Waiting for yet another explosion from her father, Delia was surprised to hear his resigned sigh.
“I don’t care what you do or who you tell your mucky stories to. The damage has already been done. Just get out of my house and my life. Thanks to you, I now have to journey back down south to explain this mess to Richard and Victoria and I need to get going. I shall leave you to explain the situation to Delia and say your goodbyes and then as soon as you have spoken to her, just go. I never want to set eyes on you again.”
The library door banged shut, indicating that Charles had left the room. The click of a lighter and the chink of a bottle against a glass meant Margaret had resorted to a cigarette and yet another gin. Her high heels made no sound as she crossed the Aubusson carpet towards the French doors but a puff of smoke alerted Delia that her mother was just about to emerge onto the terrace. Not wanting to face her, Delia jumped to her feet, sprinted around the house to the basement door and shot up the back stairs to her room. She shut the door, her breath coming in short sharp wheezes. She was shaking uncontrollably. Feeling dizzy and sick she crept into her bed and pulled the covers up, wanting to block out the world but the words of her parents went around and around in her head. She sat up and turned on her transistor radio on the bedside table but the disc jockey on Radio Caroline was joking too merrily and she couldn’t bear to listen to him. She turned it off.
For a minute or two, Delia concentrated on the familiar domain in a desperate bid for security. She loved her room. It was full of light due to its position and a double aspect view overlooking Granny’s rose garden on the west side and the entrance drive to the estate on the north. It had been completely refurbished and redecorated for her thirteenth birthday, all to her taste and she adored it. All the furniture was ebony, including the massive four poster bed in which she now lay. Lilac silk adorned the walls, in harmony with the luxurious purple velvet drapes enveloping the two sash windows and the deep pile carpet of the same colour. There were framed pictures of horses everywhere, mainly featuring Delia with Star; jumping at shows, proudly displaying first and second place rosettes and posing at home with Philip and Richard with Verity and Dolly.
But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t forget what she had just heard. Divorce had been mentioned. It was such an ugly word, a word which meant nothing but sheer misery for all involved and how would everyone at school react? None of the other girls had divorced parents. This might well be 1964 but divorce was still considered shameful, degrading, cheap and dirty. How was she to face everyone if what her father proposed came to fruition? The horror was too much to imagine.
Delia’s fingers slid over the pale mauve silk sheets, the coolness making her shudder even more. Her heart was breaking, her world was tumbling around her, and nothing would be the same again. She was dreadfully confused and upset. Her life was falling apart and there was nothing she could do about it.
But apart from the degradation, Delia didn’t really want her parents to split up. She had taken it for granted they would always stay together, whatever their differences and although she knew her mother was restless when at Canleigh she hadn’t realised how much her mother actually disliked it. That was a real shock. Canleigh was paradise. She loved every inch, every nook and cranny with an almost religious fervour. The lovely old sandy-coloured house, its elegant rooms, its treasures, the vast lawns and gardens, the lake, the acres of fields and woods perfect for tearing along on horseback. How could anyone not just love it? It was an ideal world and one Delia couldn’t imagine not being a major part of. That her own mother could feel so differently was an abomination.
Then, for the first time, Delia considered Margaret as an individual in her own right and not just as a mother and began to feel angry with her father. Why had he allowed his wife such licence so that she was able to have these so-called disgusting affairs with other men? Why hadn’t he kept her at Canleigh? Why hadn’t he given her parties and balls if that was what she wanted? Then she would have been happy here and none of this would have happened but instead, he had pushed her away and she had turned to others and why did she have to leave? It was too drastic. Why couldn’t he just forgive her mother for whatever she had done and let everything return to normal?
The questions flew through Delia’s mind. She felt so alone. She wanted to dash into Granny’s room and pour it all out to her. She would know what to say and what to do, or would she? Thinking about it, Granny’s relationship with Margaret was not so good. They were polite and distant in each other’s company and Delia had always assumed that was because they just didn’t like each other very much but now
