The Villain’s Daughter (45 page)

Vita leaned forward and patted her on the arm. ‘You take care, okay?’

‘There’s no need to rush off.’

‘No, I’d best get back to Rick. I’ll see you later.’

Guy watched her as she left and then put the bottle down on the table. ‘Another one of my fans?’

‘What?’

‘Your friend saw me coming and couldn’t get away fast enough.’

‘It’s not like that,’ Iris said quickly. She didn’t want him to feel disliked or rejected. ‘It’s me she’s upset with, not you. She had to get back to Rick; Michael’s death has hit him pretty hard.’

‘I’m only kidding. Although a less secure man could start to develop a complex. Your mother didn’t seem that overjoyed at meeting me either.’

‘She’ll like you,’ Iris said, ‘once she gets to know you. She’s not that keen on change and with everything that’s happened . . .’

Guy passed her a glass of wine. ‘It’s okay. I understand.’

Iris stood on her toes and peered around, searching for her mum. Perhaps now would be a good time for her and Guy to get acquainted. With so many people squashed into the pub, it took a while to locate her. She was standing across the other side of the room, near the door, with the phone glued to her ear again. Iris saw her mouth the words ‘
Hold on a minute
’ into the silver mobile before she pulled open the door and went outside.

Ten minutes later she still hadn’t come back. Iris waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot. Just how many papers went missing in that office? Or was this a different caller? She sipped some more wine. A few people approached, expressed their sympathy, and wandered off again.

Iris put her glass down on the table. ‘I’m going to see where my mother’s got to.’

Outside, the cold air hit her like a slap. The sun had gone in and the sky had turned an ominous shade of grey. Iris shivered, her arms hugging her chest, as she looked to the left and the right. There was no sign of her. The Dog & Duck was on a corner so she hurried around the side and gazed down the street. Yes, there she was, standing near the bank, deep in conversation with some bloke. He was one of the mourners perhaps, who had caught her on his way in or out of the pub.

Despite the cold, Iris hung back, not wanting to interrupt. There was something intense about the exchange, something almost intimate. They were standing very close together, their bodies almost touching. A few minutes passed and still the two of them were talking. She couldn’t see the man’s face, only the back of his silver-haired head. Should she leave them to it or wait? She kept hoping that her mother might look up and notice her, but she was clearly too preoccupied.

Iris was about to return to the pub when Guy appeared. He was carrying her coat and he placed it carefully around her shoulders. His voice, although light-hearted on the surface, had undertones of worry. ‘Ah, here you are. I was beginning to think you’d done a runner.’

‘Sorry,’ she said.

It was Guy’s arrival that must have alerted her mother. She suddenly glanced to one side and spotted her daughter. Iris saw panic enter her eyes and didn’t understand. Why would she . . .? But then the man turned his head and Iris saw him clearly for the first time. The shock was so great that for a second she could neither think nor move. Horror immobilised her body. And then a howl, a sound that was almost primitive, rose up from the depths of her soul and echoed around the street.

As the adrenalin kicked in, Iris launched herself forward. It was the scars she had noticed first, those fierce white lines rising up from the collar of his shirt.
Terry Street!
She couldn’t believe it. Terry bloody Street out of jail and standing chatting to her mother as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She had never fully understood that phrase
seeing red
before, but now she did. If she’d had a knife to hand she’d have picked it up and plunged it through his heart. A crimson fury was burning in her brain.

‘You bastard!’ she screamed, grabbing hold of the lapels of his overcoat. ‘You fucking bastard!’ Almost immediately she let go and began to hammer on his chest with her fists. ‘Come here to make sure he’s dead, have you? Come to gloat?’

Either surprised by the ferocity of the attack, or unwilling to use undue force against a woman in public, Terry did little to defend himself. His face looked white, almost as shocked as hers. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

‘I hate you!’ Iris screamed.

It was Kathleen who grasped her arms and tried to pull her off. ‘What are you doing? Stop it! Leave him alone!’

Iris was breathing heavily, her lungs pumping out only rage and bitterness. She continued to beat at him. ‘Yes, he’s dead! He’s dead! Are you satisfied now? Are you happy? You couldn’t kill my father so you killed Michael instead!’ She pummelled his chest, her fists beating against the thick cloth of his overcoat. ‘You bastard!’

