The Villain’s Daughter (52 page)

She must have looked like a ghost as she walked in through the door to Tobias Grand & Sons. The initial shock had abated and now she felt like she was sleepwalking, as if everything was taking place in slow motion. Even her thoughts were starting to fragment, splitting off in a hundred different directions.

It was William who was standing in reception. He took one look at her and asked, ‘What’s happened?’

Iris, with the help of a large glass of brandy, finally came to the end of her story. It had been a disjointed tale with frequent pauses and hesitations, interspersed with a series of perhaps unanswerable questions. Even while she’d been reciting the horrors, she’d still been trying to put all the pieces of the jigsaw together. There hadn’t been any tears. She felt incapable of crying. It was as if she’d been wrung out and drained of all emotion.

William hadn’t interrupted. He’d kept quiet while she told him everything about Sean, the robbery, her mother’s affair, the fact that Terry Street was actually her father . . . and finally, the humiliating truth of what she’d just discovered about Guy. The lyrics of Leonard Cohen were still revolving in her head.
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m safely gathered in.
Taunting her, they refused to go away, adding to her agony. She leaned forward, burying her head in her hands. If anyone had been danced to the end of love, it was her.

Eventually, she looked up at William. ‘Did you know? Did you know about Guy Wilder?’

He gave a small embarrassed shrug. ‘I’d heard a few rumours but . . .’

Iris nodded. William wasn’t the type to repeat gossip - and would she have believed him even if he had? ‘I’ve been so blind, so bloody stupid!’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You’ve been used.’

They were in the room at the back, the room where relatives were usually taken to discuss funeral arrangements. The walls were a pale wishy-washy green and the paintwork was chipped. Even the furniture was past its best; the arm of the chair Iris was sitting on was frayed and she picked distractedly at the threads. ‘No wonder Noah couldn’t bear the sight of me.’ She barked out a short, slightly hysterical laugh. ‘And there was me thinking it was Serena I had to worry about. Maybe she was trying to warn me that night at the bar. Guy certainly wasn’t happy about her talking to me.’

‘Or maybe it was her brother she was trying to protect.’

Iris thought about that for a second before she nodded. ‘I never could figure out why Noah disliked me so much. I thought it was to do with Terry but—’

She was interrupted by the phone ringing in reception.

‘Sorry,’ William said. ‘I’d better get that.’

Iris heard the murmur of his voice and then the sound of one of the office doors opening and closing.

A short while later he came back. ‘I’m afraid I have to go out for a while. Will you be all right here or would you like me to give you a lift home?’

Iris couldn’t think of anywhere she currently thought of as home. She shook her head. ‘If it’s okay, I’d rather stay here for a while.’

‘Of course it is. I shouldn’t be too long, an hour or so.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about me. I just need a little time to . . . you know, think things through.’

‘I’ll ask Gerald to keep an eye on reception.’

‘Thank you.’

As soon as he’d gone, Iris got to her feet. She walked up and down the room for a few minutes trying to figure out what to do next. The paralysing shock she had felt on finding Guy with Noah was gradually being replaced by anger. It was clear to her now that she’d just been a pawn in a game he’d been playing, a game that had little to do with sexual conquests and everything to do with power and revenge. It was connected to the past, with old simmering resentments, with betrayals that could never be forgiven.

Iris knew she had a choice. She could wallow in self-pity, accept the role of victim for the rest of her life or she could try to take back some control. Grabbing her mobile from her bag, the first call she made was to Guy.

‘Iris,’ he said as he picked up. ‘Christ, I’ve been trying to ring you. I’m so sorry. What you saw, it wasn’t . . . Look, I’ve got to talk to you. I need to explain. It’s not—’

Iris cut him short. ‘I’m at work. Be here in fifteen minutes if you’ve got anything to say.’ She hung up before he could make a response. Then she took a few deep breaths. Hearing his voice again had revived the pain and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blot out the image of him and Noah on the bed. Why was she so bloody gullible! Of all the men she could have fallen in love with . . .

The next call she made was to her mother. ‘I need Terry’s number.’

