by Roberta Kray
‘And then?’ Iris said, her curiosity roused.
‘Well, eventually the son tracked him down, living rough near Kellston Station. That was about three months ago. And that’s where it all gets even odder. He said his father was perfectly coherent, if not entirely clean, but that he made him promise not to tell his mother where he was. Connor swore he’d disappear forever if he broke his word or if anyone else came sniffing round.’ William paused, reflecting perhaps on his own recent difficulties. ‘Maybe it was some kind of breakdown.’
‘And the son agreed to keep quiet?’
‘Yes. The two of them were close and he made the decision, rightly or wrongly, to do as his father asked. He was hoping he could talk him round, persuade him to get some help if nothing else. He wanted to tell his mother, of course he did, but he knew she’d be on the next flight over. So instead he went to see him every day, took him food and blankets, and tried to find out what was going on. And then one morning he arrived and he wasn’t there. He asked around and eventually discovered that his father had died the night before. Apparently it was a heart attack. There were no suspicious circumstances.’
Whilst William had been relating the story, Iris had started to experience one of those weird tingling sensations on the back of her neck. She knew it was ridiculous, but the story was beginning to echo parts of her own past. ‘So why all the fuss about where he was going to be buried?’
William gave a sigh. ‘It was something his father told him. During one of their conversations, Connor Hills had said that he wanted to die in Kellston, to be buried here. He was quite insistent.’
‘Did he explain why?’
‘Not exactly. He just said that this was where he belonged, that he should never have left.’
‘How old is he? The son?’
‘I’m not sure. About nineteen, I think.’
Iris frowned. ‘So how can he afford a lawyer at that age? He must have been racking up the legal fees over the past few weeks. You said he was a student, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but he doesn’t seem to have any money worries. Mr Hills, it appears, left him well provided for.’
Iris thought about the cash Sean had taken from Terry Street’s house. Michael had said it was only a few thousand, but had he been telling the truth? Maybe it had been a lot more than that. Enough perhaps for Sean to change his identity, set himself up in a nice little business in Ireland . . . and leave his kids a tidy inheritance.
‘What does he look like?’ Iris said. ‘The father, I mean.’
William tilted his head to one side. ‘Look like?’
Iris realised how odd the question must have sounded and quickly tried to come up with a rational explanation for it. ‘It is an interesting story. I was just wondering if I’d ever seen him at Kellston Station.’
‘Sorry, it was Gerald who made all the original arrangements.’
Iris nodded as if it didn’t really matter. What were the odds of Connor Hills and Sean O’Donnell being one and the same? Pretty slight. And if Sean had come back, surely he would have got in touch with Michael. Although with Michael’s track record on straight-talking, there was no saying that he hadn’t. There was only one way of finding out for sure. She could go downstairs and ask Alice to show her the body. No sooner had the thought entered her head than Iris instantly dismissed it. She was only being fanciful. This was just another sad story in a city full of private sorrows.
‘Are you all right?’ William said.
Iris forced a smile. ‘Yes, yes I’m okay. I was just thinking about all these lives that are going on around us, and how little we know about them all. So how did you manage to get the son to change his mind?’
‘I’m not sure if it was down to me. I simply mentioned that whatever was driving his father was connected to the past - and that sometimes, if you can’t let go, the past can destroy you. And the people around you too.’
That he was talking from personal experience, Iris had no doubt at all. She kept quiet while he continued.
‘I asked him to think very hard about the consequences of what he was doing, about how it would affect his mother. I also asked him to consider the fact that his father was clearly unwell when he was talking about where he wanted to be buried. And that if he’d been in his normal state of mind, would Connor really have wanted to inflict that kind of pain on his wife? Wouldn’t it mean that in some ways he was turning his back on the life they’d shared together?’ He gave a shrug of his shoulders. ‘I just asked the questions and left him to work out the answers.’
‘And do you think he made the right decision?’
William didn’t immediately answer. ‘For her, yes. For himself? I don’t know. I suspect he’s always going to feel guilty about not carrying out his father’s wishes.’
Iris thought of all the secrets and lies that had dominated her own life. Could she ever bring herself to forgive her mother? At the moment her feelings were still too raw, too painful, to even begin to make steps in that direction. ‘I wonder what it was all about, what it was that drew him back to Kellston.’
‘That’s something we’ll never know.’
‘I’m glad it’s sorted,’ Iris said.
‘So am I. It’s for the best. Although I don’t think Gerald’s quite as convinced. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but he wasn’t exactly overjoyed at my intervention. For as long as the dispute continued, the bill for keeping the body here was steadily mounting. I’ve probably cost him a small fortune. Still, I understand how he feels; these are tricky times and everyone’s feeling the pinch.’
‘Maybe you’re in the wrong job,’ Iris said.
William shifted, glanced down at the floor and looked up at Iris again. ‘Now you mention it, I’ve finally made a decision on that front. I’ve decided to join Mr Hills.’
‘What?’