‘Stop it!’ her mother insisted again. This time she managed to drag Iris off. ‘What are you doing?’

Iris struggled, desperately trying to get free. ‘What are
you
doing? Let go of me!’ But Kathleen held on tight. Iris turned, wide-eyed, to her mother. ‘He murdered Michael, for fuck’s sake!’

‘Of course he didn’t. Michael was killed in a hit-and-run.’

Iris stared at her, tears running down at her cheeks. Why was she defending him? It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t make any sense that she’d been talking to him in the first place. ‘So what’s he doing here?’

Kathleen hesitated, the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘We had things to discuss.’

‘What things? What bloody things?’ Iris was aware of a twisting in her stomach, like a burning rope coiling through her guts. It made her almost double up. ‘We haven’t got anything to say to him - other than we hope he rots in hell.’ She finally wrenched her arms free. Her eyes were blazing. She would have gone for Terry again if Guy hadn’t stepped in and gently restrained her.

Bending close to her ear, he whispered, ‘Don’t give him the satisfaction, babe.’

By now a small crowd had gathered, fascinated by the spectacle. It wasn’t every day you got a free show like this and they were making the most of it. Guy turned to them, his voice full of contempt. ‘Fuck off!’ he said. ‘There’s nothing more to see here.’

A few of them drifted away, but most of them ignored him.

Iris glared at Terry Street. ‘You’re sick,’ she said. ‘You’re mad. You’re a fucking psycho.’

He straightened out his collar and stared straight back at her. His cold grey eyes gave nothing away.

‘Leave it,’ her mother said to her. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Iris felt her heart thrashing against her ribs. Confusion battled with the pain and the anger. ‘Is he threatening you? Is that was this is all about?’

Kathleen shook her head. ‘He didn’t kill Michael.’

Iris didn’t like the way her mother was still defending Terry; she couldn’t understand it. Suddenly she wanted some distance from them both. Holding on to Guy’s arm, she took a few steps back. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘Nothing,’ Kathleen said. ‘I already told you. We just needed to talk.’

‘To talk?’ Iris hissed. She spat out the words contemptuously. ‘What the hell is there to talk about? You know what he is, what he’s done. How can you even bear to look at him?’

Kathleen covered her face with her hands. ‘Stop it,’ she pleaded, ‘please stop it.’

‘Is there somewhere we can go?’ Terry said. ‘Somewhere we can talk in private.’

It was the first time since Lizzie’s funeral that Iris had heard that rasping voice. It sent a chill down her spine. ‘Don’t you get it? No one has anything to say to you.
No one.
Leave us alone. We don’t want you here.’

Guy moved forward slightly, his lips set in a snarl. ‘You heard what the lady said.’

Terry gave a snort. ‘And what the fuck’s it got to do with you?’

Iris felt the muscles in Guy’s arm flex as his right hand clenched into a fist. She could feel the hostility oozing from him, his hatred almost as great as her own. ‘Don’t,’ she said warningly. ‘He isn’t worth it.’ Her own attack had been instinctive, unpremeditated. Terry Street hadn’t seen it coming. But with Guy he’d be ready, and who knew what he was carrying - a knife, a gun? And although her head told her that Terry wouldn’t be so stupid as to kill him with so many witnesses present, her heart wasn’t willing to take the risk.

Terry Street looked at Guy for a few seconds, gave a shrug and then returned his attention to Iris. ‘Don’t you want to know about your father?’

Iris drew in her breath. ‘What?’

At the same time as she spoke, her mother gasped, ‘No!’

‘She’s got a right, hasn’t she?’ Terry said.

Kathleen was shaking her head. ‘For God’s sake, we’ve just buried Michael. You can’t do this. You
can’t
.’

‘I’m sorry, but it’s not your decision.’ He turned his cold gaze back on to Iris. ‘Yes or no?’

