The Villain’s Daughter (29 page)

Iris pressed the number for Luke and listened as the phone rang the other end. She felt calm enough to talk to him now. But the phone rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. She didn’t bother leaving a message. Instead, she switched the mobile off and dropped it back into her bag. Then she stood up and walked over to the window. The High Street was still busy and while she finished her brandy she automatically scanned the area, searching for would-be assailants hiding in the shadows or lurking in shop doorways. There was no one acting oddly. After a while, when she was sure that Guy had finished his call, she went through to the kitchen. ‘Can I help?’

He was in the process of pouring some pasta into a pan. ‘Sure. There’s wine in the fridge. You can open a bottle and then you can sit down and keep me company.’

The kitchen was a decent size and was painted white. There was a poppy-coloured refrigerator in the corner, a set of expensive-looking pans hanging from the wall, and a pale wood table with four chairs. A couple of glasses were already sitting on the table along with a corkscrew.

‘Or would you prefer red?’ He gestured towards a wine rack in the corner.

‘No, white’s fine with me.’ She opened the fridge and found a row of four bottles. ‘Which one should I open?’

‘Ah,’ he said, glancing over. ‘We’ll start on the left, shall we, and work our way through.’

Iris stared at him.

Guy grinned back. ‘Only kidding. There’s no need to look so worried. I’m not planning on plying you with booze and then taking advantage.’

‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Iris said. Then suddenly realising how that must have sounded, her cheeks flushed pink. She quickly added, ‘I meant about having a few drinks, not—’

‘I know what you meant,’ he said, laughing. ‘Just relax, will you?’

‘Sorry. I still feel bad about ruining your evening.’

‘Hardly that,’ he said. ‘In fact, you’ve probably done me a favour.’

She took the bottle across to the table. ‘How do you work that one out?’

Guy carefully stirred the sauce. When he didn’t reply, Iris began to feel awkward again. ‘Sorry,’ she said, sensing that she may have hit a raw nerve. ‘It’s none of my business.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘I was only . . .’ He looked up and shrugged. ‘Well, some things just aren’t meant to be, are they? And no matter how much you talk, how much you discuss it, that isn’t going to change.’

Iris presumed he was talking about a relationship. What she had no way of knowing was whether the problem lay with him or the girl. Had tonight been earmarked for one of those make or break conversations? And was he the one who wanted out or was she? Iris thought of herself and Luke; they weren’t exactly on the road to paradise either. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.

‘Stop apologising. You’ve nothing to feel sorry for.’

Iris opened the bottle and poured out the Sauvignon blanc. ‘Here,’ she said, placing a glass beside him on the counter.

‘Where do you keep the cutlery? I’ll set the table while you’re doing that.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I can see you’ve been well raised.’

His comment reminded her that she hadn’t called her mother yet. It was a call she’d been putting off. Iris still wanted to know, after all these years, why her mum had got in touch with Michael again - the only communication she usually had with him was the annual Christmas card - but was almost too afraid to ask. So many secrets from the past were coming to light and she was starting to worry about what might spring out next.

She watched as Guy moved around the kitchen. He was surprisingly graceful for a tall man. Through the fine cotton of his shirt, she could see the contours of the muscles at the top of his arms. She wondered who he’d been referring to earlier: a long-term girlfriend or someone more recent? Was he the type who played around? None of her business, she thought, although that didn’t stop her from being curious.

A few minutes later the food was laid out. As well as the plates of carbonara, there was a fresh salad, a bowl of plump black olives and some garlic bread.

‘It looks lovely,’ she said, taking the chair opposite to his. ‘Smells great too.’

‘Thanks. I try to make an effort not to poison my guests.’ He picked up his glass, leaned forward and chinked it against hers. ‘No guarantees, mind.’

‘I’ll take my chances,’ she said.

Guy forked a mouthful of pasta into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. ‘Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be cruel. I know you must be completely stressed out with everything that’s been happening.’

Iris smiled. ‘I thought apologising was off the agenda.’

