The Villain’s Daughter (48 page)

‘No, he wasn’t supposed to know about it. I told Toby that if he ever breathed a word, I’d expose him, tell everyone what he and Alice had allowed that pervert Street to do. I might get done for blackmail, but it was nothing compared to what they’d be facing.’

There were lots of things Vita could have said, none of them reassuring or in any way supportive. Rick didn’t seem to comprehend that he was equally culpable. By taking Toby’s money, by keeping silent, he’d allowed the whole vile business to continue. How could he? But that was something to be dealt with later. No matter how painful it was, she had to temporarily push it to the back of her mind. For the moment, she had to concentrate on getting the whole story out of him.

‘So why did Michael go and pick a fight with Danny Street? That was hardly a smart thing to do in the circumstances.’

Rick shrugged again. ‘It wasn’t anything to do with this. He was still pissed off over what Toby had told him that night at the Hope, about how Danny had had a go at Iris when he went to view Lizzie Street’s body. You know what Michael was like - act first and think later. I tried to talk him out of it, but he thought that Danny might be punishing her for what Sean had done. He was worried that it was personal, that Danny might not stop there, that he might go on and seriously hurt her.’

‘And now you think what? That Danny Street found out about the blackmail and murdered Michael as a result of it?’

Rick’s eyes got that scared expression in them again. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘But I thought you said you were the one who approached Toby. How would he have found out that Michael was involved?’

‘It wouldn’t have been that hard to figure out. I mean, we were friends, weren’t we? The little shit might have guessed I wasn’t working alone. He might have remembered what he’d told Michael that night at the Hope.’ Rick started gnawing on his knuckles. ‘What am I going to do, Vita?’

‘We’re going home,’ she said, standing up. ‘We’re getting out of here right now.’ She walked around the table, grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. ‘First you’re going to sober up, and then we’re going to talk to Toby Grand. We’ll find out what’s going on. I’ll shake the bloody truth out of him if I have to.’ Vita gazed angrily up at her husband. ‘And we’re going to pay that money back, every last damn penny.’

It was past eight o’clock by the time Iris got out of bed later that evening. She pulled on the white towelling robe, wandered back into Guy’s living room and went to stand by the window again. The traffic was lighter now, only a thin stream of cars passing by. It was snowing, great white flakes that fell against the glass, and she laid her fingertips against the pane willing the flakes to cling on, to grasp whatever was left of their slight ephemeral lives. She was feeling . . . What was she feeling exactly? Shame, guilt, confusion - and all of it intermingled with a strange exhilaration. She could still feel Guy’s touch on her skin, could still smell the scent of his body. How could they have made love at a time like this?

And yet she knew why. It was to do with that primitive connection between sex and death.
La petite mort
- the small death - wasn’t that how climax was referred to by the French? She had needed to get lost for a while, to lose touch with reality, to enter that place where nothing mattered but the touch of a hand, the sound of a voice, the slipping away from time and space.

She slowly ran her fingers down the glass.

Today, she had been overwhelmed by loss. Death had been all around her. She hadn’t just had to acknowledge the loss of one person she’d loved but two. Michael was gone and so was her father. Terry Street had taken him away as surely as if he’d stabbed him through the heart.

She jumped as Guy’s mobile started ringing.

‘Can you grab that, babe?’ he called out from the kitchen. ‘I’ll be through in a sec.’

Iris picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Your mother’s here,’ Noah said.

Iris could tell from his tone that he wasn’t too happy. ‘I don’t want to see her. I can’t. Just tell her to leave me alone.’

There was a short pause at the other end of the line. ‘I don’t think so,’ Noah said sharply. ‘If you want her to leave, you can tell her yourself.’ And he slammed the phone down before she had the chance to say anything else.

Guy appeared at the door. ‘Who was it?’

‘Apparently my mother is downstairs.’

‘Oh. You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to.’

‘Try telling that to Noah.’

‘Why? What did he say?’