Iris hesitated. What was she supposed to do? A part of her wanted to scream at him to go, to leave them all in peace, but another part - the greater part - was desperate to hear what he might have to say. It could be something she already knew, like the fact that her father had been present when Liam had been shot. But what if it was something else? What if the Streets had found out where he was hiding? What if they’d already killed him? But no, Terry Street wouldn’t be standing here now if that was the case.

Kathleen rushed over and grabbed Iris by her free arm. ‘Come on. We’re leaving.’

But Iris didn’t budge. Clinging tighter to Guy, she said to Terry, ‘Is this about what happened to your son? Because if it is, then I know, okay? Michael told me all about it.’

This revelation shocked her mother into releasing her grasp. ‘He told you?’

‘Not willingly,’ Iris said, ‘I had to force it out of him. And I understand why you kept it a secret but . . . but I think I had the right to know.’ Just like she had the right to know whatever else Terry Street might be thinking of telling her.

‘There’s more,’ Terry said. ‘A lot more. You want to hear it or not? Say no and I won’t bother you again. But there’re no second chances - it’s now or never.’

Kathleen stared at him. ‘Don’t do this,’ she said pleadingly. ‘You promised. You said—’

But Terry wouldn’t even meet her gaze. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on Iris. ‘If the truth means anything to you . . .’

‘He doesn’t know what the truth means,’ Kathleen said urgently. ‘Don’t listen to him, love. Don’t listen to a word he says.’

Which made Iris all the more determined to go ahead. She was sick of all the secrets and lies. She hated Terry Street, but was no longer prepared to live out her life in ignorance. However hard it was, she had to hear him out. ‘We can go to the flat. We can talk in private there.’

Terry nodded. ‘Just the three of us: you, me and your mother. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.’

‘You’re not in any position to make deals,’ Guy said.

‘I’ll let your new girlfriend be the judge of that.’

‘I want Guy there,’ Iris said. ‘There’s nothing you can say to me that I wouldn’t want him to hear.’

Terry Street lifted his chin and Iris became aware of those brutal scars again. ‘No,’ he said. ‘If you want to tell him later, then fine, that’s up to you. But you can spare me twenty minutes first.’

Iris became overly aware of all the people gathered round, of everything they’d already seen and heard. She was reluctant to back down, but could see that Terry Street was adamant. She glanced at her mother, but her face was impossible to read. Oh, she could see the worry, the anxiety, but she wasn’t entirely sure what underpinned it. All that was clear was that there was something she didn’t want her to know. ‘Okay,’ Iris said. ‘It’s a deal.’

‘No,’ her mother said. ‘Iris,
please.
’

‘I’ll see you at the flat.’ Having the feeling that if they travelled together she might try to talk her out of it, Iris added, ‘I’ll meet you there. Guy can drop me off.’ She rummaged through her bag and took out Luke’s set of keys and his security card for the gate. ‘Here,’ she said, pushing them into her mother’s hand. Then, without meeting her eyes again, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Kathleen called out, ‘Iris?’ but she didn’t turn around. She didn’t look back.

As they got into the car, Guy gave a sigh. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘I do.’

‘You can’t trust him.’

Iris pulled her seatbelt across. Her hands were trembling, her whole body still reeling from the shock of what had happened. ‘I don’t like it any more than you do, but what options do I have? Spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder? Always wondering what he knows and I don’t? I can’t live like that. I just can’t.’

Guy thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded. ‘You’re right. You deserve to know the truth.’ He started the engine and they pulled away from the kerb.

Iris paced the flat, roaming from room to room, returning always to the kitchen where she could gaze down on the parking bays. She had a sudden desire for a cigarette, although she’d given up smoking when she’d found out she was pregnant. There was a bottle of wine in the fridge; she opened it and poured herself a glass. Raising it to her lips, she hesitated. Wouldn’t it be better to keep a clear head? Yes, she decided, but took a gulp anyway. The fear of what was coming next was almost too much to endure.

A dark red sports car, low and sleek, rolled into the courtyard and Iris watched as Terry Street and her mother got out. She quickly drank some more wine. They didn’t immediately make their way towards the entrance, but stood for a while and talked. Well, her mother talked. Terry didn’t seem to be saying much at all. Iris could see her mouth moving, could see the pleading in her eyes, but he just shook his head.