Valentine turns, surprised. She gazes at the small child.
Wheres your nightie, Nessa? she asks.
Whats rehob?
Rehob? Valentine echoes.
Is Grandad gone to rehob? the little girl wonders.
How did you get down here? Valentine tuts, gazing out into the hallway. You should be in bed.
The little girl just stares at her.
No, Valentine eventually answers, Grandad is in heaven. Mummy is in in rehab.
She pauses. Mummy will come home soon, but Grandad
She frowns.
The little girl stares at her, blankly. Valentine takes the sandalwood beads and hangs them around the childs neck.
Beautiful! She smiles, then claps the childs hands together. Hurray!
The little girl peers down at the beads.
So who told you about rehab? Valentine wonders.
The little girl continues to inspect the beads.
Was it one of the big boys at Aunty Sashas?
The little girl doesnt answer.
Valentine sighs then turns, picks up the candle from the shrine and offers it to her.
Would you like to blow the candle out?
The little girl nods.
Okay, then. Deep breath, Valentine instructs her. Deep, deep breath.
The child leans forward and exhales, as hard as she possibly can, but the flame just flattens like a canny boxer avoiding a serious body blow then gamely straightens up again.
Although plainly startled and not a little annoyed by Noels boorish behaviour, Ransom tries his best to disguise his irritation. Youve lost weight, he mutters, appraising him, almost tenderly.
Noel has long, curly black hair, pale green eyes and an intelligent face, but his youthful bloom (hes only twenty-one) has all but evaporated. There is a weariness about him, a sallowness to the skin, a sunkenness under the eyes and cheeks. He looks hollowed-out, withered, shop-soiled. He reeks of skunk and cigarettes. One of his front teeth is badly chipped and prematurely yellowed. He is heavily tattooed. The left hand has, among other things, LTFC printed in a somewhat amateurish script across the knuckles. The right hand and arm by absolute contrast have been expertly fashioned into the eerily lifelike head, neck and torso of a snake. Only his fingers remain un-inked and protrude, somewhat alarmingly, from the serpents gaping mouth.
Can I get you a drink? Ransom asks (gazing, mesmerized, at the reptilian tattoo), and then (when this question garners no audible response), You seem a little tense.
My mother used to work in this place, Noel growls, glancing around him, angrily. Head of Housekeeping. But I guess you already knew that.
Sorry? Ransom stares up at him, confused.
My mother, Noel repeats, more slowly this time, more ominously, his nostrils flaring. My mother used to work at this hotel.
What?! Here?! At this hotel? Ransom echoes, visibly stricken. Youre kidding me!
Kidding you? Noel scoffs. You actually think Id joke about a thing like that?
While this short exchange takes place, Jen casually strolls to the far end of the counter and peers over towards the front desk. The desk has been temporarily vacated. A small, conservatively dressed, middle-aged Japanese woman is standing in front of it, her finger delicately poised over the bell.
Jen cocks her head for a moment and listens, carefully. She thinks she hears a commotion near the hotels front entrance and wonders if the receptionist might be offering back-up to Gerwyn from Security (whos currently on door duty). She scowls, checks the time, then returns her full attention back to the bar again.
Man! Youre just incredible! Noels laughing, hollowly. I mean the levels youll sink to for a little bit of press.
He shakes his head in disbelief. Its scary, Ransom. Its fucked-up. Its sick.
Now hold on a second
The golfer frowns as his drink-addled brain slowly puts two and two together, then his expression rapidly transmogrifies from one of vague bemusement, to one of deep mortification. Aw come on, Noel! he wheedles. You cant seriously think ?
Noel delivers him a straight look.
But thats crazy! Ransom squawks. I didnt have the first idea I swear. I just got a message from Esther. You know Esther? My PR?
Noel looks blank.
Esther. Remember? Jamaican? Bad attitude? I was booked in at the Leaside. She texted and said youd switched the venue, so I
Noel looks blank.
Esther. Remember? Jamaican? Bad attitude? I was booked in at the Leaside. She texted and said youd switched the venue, so I
So you thought youd set up a lovely, little photo opportunity at the Thistle, eh? Noel sneers, pointing. Slap bang in front of the giant, plate-glass window.
Ransom turns and gazes over at the window. Three photographers are now standing behind the glass, two of them busily snapping. The third starts banging, aggressively, at the service hatch.
FUCK OFF!
The golfer grabs a handful of nuts and hurls them towards the glass.
Oi! Jen yells (in conjunction with the golfer recognizing this malefactor from their previous encounter). I thought I told you earlier
She stands there for a second, momentarily flummoxed, then reaches under the counter, grabs the first aerosol that comes to hand, and steams around the bar.
