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

by Carole Williams

  “Of course it is, you stupid woman,” hissed Delia, pulling furiously at her right thumb with her left hand. “Who the bloody hell else’s do you think it could be? Darling Vicky is going to be in for a nasty shock … or have you told her already?”

  “No. Vicky doesn’t know yet … and I’m not sure if she ever needs to.”

  “Oh, … and why not, Ruth darling?” Delia mocked. “Pray, do tell.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better not to have it at all, Delia?”

  “An abortion? I think not! I don’t know how you could even suggest it!”

  Delia ceased pulling at her fingers and placed her hands protectively over her stomach. Ruth watched, appalled. Surely Delia didn’t want to have this baby. It would be harrowing for Charles and cause horrendous pain for Vicky. Somehow, she had to break down this wall of hostility emanating from Delia and make her see sense.

  “Think about it Delia, please. Vicky is already heartbroken after being told she can’t have children … and traumatised by recent events. If you go through with this you will cause her incredible heartache. Do you really want to bring a living reminder into the world at such a dreadful time for her and don’t you think you’ve already heaped enough misery onto her … having an affair with her husband … and what you both did to her at the flat?”

  Delia shifted uncomfortably in the bed and her eyes couldn’t quite meet Ruth’s. Gaining strength from Delia’s unease, Ruth continued.

  “There’s still time, Delia. They could probably do the operation here … and no-one need ever know. I promise I shan't say a word. Please. You can’t possibly hate Vicky that much.”

  Delia sat still, her whole body rigid with defiance. “You must be joking. I could spit on the whole accursed, nauseating family … you included. Not one of you gives a jot for my welfare so why the hell should I be any different? And as for the child … I’m keeping it and that’s final. Now that I’m physically revolting,” she waved a hand at the dressing on her face, “what chance do I have of ever being married and having a child? I’ll be bloody lucky to get a man into bed ever again … and then he’ll have to be blindfolded. So, my chances of getting pregnant again are pretty remote, wouldn’t you say?”

  “But …,” Ruth protested, beginning to panic. Delia was a much stronger character than her and she knew she was out of her depth but she had to keep trying … for Vicky … for Charles. “Have you thought this through properly? You’re bitter at the moment, of course you are. I can understand that but think about what you are doing. You’ll destroy Vicky … and your father. What about him? Don’t you care how he feels? Deep down he loves you, Delia … and I am sure in time he will try and forgive you ….”

  “That pompous bastard! It’s all his bloody fault that I’m the way I am. Please don’t elaborate … spare me the mushy rubbish. That man wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t clap eyes on me again. Blimey, he has fooled you if you think he has any kind feelings towards me. You’re thicker than I thought. No, step-mother dear, you are deluding yourself. I told the old bastard I would dance on his grave and I will. He began to destroy my life years ago and has continued in the same vein and I’ll do nothing, nothing whatsoever to make his life any easier. I’m having this child and you can all rot in hell!”

  A gasp from the doorway made Ruth and Delia turn. Charles was leaning on the door. He looked exhausted and his face was white with anger. Ruth closed her eyes for a brief second, willing this conversation not to have taken place, exceedingly fearful of what this could do to him.

  “You’ll never change, will you?” Charles said quietly, his eyes fixed on his daughter. “I had actually hoped your present predicament might have softened you but no. I can see you’re still the arrogant, selfish, avaricious female you always were. I pity you, Delia. I really do. I came here to offer assistance and try and patch things up but it’s obviously a complete waste of my time,” he finished, turning back into the corridor.

  Throwing a look of utter contempt at Delia, Ruth jumped up from her chair and made to follow him. “Now look what you’ve done,” she cried. “Christ, Delia. You know his health isn’t good ... and if you’ve placed him in more danger ....”

  Ruth hurtled out of the room and down the corridor, almost colliding with a nurse pushing a drugs trolley. She rounded a corner and saw Charles near the exit doors. He was slumped on a seat. His face was grey and he looked twenty years older.

  “Just take me home, Ruth,” he said. “I really don’t think I feel well enough to drive.”