‘Oh,’ Kathleen said, sounding surprised. ‘So you’ve decided to contact him again. I didn’t think—’

‘Will you give it me or not?’ Iris said curtly. ‘I can’t hang about. I’m in a hurry.’

Kathleen sighed and gave her the number. Iris scribbled it down and said a quick goodbye. She stared at the digits for a while, wondering if she really had the courage to go through with this. But then, remembering that Guy was probably already on his way, she punched the number into her phone. It rang a couple of times before he answered.

‘Terry Street.’

‘It’s Iris,’ she said. ‘I need to see you. Can you come to Tobias Grand & Sons?’

‘Now?’

‘No second chances,’ she said, echoing his own words that last time they’d met. ‘It’s now or never.’

‘I’ll be there,’ he said.

Iris’s hand started to shake as she dialled the final number. She had another brief moment of doubt. But there was no going back now. The wheels had already been set in motion.

A young woman answered. ‘Good afternoon. Belles. How can I help?’

‘Put me through to Chris Street,’ Iris said.

‘Who’s calling?’

‘Just put me through,’ Iris said insistently. ‘Believe me, love, he’ll want to talk to me. And he won’t thank
you
for keeping me waiting.’

Perhaps there was something suitably threatening about her tone because after a short pause the girl did exactly as requested. There were a series of clicks at the other end of the line.

‘Yeah? Chris Street.’

‘It’s Iris O’Donnell.’

‘Who?’

Iris frowned. It wasn’t quite the response she’d been expecting. Why was he pretending he didn’t know who she was? Perhaps he was worried that the cops were listening in. ‘Iris O’Donnell,’ she repeated. In case she was right about the phone being tapped, and not wanting the cops to know any more than they should, she quickly added: ‘We’ve met before, at Tobias Grand & Sons.’

Chris Street gave a hiss of frustration. ‘Look, if it’s about the bill for the funeral, I’ve already spoken to your boss. I’ll have it with you by the end of the week.’

Iris raised her eyes to the ceiling. Was he being deliberately obtuse? ‘It’s not about the funeral.’ She had to think of something that would get him here - and get him here in a hurry. ‘It’s to do with Liam. If you want to know the truth about how your brother died, then get yourself over to Tobias Grand.’

That got his attention. Instantly, his voice took on a harsher edge. ‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘You heard. And I wouldn’t hang about. Your father’s already on his way.’ Iris cut the connection and turned off the phone. She walked through to reception, sat down behind the desk and waited for it all to begin.

Guy was the first to arrive. As he came through the door, Iris was painfully aware of all the reasons she’d loved him. It wasn’t just his good looks and charm - although any woman could be forgiven for falling for those - but the way he looked at her,
into
her, with those intense blue eyes. Even now, after knowing what he’d done, a tiny part of her still desired him.

‘I’m so sorry, Iris,’ he said. ‘What happened with Noah today, it was a terrible mistake. No, a mistake doesn’t even begin to describe it. We should never have . . .’ He stepped forward, reaching out his hand, but Iris shrank away. She couldn’t bear to be touched by him.

‘Come through to the back,’ she said coolly. ‘We can’t talk here.’

Guy didn’t sit down and nor did she. They circled around each other for a few seconds and then met in the centre of the room. Guy was the first to speak again. ‘I don’t know where to begin. I know you can’t ever forgive me, but it didn’t mean anything. ’

‘Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you had some meaningless romp with your business partner?’

‘What I’m trying to say is—’

‘How long have the two of you been together?’ She remembered the laughter she’d heard as she’d opened the door to the flat. They’d probably been laughing at her. ‘Did it start in school? Have the two of you been together since then?’

‘It’s not like that. I swear to you. It was the first and only time. It’s never happened before and it never will again. It was a moment of madness. I can’t tell you how disgusted I feel, how ashamed.’

‘Just how stupid do you think I am?’ Iris shook her head. ‘No, you’d better not answer that. It can’t have been easy for him, watching while you . . . Or is he so besotted that he’ll put up with anything?’

