Nicola Barker - The Yips

Valentine goes over to check her hair and make-up in one of the several, circular wall mirrors. She looks hubcap-ugly. She winces. As she does so she hears the clank of the front gate. Milah hears it too and turns towards her, tensing.

‘That’ll be my brother.’ Valentine gestures, distractedly, towards the sofa and the tea-tray. ‘I should probably …’

She darts into the hallway as her brother comes falling — almost headfirst — through the door.

‘Where’ve you been?’ she stage-whispers, grabbing his arm, expertly, with one hand, while shielding the jardinière with her other. ‘I had to send Nessa to daycare in a cab.’

‘Keep your hair on!’ Noel mumbles, straightening himself up, snatching his arm away, then inspecting his dishevelled sister with an unapologetic smirk (plainly drunk — or stoned — or both).

Valentine grabs him by the arm again and escorts him (past the sitting room) into the relative privacy of the studio.

‘I found the whip,’ she rounds on him as soon as the door is shut, ‘and the wallet.’ She shudders. ‘You swore you’d got rid of them.’

Noel appraises her, dopily.

‘You swore you’d got rid of them!’ Valentine persists. ‘The guy who read the meter …’

‘Ransom’s little sneak!’ Noel snorts, infuriated. ‘I thought you said it was all sorted?’

‘It was,’ she insists, ‘but then he came back again later and the stupid thing just went haywire … I was upstairs with Mum. I swear to God I had no idea …’

Noel just shrugs.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me about it the other day?’ she demands, incredulous. ‘Warn me, at the very least?’

‘You said it was all sorted!’ Noel repeats, almost indignant.

‘Well it wasn’t. And now it’s just this great, big, ugly mess …’

Valentine looks to Noel for some kind of useful response, but Noel just shrugs again, drunkenly.

‘D’you want us to get sued by the electricity board?’ she exclaims, astonished by his apparent indifference. ‘Or worse? Prosecuted by the police?’

‘That was Dad’s special, little hidey-hole,’ Noel grumbles. ‘I had nothing to do with it. Why’s it my problem all of a sudden?’

‘Because you’re the man of the house now’ — Valentine’s utterly exasperated — ‘and because you swore you’d get rid of the bloody stuff! I trusted you! I thought you’d dumped it or buried it — you promised me, Noel!’

‘I’ve had other shit to deal with!’ Noel growls.

‘Oh yeah?’ Valentine’s not buying it.

‘ Yeah! ’ Noel insists.

‘But this is really important .’ Valentine tries her best to reason with him. ‘And you promised me,’ she repeats, limply.

Noel appears signally unmoved by this more measured approach.

‘And I was dumb enough to trust you!’ Valentine rapidly loses her cool again. ‘God, what a bloody idiot I’ve been! Now we’re in all kinds of trouble.’

She puts a hand up to her throat. Her lower lip starts to wobble.

‘I said I’ll deal with it and I will!’ Noel stolidly maintains, observing the warning signs (even through the bleary filter of dope and booze). ‘But this shit takes time, Vee.’ He burps, loudly, mid-sentence. ‘It’s a delicate transaction.’

‘You said you’d trash it. Destroy it all.’

Valentine’s shocked to discover that her brother has other plans.

‘Changed my mind.’ Noel shrugs.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means I changed my mind,’ Noel snorts, ‘what else?’

‘Well if you won’t take care of it then I’ll handle it myself!’ Valentine turns, abruptly, towards the door.

‘No you fucking won’t!’ Noel roughly grabs her arm.

‘I can’t speak to you when you’re like this!’ Valentine shakes him off. ‘I can’t believe that stuff’s still in the house! It makes me sick to my stomach even thinking about it!’

‘I said I’d sort it out, okay?’

Noel’s patience is starting to wear thin.

‘What if he gets in contact with the police?’ she demands.

‘Who?’

‘Gene.’

‘ Who? ’

‘The meter guy.’

‘We’ve not done anything illegal.’ Noel shrugs. ‘The stuff was Dad’s …’

‘But the meter’s the property of the electricity board.’

‘Big fucking deal! We just plead ignorance …’

‘And what about the business?’ Valentine persists. ‘I’ve only just started getting things back on track. What’ll happen if this gets out? Everything’ll be ruined!’

‘I’ll move the stuff!’ Noel’s exasperated. ‘Stop freaking out! It’ll be fine .’

‘I’ve got an appointment at twelve, Noel.’ Valentine’s almost in tears. Her nerve rash is flaring up. ‘How the hell am I expected to concentrate when I’m feeling so stressed?’

‘Uh … Oh yeah — the appointment.’ Noel looks shifty. ‘I think he might’ve cancelled. His kid’s got flu or something … pneumonia … measles …’

Noel takes out his phone and starts scrolling through his texts.

‘Cancelled?’ Valentine’s aggrieved. ‘When did this happen?’

‘I dunno … Yesterday … Tuesday … He sent an email, then he confirmed by …’

‘Did he reschedule?’

Noel continues searching.

Valentine goes over to an old Apple Mac and printer which are perched on a white, plastic table in the corner of the room (alongside a photocopying machine and a large, metal cabinet full of inks, paper towels, salves, gloves and disinfectants). ‘I’ve been up since four this morning finalizing the bloody artwork.’

She turns on the computer and accesses her messages, searching for the relevant contact details. As she does so, the computer chimes to indicate the arrival of new mail.

‘Next month,’ Noel finally pipes up, reading from his phone. ‘He can do the last two weekends in August, or — failing that — it’ll have to be Christmas. He says he can’t book any more time off work till then.’

Valentine doesn’t respond. She’s reading the new email wearing a look of confusion — bordering on panic.

‘What’s wrong?’ Noel demands.

Valentine turns. ‘Nothing.’ She obstructs the screen with her body. ‘I’m just pissed off you didn’t bother telling me, that’s all.’

‘Isn’t Kafir coming this morning?’ Noel rapidly changes the subject.

‘Karim. He’s upstairs with Mum. His wife’s in the sitting room. She was feeling dodgy after some heavy dental work.’

‘Good-good.’

Noel nods. He looks down at his phone.

‘She’s in all her robes and what-not.’

Noel doesn’t respond.

‘In fact I’m not sure how happy she is about —’ Valentine starts off.

‘ Fuck …’ Noel interrupts, glancing up, then back down. ‘Gotta dash, kiddo.’ He shoves his phone into his pocket and strides over to the sink in the corner of the room.

‘Please don’t mess up the sink!’ Valentine’s irritated. ‘It’s meant to be kept sterile.’

Noel ignores her, bending over the basin, turning on the cold tap and splashing water over his face and neck.

‘So you’re definitely going to move the stuff?’ Valentine simply can’t let it lie.

‘Yup.’

‘When? Soon?’

‘Soon as.’

He grabs a white towel (from a nearby rack), dries himself with it, tosses it, carelessly, behind the taps, dashes over to Valentine, gives her a noisy kiss on the cheek, then leaves the room. She wipes away the kiss with her palm as she listens to him ransacking the kitchen cupboards for crisps and biscuits before going for a quick pee in the downstairs toilet and dashing straight back out again.