  CHAPTER 36

  CANLEIGH - APRIL 1974

  “You’re not going back to Canleigh until a doctor has looked at you,” commanded Ruth, shocked by how frail Charles appeared.

  “This isn’t an Accident and Emergency hospital, Ruth. I can’t bother any of the doctors here and anyway, there’s nothing wrong that a good nights’ rest won’t sort out. I’m just tired, that’s all. Let’s just get home … please.”

  Ruth left her little Fiat run-around in the hospital car park and they journeyed back to Canleigh in the Rolls with her at the wheel. Charles sat in the passenger seat with his eyes closed and didn’t say a word. Ruth glanced at him every few seconds, desperately worried and cursing Delia under her breath, wishing he hadn’t heard her dreadful tirade. It had obviously hurt him badly and she had to get him home as quickly as possible and into bed. Then she was going to call one of the doctors from Dr. Arnold’s practice to have a look at him.

  Ruth drove as quickly as she could, cursing under her breath at every traffic light, every learner driver, every obstacle that slowed their progress. It was home time for every school throughout Wakefield. Hordes of parents arriving on foot or by car to collect their precious offspring cluttered up the pavements and the roads. Lollipop ladies seemed to spring from nowhere to stop all the traffic. Ruth wanted to scream with frustration until there was a clear run up to the M1 motorway when she could put her foot down, throwing the car into the outer lane and passing cars at a furious pace, uncaring of the speed limit. She really didn’t like the look of Charles. His breathing was harsh, his pallor wasn’t right and his hands had a slight tremble. She was tempted to drive straight to the accident and emergency department in Leeds but Charles would be furious with her if she did and perhaps she was overreacting. He was probably right and sleep and a visit from Dr. Arnold would suffice. At least she prayed it would.

  “Anyone would think you were driving an ambulance with blue lights flashing and sirens making a racket,” Charles murmured.

  “Oh,” she said with relief. “You are awake then.”

  “I can hardly nod off at this speed. Do please remember what you are driving, Ruth. This is my much-loved Rolls Royce which I have had for many years and would be delighted to have for many more.”

  Ruth smiled and her tension dissipated a little. If he could joke, he couldn’t be too bad. She would still be happier once he had been examined properly.

  Ruth managed to persuade him to go to bed as soon as they arrived home and Dr. Arnold was able to visit half an hour later. After a thorough and prolonged examination, he wanted to admit Charles to hospital just to be on the safe side but Charles resisted. “I’m fine,” he said. “All I need is a good rest. Don’t fuss, both of you,” he tried to smile at Ruth and the doctor who stood beside the bed. “Just leave me to sleep. I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

  “Well, I can’t make you go but don’t you dare get out of bed until I’ve seen you in the morning,” said Dr. Arnold sternly. “And if I still think you need to go to hospital, to hospital you will go.”

  Charles smiled ruefully. “Okay, okay. But you’ll see. I shall be fully recovered and you will be wasting your time.”

  “Umm,” was the reply. “Don’t worry, Ruth. I shall see myself out,” the doctor said, leaving Ruth to sit with Charles.

  “Are you hungry, darling? Would you like a tray sent up before you go to sleep?” she asked.

  “No … but you go and spend some
time with Stephen … and have an early dinner … then come and join me. I’ll have a little read and then I’ll nod off until then.”

  Ruth kissed him lightly on the cheek before leaving the room and running up to the nursery. Tina had already given Stephen his bath and he smelled of baby soap and talcum powder. Leaving Tina to tidy up the nursery, Ruth sat in the rocking chair with her young son in her arms and cuddled him firmly as the chair swayed gently back and forth. Watching Stephen gradually close his eyes she wanted to do the same. She was exhausted after such a traumatic afternoon. She felt happier now that Dr. Arnold had seen Charles but still couldn’t completely relax, wishing he had taken the advice of the doctor and spent the night in the hospital. An hour later, she gradually eased herself out of the chair, placed Stephen in his cot, and covered him over with the blankets. He didn’t wake. She kissed her finger and pressed it to his cheek.

