The Villain’s Daughter (6 page)

Iris thought of a confused seven-year-old boy separated from his mother whilst she chose to take care of another man’s kids. ‘He might not have seen it that way.’

‘At least he’s still alive - which is more than can be said for Liam.’

‘Who?’

‘Terry’s eldest. Shot, weren’t he? Same time as his old man. Got his stupid bleedin’ brains blown out when he was seventeen. ’ Michael took another gulp of his Guinness, his tongue sliding quickly across his lips to lick away the residue of foam. ‘So maybe Lizzie had a point after all. Trouble is, love, you can’t live in that world without getting infected by it. It eats into you, destroying anything good or decent. In the end she grew as cold as Terry . . . and as brutal.’ He paused again, shook his head and gave a soft cynical sigh. ‘The silly cow never learned; no matter how good or bad, she always had to be the best at
everything
she did.’

Iris, surprised at how much he knew about Lizzie, couldn’t resist asking the million-dollar question. She kept her voice low. ‘So who do you think killed her?’

‘Take your pick. The list of suspects is as long as your arm.’ He looked up, slowly scanning the crowd. ‘Half of them are probably here. She didn’t go out of her way to make herself popular. ’

Iris followed his gaze, her eyes eventually alighting on Chris Street again. Had Guy been serious when he’d made the accusation about his stepfather? Could one or both of Terry’s sons have been responsible for her death? She was about to ask more when Michael flapped his hand. ‘Anyhow, sweetheart, enough of all that. You didn’t come here to get the lowdown on Lizzie. What was it you wanted to see me about?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said reluctantly. ‘It’s about Friday . . .’

Michael was as understanding as she’d guessed he would be. He laughed and shook his head. ‘So that’s what the long face has been about. You had me worried there. I was starting to think it might be something serious.’

‘It
is
serious,’ she insisted. ‘It’s your birthday. I’m really sorry - I’d get out of it if I could but . . .’

‘Lord, I have one of those every year. And that young man of yours has his job to consider. It wouldn’t look too good if he skipped his own work’s party, would it?’

He was, she thought, a lot more considerate of Luke than Luke would ever be of him. ‘We can still get together for lunch.’

‘That would be grand,’ he said, putting his arm around her and giving her a squeeze.

Toby chose that moment to bounce into view. His blue eyes were shining brightly and it was clear that it wasn’t just the drink he’d been on. He had the fast-talking, overconfidence of someone who’d been sniffing the white stuff.

‘Hey, gorgeous. How’s it going? Looking lovely as always. You should have told me you were coming. Not a bad turnout, is it? There must be half of Kellston here.’ He looked at her breasts rather blatantly before turning to Michael. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ Then, before she had the chance to reply, he put out his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Toby. I have the pleasure of working with Iris.’

‘Toby
Grand
,’ Iris said pointedly in case Michael chose that moment to make an ill-judged comment about Gerald. Not that Toby would be offended - he always enjoyed slagging off his father - but she had no intention of getting involved in a public exchange of insults about her employer.

‘Michael,’ her uncle said, shaking the outstretched hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise. I was just off to the bar. Can I get you another?’

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Michael nodded. ‘That’s very good of you, son. I’ll take a Guinness and Iris will have . . .’

‘Iris is fine,’ she said firmly, worried that if Toby stayed for much longer, his new best friend might decide to join them too. After what had happened yesterday she had no desire to renew the acquaintance.

Michael, eager for the pint but aware of a certain atmosphere, looked from one to the other. Then, either mistaking the ensuing silence for a cue to make himself scarce or simply in need of a pee, he stood up and headed for the Gents.

Toby slid into the space beside her. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘I could say the same.’ She picked up her glass. ‘So what’s with you and Danny boy? I thought you couldn’t stand him.’

‘Just doing my duty,’ he said, grinning widely. ‘Making sure I keep the punters happy. As Pa would say, you can’t overestimate the importance of customer service. We’re going on to a club later. Fancy joining us?’

Iris couldn’t imagine anything she’d like less. ‘No thanks.’

‘Come on,’ he urged. ‘It’ll be a laugh.’