‘Oh,’ he laughed, ‘not on the burial side of things. I’m not quite that depressed, but I’ve decided to leave Tobias Grand & Sons, to make a fresh start. He’s being flown over to Ireland next week and when he goes - well, I’ve decided to go there too.’
‘To Ireland?’
‘What’s wrong with Ireland?’
‘Nothing,’ Iris said. ‘But there are countries where it doesn’t rain quite so much. Spain, Portugal, Italy?’ She was trying to keep her tone light, but her heart was sinking. This place wouldn’t be the same without William. She’d grown used to having him around, to having someone to talk to. In fact she wasn’t even sure if she’d want to stay in the job if he wasn’t here. Gerald wasn’t exactly her biggest fan and Toby only came in when he felt like it.
‘I’ve got friends living there. I’m not saying I’ll stay forever, but I think it’s time to move on.’
‘I see,’ Iris said. If there was any way she could have made an escape from Kellston, she would have grasped it with both hands, but that was hardly possible - at least in the short term - with Guy’s business being here. ‘Well, good luck. I hope it all works out for you.’
William got up from the desk. ‘Thank you. Anyway, I’d better get on.’ He was halfway to his office when he glanced over his shoulder and said casually, ‘So you and Guy Wilder. You’re . . . ?’
‘Yes, we’re together.’ She recalled Toby suggesting that William had feelings for her. She still wasn’t sure if it was true or not.
William hesitated as if he might be about to say more, but didn’t. He gave her an odd look, went back into his office and closed the door.
It was getting on for twelve when Iris’s mobile started to judder across the desk. Gerald didn’t like his staff taking private calls during work hours, so she usually kept the phone on silent. Glancing quickly back along the corridor - Gerald was in the middle of some funeral arrangements - she quickly snatched up the mobile and checked the caller. It was Vita. They hadn’t talked since Michael’s wake and Iris didn’t know if she’d heard about the altercation with Terry Street.
‘Hi,’ Vita said.
‘Hi, it’s good to hear from you.’
But Vita didn’t seem in the mood for niceties. ‘Look, can we meet up? It’s important. Can you get to Connolly’s?’
‘Of course. What’s it about? Is it—’
‘I’ll be waiting for you,’ Vita said abruptly and hung up.
Chapter Sixty
Fifteen minutes later, having arranged an early lunch break, Iris slid into the seat by the window. Vita Howard was hunched over the table, absent-mindedly stirring a small cup of espresso. Iris was reminded of her mother’s distraction a few days earlier and felt her heart sink; whatever was coming next was serious and in her present frame of mind, she wasn’t sure if she could cope with more bad news.
Vita looked up and gave a curt nod. Her normally open face was tight and there were worry lines on her forehead. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘It sounded urgent.’
‘It is.’
They were immediately interrupted by the waitress. Iris ordered a cappuccino and then turned back to Vita. A few seconds passed. Vita continued to fiddle with the spoon. Eventually she lifted the cup to her lips, but then abruptly put it down again.
‘It’s about Rick and that six hundred quid.’
Iris felt the colour rise in her cheeks. Why had she spoken so impulsively that night at Lemon Road? She would regret it for the rest of her life.
‘You were wrong,’ Vita said, ‘about where he got it from.’
‘I should never have said those things. I’m sorry. I should have—’
‘But you weren’t wrong about him.’ Vita bit down on her lip and her face twisted. ‘It seems I’m married to a man I don’t even know.’
Iris stared at her, startled. ‘What?’
‘There I was defending him against all your wild accusations, believing that my husband had certain moral boundaries, had a few principles at least, when all the time . . .’ She stopped and gave a soft, bitter laugh. ‘You’d better prepare yourself for what I’m about to tell you next.’
Iris’s first thought was that Rick had been cheating on her. It would account for the expression in her eyes, that mixture of disgust and betrayal. Iris recognised that look - she had seen it herself when she glanced in the mirror. Before Vita had a chance to continue, the waitress reappeared with the coffee.
‘Thank you,’ Iris said.
There was a moment of silence as the woman walked away. The lunchtime rush was only just beginning and the tables either side of them were still unoccupied. Vita cleared her throat. Despite their relative isolation, she kept her voice low as she began to recite the story that Rick had told her the day of Michael’s wake. Usually so articulate, Vita stumbled over the words, stopping and starting, her lips clearly reluctant to relay the horror of what she had learnt.
When she got to the end, Iris vehemently shook her head. Her thoughts were reeling and her first response was denial. ‘No, not Alice. That can’t be true. No way! She wouldn’t.’
‘Yeah, well, I never thought Rick was a blackmailer.’
But Iris still had trouble in believing that Alice would have colluded in such a monstrosity. Allowing Danny Street to . . . It was too vile, too revolting. No, it went beyond that: it was inhuman, the breaking of the final taboo. ‘She isn’t like that. And there’s nothing going on between her and Toby.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course. She doesn’t even like him. It’s ridiculous!’ But then Iris frowned as she remembered the remark Toby had made about the ancient Egyptian embalmers - and the way Alice had reacted to it. Gradually, a string of doubt began to coil around her trust in Alice Avery. She recalled those times when Alice had tried to talk to her. What was it she’d said? Have you ever done something . . . And then there was the new hairdo, the make-up, the diet, all the awkwardness around Toby that Iris had put down to embarrassment, to the fear of being teased. Even William had remarked on the oddness of her behaviour, but she had brushed his concerns aside.