  “Thank you for staying over tonight, Tina. That’s kind of you. I am worried about His Grace and if I don’t have to concern myself with Stephen, that will be a huge help,” she said to Tina.

  Tina smiled. “I do hope His Grace will feel a lot better soon.”

  “Thank you, Tina. I’m sure he will. I’m just going to have a quick shower, some dinner and then I’ll retire early so I can keep an eye on him.”

  Charles was asleep when she popped back to the bedroom and not wanting to disturb him, she showered in Vicky’s bathroom, changed into a clean turquoise linen dress and headed for the dining room where Hardy was waiting to serve her.

  The macaroni cheese with fresh garden peas and creamy mashed potato, followed by strawberry cheesecake and cream were just what she needed. It was nursery food; comforting and easy to swallow. It was the cook’s night off and Betty Hardy had prepared the meal, knowing it was one of Ruth’s favourites. How kind she was.

  It was nearly eight-thirty by the time she returned to the bedroom, having fetched the latest saga she was reading from her sitting room. It would be good to have an early night and immerse herself in a few chapters. It was a great story; a real pot-boiler and once she commenced reading, difficult to put down.

  Charles was awake. The bedside light was on but his book lay unopened on top of his chest. He looked lost and forlorn and was labouring to breathe. He smiled weakly and reached out for her hands as she neared the bed.

  “Hold me, darling.”

  She reached out instantly for the telephone. “I’m calling for an ambulance.”

  “No! Please, Ruth. Don’t. I don’t want to die in hospital. I want to be in my own bed … with you beside me, holding me, loving me. I don’t want to be in a sterile ward surrounded by people I don’t know, pulled about and prodded and poked with needles in and out of me, wires … machines … no.”

  “But Charles … you ….”

  “No buts, darling. Please … just lay here beside me … I need to talk to you.”

  Tears threatened to fall as Ruth did as he bid, trying hard to hide how upset she was when she felt his pulse and found it growing fainter as the life flowed from him.

  “My will,” he whispered, taking her hand as she snuggled up beside him, maybe for the very last time. “I want to talk to you about my will … I’ve left you well provided for … you’ll be very comfortable and want for nothing. You can live here … for as long as you wish … although I would like you to stay until Stephen is old enough to take up his responsibilities. He needs to be here and learn to love it and look after it … and I know you will give him every bit of help you can.”

  “Oh, Charles … please don’t. I can’t bear it,” she cried.

  “Listen to me, darling. I’m so sorry that you had to hear all that abuse from Delia this afternoon.”

  Ruth squeezed his hand sympathetically. “Delia is in a terrible place right now and I expect when she is physically and mentally better, she will be sorry.”

  “Delia is rotten to the core,” he said, his voice growing weaker. “She is no daughter of mine. Not any longer and whatever you do, Ruth, don’t allow her to return to Canleigh … not under any circumstances … for your safety and that of Stephen. I hate to say this but she is pure evil. Don’t let her anywhere near you. Remember that, Ruth. Promise me ….”

  “Yes, darling. I promise,” she replied swiftly, anxious to quiet his agitation.

  “I love you, Ruth. Thank you for being such a wonderful wife and mother. I die happy knowing you’ll be here to see everything is as it should be. I know I’m leaving everything in capable and caring hands.”

  “Oh, Charles,” she cried, unable to restrain herself any longer, clutching his hand as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please don’t leave me. I love you too much. I can’t go on without you.”

  “Yes, you can my love. You have to. You have Stephen. I want him to grow up and be a credit to us … and then there is Vicky. After all she has been through, she will need your support and love. I’m pleased young Alex is fond of her. I do hope they marry one day. Now, come. Cuddle me close. I’m very tired and want to sleep.”

  Ruth wiped her eyes with a tissue from the box beside the bed and lay down beside him, listening as his breathing grew quieter, dreading its cessation but knowing it wasn’t far away and there was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent it. His life was slipping away and she was totally helpless. She wanted to scream and beat the walls in anguish but couldn’t. She had to remain as tranquil as she could for him. Her weeping and wailing could come later but sheer exhaustion took over and as she lay waiting and listening for the inevitable silence that was to come, her eyelids became heavy and slumber overcame her desire to remain awake.