I dont understand Ransom pulls out his phone. This doesnt make any kind of sense I was booked in at the Leaside and then I got a text
He begins paging through his messages while Jen dances around in front of the window, chuckling vengefully and spraying voluminous clouds of furniture polish all over the glass. The photographers curse and bellow as their view is initially compromised and then entirely obfuscated (Jen only adds insult to injury by sketching a dainty, girlish heart in the centre of the goo and then after a brief pause neatly autographing it).
Ransom finally locates the message and shows it to Noel. There. See? He passes Noel his phone. Noel takes it, inspects it for a few seconds and then tosses it over his shoulder. The phone slides across the parquet and comes to rest, with a clatter, under a nearby table. Jen like a well-trained blonde labrador promptly charges off to retrieve it.
Just tell me what you want, Noel growls, so I can get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps.
Jesus. Ransom shakes his head, depressed. You really must think Im some kind of a monster
You destroyed my family. Noel shrugs.
And Im really, really sorry about that, Noel Ransoms plaintive, almost resentful but it was a fuckin accident, remember? And like Ive said countless times before
Its not the accident Im talking about, Noel snarls, as well you know. Its all the crap that came with it.
But thats hardly
Save it! Noel snaps.
Here. Jen hands Ransom his phone back, then turns to Noel. Im about to close the bar, so if youre wanting a snack or a drink
She pauses, mid-sentence, peering up into his face, quizzically. I recognize you. We met before somewhere
Noel ignores her. His eyes remain locked on the golfers.
Pizza Hut! Jen exclaims. Didnt you temp there for a while on the delivery truck?
Two beers. Ransom valiantly attempts to dispatch her.
Or Hang on a sec Werent you the guy roadying for that crappy DJ at Amigos last Thursday when the big fight broke out with those lippy, Sikh kids and you went and got my friend Sinead her bag back?
Whats wrong with you people? Noel hisses, his face suddenly reddening. I dont want a stupid drink and I dont want a stupid chat, all I want is to find out why the hell it was you called me here!
He glowers down at the golfer, his fists clenching and unclenching. So for the last fucking time
Im really sorry, Noel, Ransom interrupts him, but theres been some kind of a mix-up. I honestly thought you organized this meeting tonight.
Noel looks astonished, then livid.
WHAT IS THIS?! he yells, finally losing his rag. Are you DEAF?! Are you STUPID?! Do we need a fucking INTERPRETER here?
I got a call from Esther, my PR, like I said
Before Ransom can complete his sentence Noel has grabbed the empty beer bottle on the bar top and has slammed it, violently, against the edge of the counter. Jen shies away as shards of glass cascade through the air. Ransom doesnt move. He doesnt flinch. He barely even blinks.
You want drama?! Noel menaces the golfer with the bottles jagged edge. A little excitement?! Is that the deal?!
Ransom slowly shakes his head.
Or how about this? Noel calmly pushes the bottle against his own throat. Is this more like it? Is this the kind of thing you had in mind, eh?
Fabulous tattoo, Jen mutters, inspecting Noels forearm as she straightens up and shakes out her hair. What is it? A swan? A goose?
Noel ignores her.
I swear on my life I didnt set this thing up, Ransom persists. I swear on my daughters life
Fuck off! Noel snaps, stepping back, jabbing harder. A small rivulet of blood begins trickling down his neck.
Or a big duck, Jen speculates. A big, ugly old duck
As she speaks Jen sees the Japanese woman from the front desk entering the bar and peering around her. Jen makes a small gesture with her hand to warn her off. The woman stands her ground. Jen repeats the gesture.
This is crazy, Noel, Ransom is murmuring. Im sure if we just
A really big, ugly, old duck, Jen repeats. A really nasty, mean old duck. Like a a
She struggles to think of a specific breed of duck. a Muscovy or a
Noels eyes flit towards her.
Its not a fucking duck, he growls, insulted.
Sorry?
Jen takes a small step forward.
Its not a duck, he hisses, lifting the arm, its a snake, you fucking bubble-head.
Really? Jen draws in still closer, taking hold of the arm and perusing it at her leisure. A snake you say? Lemme just Oh yeah yeah! Look at that! I can see all the scales now. The detailings incredible!
Noel says nothing.
So what kind of a snake? Jen persists. Is it indigenous or tropical?
Noel ignores her. Hes focusing in on the golfer again.
An asp? Jen suggests.
Still nothing.
A viper?
Its a fucking adder.
On adder Noel pushes the bottle even harder into his throat.
Oh God, yes, Jen exclaims, of course it is. An adder. I can see that now. If you look really closely you can make out the intricate diamond design on the
Behind them and over the continuing commotion from beyond the window another conversation suddenly becomes audible.
Ricker, a woman is saying, Mr Ricker.