She could hear laughing from the direction of the bedroom and looked at the gold Cartier watch on her left wrist. She decided to give it fifteen minutes before making a bolt for it. Hopefully, the pair would be so engrossed with what they were doing by then, they would have forgotten all about her. The hands on the watch moved so slowly Vicky began to wonder if it was working; almost hoping it wasn’t so she wouldn’t have to venture out of the bathroom and put herself in danger again because she was positive now that they would do her physical harm. Neither of them was thinking straight, obviously under the influence of too much alcohol and goodness knows what else. That Rocky chap had been a drug addict by all accounts and Delia had lived with him for quite a while. She might well be taking something too … and even persuaded Barrie to indulge. Vicky shuddered and shook, finding it difficult to comprehend the situation she found herself in. She had to get away from them as fast as possible.
The fifteen minutes passed. Vicky held her breath, took off her shoes, and unlocked the door as quietly and gently as she could. The bedroom door was ajar and she had to pass it to get to the door to the stairs. It was obvious what the pair were doing from the groans and pants which emanated from the room but even so, to actually see her sister and husband locked in a passionate embrace on the marital bed made Vicky freeze on the spot and gasp with shock. Delia heard her, turned her head, and grinned wickedly.
“Well, well. I think we have company, Barrie … at last. We’ve been waiting for you, Vicky darling … we want you to join in,” Delia hissed, reminiscent of a coiled snake about to spring at its prey.
Vicky remained frozen in horror as they untangled themselves and moved towards her. Before she could make a run for it, Barrie lunged towards her and held her fast, leaving Delia to pull at her clothes, ripping the zip on her skirt in her eagerness to remove it.
“Leave me alone,” Vicky screamed, struggling frantically in Barrie’s vice like grip while Delia, happy now that Vicky’s beautiful slender body had been stripped bare, handled her boldly, her fingers probing and prying.
“What a lovely body, you have, darling. A little on the thin side still but you don’t look too bad. Now, relax. You are really going to enjoy this, isn’t she, Barrie?”
“Barrie … Delia … please,” but she pleaded in vain and with mounting horror and disgust she saw the look of depraved pleasure on Barrie’s face as he watched Delia fondle her. She knew she would receive no mercy from him. He was relishing the spectacle.
“We won’t hurt you, we promise,” purred Delia. “We only want give you a good time,” she panted, pulling Vicky into the bedroom and towards the bed, finding it difficult with her younger sister kicking out wildly with her legs, looking around desperately for a means of escape. However, they were three floors up and she had no intention of hurling herself out of the window, that was even if she could get to it.
“You can’t get out,” Delia said. “We’ve locked the door downstairs and hidden the key. So, you have no choice but to enjoy yourself for a while.”
Vicky fought like a wild animal as Barrie, laughing manically, held her captive on the bed. She could see Delia rummaging in the bottom of Barrie’s wardrobe and wondered fearfully what was in store for her and when Delia stood up triumphantly waving some handcuffs, a leather belt, and a whip and then pulled on a pair of thigh length black leather boots, Vicky’s fright turned to sheer terror and panic. Barrie ogled Delia with relish and sighed in ecstasy.
“Didn’t know your old man was into a bit of bondage, did you?” Delia laughed.
“Delia. For God’s sake. Please … let me go,” Vicky cried, tears streaming down her face.
“Oh, no, no, no, Vicky, darling. It’s play time,” Delia grinned.
“God, I hate you both. I’ll never forgive you for this and a divorce from you can’t come quick enough,” Vicky gulped, staring into Barrie’s crazy eyes, beads of sweat running down his brow while he tried hard to hold her still. “I’ll make sure you don’t get a penny of my money. I’ll expose you for what you are. Both of you.”
But Delia ignored her. She had dropped the whip and leather belt on the floor and was busy forcing Vicky’s legs apart and attaching her ankles to the railings of the Victorian brass bed with the handcuffs.
“I don’t know why you won’t keep still darling,” Delia smiled softly. “We just want you to have some fun for once.”