‘Off
your
agenda. I never said anything about mine.’ He took a sip of wine. ‘But seriously,’ he continued, ‘you have to think very hard about what to do next. There’s still time to go to the cops.’

‘No,’ Iris said firmly. ‘I don’t want the police involved. What could they do anyway - give me a twenty-four hour guard? The Streets aren’t going to admit to making threats so I’d just be back to square one, but with the added problem of them knowing that I’ve grassed them up.’

‘You could have a point.’

‘And the police would want to know
why
they’ve been threatening me and that would mean telling them about my dad.’ Iris heaved out a sigh. ‘I can’t do that. It’s bad enough that the Streets are trying to hunt him down. If he has the police on his back as well . . .’

‘I just have to be sure,’ Guy said, ‘that you really understand what you’re doing.’

Iris felt a shudder run through her. ‘By which you mean it could get nasty. Or
nastier
.’

‘Yeah. I’m not going to lie to you. Are you sure you’re prepared for that?’

She tore off a piece of bread while she thought about it. ‘What choice do I have?’

‘There’s always a choice,’ he said. ‘I can see why you don’t want to go to the cops, but there’s always the other option: you can pack your bags and get the hell out of Kellston.’

‘Go on the run, you mean?’

Guy laughed. ‘Well, I wouldn’t put it quite as dramatically as that. I don’t think the Streets would spend too much time looking for you. At the moment, you’re just a means to an end. They’ve got no idea how much you know so they’re putting on the pressure. Sometimes if you do a bit of stirring, things start to happen. People react: they talk to other people. Before you know it, all kind of shit starts to rise to the surface.’

‘So they’re using me to try and flush him out.’

‘I’m only guessing,’ Guy said. ‘But if I was a dad and I knew my daughter was being threatened, I might be tempted to take risks I wouldn’t normally take. I might also get a little careless.’

‘What I don’t get is how he’d even be aware of what’s been happening.’

Guy gave a light shrug of his shoulders. ‘Maybe he’s closer than you think.’

The idea of that made Iris feel a little strange. ‘Then why hasn’t he been in touch? I’ve been back in Kellston for a year. He’s had plenty of time.’ Then she had another thought. ‘You don’t suppose—’ But as she stared at Guy, she abruptly stopped, unwilling to bring up the subject of his mother’s death.

‘What is it?’

Iris hesitated.

‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Please. We’re supposed to be sharing ideas, aren’t we? Trying to decide what to do next? We can’t do that if you’re not going to be open with me.’

He was right, of course. And now wasn’t the time for undue sensitivity. ‘I was just wondering if . . . Well, do you think all this sudden interest in my dad could have something to do with what happened to your mother? Michael said that she protected him from Terry, and now that she’s . . .’

Guy put his head on one side and smiled. ‘Been murdered?’ he said. ‘You are allowed to say the words. I’m not going to curl up on the floor and cry like a baby. We weren’t close. You already know that.’

For all his apparent indifference, Iris still caught a defensive edge to his voice. She found the relationship he’d had with his mum difficult to fathom. It was hard to comprehend, even if the motives were as altruistic as Michael had suggested, why Lizzie had given up her son for a villain like Terry Street. ‘All I was thinking was . . . well, maybe her protection extended to me too. Which meant that for as long as she was alive, Terry wouldn’t touch me, but as soon as . . .’ She put down her fork and frowned. ‘It would be a reason for my dad to come back, wouldn’t it? If he’d heard about her death? He’d know I wasn’t safe any more.’

‘It’s possible,’ Guy agreed.

‘But then why aren’t they putting the pressure on Michael too? He’s had a run-in with Danny Street, but he picked that fight himself. He went looking for Danny, not the other way round.’

Guy gave another of his shrugs. ‘I suppose you’re an easier target. Michael’s a grown man and, from what I remember, a pretty tough one too. He can take care of himself. You, on the other hand, are—’

‘A weak and helpless female?’

Guy smiled and shook his head. ‘I doubt if anyone’s ever described you as that. What I was going to say was that you’re his
daughter
. He’s naturally going to feel more protective of you. And that, I’m sure, is what the Streets are counting on. The more they put the screws on, the more likely your father is to try to protect you.’

