The Villain’s Daughter

by Roberta Kray

  Iris glanced down at her plate. She was no longer hungry. The current trend for good pub food had passed this establishment by; lunch, if you wanted something hot, consisted of a microwaved baked potato or anything fried with chips. She pushed the remains of her limp ham and tomato sandwich to one side and took a sip of orange juice. With the Rufus Rigby party to attend tonight, she’d decided to stay off the booze.

  ‘So?’ Vita said, nudging her elbow.

  Iris looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘You know what. You’ve had a face on you ever since you arrived. Is it Luke?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing to do with him.’

  ‘Your mother then.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Work?’ Vita picked up her pint of lager, took a large swig and then slapped her hand down on Iris’s arm. She laughed. ‘Oh God, I know what it is. You’re having a secret, sordid affair with that infamous seducer Gerald Grand.’

  Iris sighed. Only Vita could have come out with such a comment. ‘If you could just rein in your insane fantasies for a moment . . .’

  ‘Not until you come clean.’

  ‘Okay, okay. I’ll tell you.’

  The other woman’s eyes grew wide as Iris explained about how Albert Jenks had been watching her outside the funeral parlour, how he’d later approached her in the pub and the arrangement he’d made for them to meet the following evening. ‘You did what? Are you completely mad?’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Iris said, glancing anxiously towards the pool table. ‘I wasn’t in any danger. He’s an old man, he wasn’t about to . . .’

  ‘Yeah, well, he might have been a pensioner, but you didn’t know who was actually going to turn up. You could have been met by anyone.’

  ‘It was at the Monny at half past six. There were lots of people around.’

  ‘And how many do you think would stop and help if some nutter did have a go? This is Kellston, Iris. No one gives a damn or if they do they’re usually too scared to do anything about it. You have to be careful.’

  Iris shrugged. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter now. He didn’t even show.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call me?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ Iris gazed into Vita’s large brown eyes. ‘You’d have tried to talk me out of it, and with your powers of persuasion you’d have probably succeeded. And then later I’d have regretted not going. I know I would. I had to give it a shot, at least try to find out if he had any useful information.’

  Vita nodded. ‘Okay, I get it. And yes, I may have raised some of the more obvious objections, but if you’d been that determined . . . well, Rick and I could have come along too. We could have hung around the square. No one would have known we were with you. At least that way you’d have had someone watching your back.’

  Iris hadn’t thought of that. But then she hadn’t been thinking logically about anything much recently. She nodded. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t do anything crazy like that again.’

  ‘I swear,’ Iris said, obediently raising her right hand. She had a lot to thank Vita and Rick for: Vita for standing by her through the past six months - not the easiest of jobs in the circumstances - and Rick for getting her the position at Tobias Grand & Sons. He worked there part-time, sometimes as a driver, sometimes as a pallbearer, and when the vacancy for a new receptionist had come up had managed to get her an interview with Gerald.

  ‘So what are you going to do now?’

  ‘Forget about it,’ Iris said. ‘What else?’

  Vita hesitated for a moment and then said, ‘I suppose I could ask around, see if anyone knows this Jenks bloke. If he’s local, and he probably is, then one of my more dubious clients might have heard of him.’

  ‘Could you?’ Last night Iris had been determined to move on, to put it all behind her, but now she jumped at this fresh opportunity.

  ‘He’s probably some kind of shyster. You do realise that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, but I’d like to know for certain. It was all so . . . so weird, him coming up to me like that. The more I think about it, the more I think that he must know something.’

  ‘Yes,’ Vita agreed, ‘that your father took off nineteen years ago and was never heard of again. Kellston’s not that big a place, Iris, and people have long memories. As soon as he realised you were Michael O’Donnell’s niece, he may have thought he could play you for a sucker, string you along in exchange for a few quid.’

  ‘I did consider that.’

  ‘But it didn’t stop you going to meet him.’

  Iris shrugged again. She knew that what she’d done was foolish, but if she had the opportunity she would, in all likelihood, do the same thing again. ‘There was only one way I was going to find out. I agree that it was stupid, and a long shot at best, but I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t ignore him. I had to follow it up.’

  Vita took another swig of her drink. She put her glass down, folded her arms and put on her serious face. ‘Have you talked to Michael about any of this? I don’t mean about last night - I can see why you wouldn’t want to mention that - but just about your dad in general.’

  ‘He says exactly the same as my mother. It’s as if they worked it out together; their stories are virtually word-perfect.’

  ‘That could be because they’re both telling the truth.’

  ‘Or because they’re both hiding something.’

  Automatically, they swivelled their heads to stare at Michael. He was still playing pool, his focus entirely on the game. ‘You think he knows more than he’s letting on?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. He’s like Mum; I can’t get anything out of him. He’ll give me the official party line, but then if I press him, he clams up and starts acting all shifty.’

  ‘Ah, shifty,’ Vita said. ‘I know that look. Rick was born with it. Fortunately, I have my methods for getting at the truth.’

  ‘Care to share them with me?’

  ‘I would, but in all honesty I don’t think they’re applicable when it comes to your uncle.’

