Nicola Barker - The Yips

The doors close.

‘Ma!’ he yells.

The doors open again. She stares out at him, her eyes glowing like embers.

‘You forget ya money.’

She doesn’t move, just continues to stare, unblinking.

The doors close again.

‘Holy shit,’ he mutters.

* * *

‘Say that again,’ Noel prompts her.

‘I’m tattooing Stuart Ransom.’

Noel sits down on the bottom stair, stunned.

‘Tonight,’ Valentine adds. ‘I’ve got a baby-sitter.’

‘You’re going out ?’ Noel is incredulous.

‘He didn’t want to come to the house.’

‘I wouldn’t let him in the house!’ Noel snorts.

Valentine is just about to offer a tart rejoinder about there not being a house for much longer when their mother emerges from the sitting room eating a bowlful of cold Ambrosia Creamed Rice.

‘Fuck off , Mum,’ Noel hisses. He gestures, dismissively.

She just stands and gazes at him, balefully, as she eats.

‘FUCK OFF , MUM!’ he yells, springing to his feet.

His mother shows him the finger and stalks away.

‘Don’t take it out on her!’ Valentine automatically leaps to her mother’s defence.

‘So all that bullshit about not being able to leave the house …’ Noel starts off.

‘I’ve been approached by a woman who thinks my work might be ready to exhibit,’ Valentine explains.

‘I’m always telling you that!’ Noel’s outraged.

‘She has contacts with this powerful London agent …’

‘Bully for you!’ Noel snaps. ‘But what the fuck does Stuart fucking Ransom have to do with all of this?’

‘She thinks it’d be good publicity.’

Noel just gawps at her.

‘I know it hasn’t worked out that way before …’ Valentine murmurs, almost ashamed.

‘Have you lost your mind?’ Noel whispers, awed. ‘After everything he’s put us through, Vee?’

Valentine just shakes her head.

‘She shakes her head!’ Noel laughs, playing to an imaginary crowd.

‘You both made that stupid deal with the insurance people, remember?’ Valentine admonishes him. ‘To keep it in the public eye — play on the original grudge — earn yourself kickbacks. You actively courted the publicity after Dad died. And it was all just pretend — a lie! You made a farce out of what happened!’

‘ He did that!’ Noel exclaims.

‘But you knew it was all just baloney — that it was high stakes — and you didn’t give a hoot. He just happened to play a better game than you did and that pissed you off. You began to forget what it was all really about — Mum — me — our family …’

‘He blackened my fucking name!’ Noel’s furious. ‘He twisted things! He made me look a twat! I was the victim, and he made me look a twat!’

‘ Mum was the victim!’ Valentine’s outraged. ‘Not you, not Dad …’

‘And now you’re going to tattoo him?’ Noel holds up his hands, incredulous.

‘I just want …’ Valentine starts off.

‘You’re gonna regret this.’ Noel shoves past her and heads down the hallway. He slams into the kitchen and tries to turn on the light. It won’t turn on. He swears and strides back out into the hallway again. He tries another light switch — still nothing.

‘When did the electricity go off?’ He pushes past Valentine and yanks open the little cupboard that houses the meter. The meter — which is now leaning, at an unsteady angle, half inside the small safe it once obscured — threatens to tip out. He grabs it, expostulating.

‘What the fuck happened here? Where’s all Dad’s stuff gone?’

‘The meter fell off,’ Valentine explains, uneasy now, ‘so I took the stuff out and I …’

He slams the cupboard door shut.

‘Where is it?’ he asks.

‘Burned.’

Noel just gazes at her.

‘I burned it,’ Valentine repeats, ‘outside. In the incinerator.’

‘You burned Dad’s collection?’

Noel leans back against the wall, stunned.

‘After I found the letter,’ Valentine adds.

‘Letter?’ Noel mumbles.

‘From the bank. Saying they’re going to sell the house. This house,’ she adds, ‘our home .’

‘I can’t believe you burned them.’ Noel stares at her, mesmerized.

‘We should’ve done it years ago,’ Valentine maintains. ‘It was stupid to try and sell them. If the wrong person got wind of it the publicity would destroy everything I’ve …’ — she falters — ‘… we’ve worked so hard to …’

‘You think you’re some kind of a saint!’ Noel laughs. ‘I swear to God you think you’re some kind of a fucking —’

‘The meter fell out of the wall!’ Valentine yells. ‘It nearly broke this woman’s leg! She saw all the boxes! She was holding the wallet in her hand !’

‘You’re insane.’ Noel shakes his head, disgusted.

‘If you’d sold them …’ Valentine persists.

‘I wasn’t going to sell them!’ Noel slaps his palm against the wall, barely controlling his anger. ‘I was never going to sell them, you fucking idiot!’

‘Then why keep them hidden here all this time?’ Valentine demands. ‘And lie about it on top?’

Noel sits down on the stairs again, lounges back on to his elbow and smilingly appraises his sister.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asks, spooked.

‘You don’t think very much of me, do you?’ Noel grins. ‘Same as Dad. You’re exactly the same as he was. You think I’m a fucking retard — a failure, a loser.’

‘That’s rubbish!’ Valentine’s outraged.

‘Oh yeah, but Valentine’s the good one — the arty one, the clever one. Valentine’s Daddy’s little angel — the great, fucking tattoo artist. The big, fucking party girl who suddenly decides — when everyone needs her the most — to just lock herself away! So vulnerable! So sensitive! Poor, little Valentine — playing the victim, same as always. And me? Eh? Who am I? Just the fuck-up, the block-head, the flunky, the errand boy who can’t ever do anything fucking right !’

‘You said you’d get rid of them!’ Valentine’s still indignant.

‘I’ve just spent the best part of two years — two years ! — negotiating a deal with a holocaust museum.’

‘Straight after he died,’ she continues, ignoring him, ‘you promised!’

‘I just negotiated a deal ,’ Noel repeats, losing his temper again, ‘to donate them to a fucking museum , you fucking half-wit !’

Valentine just stares at him.

‘Did you hear me?’ he asks, quieter now.

‘I heard you.’ Valentine nods.

‘I can’t believe you fucking burned them!’ Noel exclaims.

‘Which museum?’ Valentine demands.

‘What does it matter which museum?! You fucking burned them!’

‘You should’ve told me,’ Valentine murmurs. ‘How was I expected to know?’

‘This was my way of making things right,’ Noel hisses. ‘This was my moment — my way of making things sit better. But now you’ve gone and stuck your fucking oar in and you’ve ruined it, same as you always do!’

He stands up and quickly darts forwards (she instinctively flinches) then just politely sidesteps her, with a tired, dry laugh.

‘If I wasn’t bumping I’d’ve fucking killed you for this,’ he whispers, then offers her a limp-fingered, bittersweet salute and quietly leaves the house.

* * *

Vicki is standing with Jen by the boot of the Kia. Vicki is handing her some money. Jen is looking confused.