Nothing to Lose Read online

  Scarlet sat forward and slammed her tumbler down, the sound of crystal on the glass-topped table shattering the air. She jumped, staring at the table. She cringed. “Shit, sorry. I haven’t smashed it, have I?”

  Joy sat forward beside her, picking up Scarlet’s tumbler and shaking her head.

  “It’s fine, it always sounds worse than it is,” she said, running a hand over the tabletop. “I keep meaning to get coasters, but I keep forgetting. I got it when I moved in here — my first act as a single person. Steve never wanted a glass-topped table.” But Joy had fallen in love on first sight — glass tables were cool.

  “I’ve got a glass coffee table, too.” Scarlet paused. “Had. It’s probably halfway to Manchester by now.” Her voice cracked as she said the final words, and then she laughed. “It’s just too fucking surreal, isn’t it?”

  Joy nodded; it really was, and there was nothing she could say to make it any less so. The flood had been eminently avoidable if the authorities had put the money in to keep the barrier maintained. But they hadn’t; it’d failed, and this was the result.

  “Yesterday, I got up and went to work, had a ridiculous meeting where I got into an argument with a guy from accounts about my budget for the month and how I should spend it. The discrepancy was less than £100, but he just wouldn’t let it go. It wound me up all day, but last night, even though I was angry and upset, I didn’t want to have a whisky in my lovely crystal glasses when I got home, because it’s January, we’re just coming off Christmas and I was trying to be good.”

  “Dry January is over-rated,” Joy replied.

  Scarlet snorted. “I agree. I should have had that whisky, shouldn’t I? I should have used my lovely glasses, because I’m never going to see them again.” She stared at her hands, twisting them one way, and then the other. “And yes, I know they’re just things and they can be replaced, but it makes you wonder why we get things in the first place, when things can so easily be taken away, or stolen, or destroyed.” She exhaled again. “What’s the point of any of it, if one day, the river bursts and takes it all away?” Scarlet put her head in her hands again and Joy braced herself for another round of tears, getting the tissues ready in her head.

  But this time, there were no tears. Instead, Scarlet started laughing, shaking her head from side to side. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

  Joy frowned. “What are you sorry about?”

  Scarlet peeled her hands from her face and shrugged, her palms now facing upwards. “Being such a blubbering mess in your lounge. And nearly smashing your table.” She paused, staring straight ahead. “It’s a really lovely coffee table, by the way. Much better than mine.”

  Joy grinned: Scarlet loved her coffee table. Steve had never got it, had told her it was impractical. Scarlet got it, and she’d been in her house for less than two hours. That wasn’t lost on Joy one bit. Scarlet got the point that furniture could bring pleasure, that it could be art.

  Joy’s ex had never understood that, along with many, many other things.

  “It is lovely. But it’s just a thing, like you said. Easily replaceable.” She paused, fixing Scarlet with her gaze, hoping her guest wasn’t too melancholy. She had every right to be, but Joy was trying to dilute her loss, sweeten the taste.

  “And I think you’re allowed to be a mess after the night you’ve had. The good thing is you’re okay, and you can buy more stuff when the waters recede. Until then, you’re welcome to stay here, honestly. I’ve got the room, and frankly, the company would be nice.” A blush hit Joy’s cheeks. “But I understand if you’ve got friends or family to stay with, don’t feel obliged.”

  But Joy hoped she stayed. Putting everything else aside, she liked Scarlet. She wasn’t being ‘the mayor’ around Scarlet, she was just being herself. And that was all too rare in Joy’s life these days. Even Steve had started talking about local building projects he thought she might be able to influence when he came round.

  Scarlet leaned her head back into the sofa again, before turning to Joy, her eyes glassy.

  “Thank you. I’d love to stay if that’s okay. I don’t have anybody else.” Then she cast her gaze downwards and let out a huge sigh. “Like I said before, I’m pretty much a solo package.” She paused. “A solo package without insurance. So getting my flat back together might not be such an easy thing to do.”

  If Joy had been gulping air before, that statement made her gasp even more. “You don’t have insurance?” How could she not have insurance?

  Scarlet shook her head, her face telling Joy she couldn’t quite believe it either.

  “Buildings, yes. I mean, you have to have that, right? But my contents — I had it, but it lapsed just before Christmas. And what with one thing and another, I just haven’t quite got around to renewing it. I meant to, I totally did, but I never quite got there. I was racing to get stuff done. And now… well, now it looks like I really should have prioritised doing that, doesn’t it?” She let out a strangled laugh, low, whisper-like. “My dad, when he was alive, always told us to get this stuff done, do it on direct debit. He’d never have let his insurance lapse. And I wouldn’t normally, either.”

  Scarlet shuffled on the sofa, and Joy’s heart went out to her. She was shrinking visibly as she spoke, embarrassed and clearly befuddled about what had happened in the past few hours. It was as if Scarlet was trying to burrow into the sofa, trying to find a secret escape route via its cushions and disappear.

  Joy stepped in. “Like I said, you can stay here as long as you need; I don’t mind.” She felt a connection to Scarlet and she wanted to help — and there was nothing she wanted in return. She’d opened her house up to the town tonight, as was her civic duty. But she was more than happy to find she might also have made a friend. “And I promise you this,” Joy added. “When the time comes for you to move back into your flat, I will personally deliver your first bottle of whisky to drink and we’ll have a toast in your new front room. Deal?” Joy held out a hand to shake on it.

