The Villain’s Daughter (46 page)

After a while they stopped talking, moved towards the flats and disappeared from view.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Iris jumped even though she’d been expecting it. As Kathleen came inside, she wore a defeated expression. Iris felt a pang of remorse that she’d forced her into this situation. She was clearly upset, but had acquired an air of resignation too. It was as if she’d given up, as if all the fight had gone out of her.

‘I’m sorry,’ Iris said.

Her mother gave her a wavering smile. ‘It’s not too late. You can still—’

‘I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.’ Iris wanted to say more, to try to explain, but Terry Street was right behind. She didn’t speak to him. Instead, she simply waved him towards the kitchen. Had she still thought of this as her home, she’d never have invited him here but she’d long since ceased to feel much attachment to Silverstone Heights.

Iris didn’t offer him a drink - this was hardly a social occasion - but she gestured towards the table and chairs. It was Kathleen who went to the cupboard and took out the bottle of brandy. She must have seen it when Iris was making coffee that morning. Kathleen found two glasses and poured a large shot into each of them. She glanced over at Iris. Iris shook her head; she still had the wine and she’d mixed enough drinks for the day. The brandy reminded her of Michael, of the drink he’d had here after being beaten up by Danny Street. And then she thought about the gathering at the Dog that would still be going on. This wasn’t the way she should be celebrating Michael’s life. Wasn’t she meeting with the man who had probably murdered him?

There was an uncomfortable silence where no one knew where to start. Iris was aware of the aura Terry Street gave off, that air of power and control. He wasn’t a young man but he wasn’t spent either. There was still strength in his body, a sturdy determination to get what he wanted.

‘So?’ Iris said. They had both taken a seat, but she remained standing, leaning against the sink.

‘Why don’t you sit down?’ her mother said.

But Iris couldn’t. There was something fundamentally wrong about the three of them sitting around the table. She wanted to make it clear that although she may have invited Terry here, it didn’t mean that he was welcome. The sooner he spat out what he had to say, the better.

‘So what do you know?’ he said.

Iris took a deep breath. She didn’t look at her mother as she spoke - she might lose her nerve if she did - but kept her eyes focused on Terry Street. ‘I know that my father broke into your house nineteen years ago. I know that your son was killed.’ She paused for a second. ‘And I’m sorry about what happened to him, I truly am, but my dad had no idea that Tyler was carrying a gun.’ She could have added that she was sorry about what had happened to Terry too - those scars on his throat bore witness to how he’d also been a victim - but somehow couldn’t bring herself to articulate the words. There was a part of her, a part she wasn’t proud of, that wished Davey Tyler had been a better shot.

‘Right,’ Terry said. He glanced at Kathleen but she kept her eyes lowered, staring down at the table. ‘And Michael told you this?’

‘Yes,’ Iris said. ‘But my dad’s not a bad man. You do understand that, don’t you? He was there, he agreed to do something stupid, but he didn’t know Davey Tyler was armed.’

‘It was your father who had the gun,’ Terry said bluntly.

Iris stared at him, her jaw falling open. She shook her head. ‘No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. He was there but—’

‘Ask your mother,’ Terry said.

As Iris quickly turned to look at her, to recruit her in some defence against this vile accusation - it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be - she felt a sinking in her heart. She waited, but no rebuttals came, no expressions of outrage. Kathleen now had her face firmly buried in her hands.

‘
He
had the gun?’ Iris repeated faintly.

‘He wanted to kill me,’ Terry said, ‘but his hand was shaking so much he killed my son instead.’

‘No,’ Iris remonstrated, still trying to cling on to hope. ‘You’re lying! I don’t believe it. He’d never do anything like that.’

Kathleen raised her head. ‘He was upset,’ she murmured.

‘Upset?’ Iris repeated, her voice filling with anger and bewilderment. ‘People get drunk when they’re upset, they shout or cry or throw things around the room - they don’t take a bloody gun and shoot someone!’

‘I’m so sorry, love,’ she said.

And at that moment, at that terrible moment, Iris knew Terry Street was telling the truth.