Guy gave a groan, pulling his hand down the length of his face. ‘It was the first time,’ he repeated. ‘I’d had a few drinks - more than a few. I’m not trying to make excuses, but with everything that’s been going on recently . . . We got talking about stuff, about my mother, about the past, about the way she died. It all got a bit emotional.’

Iris could hardly bear to listen to him. All she could keep thinking about was what she’d lost. But what she’d lost was something that she’d never really had. ‘It was all to do with Terry Street, wasn’t it? You knew I was his daughter. You always knew, right from the beginning. You had everything planned from the very first day you came here. God, I bet you even made sure that fight took place.’

‘No!’ He vehemently shook his head. ‘That’s not true.’ He reached out and this time managed to take hold of her arms. His eyes were bright, almost tearful with pleading. ‘You’re the only woman, the only
person
, I’ve ever truly loved. Please don’t throw it all away. Give me a second chance, Iris. I’m begging you. I need you. You’re everything to me.’

For a second, Iris faltered. Every atom of her rational being was screaming out that he was lying. It was only her heart that refused to comply. What if he
was
telling the truth?

‘Don’t believe a word he says. The only person that bastard loves is himself.’

The rasping voice came from behind and Iris quickly turned. Terry Street was standing by the door. She wondered how long he’d been there, how much he’d heard.

‘What are you doing here?’ Guy said fiercely. ‘You’re not wanted. Get out and leave us alone!’

Terry gazed at him, a cold, thin smile on his lips. He glanced at Iris before looking back at him again. ‘What’s the matter, son? Trouble in paradise?’

‘Get out!’ Guy shouted. ‘Get out or I’ll fucking throw you out.’

‘Come on then,’ Terry taunted. ‘I’m waiting.’

Guy’s hands were still grasping Iris’s arms and she felt his grip tighten. Just like that time outside the Dog, she could feel the rage running through him. ‘You’re nothing to her,’ Guy said. ‘Nothing! You’re just a murderous shit who happens to have screwed her mother.’

‘And what are you?’ Terry retorted. ‘Just a useless shit who wanted to screw his own mother.’

Guy released his hold on Iris, his eyes blazing with hate.

As the two men advanced towards each other, Gerald Grand appeared. His voice was sharp with irritation. ‘What’s going on here? What’s . . .’ And then, recognising Terry, he instinctively moved back. ‘Oh, Mr Street. I didn’t realise it was you.’ As if he wasn’t sure if Terry had been legally released from prison or had somehow managed an audacious escape, his face took on an anxious expression. His tone, however, became more benign. ‘Er . . . is there something I can help you with?’

‘Yes,’ Terry said sharply. ‘You can fuck off and let me talk to my daughter.’

Gerald’s eyes grew large and round and his cheeks took on a purplish hue. His pronounced Adam’s apple bounced up and down in his throat. He stared at Iris. She could see the shock on his face and knew exactly what he was thinking: it was no problem organising a funeral for the wife of a local gangster, but employing his offspring was a step too far. Finding out that she was related to a minor villain like Michael had been bad enough, but discovering she was the daughter of Terry Street . . .

Iris might have been amused if she hadn’t had more pressing things on her mind. As it was, she didn’t give a damn about what Gerald thought of her any more. No matter what happened next, she would never work for Tobias Grand & Sons again. Her life in Kellston was over. ‘If you could just give us a few minutes?’ she said. ‘There won’t be any trouble. I promise.’

Gerald, understandably, didn’t look that convinced but was smart enough to withdraw from the scene. Everyone was silent until the door had closed on his office again.

Iris turned to the two men left in the room. She narrowed her eyes and glared at them. ‘If you want to beat the shit out of each other you can do it somewhere else. You’ve both messed up my life in one way or another so the least you can do is give me some answers.’

‘What do you want to know?’ Terry said. Ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign on the wall, he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tapped one out and lit it. He took a drag and blew the smoke through his nose in one long, thin stream. ‘I presume you’ve already discovered that you’re not his one true love, that the only reason he took up with you was to get at me? It was all about revenge. He knew that I wanted to make contact again: his drunken witch of a mother must have told him that. And he also knew that the one way he could get at me was to form a relationship with you.’