‘Other plans, I’m afraid.’

‘What kind of plans?’ Then, before she had the opportunity to come up with anything even vaguely plausible, he threw a sneaky glance in the direction of the Gents. ‘Oh, right. I get it. Something you’d rather your better half didn’t know about, huh?’

Iris frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Well, you’d usually be at home by now, putting on the dinner and waiting for your loved one to return. Instead, here you are snuggling up to—’

‘Snuggling?’ she said.

Toby tapped the side of his nose with a finger. ‘Hey, your secret’s safe with me, darling. Everyone’s entitled to a little fun. I won’t tell if you don’t.’

Had it been anyone but Toby, she would have been offended. As it was, she knew that he was too much under the influence to be thinking even faintly straight. ‘I hate to disappoint you, sweetie, but he’s actually my uncle.’

‘Really?’ Hoping for something much more scandalous, Toby didn’t attempt to hide his disappointment. ‘You never told me you had relatives round here.’

‘There are lots of things I don’t tell you.’ She crossed her legs and glanced down at the glasses on the table. ‘I thought you were going to the bar.’

‘You said you didn’t want one.’

‘I don’t.’

It took a few seconds for the penny to drop and then Toby giggled. ‘You trying to get rid of me, Iris?’

‘God forbid,’ she said, smiling back. ‘But I need to talk to Michael. Family stuff. You don’t mind, do you? We can catch up tomorrow. You can tell me all about your great night out.’

Still laughing, Toby got to his feet. ‘It’s a date,’ he said, blowing her a breezy kiss before heading back across the room.

She took a few sips of her wine and wondered what kind of a mood Luke was likely to be in when he came home that night. Although it pained her to admit it, she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him. Recently, it had all been niggles and rows, minor squabbles that escalated into bigger arguments. She understood his frustration - he wanted the old Iris back, the fun one with drive and attitude - but she couldn’t fake what wasn’t there. They were both stubborn and the more he pushed, the more she resisted.

‘Pssst.’

Iris looked up at the sound, surprised to see an old man standing beside her. He was wearing a grubby grey overcoat and a red scarf pulled tight around his neck. It took her a moment to place him and when she did her heart gave a jolt. He was the same man who’d been in the High Street that morning, the one who’d been staring so determinedly at her.

‘Yes?’

‘Got the time, love?’

She gazed at him for a moment and then looked down at her watch. ‘Ten past six.’

‘Ta.’ Then he leaned down, getting too close to her face. His oily voice was hardly more than a whisper. ‘You and me need a little chat.’

‘Do we?’ she said, automatically shifting back. His breath was bad and his body reeked of stale sweat and tobacco. ‘What do you want?’

His thin cracked lips crawled into a smile. ‘It’s more like a matter of what
you
might be wantin’.’

Her eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry?’ Alarm bells were starting to go off. She had clearly been landed with the local nutter. Quickly, she looked around. She didn’t feel threatened exactly - the pub was full of people - but she didn’t fancy spending any more time with him than she had to. Where the hell was Michael? It didn’t take this long to have a pee. Then, to her dismay, she suddenly caught sight of the top of his head in the middle of the crowd at the bar. Realising that Toby’s offer of a free pint was unlikely to materialise, he’d decided to buy the round himself.

‘I’m waiting for someone,’ she said, as if the old man might be in the process of propositioning her.

‘Don’t you want to know where your daddy is?’

Iris’s mouth dropped open. She could feel the blood draining from her face, a coldness running through her. The response, when she finally got it out, sounded thick and croaky. ‘W-what do you mean? Who are you?’

‘Just a friend,’ he said, ‘a friend who wants to help.’

‘What do you know about my dad?’

‘Not here,’ he said, glancing uneasily over his shoulder. ‘Meet me tomorrow night, half-six at the Monny. You know where that is?’

Iris nodded, too bewildered to say anything else.

‘Half-six,’ he repeated. ‘Don’t be late, eh?’

