The Villain’s Daughter (41 page)

Toby shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t bother. She’d probably take it as an insult. Since when was Alice ever
not
on schedule?’

‘True enough,’ Iris said. ‘God, I can’t imagine what that girl’s parents are going through. It must be terrible to lose your daughter like that.’

‘She was a bit of a looker too,’ Toby remarked, with his familiar sensitivity. ‘A blonde, yeah? I saw her picture in the paper.’ He left a short pause and then added, ‘Apparently, if a beautiful or famous woman died in ancient Egypt, they’d keep her away from the embalmers for a few days - you know, leave her out in the heat to rot for a while.’

Iris frowned at him. ‘What?’

Toby laughed, his blue eyes dancing. ‘Just in case those horny guys got any unsuitable ideas.’

‘Ugh,’ Iris said. ‘Delightful!’

‘Isn’t it?’

There was a sudden sharp intake of breath and they both turned their heads. Unheard by either of them, Alice Avery had come up from the basement and was standing close behind. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes wide open as if she’d seen a ghost. She was staring hard at Toby. For a few seconds she stood there, the only movement in her body a visible heaving of her chest. Then a stifled sound, something halfway between a cry and a sob, escaped from her lips, and she turned and ran back towards the stairs.

Iris, unsure of what had happened, jumped up from her chair. ‘What the . . .?’ Bewildered, she gazed after the departing figure and then turned to look accusingly at Toby. ‘What the hell have you done now?’

Toby raised his hands defensively. ‘Hey, this is nothing to do with me. I only just got here, remember. Didn’t you see me walk in through that door five minutes ago?’

Iris couldn’t deny it. And he hadn’t been in the office for most of last week either. But Alice had definitely been staring straight at him. ‘Maybe it was what you said, that weird stuff about the Egyptians.’

‘Why should that bother her?’ He gave a snort. ‘Bearing in mind what she does for a living, she can hardly be the squeamish sort.’

But something had clearly upset Alice. ‘Should I go after her, try to find out what’s up?’

‘I wouldn’t. She’ll calm down soon enough; this isn’t the first time she’s thrown a wobbly.’ He glanced towards the stairs as if to make sure she wasn’t still in earshot. Then he lowered his voice. ‘She’s probably at that time of life, you know, the
change
or whatever it is you women go through.’

Iris glared at him. ‘For Christ’s sake Toby, she’s not that old.’

He shrugged. ‘Well, go after her if you like, but she won’t thank you for it. In fact, you could make things worse.’

Iris wondered if he had a point. Alice was hardly forthcoming at the best of times and this obviously wasn’t one of them. Would she really welcome someone fussing round? Maybe, for once, Toby was right. It might be better to leave the poor woman alone.

‘Oh well, things to do,’ Toby said cheerily. He dumped his empty cup in her bin and sauntered off towards the kitchen. ‘Catch you later, babe.’

Slowly, Iris sat back down. She shuffled the papers on her desk and attempted to concentrate, but try as she might, she couldn’t get the incident out of her head. What was it that had upset Alice so much? There had been shock on her face, fear and disappointment. Iris sighed. Her earlier good mood had evaporated. As if everything had been spoilt, she had an odd, sour feeling in her guts.

Toby muttered under his breath as he trudged reluctantly down to the basement. What the hell was wrong with the woman? Well, he knew what was wrong - she’d overheard what he’d said to Iris - but that was no reason to get hysterical, to draw attention to herself in such a very public way. And okay, so maybe she hadn’t realised
exactly
what Danny Street was planning last night, but at some level, some subconscious level at least, she must have guessed what his ultimate intentions were.

As he reached the bottom of the steps, Toby stopped and took a moment to run his fingers through his hair. Irritation tightened the corners of his mouth. After rearranging his expression into one of absolute sincerity, he pushed open the door and strode inside.

Alice was leaning against the sink with her arms folded across her chest. As he approached, she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. She was wearing a black skirt that was too short for her. He noticed the heaviness in her thighs, the overly pale and slightly flabby flesh on her upper arms. Sleeping with her had amused him at first - it was true what they said about a certain type of older woman being both enthusiastic and grateful - but now she only filled him with disgust.

