The Villain’s Daughter (33 page)

It was open, only by an inch or two, but definitely open.

He shook off her hand. ‘Stay here,’ he said.

But Iris didn’t. She followed him inside, aware as she entered the hallway of the small but distinctive sounds of someone moving around. A wave of fear rolled over her. Oh God, whoever had broken in was still here! Danny Street? The bruiser who had accosted her at Columbia Road? Or maybe just some drugged-up chancer who’d discovered that no one was in. Guy walked quietly into the living room. It was empty. He turned and came back into the hall. Iris pointed towards the bedroom.

‘In there,’ she mouthed silently.

There was a series of louder rattling sounds now, as if the intruder was rifling through her wardrobe. Iris reached for the phone in her bag. It would have been smarter, she realised, to have retreated, to have called the cops from outside the flat - outside the building even. She had heard about people confronting burglars and coming off the worse for it. Getting injured, even getting killed. And whoever was here could be far more brutal than a common thief. What if he was armed? What if he hurt Guy? She wanted to cry out, to tell him to come back, but it was already too late.

As he burst through the door she heard a startled yelp. It was followed by a thump, a dull heavy sound, and then a slight wheezing like a beach ball deflating. Iris dropped the phone back into her bag, picked up a large black umbrella from the stand in the hall, and hurried into the bedroom.

Relief was the first thing she felt. Guy was okay. More than okay. A man was lying face down on the carpet and Guy was straddling him, forcing the intruder’s arm up behind his back. There was no doubt about who had won this particular battle. A low futile grunting was the only noise emanating from the body on the floor. It was a few seconds before her gaze focused properly on the back of the head and the familiar brown silky hair. Instantly, she drew in a breath. ‘Luke! What the hell are
you
doing here?’

Guy looked over his shoulder at her and then back down at the man he was restraining. Despite now knowing who he was, he didn’t immediately release him. ‘So I take it he isn’t here to steal all your worldly possessions?’

‘No,’ she said, slowly lowering the umbrella. As she placed it on the bed, she thought how useless it would have been as a weapon. She noticed a suitcase already half filled lying on top of the duvet. So Luke had decided to sneak in and pack up all his stuff while he thought she’d be at work.

Luke squirmed and turned his head. His face was red and sweaty. ‘For fuck’s sake, Iris,’ he croaked, ‘tell this bloody goon to get off me.’

Iris didn’t. In fact she’d have been more than happy for Guy to twist that arm even further up his back. She wasn’t usually vindictive, but a little discomfort was the least he deserved after the way he’d treated her. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said again. ‘You’re supposed to be in Brussels.’ But even as she spoke she was beginning to comprehend the truth. He hadn’t gone away at all - well, not abroad at least. The whole business trip had been a lie from start to finish, just an excuse to spend some time with that bitch Jasmine.

‘It’s my bloody flat, isn’t it,’ Luke spluttered weakly. ‘Why shouldn’t I be here?’

Guy looked up at her. ‘You want me to let him go?’

Iris paused for a second, but then reluctantly nodded. She watched as Guy released him and stood back. Luke stumbled to his feet, rubbing resentfully at his arm. He scowled at Guy, but only briefly. Guy was taller than him, broader and stronger. If Luke had been expecting an apology for being manhandled in his own home, it wasn’t forthcoming. Guy stared impassively at him for a few seconds and then turned and said to Iris, ‘If you’re okay, I’ll wait in the car.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

Luke waited until the front door had shut, until he was sure they were alone, before he spoke again. His voice had a bitter, nasty edge to it. ‘And just who the hell was that?’

‘A friend.’

He curled his lip. ‘Well, it didn’t take you long.’

Iris knew what he was implying. She was about to deny it, but then changed her mind. She didn’t have to answer to him any more. And a part of her was glad that he
did
think that. It was a salve, albeit a small one, to her wounded pride. Guy Wilder was a very good-looking man and she wasn’t comfortable with the role of the betrayed girlfriend.

‘So I take it you’re moving in with the lovely Jasmine,’ she said.