Iris shook her head. She couldn’t blame Noah for being peeved about it all. He was just trying to run his business, to keep things running smoothly. From the moment she’d arrived on the scene she’d brought nothing but trouble for Guy - and, by association, trouble for the bar too. Guy was spending way too much time on her problems and not nearly enough on the business. ‘Nothing. It was just a bit of surprise, that’s all. I didn’t expect her to come here.’

‘You don’t have to talk to her,’ Guy said again.

‘No, I’d better go down.’ She walked through to the bedroom, slipped off the white robe and started to get dressed. Guy followed her in. He stood watching while she pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘No, but what choice do I have?’ Iris looked in the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Unless you want her camped on the doorstep for the next twenty-four hours. I know what she’s like. She’s not going to leave until she’s had her say.’

‘You can bring her up here if you like. I’ll make myself scarce.’

Iris shook her head again. This flat was the only place she felt safe and secure. She didn’t want it associated with anyone but Guy. As she went to leave, he put his arms around her and kissed her softly on the lips.

‘If you need me, just shout, okay?’

‘I won’t be long.’

Downstairs was busy and for the first time Iris noticed all the decorations. They’d probably been there when she’d come back earlier, but she’d been too distracted to take them in. The long strings of tiny lights glittered and blinked. She tried not to think about what kind of Christmas she’d be having this year.

Iris pushed through the crowd searching for her mother. She eventually found her at the very same table she had sat at with Guy the first time she’d come to Wilder’s. Kathleen had a cup of coffee in front of her but she was stirring it rather than drinking it, her hand moving the spoon in a motion of which she seemed barely aware.

‘I don’t know what you’re doing here,’ Iris said. ‘We’ve got nothing to say to each other. Or at least I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

Her mother looked up. Her face was pale, stricken. Iris could tell she’d been crying and had to fight the impulse to comfort her. Why the hell should she? This was the woman who’d lied to her for most of her life, who’d carried on a secret affair, who’d landed her with a murderous gangster for a father.

‘I had to see you,’ Kathleen said. ‘I couldn’t leave without . . . Please. Give me five minutes.’

‘Five minutes? You think that’s all it’s going to take to sort this out?’

Kathleen put her hand over her mouth. She stared at Iris, the tears glistening in her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she mumbled.

Iris, despite her determination to stay strong, to be unforgiving, felt a weakening of her will. She couldn’t bear to see her mother looking so distraught. Sliding into the seat opposite, she rummaged in her jeans pocket, pulled out a tissue and pushed it into her hand. ‘Here,’ she said brusquely. ‘Your mascara’s running. ’

Kathleen smiled weakly and dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. ‘I never meant to hurt you. That’s why I didn’t . . .
Should
I have told you? You loved Sean so much. I didn’t want to take all that away from you.’

Iris put her elbows on the table and glared at her. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Mum. You didn’t do it for me. You did it to hide your dirty little secret, to cover up your own shame and guilt. If nothing else, you can be honest about that.’

‘That’s not true,’ Kathleen said, her mouth twisting at the corners. ‘You think I care about what people think?’ She snuffled into the tissue. ‘Well, I care about what
you
think, of course I do, but that’s not the same thing.’

‘But you must have realised that it was all going to come out one day. Secrets like these don’t stay buried ever.’

‘He swore he’d never tell. He promised me.’

Iris snorted. ‘And you believed him?’

Kathleen stared down into her cooling cup of coffee. ‘It’s been over twenty-six years. Why should he break his silence now?’

‘I don’t know,’ Iris said. ‘Why don’t you tell me? I should think it has something to do with his wife being conveniently murdered a short while ago.’

‘He had nothing to do with that.’ Kathleen suddenly leaned forward, grasping her daughter’s wrist. Iris jerked it away.

As if she’d been stung, Kathleen quickly withdrew her own hand. ‘He wasn’t responsible for Lizzie’s death,’ she said firmly. ‘How could he be? He was in jail when she was killed.’

Iris thought her mother at best naïve, at worst almost chronically deluded. Even now, after all this time, she didn’t seem able to see Terry Street for what he really was. ‘That wouldn’t stop him. You think he couldn’t organise a hit from a prison cell? He’s got contacts, he’s got money. He’s even got two grown sons who are probably more than happy to carry out his dirty work for him.’

