The Villain’s Daughter (44 page)

‘That’s all?’ Iris said. ‘Just some papers?’

‘It’s a busy office. Things go missing.’

‘Well, I suppose it goes to show how indispensable you are. Was that your boss?’

But Kathleen wouldn’t be drawn. She looked down at her watch. ‘We’d better go. We don’t want to be late.’

Iris didn’t see how they could be late - it wasn’t as if the guest of honour was even going to be there - but she didn’t say anything. If her mother didn’t want to talk about her mystery caller, then so be it. Everyone was entitled to a private life. Not that she was giving up on finding out. Maybe later, after a few drinks, she might be more forthcoming. As they walked towards the car, Iris took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Vita and Rick had organised the post-funeral gathering, for which Iris was grateful. It had been one less thing to worry about. The Dog & Duck was packed and they had to squeeze through the crowd to get to the bar. Their progress was slow; every few feet or so they were stopped by somebody wanting to shake their hands, to express their sympathy, to talk about Michael. Eventually, Guy had taken their drink orders and proceeded on his own.

By the time he got back, Iris had become separated from her mother. It seemed that Kathleen had not been forgotten despite her long absence from Kellston. Old friends and neighbours had hugged and kissed her and whisked her away for a catch-up. Iris took the glass of wine from Guy and knocked half of it back in one.

‘Hey,’ he said, ‘take it easy. You carry on like that and you’ll be legless before you know it.’

‘My homage to Michael,’ she said. ‘I think he’d approve.’

‘In that case I’ll get a bottle next time.’

‘Now that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.’ She suddenly wanted to be drunk, very drunk, to be removed from everything that was going on around her. The gathering served to remind her of that evening, not so long ago, when she had met Michael in the Hope for Lizzie’s wake. Had Lizzie been the love of his life? Was that why he’d never married? No, she thought, with a little shake of her head, she was just romanticising. She wasn’t sure if she really believed in soulmates, in there being just one other person in the world who you were meant to be with . . . and yet when she looked at Guy she felt a quickening of her pulse, a stirring in her heart that she’d never experienced before.

‘Do you believe in . . .’ She had been about to say fate, but stopped and bit down on her tongue. In the circumstances, there was something decidedly tasteless about the question, and anyway it was way too early to be thinking of her and Guy as a long-term prospect.

‘Believe in?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She glanced around the pub and spotted Rick in the adjoining room. He had taken off his black jacket and was playing pool in a half-hearted sort of fashion. She should have a chat with him. But not right now. She wasn’t ready yet. Half a glass of wine wasn’t nearly enough to banish her embarrassment over what she’d accused him of. Shifting her gaze, she saw William Grand in conversation with a couple of tearful middle-aged blondes. Michael had been popular with the ladies and this pair, she suspected, were just two of his many conquests. How he had always managed to disentangle himself without causing any lasting bad feeling was beyond her. As she was looking, William raised his gaze and gave her a rueful smile. He had the forlorn expression of a man in need of rescuing.

Iris turned to Guy. ‘I’d better go and thank William for everything he’s done.’

He nodded. ‘Sure. I’ll wait for you here. In fact, no, I’ll head back to the bar and get us that bottle I was talking about.’

‘You’re an angel. I won’t be long.’

William nodded at the two women, excusing himself as Iris approached. ‘How’s it going?’ he said to her.

Iris pulled a face. ‘Not too bad. I just don’t know what to say to people.’ She frowned. ‘Well, I do know, but it all seems so trite, so glib. I feel like I’m just going through the motions. And that doesn’t seem right. It’s like I’m being fake, just pretending but . . .’ She paused, surprised by this sudden articulation of thoughts she hadn’t even realised were in her head.

William placed his hand lightly on her arm. ‘You’re doing fine. None of this is easy. No one expects you to be the perfect hostess. It’s not a party,’ he said.

She kept her voice low. ‘But I thought these things were supposed to help, to provide some kind of
closure
.’

‘Not closure,’ William said. ‘It isn’t about that. It’s about . . . I don’t know . . . celebrating the man he was, appreciating the memories he’s left you with.’