Luke didn’t answer directly. ‘I’ll just get my things and go.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she said. ‘I mean before. I presume this isn’t love at first sight. You must have been seeing her for a while. When did it start? A month ago, three, six? How long has it been going on for?’

Luke shook his head. Unwilling to meet her eyes, he quickly looked away. ‘Let’s not do this now.’

‘Why not? Will there be a better time?’ She was aware that there was something almost masochistic about her desire to know the details. It could only bring her pain. But perhaps she needed that pain, needed the brutal clarity of the truth in order to draw a line under the whole relationship. Or perhaps that wasn’t the reason at all. Maybe she just hated feeling like a fool for not having realised what had been going on.

‘What does it matter?’ Luke said.

Iris frowned. It did matter. If he told her when it had started she could look back, try to recall the signals, the clues that must have been there. That way she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. She’d had some suspicions last week, some nagging doubts, but had chosen to ignore them. She had put her head firmly in the sand and carried on regardless. ‘I have the right to know, don’t I?’

Luke shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. ‘A few weeks,’ he said. ‘A month.’

She knew he was lying. She could see it in his eyes, in the shifty way he glanced across the room. More like two months, she guessed - or even longer. Perhaps he had taken up with Jasmine soon after she’d lost the baby. That thought made her feel slightly sick.

‘Right,’ she said.

‘I’ll just finish packing,’ he said.

Iris wrapped her arms around her chest, watching as he opened the drawers and threw T-shirts and underwear into his case. ‘So what now?’

He spoke without looking at her. ‘I’ll pay the rent up to the end of January. That should give you enough time to find somewhere else. Unless you want to stay here. If you want to keep on the lease, I’m sure—’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll be moving out too.’ She couldn’t stay even if she’d wanted to; the rent here was way beyond her resources. And anyway she didn’t like the place that much.

‘Okay,’ he said.

Iris wondered how it had come to this. Suddenly they were like strangers. Reaching into the wardrobe, she took out an overnight bag and quickly packed enough clothes to last for the next few days. She had wanted to get changed, but decided to do it when she got to work instead. The sooner she got out of here, the better.

‘Well,’ she said when she had gathered everything she needed.

Luke put his hands in his pockets and shuffled uneasily from one foot to another. ‘Well,’ he echoed awkwardly. ‘Take care of yourself.’

Had Iris been in a more forgiving mood, she might have said ‘You too’, but she wasn’t prepared to make it that easy for him. He deserved to feel guilt, to feel shame over the shabby way he’d treated her. People fell in and out of love, that was just a fact of life, but a bit of honesty wasn’t too much to ask. Why couldn’t he have sat her down and talked to her face-to-face? She found herself hoping that the delightful Jasmine would make his life hell.

‘Bye then,’ she said briskly. Despite her contempt, there was still a lump in her throat as she headed for the door.

There had been no conversation in the car as they made the short trip along the High Street from Silverstone Heights to Tobias Grand & Sons. The only sounds had come from the traffic outside and the occasional snuffle as Iris struggled to keep her emotions in check. She and Luke had been drifting apart for months, but there had been something special between them once. It was the end of a chapter and she couldn’t help but feel regret.

As Guy pulled the Mercedes into the space usually reserved for the hearse, he said, ‘Are you sure you want to do this? You could take the rest of the day off. I’m sure they’ll understand. You’re welcome to come back to the flat. You won’t be disturbed, I promise. After I’ve been to see Chris Street, I’ll be working in the bar. You can have some time to yourself.’

Iris shook her head. At the moment she didn’t want to be alone. ‘No, I’d rather get on with things, keep busy. You’ll give me a call later, yeah? When you’ve talked to him.’

‘Sure,’ he said.

‘Well, thanks for all your help.’ Her voice had a slight waver to it. She wanted to say more, to explain how much she appreciated his support, but couldn’t quite find the right words. Instead she undid her seatbelt and opened the door. As she went to leave, Guy laid a hand gently on her arm. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he said.

She wasn’t sure if he was referring to her problems with the Streets or her life in general so she simply nodded. After closing the door behind her, she gave a small wave and walked away.