  It was daylight when she awoke, still in her turquoise dress, now creased and crumpled. She stared at it for a second, wondering why she wasn’t in her nightclothes and in bed. Then, with horrendous clarity hitting her with an almighty force, she remembered and drawing in her breath in terror looked down at Charles beside her. He was still warm and for an instant, she thought there was a flicker of a smile on his face but she was wrong. He would speak no more. He would never hold her again; laugh with her, play with Stephen, write his books, tour the estate, drive the Rolls. He was gone and she was alone.

  “Oh, no … oh, Charles ….” Her whisper was hoarse as she touched his face. His eyes were closed and one could assume he was still asleep but he wasn’t. He must have drawn his last breath an hour or so ago while she had slept soundly beside him. How could she not have been awake at the crucial time? Why hadn’t instinct woken her up?

  She remained sitting in the big bed beside him for nearly an hour, trying to accustom herself to the reality that her wonderful, caring, companion was dead. He had been everything to her; friend, lover, confidant, advisor. Their time together had been relatively short but life was unimaginable without him and she couldn’t get her head around it. The future was too bleak and lonely to contemplate. She didn’t want to tell anyone what had happened. While she sat here, beside him, she could still pretend he was only sleeping and would wake up any minute; smile, kiss and cuddle her as he had every morning since their marriage. It was the happiest time of the day for Ruth, when they were alone together, warm and cosy in bed, entwined in their own little cocoon. She didn’t ever want to wake up without him beside her. She wanted to remain with him; go with him even but that was impossible. She had responsibilities. He had reminded her of that.

  Outside the birds were singing. It was going to be a lovely fresh spring day. The sort of day they would walk around the lake with Stephen, laughing and joking … or even have a trip to the seaside … Filey or Scarborough. They would take a picnic and eat ice cream. Stephen’s face would be covered with it and Charles would wipe it off with a tissue and tickle him and make him giggle. They would have a lovely day and then come home to have a relaxing evening together. A nice dinner and then retire to the library to read and listen to classical music. Mozart, Beethoven, Handel. Charles loved and appreciated them all. Then they would come to bed and make l
ove, tenderly, lovingly, just as it should be between two people who adored each other.

  A knock on the door made Ruth jump. The world was now about to intrude on their time together. He would be taken away. She would never see him again. She looked down at Charles and burst into a flood of tears. He was gone from her for ever. Her life would never be the same.

  The door opened slowly and Betty Hardy, in a navy cotton dress and flat sensible shoes, popped her head inside and took in the scene before her with dismay.

  “Oh, Your Grace,” she uttered, hurrying towards Ruth. “Has he gone?” she asked, looking at Charles.

  Ruth nodded, her weeping becoming increasingly frenzied. She tried to stand up but her body was stiff and aching and her legs and arms didn’t seem to want to do what she wanted them to. The grief was overwhelming. There was a dreadful sharp pain in her chest. She knew what it meant now when people said their heart was breaking. It was happening to her. It was excruciating, like a knife tearing through her, ripping her insides out. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to die; to go with him; be with him. She couldn’t live without him. She couldn’t.

  “I loved him so much, Mrs. Hardy,” she sobbed. “What am I going to do without him?”

  “Hush, hush,” whispered the housekeeper, taking Ruth in her arms and cuddling her close. She was near to tears herself. She and her husband had worked for Charles since he was a young man and a fairer and reasonable employer would be hard to find in her opinion. She was deeply saddened. He would be a huge loss to them all.

  “Let’s get you into another room and tucked up in bed, Your Grace. You look done in and there’s nothing you can do here. I’ll ring Dr. Arnold … and Lady Victoria.”

  Ruth was shaking badly. She was terribly cold and was grateful for Betty, who helped her through to a nearby guestroom, fetched a warm nightdress, helped her undress, and tucked her into bed.