Then without another word he turned and walked away. Iris, unable to move - she felt as though her legs were full of lead - watched as he pushed rudely through a small group of people and swept out through the rear set of doors. There was a brief gust of winter air and he was gone. She was still in a state of shock when Michael came back with the drinks.

‘What’s the matter, love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘Do you know that man?’

‘What man?’

‘The scruffy one, the old guy in the red scarf.’

‘Nah, I didn’t see him.’

Iris, a delayed shot of adrenalin rushing through her body, suddenly jumped up. She wanted to run out of the pub, to chase after him, but then had second thoughts. She sat back down again.

‘What’s up?’ Michael said, looking worried. ‘Did he . . . did he do something to you?’

She was about to blurt it all out, but then changed her mind. Michael, like her mother, was convinced that Sean O’Donnell was dead. She didn’t want to go causing any upset. But there was another reason for her silence too. She couldn’t bear to hear what she knew he would say - that the old man was crazy, that she shouldn’t take any notice of him. Sometimes the truth was too hard to take. A little bit of hope, she decided, was better than none.

‘No, er . . . nothing like that. Just a tramp trying to cadge a few quid. Maybe I should have given him something. He looked kind of hungry.’

‘He’d only spend it on the booze.’

Iris squeezed out a smile. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’

It was another half-hour before she felt comfortable about leaving. She didn’t want Michael to think that she was rushing off, but as he had recently got into conversation with a trio of middle-aged but well-preserved ladies who had joined them at the table, she knew he wouldn’t miss her too much. With his usual gift of the gab, he was regaling them with stories of the good old days. One of the women in particular, a giggly blonde with a generous amount of cleavage on view, was giving him the eye. And Michael, always up for a flirt, was giving it straight back.

‘I’d better make a move,’ Iris said. ‘Luke’s going to be back soon.’

Despite his pulling prospects, Michael didn’t hesitate. He started getting to his feet. ‘I’ll walk you home.’

But Iris shook her head, put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down again. ‘Don’t worry, it’s early. I’ll be fine.’ She didn’t want to cramp his style. It was only a ten-minute walk back to Silverstone Heights and her thoughts were still spinning from what had happened earlier. She needed time alone, time to think.

He hesitated, but she was insistent. ‘Stay where you are.’ She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’ll call you, okay?’

Iris turned up her collar as she stepped outside; the temperature had dropped a few degrees since she’d first arrived. Digging into her pockets, she found her gloves and pulled them on. There was snow forecast and she gazed up at the dark sky. Then she set out for the flat. She had only gone a few yards when she heard the thin clatter of the pub doors closing again.

‘Hold on!’

She turned and jumped, hearing her own harsh intake of breath as she saw Chris Street striding towards her. His sharp face was lit by the overhead lamps. She could see that he was smiling, but with the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach to his eyes. ‘I wanted to apologise,’ he said as he drew up beside her, ‘for what happened yesterday.’

‘There’s no need,’ Iris said nervously.

‘There’s every need. It all got out of hand. Feelings were running high and you got caught in the middle. It was out of order. We’re not normally that uncivilised. I’m sorry if we scared you.’

Not half so much as he was scaring her now, she thought,. Despite his smart appearance and polite words, she sensed an ulterior motive. He’d had the last hour to express his regrets. If it was that important to him, why hadn’t he done it while she was inside? ‘That’s all right. I understand. People get upset when . . . I’m really sorry about your mother.’

Immediately, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. She saw his whole body stiffen. ‘My mother died years ago.’

Iris bit down on her lip. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘I meant . . .’

‘It’s all right.’ The superficial smile immediately appeared again. ‘You weren’t to know. I just wanted to make sure that you were all right.’

Iris forced a thin smile in return. ‘I’m fine.’ In some respects she found him more disturbing than his younger brother. Danny might be crazy, but he was visibly crazy - what you saw was what you got - whereas Chris had a more frightening mask of normality.

‘That’s good,’ he said softly.

She went to move forward, but he wasn’t finished yet. Taking a small step to the side, he effectively blocked her path. ‘I hope Jenks wasn’t bothering you.’

‘Who?’

‘The Weasel,’ he said, ‘the old guy you were talking to.’