  It took a second for Iris to cotton on. ‘Oh, please,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘Spare me the details.’

  Vita laughed, but then grew thoughtful again. ‘You know, it could be that Michael simply doesn’t like to talk about it. Perhaps it’s too upsetting. I’ve known him for years and I wasn’t aware he even had a brother until you turned up.’

  ‘You think I’m wrong, that I’m being paranoid?’

  ‘No, don’t be daft. I think you have to go with your gut instinct - wherever it leads you. And, so long as you swear not to keep me in the dark, to not go swanning off for any more meetings with strange old men, I’ll do everything I can to help.’

  Iris gave a mighty sigh of relief. She loved her uncle and she loved Luke too, but she hadn’t realised until this moment just how alone she actually felt. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning over to give Vita a hug. Convinced that her family were hiding the truth, it felt good to have a friend to confide in.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite the credit crunch, Rufus Rigby hadn’t stinted on the Christmas party. The West End venue was all mood lighting and soft-pile carpets. The buffet was excellent, the champagne free-flowing and the guest list must have numbered a couple of hundred. There was a jazz band playing and the dance floor was full. Iris limped over to a chair after yet another toe-crushing experience with one of Luke’s superiors. And it wasn’t just her feet that were suffering; she could feel her jaw aching too. She’d had a fixed smile on her face for the past two hours.

  Still, this evening was all about making an effort. For Luke’s sake, she’d put on the little black dress, the high heels and the pearls. Her long red hair was tied up in a complicated series of twists and knots and her make-up had taken an eternity. A new start, that’s what she’d promised herself, and okay, she may have backtracked a little by agreeing to let Vita make some enquiries about Jenks, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t moving forward as regards her relationship
with Luke. She had been doing her best to sparkle, laughing at his bosses’ jokes and flirting with them just enough to prove how very attractive they were without crossing any boundaries. Once upon a time this juggling act had come quite naturally to her, but now she found it both tedious and tiring.

  Iris sipped on the chilled champagne and tried to spot Luke in the crowd. She hadn’t expected him to stay by her side all night - these occasions were as much about networking with the clients as rewarding the efforts of the workforce - but he’d disappeared twenty minutes ago and she hadn’t seen him since. She glanced surreptitiously at her watch; it was ten past ten. The do would go on for ages yet, probably not breaking up until the early hours of the morning.

  A brunette in her mid-forties, dressed in a long green skirt and low-cut top, wandered past, stopped, retreated and then slumped down on the chair beside Iris. She kicked off her high heels. ‘Shit, I hate these parties.’

  Iris smiled. ‘Join the club.’

  The woman took the bottle from the ice bucket on the table, checked how much was left inside and filled up her glass. She drank half of it down in one and then topped up. Turning, she looked Iris up and down and said, ‘You don’t work for these jerks, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you’re not a client?’

  ‘No,’ Iris said again.

  ‘Well, that’s something.’

  Iris took a moment to study her new companion. The deep-set eyes were a cool shade of grey and the mouth, victim perhaps of a little too much cosmetic filler, had a rather bee-stung appearance. ‘So do you work for the company or . . .?’

  ‘God, no. I’m only here to embarrass my husband.’ Reaching for her glass, she took another hearty swig. ‘Sadly, I’m not pissed enough yet.’ She emitted a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a groan. ‘As if I haven’t got anything better to do than waste my time on these big-mouthed, lecherous, groping losers . . . no offence to whoever you’re here with, love.’

  ‘None taken,’ Iris said.

  The woman laughed, flinging a generously ringed hand into the air. ‘I’m Sandra by the way. Don’t mind me; I’m always bitching about something or other.’

  ‘Iris,’ she replied.

  ‘So what line are you in?’

  ‘I work for an undertaker.’

  Sandra laughed again. ‘Poor you! You spend all day working with the dead and then have to come out at night and play with the zombies.’

  Iris grinned. ‘I hadn’t quite thought of it like that before.’

  ‘So which one is yours? I take it you’re here to support your other half. It’s a gruesome duty, but one we’re obliged to perform. Thankfully, it only comes round once a year.’

  ‘Luke Hamilton.’ Iris scanned the room again and eventually spotted him near the bar. He was talking to a slim, rather striking girl with honey-coloured skin and sleek fair hair. ‘Over there,’ she said, ‘the guy in the grey suit.’ And then, realising that this description applied to half the men in the room, she added: ‘The tall one talking to the blonde in the red dress.’

  Sandra’s brows shot up. ‘He’s a looker,’ she said. ‘Do you think it’s safe to leave him alone with her?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he can take care of himself.’

  ‘My dear,’ she said, leaning forward to place her hand firmly on Iris’s arm, ‘I hate to mention this but in my experience, it’s usually the taking care of themselves that ends with some poor woman’s heart being broken. If I was you, I’d get over there right now and claim what was rightfully mine.’

  But Iris had never been the jealous type - and certainly not the type to act like some crazy possessive girlfriend. However, she did find herself staring rather hard at the girl. She was pretty, there was no denying that. ‘Do you know who she is?’

