One bullet went straight through Richard’s heart, the other smashed through his skull. He hit the floor with a thud.
Rocky jumped to his feet. Delia moved swiftly round to Richard’s inert form so that she was exactly opposite Rocky and fired at his chest. She would never forget the look of shock on his face as he slumped back into his chair, blood gushing from his mouth. She pulled the trigger again, wanting to be certain. He couldn’t be allowed to live and tell any tales.
The silence was deafening as Delia worked quickly to have the scene ready for the police. She wiped the gun thoroughly with tissues from her bag, placed it in Rocky’s right hand, forcing his fingers into the firing position and then picked it up again so that her fingerprints covered his and then dropped the gun on the floor. She ran a hand through her hair, ripped her blouse and slapped her face hard, causing a red mark to appear rapidly. She scratched Rocky’s face and hit his cheek with her fist.
Then she stood for a second, remembering her grandmother and the day she died. Granny certainly wouldn’t be proud of her now and Delia hoped to God she couldn’t look down and see what her granddaughter was doing. It worked, the tears began to fall, helped along by vivid scenes of Philip telling her he didn’t love her anymore. Seconds later she was crying uncontrollably and not far from hysteria as she looked at the two bodies at her feet. She staggered to the front door and outside into the fresh, cold November air, screaming for help from two men who were sheltering behind the half-open door of the house on the other side of the road.
“Here, love. Come over here,” one shouted, dashing across the road towards her, pulling her back with him to the safety of their downstairs flat. “Are you alright? We heard shooting. We’ve called the emergency services. What’s happened? Where’s Richard?”
Delia fell dizzily into his arms. “It was Rocky,” she blurted out, her voice rising tremulously, “he’s killed … he’s killed my brother … he was going to kill me too,” she gasped, “but we struggled … I managed to get the gun from him and I ….”
She whimpered as the man held her in a close comforting embrace. “I shot him,” she cried, her eyes widening in fear. “I had to … it was either him or me.”
CHAPTER 28
CANLEIGH – NOVEMBER 1973
Ruth was in her sitting room, curled up on the sofa engrossed in a bodice ripping saga of family life set in a house not dissimilar to Canleigh in the sixteenth century. She was vaguely aware that a car was heading along the drive towards the house but took little notice, expecting it to be someone calling on Charles. A quick knock on her door a few minutes later caused her to look up in surprise and then to smile with sheer pleasure as Vicky popped her head round the door.
“Vicky!” exclaimed Ruth, jumping up from the sofa to give her step-daughter a welcoming hug. “How lovely to see you. We weren’t expecting you. How long can you stay?”
Vicky hugged Ruth back and as they broke away Ruth couldn’t help noticing how thin the younger woman had become and how the look in her eyes revealed nothing but misery, although she tried to laugh gaily in response to Ruth’s delight at seeing her.
“Well, I haven’t spent any real time with my new little half-brother and I would like to get to know him before he grows up. Barrie and Alex can manage without me for a while. Things are running smoothly at the club and anyway … I deserve a break.”
“Good. I’m so pleased you could get away. We don’t see enough of you and your father will be delighted. He’s working in the library at the moment but he’ll join us for lunch and if the weather is amenable, we can take Steph
en for a walk this afternoon. Tina can have the rest of the day off … I’m sure she won’t mind. Then you can bath him tonight and put him to bed if you like.”
“Brilliant,” Vicky enthused. “Just what I needed. The peace and quiet of Canleigh and valuable time with Father, you and … and the baby. Perfect,” she smiled with a slight tremor. Realising how desperate she sounded, Vicky blushed at Ruth’s questioning look. “London … you know what it’s like … hordes of people, noisy, the bustle which never seems to let up … it’s draining … and that’s without all the late nights at the club with the relentless music.”
“I thought you loved it,” stated Ruth, picking up the telephone to ask Hardy to bring them coffee.
“Um. Oh, you have the latest Jenny Osborne book,” said Vicky, picking up the novel Ruth had been reading and neatly sidestepping the question. “I just love her sagas. Is this one any good?”
