“Oh, Charles. I’m so sorry,” sympathised Constance. “I can’t believe she can be so vindictive . . . and uncaring of the children. Has she no shame?”
“It seems not. There are pictures in the tabloids every day of her on the beach in skimpy swimsuits with the wonderful Parfitt in tow. The press are buzzing around her. She’s thoroughly enjoying the attention and is making the most of it. She knows I’ll give in eventually. It doesn’t matter much about Canleigh House, to be honest. I never stay there and it was only going to be rented out. She can have it if she wants it; although I will make it a condition she renames it. Once the divorce comes through, she will lose all rights to the Canleigh name.”
“What about the children? Will you allow her to see them?” asked Ralph.
“I really don’t know. The way they all feel about her now … I think we will have to leave it a few months before anything is decided. I’m going to leave it to them though. I know I told Margaret I wouldn’t allow it but I shouldn’t prevent them from seeing their mother if they really want to … that is, if Margaret actually agrees to have any contact with them. Quite frankly from past experience, I would be surprised if she did.”
Ralph shook his head sadly. “Those poor children … having such a mother.”
“I know … and I hate having Richard and Victoria so far away, even though I have been reassured they are both managing to concentrate on their studies and Richard is gleefully enjoying end of year exams, positive he is going to do well. That boy is certainly very bright,” Charles said with pride.
“He works very hard and I’m sure he will make a fantastic surgeon one day,” said Constance, knowing of Richard’s medical ambitions. “But before they come back to Canleigh at the end of term, get yourself away for a nice break. Go and relax somewhere.”
Knowing Constance was right, Charles did as he was told. He had been toying with the idea of buying an Italian villa as he loved Italy so much and dearly wanted to spend more time there. He went straight back to Canleigh and instructed Susan Armitage to search out properties for sale in the Lake Como region. She found two that looked good possibilities with large and plentiful rooms and swimming pools. Flights were booked and on the morning he was due to leave, Charles paid a visit to Delia, wishing fervently she would acknowledge him in some way before he left.
“I’m so sorry you aren’t well enough to join me but I’ll only be gone for a few days. It will be lovely to have a villa of our own in Italy, won’t it, Delia? As you will be better by the summer holidays, we’ll all be able to go over then . . . unless there is somewhere else you would like to go,” he said positively, as much for his benefit as for hers.
He hated these one-sided conversations. He never really knew what to say and found it thoroughly frustrating.
“I’m driving down to London today and staying at the Ritz tonight and then flying at seven o’clock in the morning.”
Delia laid still. Her eyes were closed but flickered now and again indicating she was awake but whether or not she was listening remained a mystery. Charles felt a twinge of annoyance. He had done his absolute best to get through to her. Since that first apology weeks ago he had repeated it every day, hoping upon hope she would say something. Anything … even if she sat up in bed and castigated him for leaving her that day. But no. There was nothing. No smile, no eye contact, no word. Nothing. Simply nothing.
“I do hope you’re feeling better by the time I get back. I know the Kershaw’s will look after you admirably … don’t give them a hard time Delia. They are as worried about you as I am and it would be lovely if you could acknowledge their amazing care and kindness. If you need me at all I shall come back instantly. That goes without saying.”
Yet again, there was no reaction from his daughter and with a sigh Charles kissed her cheek and left the room.
The next day he flew out of Heathrow and from that moment, strangely enough, Delia’s health began to improve. She lay in bed watching the hands of her bedside clock creep round to seven o’clock. As soon as they did, she stretched, got out of bed and walked to the window. The flight had taken off. For a wonderful few days she was free of her father, with his pathetic apologies and what she considered false concern. Her anger at him for abandoning her on that dreadful day … and now, just so he could swan off and enjoy himself in Italy, was intense. She didn’t know if she could ever speak to him again and couldn’t imagine how they were going to rub along when she had to return to Canleigh … because she would have to at some point … but for once in her life, she didn’t want to