‘Alice, love,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’

He went to put his hands around her waist, but she pushed him away. Her tearstained face was red and splotchy. ‘How could you joke about a thing like that? How could you?’

‘I’m sorry. I was only messing about, trying to deal with it in my own stupid way. I didn’t mean anything. You think I’m not as upset as you are? I am. I truly am. I had no idea that he . . .’ Toby tried to look as shocked as possible. ‘Jesus, I still can’t believe it.’

Alice didn’t say anything. She gave a series of sniffles and glared down at the lino.

‘I should have stopped him. I know that now.’ Toby bowed his head. ‘Do you have any idea how ashamed I am? It was cowardly of me. I should have had the courage to stand up and be counted - no matter what he did to me.’

Her eyes slowly flickered up to meet his. He could sense a slight thawing in her attitude. The vulnerable little-boy-lost act usually did the trick.

‘I wouldn’t have wanted you to get hurt,’ Alice said more softly. ‘That’s not what—’

‘No, I’ve behaved like a bloody idiot. And what you heard me say upstairs . . . that was terrible, dreadful. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’d understand if you didn’t want anything more to do with me.’

But Alice wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. ‘You’re not the only one to blame. I didn’t try to stop him either. It’s something we’re both going to have to live with.’ A weary sigh slipped from her lips. ‘So long as we have each other, we can get through this.’

‘Of course.’

‘You do still love me, don’t you?’

Staring down into her desperate eyes, Toby felt a shudder of revulsion. If he could have dumped her then and there he would, but what if she went squealing to his father or, even worse, to the cops? Not that she’d come out of it smelling of roses - she was as guilty as he was - but he suddenly knew that wouldn’t stop her. In her present emotional state, she was more than capable of landing them both in the shit. ‘You know I do.’

‘And we’ll always be together?’

‘Always,’ he repeated through gritted teeth. ‘So are we . . .’ he’d been about to say ‘friends again’, but it didn’t sound quite right. ‘Am I forgiven?’

Alice gave a tiny nod. ‘Let’s never mention it again. It’ll be our secret.’ And then an odd look crept over her face. It was part beseeching, part cunning. ‘All married couples have secrets, don’t they?’

Toby’s jaw dropped. Married? What was she talking about? Christ, the woman was mad. It occurred to him, rather late in the day he had to admit, that he hadn’t really thought the relationship through. He’d somehow imagined he would disentangle himself from this liaison as effortlessly as he had all the others, but now he saw that it wasn’t going to be that easy.

‘I’m so happy,’ she said. ‘Just wait until I tell my mother . . .’ As Alice leaned in heavily against him, Toby felt more than the bulk of her body. He suddenly realised what it meant to have a millstone round your neck. How would he ever get free of her? He could feel himself drowning, being sucked into the depths of a cold, greedy sea of despair. As he stared miserably down at the top of her head, an idea suddenly popped into his own. He shoved it quickly away - it was unthinkable - but it bounced straight back. This time he gave it a little more consideration. Perhaps the only way to draw a line under this whole unfortunate episode was to get rid of Alice Avery forever . . .

It was shortly after ten o’clock when the main door opened and two uniformed police officers, a middle-aged man and a much younger woman, stepped into the warmth of Tobias Grand & Sons. Iris raised her head and smiled as they approached her desk. The man was fairly bland-looking, his features not of the type she’d ever recognise again, but the woman was more memorable. She had a thin, angular face with a halo of blonde frizzy hair.

‘I’m PC Grove, this is PC Matlock,’ the woman said, briefly flashing her card and badge. ‘We’re looking for an Iris O’Donnell.’

‘That’s me,’ Iris said, her smile gradually fading as she became aware of the seriousness of their expressions. She felt a flutter of panic. Oh no, had something happened to her mum? Or was this connected to her father? Had they heard he was back, discovered what he’d done all those years ago?

‘And you live at Silverstone Heights?’ PC Grove said.

Iris nodded. ‘That’s right. What’s this about?’ At the mention of the Heights, her fears veered off in another direction. Maybe the flat had been broken into. Maybe the thug who’d been waiting for her had come back for another go. So many anxious thoughts were running through her head, she didn’t know which one to concentrate on.