Iris drained her glass and put it down on a table. ‘Except all I can think about is that we argued on the night he died. He got mad at me and . . . I should have made things right. I shouldn’t have just left it.’ She could feel the tears pricking her eyes and swiftly wiped them away.

‘And do you think that’s how he’d like you to remember him - that one single moment above all others?’

She sighed. ‘No, I guess not.’

‘I take it this was his favourite pub?’

‘You could say that.’ She looked around at the shabby wallpaper, at the peeling paint around the windows. She glanced towards the other room where Rick was still playing pool. ‘Come to think of it, I’m surprised they didn’t charge him rent.’

William smiled. ‘So you do have some good memories.’

‘Of course I do, but . . . but it doesn’t make anything right, does it? I mean how it ended. I never got the chance to tell him how much I cared, how much I loved him.’ Iris picked up her glass, found that it was empty and put it down again.

‘Here,’ William said, passing her his own glass. ‘Have this. I shouldn’t be drinking - I’ve got to get back soon.’

Iris peered into the glass. It looked like whisky. She lowered her nose and took a sniff. Yes, it was definitely whisky. Mixing her drinks probably wasn’t such a great idea, but she took a sip nonetheless. ‘I wanted to say thanks for everything you’ve done. You know, for today and all the arrangements and coming to the mortuary with me.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘All in a day’s work?’

‘No, I didn’t mean that.’ He turned his face away. Just before he did, she saw something flash into his eyes.

‘William?’

After a second, he turned back to her, his features perfectly composed. ‘I want you to know that I’m here if you need me. I don’t just mean as an employer, although that too, but as a friend.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘I didn’t realise that you knew Guy Wilder.’

There was something slightly strained about his tone. ‘Yes,’ Iris said. ‘We’re . . . we’ve known each other for a while.’

‘I see.’

Iris was about to ask exactly what
I see
meant when Toby suddenly descended on them. And he was clearly well ahead on the drinks front. From the way he was talking, he’d probably shifted a few lines of coke too. ‘Shit,’ he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. ‘I know you must be mad at me. I can’t blame you for that. But the only reason I said that stuff about Danny was because I was worried about you getting involved with the cops and all. I mean, you weren’t thinking straight. And you don’t want to get mixed up with the Streets. They’re crazy, babe. And God, you don’t mind me being here, do you? I didn’t know Michael that well, but he was a great guy.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, pushing him gently away. ‘Or at least it would be if you could give me a tiny bit of space.’

‘I should be going,’ William said. ‘Take care of yourself, okay?’

‘I will. And thanks again.’

Toby watched him leave with a big grin on his face. ‘Grimm Junior trying to lure you back into work, is he? I tell you, that place has been falling apart without you.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ Iris said, sipping on the whisky. She felt the warmth as it slid down her throat. Having skipped breakfast, she could feel the effects of it too. Already a slight haziness was starting to invade her thoughts. She liked the feeling, the way it took the edge off the pain.

‘We’ve got a temp in of course, but she hardly brightens up the place. She’s as bloody old as the hills. I don’t think telephones were even invented when she was born.’ He picked up a sandwich from a plate on the table, bit into it and chewed. ‘So are you coming back soon?’

‘After the weekend,’ Iris said. ‘Can you survive until then?’

‘It’s not me I’m worried about. I spend as little time in that damn place as I possibly can. I think Grimm Junior might be pining though. He walks around all day looking like a sick puppy dog.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Iris said.

Toby laughed. ‘The trouble with some women is that they can’t see what’s right in front of their noses.’

‘And the trouble with some men is that they don’t understand the meaning of friendship.’

‘Have it your way,’ he said, stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Despite her dismissive tone, a part of Iris couldn’t help considering if he was right. Hadn’t William been rather attentive over the past few weeks? And what was that he’d said only a few minutes ago -
I’m here if you need me?
She frowned, thinking how difficult this might make things at work. But no, Toby was probably just trying to wind her up. He wouldn’t let anything as inconvenient as a funeral get in the way of his entertainment. And it wasn’t five minutes since he’d been convinced that something was going on between Alice Avery and William. ‘Well, it’s been lovely to have a chat, but I’d better start circulating. Duties to perform and all.’