“Hardy, please could we have coffee and biscuits,” said Ruth into the telephone, watching her step-daughter carefully. Something was badly wrong and no doubt it would all come out very soon. Ruth hoped it wasn’t Barrie playing up. Neither she nor Charles could bear to think of Vicky suffering at his hands again.
The conversation was light and meaningless until Hardy appeared with the coffee tray.
“Would you mind popping into the nursery, Hardy, and telling Tina she can have the afternoon off? Vicky and I will look after Stephen for the rest of the day.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Hardy, throwing a smile at his mistress.
He, and the rest of the small set of staff at Canleigh, adored Ruth. The Hall hadn’t been a particularly happy place to work and live in since the Dowager died, indeed even before that, when Margaret became Duchess, but the new young mistress who was considerate and kind had changed all that. She enjoyed life and wanted everyone around her to as well, especially her husband who was an energised, good-humoured man again. As far back as Hardy could remember, the Duke had never looked so cheerful and relaxed and having a new born baby in the house was delightful for them all. However, he hoped Ruth could use her magic to soothe away whatever was troubling Lady Victoria who looked extremely tense and miserable. No doubt it was her husband who had caused her to be so upset. Hardy would never forget the day Lady Victoria had found the young rogue in Lady Delia’s bedroom and how she had cried and cried for days. Why she had forgiven him … and then married him … was a mystery to all of the staff, as well as the family and he hoped she could find the solace she obviously needed here at Canleigh.
Hardy left the room and Ruth poured the coffee and handed the plate of biscuits to Vicky, waiting for her to unburden herself. It was blatantly obvious something was badly wrong and although Vicky clearly wanted to see Stephen, she also needed to return to her roots where she felt safe and wanted. But Ruth had to wait a while to find out what the problem was. Vicky drunk her coffee, nibbled at a biscuit and then took off her knee-high leather boots, settled back into the cushions and promptly fell asleep, leaving Ruth to study her closely. Dressed in Levi jeans and a pretty baby blue wool sweater, she was still devastatingly elegant. She wore little makeup and her skin looked good; pale but clear. Tiny gold earrings could just be seen under the thick glossy dark hair which she had allowed to grow nearly to her shoulders and the thick plain gold wedding ring and diamond cluster engagement ring sat loosely on her finger, giving credence to Ruth’s observation that Vicky had lost weight. Ruth was worried. She liked Vicky enormously and wanted her to be happy and to feel as fulfilled as she was since becoming Charles’ wife but the signs were definitely ominous.
Vicky slept for exactly an hour. In that time Ruth had managed to devour another couple of chapters of her novel but put the book down readily when Vicky’s eyes opened.
“Feel better?”
“A little.” Vicky stretched and stifled a yawn. “So sorry, Ruth. I certainly didn’t mean to fall asleep as soon as I walked in the door.”
“You obviously needed it. You work too hard, my dear. You should give yourself more time off.”
Ruth glanced at the tiny French clock on her desk by the window. There was nearly an hour to go before lunch at the usual Canleigh time of one o’clock. Would she be able to entice Vicky to talk about whatever was bothering her in that time or should she leave it until their walk this afternoon? As she deliberated, the decision was taken out of her hands.
“You’re so lucky, Ruth,” Vicky said quietly, examining her pink varnished fingernails closely. “Living here, having Daddy … having a baby.” Her voice cracked and she dived into her navy leather handbag for a tissue.
“Vicky, whatever is the matter?” said Ruth quietly. “You don’t have to tell me but I don’t think you would have come home if you hadn’t wanted to talk to either me or your father.”
“Oh, it’s such a mess. I’m a mess,” sobbed Vicky, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue.
Ruth grinned, attempting to keep the conversation light but knowing Vicky was going to divulge something dire. “I disagree entirely. You’re a damned sight more breathtaking in jeans and a sweater than I am in a ball gown and tiara.”
“Clothes, fashion, money. What do they matter, Ruth? None of it. It’s pathetic, the way people think of nothing but how they look, where they live and what they drive. It’s not important in the grand scheme of things.”