Kathleen drank some of the brandy and clattered the glass back down on the table. ‘Your father didn’t mean to do it. I swear. He’d never have . . . Yes, he went there to rob the place, I’m not denying that, but he didn’t know that Terry and Liam were going to come back in the middle of it. They were supposed to be out for the evening. Sean panicked. The gun went off and—’

‘No,’ Iris interrupted. A sharp pain was spreading across her temples, like a knife being stabbed into her forehead. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he take a gun with him if he didn’t expect to use it?’

‘Because he wanted to kill me,’ Terry said again. He stopped, as if trying to get his thoughts together. ‘I’m not saying he
intended
to kill me, only that he wanted to. Having the gun made him feel like that was possible. It gave him power, even if it was only imaginary power.’

‘He was angry,’ her mother added. ‘He was hurt.’

‘Why?’ Iris said. Even as the question slipped from her lips, she knew she would regret asking it.

Terry was the one to answer. ‘Because he’d found out something. ’

‘Found out what?’

Terry glanced at Kathleen. She shook her head. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t.’

‘She has a right to know,’ Terry said.

‘Tell me!’ Iris demanded.

Terry hesitated, but then took a breath and said: ‘Because he found out we were having an affair.’

In the silence that followed, Iris barked out a laugh. It was a nervous reaction. What had he just claimed? It was too mad, too ridiculous. Her mother, her nice respectable mother, and this murderous thug? Why would she do anything like that? It was vile. It was disgusting. But again her mother wasn’t protesting and gradually the truth began to sink in. She felt a groan rise up from the pit of her stomach. No wonder her father had felt so betrayed.

‘How . . . how could you?’ Iris spluttered.

It wasn’t her mother who answered but Terry. ‘That’s why he came to my house. That’s why he wanted to rob me. It was payback time.’

Iris stared at the two people in front of her. Her mother suddenly felt like a stranger. She wanted to ask how she could have done it, how she could have willingly slept with this cold reptilian man. The very thought of it sent a shudder through her. And there were so many other questions, but they were all tumbling into her head in a crazy jumble, one crashing on top of another until she could barely think straight. ‘So what’s happened to my dad? What’s
really
happened to him?’

Terry Street gave a brief dismissive shrug. ‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ Iris hissed. ‘He killed your son. He shot you in the throat. You’re not the type of man to let that go.’

‘I promised your mother. I gave my word, swore I wouldn’t go after him. She thought it was all her fault. She blamed herself for everything.’

And with due cause, Iris thought bitterly. If it hadn’t been for her sordid little affair . . . ‘So what’s changed?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You said you swore to leave him alone, but you’re not doing that, are you? He’s come back to Kellston and you can’t wait to find out where he is.’ Iris gave a snort. ‘Perhaps you’ve found him already. So much for promises.’

Terry frowned. ‘Why the hell would he come back? There’s nothing here for him.’

‘There’s me!’ Iris yelped, barely able to believe her ears. What was the matter with the bastard? Surely, if nothing else, he should be able to understand the urge of a parent to try to protect their child.

Terry opened his mouth to speak, but Kathleen jumped to her feet. There were tears running down her face. ‘Stop it! That’s enough!’

‘No,’ Terry said, his features finally taking on some animation. A light blazed into his eyes. ‘It’s
not
enough. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I’ve stayed away. I’ve kept my silence all these years. Well, not any more. I’ve had enough of all the fucking lies, all the secrets. It ends here. It has to.’ His high, sharp cheekbones were stained with red. ‘If you don’t tell her, Kathleen, I will.’

Iris looked quickly from one to the other. Her heart had started to thump. She raised her left hand to her mouth and bit down on her thumb. She could feel the four walls starting to close in on her. Oh God, what was coming next?

Kathleen stood very still. For a moment it seemed as if she’d turned to stone. Then, with her legs no longer able to support her, she slumped back into the chair. Like a trapped animal her gaze darted around the room as if there might still be some means of escape. Her lips opened but no sound came out.

Iris couldn’t bear the silence. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

‘What happened between us all those years ago,’ Kathleen eventually said, glancing at Terry. ‘It wasn’t . . . wasn’t just a fling.’ Her voice was very low, barely audible. She swallowed hard, struggling to get the words out. ‘It was more than that. Terry and me, we were . . . we were together for ten years.’