“I can’t believe how sick and evil you both are,” cried Vicky. “Barrie … for pity’s sake … let me go. If you don’t, I’ll make your life hell after this. I mean it! You’ll be nothing and have nothing when I’ve finished with you.”
Blessedly she knew no more as Barrie’s fist smashed into her face.
CHAPTER 33
BLAIRNESS AND LONDON
MARCH 1974
Ruth stood in the doorway to the red drawing room of Blairness Castle and studied the back of her husband’s greying head of hair thoughtfully, wanting to throw herself over him, like a protective blanket, and shield him from any horrors inhabitants of the world could inflict. She couldn’t bear him to suffer pain of any kind, physical or emotional, and he was already struggling with the considerably unsettling news from Vicky’s telephone call yesterday to advise them that Delia’s case had been dismissed due to lack of evidence and she hadn’t been acquitted with her character unstained in the eyes of the law. There was still a huge question mark over whether or not she had committed murder. Charles had taken it stoically but with mixed emotions. He was still hurting badly from the loss of Richard, relieved Delia was exonerated but in reality, still didn’t know what to believe, but like Ruth and Vicky, deep in his heart, he knew Delia had murdered his son.
However, Ruth had received an even more horrific telephone call from Alex an hour ago and this time she certainly wasn’t going to tell Charles. He must never know exactly what had been going on in Vicky and Barrie’s flat. She hated to keep anything from him but this was Vicky’s secret and if anyone told him, it had to be her … but from what Alex had imparted, it was doubtful if Vicky would ever tell anyone, let alone her own father.
A sixth sense told Charles he was being watched and he turned to look at her. “Ruth … what is it?” he asked. “Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I’m fine, darling,” she replied reassuringly. A nasty cold caught had kept her in bed for a couple of days but had nearly cleared and she was feeling reasonably fit again.
It was only four in the afternoon but the thick red velvet curtains were closed, as the chilly day had turned dark early with thick black clouds whirling around the sky threatening torrential rain and a stormy night ahead. Inside, the room looked cosy and warm with the log fire and four table lamps giving off a soft glow. Ruth looked around her favourite room in the whole castle as she settled on the sofa beside Charles. She had loved living here during the past few months, even in the winter, when outside could be very bleak and unwelcoming. But she didn’t mind. Ruth actually liked the cold. It was comforting to be able to throw on thick clothes and thermal underwear and pad around the stone floors wearing fleecy slippers. Roaring log fires were cheery and a treat to sit in front of on long, dark nights when she and Charles sat listening to Mozart, Beethoven or Handel, reading books or just watching the flames flickering in the fireplace. She felt much safer and relaxed at Blairness than at Canleigh, which was so different. It was much bigger and grander and she had fallen in love with it but it wasn’t homely and Ruth didn’t feel serene and tranquil there as she did here. Perhaps it was because her first taste of Canleigh had been badly tainted by all the unpleasantness with Charles’ children but in the Scottish highlands, apart from Stephen and the staff, they were alone, with no underlying worry that Delia might turn up … and Richard certainly couldn’t. However, Ruth knew they couldn’t remain at Blairness and would have to return to Canleigh at some point but was determined they would spend far more time here in the future. It was doing them both the power of good.
Charles’s hea
lth had improved rapidly since their arrival in Scotland. Every day was a pleasure as they breakfasted idly and, if the weather permitted, took long leisurely morning strolls with Stephen, leaving Tina to enjoy some free time. Ruth insisted Charles rest every afternoon. While he slept or read a book, she played around with her painting. It had been a joy to take it up again, having done very little while studying in Oxford but now she had all the time in the world in which to dabble. There was a room on the first floor of the castle, which thanks to a former member of the family having the foresight to create two extra windows in the old stone walls, was flooded with light for most of the day, in addition to having a glorious view over the surrounding countryside. Charles, on showing her around the castle, had suggested it would be a good place for her to indulge her passion. They had ventured into Edinburgh, found an art shop, and purchased an easel, a few canvases of various sizes, paper, oils and all the paraphernalia Ruth would need. She was thrilled and her afternoons spent in her lovely art studio were some of the most idyllic she had ever known, happy in the knowledge that her baby was being well cared for by Tina, and Charles was resting and recovering from his heart attack.