  Sandra shook her head. ‘Jen, Jody, Jade? I don’t know; they all look the same to me. Some bitch in the sales department. They come and go. They’re all young and ambitious and don’t care what they have to do to get to the top.’

  Iris had the feeling she was speaking from bitter experience. ‘So where’s your other half?’

  Sandra lifted her shoulders in a small indifferent shrug. ‘So long as he’s not within twenty yards of me, I’m happy.’

  And then Iris, for some reason she wasn’t quite sure of - perhaps just because of Sandra’s comment or because it had been on her mind so much recently - began thinking about her parents. Had they been so unhappy that they couldn’t bear the sight of each other? She had not felt it as a child, had always thought of them as thoroughly content, but maybe they had taken care to hide their true feelings from her. She wanted to ask Sandra why she stayed with this man who clearly made her so miserable, but didn’t have the heart to go there. This evening was supposed to be about being positive, about supporting Luke and moving forward; she couldn’t afford to start slipping back.

  ‘Perhaps you’re not that bothered.’

  ‘What?’ Iris said, glancing back at Sandra again.

  The woman nodded towards the dance floor. Luke and the girl had moved away from the bar. The blonde had curled her arms rather intimately around his neck and was nestling against his shoulder. Her long fair hair, the kind of hair that was reminiscent of Chris Street’s trophy wife, fell in a long silky curtain down her back. Luke was leaning in close and whispering something, but she couldn’t read his lips. Iris felt a tiny shiver of doubt, but quickly dismissed it. At the end of the day it came down to trust; either she believed in him or she didn’t. There couldn’t be anything going on or Luke would never have insisted on her coming. It was just a dance, a dance between colleagues.

  It was another hour before Iris decided she’d had enough. Sandra had wandered off in search of more champagne and hadn’t come back. The scarlet woman had disappeared too and Luke was now deep in conversation with a huddled group of clients. Having endured three more dances and too many corny pick-up lines from a number of guys drunk enough to chance their luck with a girl who appeared to be on her own, she decided her duty was well and truly done.

  Iris made her way over to Luke and told him she was going home. ‘I’ve had a really good time,’ she lied. ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. It was a hectic day at work. You don’t mind, do you?’ She omitted to tell him that she’d taken the afternoon off, but there was no reason why he should ever find out. ‘You don’t need to come with me.’

  He seemed relieved that she wasn’t asking him to leave too. ‘Well, let me get you a cab at least.’

  ‘No, really, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty outside. ’ She stood on her toes and gave him a kiss. ‘You enjoy yourself. I’ll see you later.’

  As it happened, there wasn’t a taxi in sight when she stepped out into the crisp night air. She waited for a couple of minutes, but then decided to start walking towards Leicester Square. The longer she hung around, the colder she was going to get. Then, as she was turning the corner, she spotted a bus that was heading for Kellston. It had just pulled up at the stop and she had to do a teetering run in her high heels in order to catch it. Luckily, the driver wasn’t the type who waited until you were almost there before gleefully closing the doors and accelerating away.

  Iris thanked him for waiting, bought a ticket and found a free seat about halfway back. She was aware of a pervasive smell of alcohol coming from the other passengers, but there were no obvious drunks in evidence. The traffic, she thought, shouldn’t be too bad at this time of night. With luck she’d be home within half an hour. Maybe even less. She stared out of the window at the bright lights and the crowds. Even after a year she still hadn’t got used to the size of London. As a child she hadn’t been aware of its immensity; her little carefree world had revolved around the much quieter streets of Kellston.

  Once the bus had freed itself from the tangle of the West End, it sped along at a good pace. Iris, reviewing the evening, found herself pondering on the warning Sandra had given. Was the blonde really a threat? If so
, maybe she shouldn’t have left Luke alone. There was such a thing as asking for trouble - but then again there were such things as loyalty and trust. Luke might have his faults (who didn’t?), but infidelity, as far as she was aware, wasn’t one of them. She hadn’t been the easiest person to live with for the past six months, but all that was going to change. From now on, she was going to concentrate on what was important.

  Iris wondered what Michael was doing and whether he was still in the pub. The Dog and Duck kept long hours and didn’t usually close until well after midnight. Hopefully, Rick and Vita would still be there. She didn’t like to think of him celebrating his birthday without friends. Not that he didn’t have a wide circle of acquaintances - other than his compulsory absences at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, he had lived all his life in Kellston and seemed to know half the population. However, she wouldn’t trust many of them to see him safely home.

  And then she started thinking again about what Michael knew, or didn’t know, as regards what had happened to her father. Perhaps Vita was right about the reason he didn’t like to talk: her parents’ separation, and Sean’s subsequent disappearance, was clearly surrounded by more than her own personal pain and confusion. Sometimes the things that hurt most were the things that were hardest to talk about.

  Iris was still dwelling on this when she realised that she’d overshot her stop. Standing up, she rang the bell, but by the time the bus halted again she was at the south end of the High Street. Getting off, she looked around her. She was never normally down this way, but fortunately it wasn’t too far a walk back.