Kathleen picked up her coffee and sighed into the cup. ‘Who’s been putting all these ideas in your head? That son of hers - is that it? You really think you can trust anything that he tells you? He always hated Terry.’

‘And with good reason,’ Iris said.

‘Well, you’ve only his word for that. There are two sides to every story. Guy was never exactly—’

‘I’m not here to discuss Guy Wilder. If you came to say sorry, then fine, you’ve done it. Perhaps it would be best if you went back to Manchester now.’

Kathleen twisted the tissue between her fingers. ‘I haven’t come to make excuses, Iris. I only want to try to explain. What I did - what
we
did, me and Terry - it was unforgivable. We got married when we were young, your dad and me. Too young. We didn’t really know each other, not properly. We should have waited, hung on a few years, but we thought we knew best.’

‘And then you met the charming Terry Street.’

Kathleen winced at the sarcasm but nodded anyway. ‘Sean used to go out with his mates on a Friday night and I’d see my girlfriends. Sometimes we’d go to one of Terry’s clubs. He used to flirt with me, buy me drinks. I was flattered, but I didn’t take it seriously. It was just a bit of fun, you know.’

‘Until you decided to sleep with him.’

‘That wasn’t for ages,’ Kathleen said. ‘And it wasn’t just sex. It was more than a casual fling. We knew we shouldn’t be together, that it was wrong, but . . . we fell in love.’

Iris raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Oh, spare me the violins! You were hardly Romeo and Juliet. You were both married to other people. He had a wife and three kids. Didn’t you think about what it would mean, about how much damage you could cause?’

‘You think I didn’t feel guilty?’ Kathleen said. ‘Of course I did. I still do. If I could go back and change things I would. But it’s too late for that now.’

Iris couldn’t argue with that. ‘So why not make a complete break? When you knew it was serious, why didn’t you get a divorce? You were with Terry for ten years.
Ten years
of lying and cheating, of creeping around behind Dad’s back.’ Iris paused. ‘Am I even allowed to call him that now? I don’t know what to call him.’

‘Sean
was
your dad,’ Kathleen said. ‘He adored you. He did everything he could for you. And he tried his best to make me happy too. It wasn’t his fault that—’

‘That you fell out of love with him? That you found someone more exciting?’ Iris was reminded of Luke’s betrayal and felt her stomach tighten. Poor Sean. Had he had his niggling suspicions too, vague shadowy notions that he constantly pushed to the back of his mind?

‘If you want the truth,’ Kathleen said. ‘I was too scared to leave. I loved Terry, but I was never sure if I could trust him. I knew what he was involved in . . . Well, not all the details, but enough to make me worried. I wanted him, but I didn’t want that kind of life. And then when I found out I was pregnant, I had you to think about too.’

‘So you thought you’d just lie to your gullible husband about the baby being his.’

‘Sean was overjoyed when he heard the news. I didn’t know then whether you were his or not.’ Kathleen’s cheeks burned red as she made the admission. She dropped her eyes and picked up the spoon again, stirring the coffee that she still hadn’t begun to drink. ‘It was Terry who arranged the blood test. You were a few weeks old at the time. I should have told Sean when I found out - Terry wanted me too, he wanted us to be together - but I couldn’t do it. And the longer it went on, the more impossible it became. The years passed by. Sean loved you so much. You loved him. How could I destroy all that?’

Iris hissed through her teeth. ‘You were the one who allowed it to happen in the first place.’

Kathleen gave a short abrupt nod of her head. ‘You’re right. But I tried to make it work with your dad. I swear I did. I stopped seeing Terry for a while, stayed away from him. I wanted us to be a family, a proper family.’

‘You obviously didn’t try hard enough.’

‘No,’ Kathleen said softly, dropping the spoon and lifting the ragged piece of tissue to her eyes again. ‘I’m sorry.’

Noah walked by the table, stopped and looked at Kathleen. ‘Is everything all right?’ He glanced at Iris, his gaze dark and hostile. It was at that moment that she realised his animosity was personal. It was nothing to do with the business, with her connection to the Streets. He disliked her, pure and simple.