However, as regular as clockwork, paperwork arrived from Canleigh and Charles asked her to attend to it for him.
“It’s essential you become knowledgeable about the estate and how its run because, God forbid, one day you might have to be in complete charge until Stephen is able to take over his responsibilities,” Charles stated, not long after they arrived at Blairness.
Ruth acquiesced, knowing what he said was true and it was the sensible thing to do, but the reasoning behind it haunted her. She didn’t want Charles to die. She didn’t want to be left alone to bring up Stephen at Canleigh. It was a frightening prospect. However, she had enjoyed reading all the correspondence from Louis, the French estate manager, the accountants and the solicitors and then discussing anything important with Charles afterwards. Now, when they returned to Canleigh, she would have a far better understanding of the running of the estate and would be able to discuss it intelligently.
Her new duty often made her think about Charles’s mother. Poor woman, losing her husband so early in their married life and then having to take over full responsibility for Canleigh until Charles was mature enough; the war years when the Hall was turned into a hospital for wounded soldiers and she had trained as a nurse so she could help them, and then there was all her charity work. What a formidable woman she must have been. Ruth would have liked to have met her and although Charles had suggested Ruth have her picture painted and hung over the fireplace in the library at Canleigh, Ruth disagreed. His mother’s beautiful portrait wouldn’t be removed from its rightful place while Ruth was alive. Looking up her mother-in-law smiling down at them gave her courage. The Dowager Duchess would remain where she was. Ruth’s portrait, when it was decided who was going to paint it, would have to go elsewhere. Perhaps at Blairness, she pondered idly.
Oh, Blairness. Where they had been so happy, mainly keeping themselves to themselves; only entertaining a couple of times when Charles’s friends journeyed up to their estates in Scotland and came to dinner. There were a couple of trips to Edinburgh, the first when they purchased her painting materials and enjoyed a play at the Royal Lyceum theatre followed by an overnight stay in a luxurious suite at the gracious Balmoral Hotel on Princes Street. On their second trip, it was a strangely warm day for February and they were able to wander in weak sunshine along Princes Street, up through the gardens to visit the grand old castle high up on the hill and amble leisurely down the Royal Mile to beautiful Holyrood Palace afterwards. They enjoyed dinner back at the hotel and then, after breakfast the following morning, drove home to Blairness.
Their undemanding lifestyle was just what Charles needed and Ruth was delighted to see the daily improvement in his health. He had more energy and his eyes and skin looked far better than they had since he was taken so ill. As the weeks passed, she became surer that although he would have to be careful and not overstretch himself, he should be able to return to his normal routine at Canleigh without too much trouble and her fears of his early demise began to recede.
As Ruth stood in the red drawing room, knowing she was going to have to leave the peaceful idyll they had created for themselves, her heart plummeted. She didn’t want to shatter the tranquillity in the room and tell Charles that their wonderful few months was about to come to an abrupt end but she had no choice … yet again, thanks to Delia. It was as if she ruled their lives. They had to escape to Blairness because of her and now Ruth would have to leave because of her.
She looked at Charles and tried to steady her voice. He must never know how worried she really was. She had to keep what she was going to say as light as possible.
“I’ve just heard from Vicky, darling. Apparently, she’s had a rather nasty row with Barrie and he’s walked out. She’s in a bit of a state and wants me to pop down to London … just for a couple of days … help her take her mind off things … do a bit of shopping, etc. Would you mind?” She kept to herself that it wasn’t Vicky who had telephoned but a desperate sounding Alex. He had discovered Vicky in a bad way in the flat and rung Ruth because Vicky was crying for her and refusing to go to hospital.