‘Do you really think he’s out there somewhere?’

‘Why not?’ Guy said. ‘He can’t be dead or the Streets wouldn’t be reacting the way they are. They’re not the type to waste their time on idle gossip. Whatever they’ve heard, whatever they know, it must be enough to convince them that he’s still around.’

‘So why hasn’t he been in touch? If he’s that concerned about what might happen to me . . .’

‘Because then you really would have something to hide. This way you don’t have to lie about it. Perhaps he feels the less you know, the better.’

Iris finished her wine. She picked up the bottle and refilled both their glasses. The alcohol was starting to take effect and she was glad of it. She took a large gulp of the Sauvignon blanc. Would her fear levels drop in direct proportion to the amount of wine she drank? She decided that it was an experiment worth pursuing. ‘I already know more than I want to.’

Guy gave her a rueful smile. ‘Yeah, you have got kind of stuck in the middle of it all. You can’t beat relations for landing you in the shit. Perhaps you should talk to that uncle of yours again. He may know more than he’s saying.’

Iris had been planning on doing that anyway. ‘It’s the next thing on my list.’ Then she went on to tell him about Rick Howard and the money he’d recently acquired. ‘I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but it’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe that’s all it is,’ Guy replied. ‘This girl, Vita, is she a good friend of yours?’

‘The best. She’s really helped me over the past six months. Ever since . . .’ Iris paused, not wanting to mention the child she had lost. It wasn’t that she was trying to hide anything from him, but talking about the miscarriage always made her emotional. Already that old dull ache had crawled back into her belly. ‘She’s been good to me.’

Guy, although he must have caught the hesitation, was sensitive enough to not pursue the cause of it. Instead he said, ‘Well, maybe you should be careful about what you say to her. You start throwing accusations around about her husband and she may not stay a friend for long.’

Iris nodded. It was sound advice. If she had been left alone during the last year due to Lizzie Street’s intervention, then Rick was hardly in the frame for informing the Streets that she was back in Kellston. ‘Yes, you’re right. And he could have got the money from anywhere. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.’

‘Hard not to be with all this going on.’

As Iris finished the last of her pasta, she put down her fork and sighed. ‘Thanks, that was lovely. And you weren’t exaggerating: you
do
make an excellent carbonara.’

‘There’s no need to sound so surprised.’

‘Well, some men tend to overegg their talents.’

Guy lifted his brows and his blue eyes widened. ‘Heaven forbid.’

Iris grinned back at him. But then she thought of Luke. She felt a slight pang of guilt even though she wasn’t doing anything wrong. People flirted all the time; it didn’t mean anything more than what it was. Except in this case it wasn’t strictly true. She
was
attracted to Guy Wilder. She’d felt drawn to him ever since the first day they’d met at Tobias Grand & Sons. Quickly, she got up to clear the plates, but Guy waved her back down. ‘There’s no rush,’ he said. ‘Sit and finish your drink.’

‘You have to let me do the washing-up. It’s the least I can do after you’ve taken all this trouble to feed me.’

‘Later,’ he insisted. ‘You can help me with the arduous task of stacking the dishwasher. But first I need to tell you something.’

Iris could tell from his tone that what he had to say was important. Slowly she sank back into her seat. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like this?’

‘Maybe you won’t,’ he said, ‘but before you make the final decision on what to do next, there’s another fact that you have to consider. Terry Street’s coming out of jail soon. I’m not quite sure when, but it’s likely to be before Christmas. That’s when the trouble could really start. I should be able to persuade Chris to lay off, but I can’t predict what Terry’s going to do.’

Iris felt her stomach shift. She reached for her glass again and took a few quick sips of wine before answering. ‘You think he’s going to come after me?’

Guy waited a moment before answering. ‘I think you should seriously consider the possibility.’

Iris sat on the leather sofa with her feet curled tidily under her. To say that she’d dismissed the threat of Terry Street would be an overstatement, but she had resolved to stay in Kellston. Running away wasn’t a solution to her problems. And with Guy on her side, she felt capable of dealing with anything.