by Roberta Kray
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 m
iscarriage 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.’
Chapter Thirty-six
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.
It was several hours since dinner and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d talked so much. She had told him things about her life that she hadn’t even discussed with Luke or Vita. Lifting her glass, she peered over the rim. ‘How on earth do you do that?’ she said, smiling. ‘How do you get people to tell you all their darkest secrets?’
He grinned back at her. ‘Ah, now that could be my incredible empathy with the female sex or . . .’ He glanced towards the empty bottle on the coffee table. ‘It might just be down to the amount of wine we’ve drunk.’
‘I suspect that’s a tactful way of saying I’ve been boring you to death.’
‘You haven’t been the slightest bit boring.’
Iris hoped that was true. She liked Guy Wilder and didn’t want to be remembered as his most tedious dinner guest ever. ‘Well, I’m going to shut up now. I’ve been droning on about myself all night. Let’s talk about you. How did you come to own the bar for starters?’
But instead of answering her directly, Guy looked at his watch. ‘It’s a long story,’ he said, ‘and it’s getting late. Perhaps we should save that for another night.’
Iris could take a hint when she heard it. Appalled by the thought that she’d outstayed her welcome, she jumped to her feet. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise the time. I should get going.’
‘Hey, where’s the fire?’ he said.
But Iris was already struggling into her coat. Best to make her escape whilst she still had some dignity remaining. Anyway, if she didn’t call Vita soon she might not have a bed for the night. There was no way she was returning to Silverstone Heights; the very idea made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
‘I wasn’t suggesting you left,’ he said. ‘In fact, the very opposite. You’re more than welcome to stay here.’
‘Stay here?’ she repeated, staring at him.
‘You’ve got that look on your face again,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. I may have been lying about not plying you with booze, but the other part was true. I’m not going to try and take advantage. You can have my room and I’ll sleep on the sofa.’
‘I couldn’t do that.’ In case he thought she was turning down the offer - and that wasn’t her intention, she felt safe here, safe and secure - Iris quickly added, ‘I mean, you’ve already done enough for me. I can’t kick you out of your own bed as well. I can take the sofa. I’ll be fine.’
Guy shook his head. ‘I think after what you’ve been through today you need a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. Come on. Please stay. No strings attached, I promise. Then tomorrow morning, I’ll come with you to the flat. You can pick up clean clothes and I can make sure there are no unsavoury characters hanging around.’
‘Are you sure?’ Iris said.
‘You want to argue some more?’
Iris smiled. ‘No, I’m prepared to give in gracefully. And thanks, I really appreciate it.’
‘No problem.’ He stood up and stretched his arms. ‘Look, I need to go and check that everything’s okay in the bar. I won’t be long.’
As he headed downstairs, Iris took off her coat, picked up her bag and went over to the window. Guy had pulled the curtains across and she shifted one corner aside. It was quiet now outside with only the occasional person passing by. She took her phone from her bag and turned it on. There was a series of beeps. She frowned as she saw the message saying she had three missed calls. They were all from Luke and the last one was only ten minutes ago.
As she went to ring him back she paused, wondering what to say. If he’d called her mobile, he’d probably called the flat as well and would know she wasn’t there. Was it safe to tell him she was at Vita’s? Perhaps he’d tried there too. For a second she leaned her forehead against the coolness of glass. Her life was too full of secrets and lies. But now, when she was less than sober - and planning on staying the night in another man’s flat - was probably not the moment to start trying to change things.
Luke’s phone rang over six times before he eventually picked up. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said, the irritation clear in his voice. ‘At last. Where are you? Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get you all night.’
Iris winced and stared out of the window. ‘Sorry about that. I had my phone turned off.’ The lie that followed slipped instantly out of her mouth. ‘I’ve been for a drink with Alice.’
‘Alice?’ he said.
‘Yes, you know Alice. She works at Tobias Grand & Sons.’ Luke didn’t actually know her at all - he’d barely been near the place since she’d started work there three months ago - but she had mentioned the name occasionally. She felt bad about lying to him, but couldn’t see what else to do. The truth was too complicated and, on the surface, a little too compromising.
‘Oh, right,’ he said.
Then, before he could pursue the dubious matter of her whereabouts, she quickly said: ‘So how are you? How’s it going? Have you got those contracts signed yet?’
There was a brief silence.
Perhaps the connection had been cut. Iris pressed the phone closer to her ear. ‘Luke? Are you still there?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Hold on a sec.’
Iris could hear murmurings in the background - a woman’s voice was saying something, something she couldn’t quite make out.
Then Luke came back on the line and began to speak again. ‘I just wanted to . . . I think we need to . . . erm . . . talk.’
‘Talk?’ Iris repeated blankly.
‘For God’s sake,’ the female voice said clearly. ‘There’s no need to drag it out. Just tell her.’
Iris felt a jolt in her stomach. Just tell her. It didn’t take a genius to figure what was coming next. The jolt was followed by a slow sinking sensation. ‘Luke?’
‘I was thinking it might be . . . might be better,’ he said, ‘if we took a break for a while. I’m sorry, but you know how it’s been, babe. I mean . . . well, you know . . . we’ve not exactly . . .’
His excuses petered out into the ether. Iris could hear his embarrassment, or was it shame? Even though it was not completely unexpected, she still felt shocked. ‘You’re with someone else,’ she murmured.
Luke didn’t deny it, although she was sure that he would have tried if the fragrant Jasmine hadn’t been standing at his shoulder. ‘That’s not why,’ he blustered, attempting to justify himself. ‘Even if I hadn’t . . . I mean, it’s not been working, has it? You know it hasn’t. We’ve . . . er . . . grown apart. We both want different things.’
And Iris knew exactly what he wanted - a young, ambitious, fun-loving blonde with sexy curves and no emotional hang-ups. No complications. She scowled at her own stupidity. She should have taken more notice of that savvy woman at the party, the one who had warned her about the dangers of all the scheming bitches who worked at Rufus Rigby. Not to mention the fact that she’d failed to follow her own instincts. Hadn’t she had her suspicions? Yes, but she’d pushed them aside, too distracted by what had been happening recently.
Luke cleared his throat. ‘Iris? Are you all right?’