Inside Tobias Grand & Sons, William was standing by her desk with the phone to his ear. He looked pale and harried, like a man on the edge. ‘Mr Hills,’ he was saying, ‘as I’ve already explained, this really isn’t—’. But the caller wasn’t allowing him to finish. As he moved the phone away, Iris could hear an angry retort floating tinnily out of the receiver. William gave her a strained smile and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

‘Two minutes,’ she mouthed, before hurrying towards the staff area. She walked through the kitchen, flipping on the kettle as she passed, and went along the short corridor to the toilets. Here she quickly got changed into clean clothes: a pair of beige trousers and a cream cashmere jumper. She didn’t normally wear cashmere to work, but she had grabbed the first things that had come to hand. In a few days, when she was feeling stronger, she would go back to the flat and retrieve the rest of her belongings.

Looking in the mirror, she wondered if she had made a mistake in turning down Guy’s offer. She could have crashed on the sofa and got a few more hours of sleep. Despite eating breakfast, the inside of her head still felt squashed and pulpy. At least the banging had stopped. She pulled back her hair and secured it with a slide at the nape of her neck. Then she slapped on foundation, a lick of mascara and some lipstick. The improvement to her face was minimal, but it would have to do; no one expected glamour in a funeral parlour.

In the kitchen, Iris made two coffees but when she returned to reception, William had disappeared and Alice had taken his place. She was standing by the desk, rifling through a heap of papers.

‘Morning,’ Iris said.

Alice gave a startled jump. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said. A few sheets fluttered to the floor and she hurriedly bent down to pick them up. ‘I was just looking to see if anyone else might be coming in. Have you had any calls?’

Iris gave a shudder. What she meant was more
bodies
. And those cold corpses were the last thing she wanted to think about this morning. ‘You’ll have to ask William. I’ve only just got here.’

Alice didn’t enquire as to why she was so late. Instead she said, ‘It doesn’t really matter. I was only . . . er . . . getting organised, you know, trying to sort out the day.’

Had she been less hung over, Iris might have been curious as to why Alice seemed even more jumpy than usual. As it was, she had other things on her mind. ‘No sign of Toby, I suppose?’

‘He’s not in. He’s got the flu.’

‘That’s original.’

‘He really has,’ Alice insisted. As if Iris were accusing her of something - of being overly gullible perhaps - her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink. ‘He rang earlier. William was busy so I took the call. He sounded terrible. I think he must have caught the bug off Gerald.’ She placed the papers back on the desk. ‘I don’t think he’ll be in for the rest of the week.’

Or next week either, Iris suspected. He’d skive off for as long as he could. Not that it made much difference. He never did any work when he was here. ‘Okay,’ she said, smiling. ‘I believe you.’

Alice dipped her head in a small uncertain nod. This was followed by a few awkward seconds when Iris had the feeling she wanted to say more, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She waited, but Alice wasn’t forthcoming.

‘Well, I’m sure we’ll manage.’

Alice gave her an uneasy smile. ‘Yes. Yes, of course we will. I’d better get on.’

Iris watched as she scurried towards the stairs to the basement. One day she’d have to take that woman out for a drink and get her to loosen up a bit. As soon as the thought entered her head, she was reminded of the delicate state of her guts. Just the very thought of alcohol was enough to set her stomach churning.

Iris put one mug of coffee down and carried the other over to William’s office. She knocked lightly on the door.

‘Come in.’

William sat back with a sigh as she entered the room. Iris noticed the state of his desk - even more chaotic than her own - and felt a spasm of guilt. In Gerald’s absence he had been burdened with far more work than he could manage and her going AWOL this morning could only have added to the pressure. Carefully avoiding the papers, she placed the mug in front of him. ‘A peace offering,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry about being late.’

‘That’s all right. After what happened yesterday, I’m surprised you’re here at all.’

‘It wasn’t anything to do with that. More of a domestic really.’ Then, having said that much, she decided she may as well finish the story. The truth spilled out before she could think too much about it. ‘Actually, we’ve split up. Me and Luke, I mean. I had some . . . well, I just had some stuff to sort out.’