‘People do all kinds of crazy things for love,’ Vita said.
‘But not that. No decent person could ever allow that.’ And yet Iris wasn’t certain if she believed her own protestations. Danny Street was capable of anything, and there was a vulnerability about Alice, a kind of innocence that left her open to the exploitation of others - even her own mother ran rings around her. Maybe Toby had somehow managed to persuade her, or bully her, into going along with it all. With his idle lifestyle, his clubs and his girls, he was always desperate for cash. And he had the moral values of an alley cat. But that was still a long step away from taking money for . . . ‘Look, perhaps Toby was telling the truth about buying the drugs. I’ve known him high as a kite on more than one occasion. He wouldn’t have wanted Gerald to know about it.’
Vita gave a sigh. ‘Twelve hundred quid to keep quiet about a few lines of coke? I don’t think so. And why do the deal at Tobias Grand & Sons? Why take that risk? You could do it on any street corner.’
Iris stared down into her coffee. Vita was right. And hadn’t she seen Toby’s green Toyota parked outside work that Sunday she’d gone round to see Michael? And hadn’t Toby denied being anywhere near the building when she’d talked to him the next day? ‘So what do we do?’ she said. ‘It’s not as though we’ve got any actual proof.’
Vita hoisted her handbag on to the table, unzipped it and took out a yellow padded envelope. ‘I want you to give this to Toby Grand.’
‘What is it?’
‘The twelve hundred quid that Rick and Michael took from him.’
‘I can’t just hand it over to him.’
‘Of course you can. Tell him it was dropped off by a courier or . . . I don’t know, some stranger who came through the door. It’s not going to change what Rick did - nothing will ever do that - but at least it makes me feel less guilty. I’ve got no idea what happened to Michael’s share, but I imagine most of it’s sitting in the till at the Dog and Duck.’
Iris could understand her desire to return the cash. ‘I’ll give you Michael’s half,’ she said quickly. ‘There’s no reason why you should pay back all of it. But then what? I mean, this could still be going on. And even if it isn’t, we have to do something about it.’
Vita glanced away, unable or perhaps unwilling to meet her eyes. ‘I have done something. I’ve given back the money. If Toby Grand’s got any sense, he’ll realise he’s in trouble. If the deal with Rick no longer stands, he’s going to be worried. It should make him think twice about doing it again.’
Iris looked at her.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Vita said, ‘and I find all this as disgusting as you, but there’s nothing I can do to change what’s already happened. If we go to the cops, tell them what we think has gone on - and don’t forget we haven’t got any actual evidence - then what chance is there of actually getting a conviction? And if by some miracle we do, Rick might end up in jail again. And despite how I feel about him at the moment, I just can’t go there. I can’t be responsible for that.’
‘But what about Danny Street,’ Iris said. ‘What about Toby? They can’t be allowed to get away with it.’
‘That’s up to you.’
‘Me?’
‘I don’t mean the cops,’ Vita said, ‘but you could talk to William Grand, have a quiet word. You get on with him, don’t you? You could tell him what’s been happening and try to put a stop to it.’
Iris couldn’t even imagine how that conversation might go. ‘I can’t start accusing Toby of something like that with nothing to back it up. It’s going to be his word against mine and who the hell is going to believe me? Toby’s going to deny it. Alice is going to deny it. I’m going to end up sounding like some deranged fantasist.’
‘I suppose,’ Vita said. ‘And that’s the problem. There really isn’t any proof.’
And suddenly Iris realised that doing nothing was exactly what Vita wanted. She might not like what Rick had got involved in, but she was prepared to brush it under the carpet if
she had to. ‘But we can’t just let it go. It’s too . . . it’s too . . .’
‘Gross?’ Vita suggested.
Iris stared at her. ‘Just because you’re giving the money back, doesn’t mean it’s over. It doesn’t mean it’s going to stop either.’
‘No,’ Vita said.
‘At Tobias Grand & Sons perhaps, but what if it carries on somewhere else?’
Vita ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Do you think Danny Street would ever let this get to a courtroom? If he even suspects we’re on to him, our lives aren’t going to be worth living. I don’t want to let it go, but he’s worse than mad, Iris. He’s capable of anything.’
And suddenly Iris thought about who Danny Street really was. He was Terry’s son. And that meant he was her half-brother. A wave of nausea rolled up from her stomach. That she was actually related to him made her lower her head in shame. Vita still didn’t know the truth about who her father really was. Should she tell her? No, she couldn’t. Not today, at least. There was too much else to deal with.
Vita briefly put her hand on Iris’s arm. ‘I’m sorry. I know this is the last thing you need at the moment.’ She pushed the envelope across the table. ‘So will you give it to him?’