The Yips. Nicola Barker

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СКАЧАТЬ hell of a turnaround,’ Noel murmurs (cheerfully ignoring the fact that he’d promised, faithfully, to transport her himself). ‘Was she happy with the end result?’

      ‘I dunno … Yeah’ – Valentine nods – ‘so far as I could tell. She was shy. Her English wasn’t great, but she cried when she saw it in the mirror.’

      Pause.

      ‘Did she pay in cash?’

      Her brother tries to appear disinterested.

      ‘By cheque …’

      Valentine starts to remove Nessa’s other shoe.

      ‘I thought we had a strict rule about that,’ Noel grumbles.

      ‘We do …’

      Longer pause.

      ‘… but she needed some of the cash she’d put aside to pay for her ride to the airport.’

      Noel turns to glower at his mother again (who is now banging along in time to her ditty on the wooden banister).

      ‘So how’d it look?’ he demands, turning back to face her.

      ‘Fine. Nice. Good. Although I was so knackered by the end of it that I could hardly …’

      ‘But she was happy?’ he repeats.

      ‘Yeah. So far as I could tell. The skin was incredibly delicate – unusually delicate. I really had to hammer away at it.’

      ‘Did you get a photo?’ Noel demands.

      ‘For my portfolio?’ Valentine asks, fixing him with a dry look.

      ‘Why else?’ He shrugs, grinning.

      ‘Why else,’ she echoes, smiling back.

      ‘So did you?’ he persists.

      ‘Nope.’ Valentine shakes her head. ‘It was difficult to get her to trust me and relax. I mean after all the fuss at the hotel …’

      Noel raises a tentative hand to his throat.

      ‘And – like I said – her English wasn’t all that great. She was really stressing out about making her flight in time. She’d lied to her husband about taking the trip. She’d told him she was visiting her sister in Osaka. She didn’t want him getting suspicious. She was planning to surprise him for their anniversary …’ Valentine pauses for a second, cradling Nessa’s tiny shoe in her hand. ‘Then, just when I was about to take the plunge and ask her, this guy turned up to read the meter and walked in on us by mistake –’

      ‘Hang on a second,’ Noel interrupts, alarmed. ‘Which guy? Not the hotel guy?’

      ‘Hotel guy?’ Valentine echoes, confused.

      ‘He said he’d come to read the meter?!’

      Noel snorts, derisively.

      ‘The hotel guy?’ Valentine repeats. ‘Which hotel guy?’

      ‘To read the meter?!’ Noel rolls his eyes. ‘Are you having me on?’

      ‘No.’ Valentine shakes her head, defensively, then she pauses. ‘Although …’

      She glances over towards the meter, frowning. ‘I’m not sure if he actually got around to …’

      ‘And you thought he was credible?’ Noel demands.

      ‘Credible?’ Valentine’s starting to look paranoid. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

      ‘Did he have all the official documentation and shit?’

      ‘Documentation?!’ Valentine exclaims, almost irritated. ‘He came to read the meter, Noel. He was perfectly nice and polite and professional …’

      ‘So you saw his badge?’ Noel jumps in.

      ‘His badge?’

      ‘You checked his badge?’

      ‘Yes. Yes. I saw his badge.’ She flaps a hand at him, dismissively. ‘I checked his badge. Of course I did. I’m not a complete idiot. He had a clipboard and this tiny –’

      ‘Although an impostor could forge a badge, easily enough,’ Noel reasons.

      ‘You think an impostor would have a tiny torch?!’ Valentine’s almost deriding him, now. ‘And a special, little mirror inside an old powder compact?’

      ‘Yeah. Sure. Why not?’ Noel bristles.

      ‘Well he wasn’t an impostor, Noel.’ She scowls. ‘He was just some guy. And if you’d come home on time, like you promised …’

      Noel glares at her, balefully.

      She rubs at her eyes, exhausted, as the child coyly whispers something into her ear.

      ‘Nessa needs the toilet,’ she murmurs. ‘Would you mind taking her up while I get started on some sandwiches?’

      ‘Can’t she use the potty down here?’ Noel groans.

      ‘Absolutely not!’

      Her voice is suddenly implacable. ‘We’re trying to encourage her into a set routine, remember?’

      Noel gazes down at the child, malevolently. Nessa grips on to her genitals, twists her legs together and grimaces.

      ‘I’ve got a headache,’ he mutters, thickly, ‘and I feel like shit.’

      ‘You’ve got a hangover, Noel,’ Valentine corrects him, almost tenderly, ‘and an extremely beautiful and brilliant two-year-old daughter’ – she pushes the child forward, very gently – ‘who really, really needs to do a wee.’

      

      ‘John Daly?’

      Stanislav battles to place him, mentally: ‘Isn’t he that fat, alcoholic red-neck with the weird, pudding-bowl haircut?’

      Ransom turns and inspects the boy with a haughty, almost pitying eye. ‘When I was a kid your age,’ he tells him, ‘there was only one golfer I ever gave a damn about. No one else even came close. The others weren’t fit to lick his shoes. He was a god in human form – a golfing deity. He single-handedly re-wrote the game’s rule book. D’you know who I’m talking about?’

      Stan shrugs. ‘Faldo?’

      ‘Faldo? Faldo?!’ Ransom’s horrorstruck. ‘Are you swinging on my dick?! It was Seve, you fuckin’ dipstick! Seve! Seve Ballesteros! It’s like …’ Ransom frowns. ‘One of the defining moments in my life was the birth of my daughter, Chelsea – four years ago, in Santa Barbara – but I can honestly say – with no word of a lie – that the defining moment – and I mean the defining moment – was watching Seve sink that final putt in СКАЧАТЬ