Charles picked up her hand and kissed it. “Oh no,” he sighed. “Blast that man. I knew he would end up breaking her heart. I suppose it’s due to his support of Delia. Why she turned to him with all this court business is a mystery to me. I really don’t know what to think about her … in fact, I daren’t think about her too much … it just makes me so angry. Poor little Vicky. She obviously needs you and of course you must go, although I wish you didn’t have to, darling. I do so hate being parted from you.”
“And I you but I am worried about her. She’s been really depressed lately … all this business about not being able to conceive … it’s affected her badly and now this.”
“Umm … actually, Ruth. I’ve been thinking. I’ve loved every minute of being here at Blairness. It’s been wonderful having precious time alone with you and Stephen but I am quite recovered … yes, I know I have to be careful … but I think it’s time to return to Canleigh. I need to get back to working on the book and although we receive regular updates about what is going on on the estate and you have been an absolute brick in dealing with everything, it’s time I took charge again. Anyway, I’m missing good old English cooking more than you know. I haven’t had a decent Yorkshire pudding since we’ve been here,” he grimaced.
Ruth managed a laugh. An elderly Scottish couple, Morag and Hamish McFrain, had looked after Blairness for many years as butler and housekeeper but a new cook, the young Sarah Brown who was in her second position since leaving catering college, did like to experiment with new ingredients and recipes. Charles, preferring plain old English fare, wasn’t too enamoured of what turned up on his plate every now and again when Ruth hadn’t planned what they were to eat.
“I really don’t like spaghetti and as for that concoction with pasta the other evening … just give me a good old roast beef and Yorkshire puddings,” he laughed, before suddenly turning serious. “And I want to go home and see Richard’s grave. I can deal with it now. I’m glad I was able to see the recording of the funeral but I need to be able to see the grave for myself … and I want to start planning a memorial service … and I’m actually missing the estate. I can’t think why … when we’ve been so happy here. I must be getting old,” he smiled wistfully. “I know this sounds a bit morbid, Ruth … but I feel a sense of urgency. A need to see Canleigh again before I die.”
“Charles! Don’t talk like that,” Ruth exclaimed, sitting up sharply. “Of course we’ll go home if that’s what you would like … but please … stay here for a few more days. Just give me time to help get Vicky on some sort of even keel and then I’ll come back for you and Stephen and we’ll go home together. But for now, darling … come and talk to me while I pack.”
“What! You’re not going tonight?
” he groaned.
“The sooner I leave, the sooner I will return,” she said. “McFrain can drive me to Edinburgh. I’ve checked and there’s a plane to Heathrow tonight … and I’m booked on it.”
“Goodness, woman. You don’t let the grass grow under your feet.” Charles smiled ruefully.
* * *
Two hours later Ruth sat on the plane, tearful, worried and tired. She hated leaving Charles and Stephen but Vicky needed her badly and she had to go. She rested her head on the back of the seat and watched the lights of Edinburgh fade into the distance as the plane soared majestically towards the stars twinkling brightly in the night sky. The threatened storm hadn’t materialised, the clouds had blown over and the sky was now clear.
What a couple of days it had been. It was only yesterday that Vicky informed her of what had occurred at Delia’s trial and that had been a blow. They had all expected Delia to go down for manslaughter and it hadn’t happened. She was free. It was unbelievable. The whole family were positive Delia had planned the murderous events at Richard’s flat but it appeared nothing could be proven and as Delia was the only one alive to tell the tale, it would remain a secret for ever.
Charles had taken the news relatively well. He had sat deep in thought for a while and then seeming to recover his equilibrium, stood up, shrugged, smiled at her and then took Stephen for a long walk. Ruth watched him carefully for the rest of the day but although quiet, he didn’t appear to be under any real stress.
As the plane hummed along, most of the passengers dozing quietly with only a few reading or talking softly to each other, Ruth picked up the magazine on her lap and put it down again. She was too worried to read and wished she didn’t have to make this journey, not only desperately concerned about Vicky but having received a frantic call from Hardy an hour before she left Blairness, about what was happening at Canleigh now.
Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) Page 55