“I know, I know,” said Ruth. Vicky was crying piteously now and Ruth pulled her close, cradling her until the tears began to subside.
“Now, are you going to tell me what the problem is? I’ll do anything to help, you know that.”
Vicky took another tissue and wiped the tears away. “It’s everything really but mainly Barrie. Barrie and … babies.”
“Babies! So that’s it. You’re pregnant. But that’s marvellous although I thought you were immersed in the business. I had no idea you were trying for a child.”
Vicky’s bottom lip trembled again. She shook her head and placed it in her hands. “No, I’m not pregnant,” she whispered. “But you’ve no idea how much I wish I was.”
She raised her head and looked dejectedly at Ruth. “The business … yes, it was fun at first, opening it, building it up but it’s all so tediously boring after a while. The same type of people flock in night after night; they eat, dance, get as drunk as they can and then go home to fornicate with whoever has taken their fancy that evening … and Barrie … he loves it … and the women.”
“Oh, no, Vicky … not that … we were so hoping this wouldn’t happen.”
“No,” Vicky gulped. “He’s not actually slept with any of them … not as far as I know anyway … it’s just the flirting. He can’t stop himself. I know he has to be charming … for the sake of the business … and he is brilliant at it, keeps all those silly women drooling and still remains great mates with the men. But I find it so difficult to watch. I didn’t think I would but I do. I get so jealous, especially when he would rather chat with them than spend any time with me.”
“So, he’s neglecting you?”
“We’re terribly busy … and with the hours … it’s sometimes three in the morning before we all get to bed … we’re exhausted … and grumpy … and don’t seem to have any time for each other.”
“Yes, I can understand that. But what’s all this about a baby? I shouldn’t think that kind of environment would be good to bring a child into. I thought you were going to wait a while and then buy a proper home to raise a family, rather than live in the flat above the club.”
“That’s the point. I’ve already had enough of the club … living there, I mean. I’ve been trying to persuade Barrie to buy a house somewhere nearby and then I can stay at home and have children. It’s all I’ve ever truly wanted, Ruth. You don’t know how I’ve dreamed of a stable family life. My childhood wasn’t easy.” She grimaced. “Being two years younger than Richard and Delia was difficult. I often felt left out as I didn’t like riding or medical things. Richard wasn’t too bad but Delia was so damne
d bossy and scathing of my ballet and music lessons. Then Mother left, of course, Delia was terribly ill and Daddy was hardly ever here … and Richard and I were away at school. I hated it you know … boarding school. I so wanted to remain here, like Delia. It was so unfair.”
“Why didn’t you tell your father? I’m sure he would have done something about it if he’d have known.”
“I don’t know, really. I daren’t, I suppose. I wasn’t as forceful and determined as Delia … and she was two years older. I was the baby and he wouldn’t have taken me seriously. That’s why I want it to be different for my children. A warm, loving home where both parents are around all the time and boarding school is not even considered. My children will go to local schools and I shall take them and pick them up. I want to be actively involved in whatever their school puts on for them and in their outside interests too.”
“Okay,” said Ruth, slowly, thinking about Stephen and his future schooling. Charles would naturally want him to go to boarding school but listening to Vicky, Ruth wondered if it would be such a great idea. It was something which would have to be discussed at great length when the time came. “So,” she continued, “that sounds perfectly feasible … but what’s gone wrong … doesn’t Barrie want to start a family?”
“He doesn’t seem overly keen but has agreed that if I should become pregnant, we’d look for somewhere suitable to live ... until then he wants to remain in the flat.”
“That’s fair enough, surely?”
Vicky’s lip trembled again and her eyes welled up. “But I can’t get pregnant, Ruth. I’ve tried so hard and nothing has happened.”
“It’s early days, Vicky. You’ve not been married that long ... and if you’re tired and run down … that won’t help.”
“I know. That’s what my doctor said at first. Then she arranged for some tests.” Vicky threw up her hands in despair. “But it seems there’s something wrong with me and it will be nothing short of a miracle if I conceive. I don’t understand all the medical jargon but there’s nothing they can do.”
Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Page 46