‘And are you related to Michael O’Donnell?’

‘Yes, he’s my uncle.’

PC Grove bit down on her lower lip. She had small, wary brown eyes and they darted sideways towards her companion. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. ‘Er . . .’ she began, and then stopped and swallowed hard. ‘We’re really sorry to inform you that there was . . . there was an incident in the early hours of this morning. Mr O’Donnell was hit by a car and—’

‘Is he hurt? Is he in hospital?’ Iris said, shooting up out of her chair. ‘Oh God, is he . . .?’ She instinctively knew the answer to this last question, but couldn’t bear to acknowledge it. Sweat prickled on her forehead and her hands began to shake. If she could just delay the moment of truth, even for a few seconds, maybe she could make this whole nightmare go away. Gazing at the woman, she silently pleaded with her to tell her anything but the cold, brutal facts.

The young PC gazed sadly back at her. ‘I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid he died at the scene.’

‘No,’ Iris murmured. ‘He can’t be. He can’t.’ Her legs gave way and she slumped back into her chair. She covered her face with her hands and let out a mighty groan. She felt like she was falling, hurtling down into a dark, deep pit of despair. And she knew, like in one of those peculiar dreams she sometimes had, that she was going to hit the ground at any second, and that when she did, the pain would be unendurable.

‘I’m sorry,’ PC Grove said, moving around the desk and placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. ‘Is there someone we can call, someone you’d like to be with you?’

Iris thought the man said something too, but she couldn’t be sure. She could barely hear their voices any more. All she was thinking was
No, no, no.
The word revolved in her head, a spinning mantra blocking out everything else. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t possible. Michael couldn’t be dead. The last year streamed through her head like a jumbled reel of film, a series of disconnected scenes from the very first day she’d met him again, through all the times they’d spent together since.

It was only the appearance of Gerald Grand that jolted Iris back to the present. ‘Officers,’ he said, striding brusquely out of his office. ‘Is there something I can help you with?’

Iris ignored him. She stared up at the woman PC. Suddenly she had to know the details. ‘Where did it happen? When?’

It was at this point that PC Matlock took over. Sensing perhaps that his younger partner was struggling, he said to her, ‘Why don’t you explain everything to Mr Grand.’ Then he turned back to Iris. ‘It was in Mansfield Road, near the estate. He was found this morning, about six, but we think the accident happened much earlier - probably around eleven, twelve o’clock. Unfortunately, he was hit by a vehicle that didn’t stop.’

Michael would have been on his way back from the pub, Iris thought. Drunk after drowning his sorrows. And why did he have sorrows to drown? Because of all the grief
she’d
been causing him. Her hands clenched into two tight fists, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms. ‘So he could have been lying there for hours.’

‘No,’ Matlock said. ‘He didn’t suffer. The medical examiner believes he died instantly.’

Iris tried to conjure up that moment, that fateful second when life ceased to be. How could there be no suffering involved in that? She felt a tightening in her throat as she struggled to take it in. One minute he’d been there and the next . . .

‘We found a card in his wallet,’ Matlock continued. ‘It had your name and address on it and a couple of numbers. One of them was for Silverstone Heights - we tried there first - the other was for here.’ He left a short pause during which she was vaguely aware of Gerald hovering in the background, of a thin muttering of other voices.

‘Are you his closest relative? Only I’m afraid we’ll need someone to identify the body.’

‘I think that can wait, can’t it?’

Until she heard him, Iris hadn’t even realised that William was there. She looked over in surprise. Toby was standing beside him. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s all right. Someone has to do it. I want to do it.’ And she did. She felt a desperate yearning to see Michael again, to touch him, to let him know that he hadn’t been abandoned. The thought of him lying alone in the morgue was almost too much too bear.

‘Then I’ll take you in my car,’ William said, ‘and I can drop you home after.’ He paused. ‘That’s if you want me to.’

‘Thank you,’ Iris murmured gratefully.

Gerald opened his mouth as if about to object to this careless abandonment of the business, but then thought better of it. He glanced at William and gave a thin smile. ‘Very well.’