‘Sure. Catch you later, hun.’

‘If you can still stand up,’ Iris said. Although she was one to talk. She had every intention of getting blind drunk herself. By now she’d finished the last few drops of whisky and was in desperate need of a refill.

Toby sloped off, nudging his way through the crowd, and Iris looked around for Guy, but couldn’t see him. He must have got caught up in the queue at the bar. She was about to head that way herself when Vita appeared by her side.

‘Hey, how are you bearing up?’

‘It still feels unreal,’ Iris said. ‘Thanks for doing all this.’ She gave a wave of her hand, taking in their surroundings. ‘It was really good of you.’

‘That’s okay.’

‘How’s Rick?’

‘Oh, you know,’ Vita said. ‘He’s taking it pretty hard. Michael’s been his best mate for years. The two of them were virtually inseparable. He hardly knows what to do with himself.’

Iris wondered if Vita was making some kind of point - that Rick had known Michael for much longer than she had and was perhaps more family to him than she, his niece, had ever been. Or maybe she was being too thin-skinned, imagining slights where none were intended. Either way, she had to admit that twelve months was hardly long enough to form the kind of bonds that came from years of friendship. ‘I’m so sorry about what I said, about Rick and the money. I suppose you told him?’

Vita stared down at her shoes. There was a small awkward silence. ‘I had to,’ she said. ‘You do understand that, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do, but . . . but I was wrong. I was way off the mark. He’d never do anything like that. I was just upset, confused. Everything’s been such a mess and now . . .’ Iris shrugged. ‘I can’t figure out how to put things right. Do you think I should talk to him?’

‘Some time,’ Vita said, ‘but not today, not when emotions are running so high. Maybe later, in a week or two, when things have calmed down a bit.’

Iris nodded. ‘But you’ll tell him, won’t you? You’ll let him know I’m sorry?’

‘Sure.’

‘I don’t want there to be all this bad feeling between us. It’s entirely my fault, I know it is, and I’ll do anything to put it right.’

‘Try not to worry. I’m sure we’ll sort it out.’ But there was something in her eyes that told Iris it might not be that easy. A bond of trust had been broken and it would take more than a few apologies to weld it back together again.

‘Thanks.’

Vita changed the subject. ‘So I see you’ve brought the beautiful Daniel Craig with you. How’s that going?’

Once upon a time, and it wasn’t that long ago, Iris would have opened up and told her everything - about how she felt, about how this might finally be the real thing - but at the moment there were too many barriers between them. Now wasn’t the time to be sharing confidences. ‘It’s early days,’ she said, ‘but I like him. He’s good to me.’

‘So long as he makes you happy.’

‘Try telling that to my mother.’

‘She’s probably worried. I mean, you and Luke have only just split up. She’s bound to be concerned.’

‘We didn’t split up. He dumped me.’

Vita swept back her long dark hair. ‘All the more reason to be cautious about getting involved with someone else so quickly.’

‘You don’t like him,’ Iris said defensively.

‘I don’t know him,’ Vita said, ‘and neither do you, not really. How long has it been - a few weeks? All I’m saying is that maybe you shouldn’t rely on him too much.’

Iris, sensing that they could be on the verge of another row, had to fight the urge to snap back a retort. Why couldn’t the people she was close to actually be happy for her? Through all the recent bad times - and had there ever been worse ones? - Guy had been the one person who’d continued to believe in her. Still, she couldn’t expect Vita or her mother to understand. Guy was a stranger to them and maybe, if she was in their shoes, looking in from the outside, she might be tempted to give the same kind of advice.

‘He’s a good man,’ Iris said calmly. ‘There are lots of blokes who’d have run a mile at the prospect of dealing with the kind of things I’ve been through recently.’

‘Talk of the devil,’ Vita said.

Iris glanced over her shoulder. Guy was approaching with a bottle of wine in one hand and two clean glasses in the other.