‘Ten years?’ Iris repeated dully. She couldn’t take it in. Shock battled with confusion. ‘But that’s not possible. How could it be? We moved away, hundreds of miles away.’

‘I don’t mean then,’ Kathleen said.

It took a few seconds for what it did mean to register in Iris’s brain. When it did she gave a start. Her mother was referring to the time
before
they’d moved away. And that meant the relationship had been going on before Iris was even born. And then suddenly the full horror of what she was being told kicked in. Her eyes widened with fear and disgust. ‘No,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It’s not true. Tell me it’s not true.’

Kathleen bowed her head. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You can’t be sure,’ Iris said. Her frantic gaze shifted to Terry. ‘You can’t be.’

‘We had a blood test done,’ he said. ‘There isn’t any doubt.’

Iris was still holding the wine glass. As her grip tightened, the glass suddenly shattered in her hand. She stared down at the cut on her palm, at the blood seeping between her fingers. She could feel the bottom slowly falling out of her world. Panic was gathering inside her. She couldn’t breathe properly. Sweat was starting to run down her back. ‘No,’ she muttered, ‘no, no, no.’ If she repeated it often enough, it might eventually be true.

Kathleen stood up again, made as if to move towards her, but Iris shook her head. ‘Stay away! Don’t come near me.’

‘Please,’ her mother begged. ‘You have to—’

‘No, I don’t want to hear it.’ Iris turned and ran from the flat, slamming the door behind her. She stumbled along the corridor. As she half ran, half fell down the stairs, she felt a scream rising up inside her. It was too much to bear. She wanted to be sick. She was Terry Street’s child, his flesh and blood.
She was a murderer’s daughter!

It was over four hours now since Iris had learnt the terrible truth. She played with the bandage that Guy had wrapped around her hand, picking at the corners. She felt lost, disconnected, as if all her foundations had been wrenched up by the roots. Her mother had tried to call but Iris had turned off the phone. She couldn’t talk to her, not yet. She was too upset, too enraged by what she’d done. There were so many things she wanted to ask but . . .

Unable to stay still, she jumped up from the sofa and went over to the window. It was dark outside and the street was jammed with rush-hour traffic. She saw a group of people cross the road and walk into the bar downstairs. She stared down at the long line of cars, wishing she had nothing more to worry about than when the lights would turn to green.

‘You must hate me,’ Iris said, glancing over her shoulder. ‘How can you even bear to be near me?’

Guy stood up and came to stand behind her. ‘What are you talking about?’ He wrapped his arms around her waist. ‘You’re still the same person, Iris.’

‘But I’m not,’ she said bitterly. ‘You know I’m not. I’m the daughter of the man you hate, of the man
I
hate. It’s sick. It’s disgusting.’ She shuddered as she spoke the words out loud. If she could have reached into her body and ripped out every vile strand of Terry Street’s DNA, she would.

‘No,’ Guy said tenderly, pulling her closer. ‘You’re Iris O’Donnell. You’re
you.
You’re not defined by who your parents are. I’m the son of Lizzie Street and God knows what piece of shit. Does that make me a blood-sucking leech? Does it make me a drug dealer, a pimp, a heartless bastard?’

‘Of course not,’ she said quickly.

‘So?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not the same.’

‘Of course it’s the same.’ He turned her around. ‘Look at me.’ When she wouldn’t, he gently lifted up her chin. ‘You’re young, intelligent, beautiful. What the fuck has any of that to do with Terry Street? Don’t let him do this to you. You’ve got your own identity. If you let him get under your skin like this, he’ll destroy you.’

Iris wanted to believe what he was saying, but shock had blunted her ability to reason in any logical fashion. Coherent thought, at least for the moment, was completely beyond her. Too many questions were whirling around in her head. ‘I just . . . I can’t get anything straight. Nothing makes any sense. He’s not out there, is he? My dad.’ She squeezed shut her eyes and opened them again. ‘The man I
thought
was my dad. He hasn’t come back. Why would he? He knew I wasn’t his. He’s never coming back. All that knocking on doors, all that searching - it’s been a waste of time.’