  Her speech brought a smile out of Scarlet. “Deal,” Scarlet replied, squeezing Joy’s hand as she shook it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  She had no idea what she’d done to land up here and be so looked after, but Scarlet was filled with gratitude. To think, she could still be in the community hall, trying to sleep on musty blankets under striplights. Instead, Joy had taken her in, wanting nothing in return. Scarlet had almost forgotten such kindness existed in the world.

  And now, she was tucked up on Joy’s sofabed in her office, in a light blue duvet that smelt of freshness and promise. Straggly threads of sunshine were streaming in through the window, and pillars of dust particles danced in front of her, caught by the light. It was odd having so much natural light flooding the room after living in a basement flat.

  Flooding. That word had taken on a new significance now. She could no longer use it casually in conversation or thought. It’d never be the same again.

  A new day was dawning, but it wasn’t going to be a day like any other. Today was the start of a whole new chapter of her life, the chapter marked After The Flood. Scarlet had no idea what it was going to hold, and she was both eager and afraid to find out. Would she be able to get back into her flat today? She doubted it.

  She had no idea how it would look, what it would feel like, how it would smell. She’d only ever seen it on the telly, and you never truly understood it via a small screen. It always just looked like a lot of dour people and houses engulfed by grey water. Like they could just pull the plug and it would all drain away and everything would be exactly the same as before.

  But that wasn’t the reality she was facing now. Trouble was, when you watched it unfold on the TV, it was like a soap opera, unreal, almost cinematic. Water cascading and sadness had a narrative about it, after all. Scarlet had never before stopped to consider the lives disrupted by the floods, the homes ruined, the belongings drowned, the memories eroded. The human cost of such disasters were always covered, but she’
d never truly paid attention.

  She was paying attention now.

  She’d checked her phone before sleeping, and the flood was headline news, the video she’d seen earlier getting thousands of plays around the nation. Flooding was endlessly fascinating to watch, whether it affected you or not. She should call her brother Clark and let him know what had happened — she’d woken up to a text from him this morning and texted back to let him know she was okay. She hadn’t mentioned the flat. Scarlet would have to message her other brother Fred, too, although he lived in Australia, so was probably ignorant of what was going on.

  They hadn’t stayed up much longer after Scarlet’s breakdown, both of them knowing they needed to get some sleep so they could face today. She’d managed just over four hours, and in retrospect probably felt worse than she had before. Whisky remnants were lacing her brain, giving it a dull ache, but Scarlet didn’t mind. The whisky had been worth it. Scarlet could hear people up and about, and knew she should get up, too, and see what her life consisted of today. It wasn’t a normal Saturday, that much she knew.

  The sofabed creaked as she got out of it and got dressed in the same clothes she’d had on last night. She’d left a wardrobe full of clothes behind, including her little black dress — not that she’d had an occasion to wear it in the past couple of years. Her exercise bike. Her trainers. Her degree certificate. Her books, CDs, television, DVDs. All of them drowned and never to return. Regret bubbled up inside her, but she clamped it down and busied herself getting dressed. She didn’t have time to dwell on what she’d lost, because it wouldn’t do her any good. She was going to employ the same tactic here as when her dad died: head down, keep going. It was the only thing she could do if she didn’t want to collapse in a heap. And she was determined not to do that again, especially in front of Joy.

  Kind, reassuring Joy. She’d put her hand on Scarlet’s knee and it had burned. It’d been a very long time since a woman had put a hand on her, and Scarlet had a strange feeling about Joy, that she might not be quite as straight as she thought she was. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking on Scarlet’s part. Whatever, even though the brief contact wasn’t sexual, Scarlet had still craved more, leaned in. When Joy had stroked her back, Scarlet had wanted to weep with relief.

  Scarlet ran a brush through her hair and aired the duvet, smoothing it out on the bed. She didn’t want Joy thinking she was an ungrateful or untidy guest. She was anything but.

  Joy’s office was messily ordered: clean, but she needed to sort out a better filing system. It was the sort of thing a project manager like Scarlet could do for her in a morning. She made a mental note to offer her services when things had died down a little. It was the least she could do after everything Joy had done for her.

  Joy’s walls were littered with self-help mantras: Embody the change you want to see; Leap and the net will appear; It’s never too late to learn, especially to do your best. Whatever it was Joy did, she was big on positivity, that was clear.

  Scarlet yanked open the pine office door, noting the shiny chrome handles, and nearly walked straight into Joy on the landing.

  To stop them colliding, Joy had held out both hands and they were now in an awkward embrace, their faces inches from each other, both of them smiling awkward smiles.

  Joy was the first to respond, breaking the hold and smoothing herself down, her gaze landing anywhere but on Scarlet. “Morning!” she said. “Did you manage any sleep?”

  Scarlet nodded, the effect of Joy’s hands on her still pulsing through her body in waves.

  “I did, amazingly.” Her thoughts momentarily scrambled, she quickly shuffled them back into order like a skilled croupier. Scarlet pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “That sofabed is very comfortable, and I was out like a light, the whisky made sure of that. Although I still feel like death warmed up.”

  Joy smiled at her. “Some food will make you feel better. The others have just left to go and see the damage. I’ve got to get down to the community hall in an hour or so, but let me show you where everything is in the kitchen.” Joy was already off down the stairs as she spoke, and Scarlet dutifully followed, like she’d been doing it every day of her life.

  She was surprised at how at home she felt here, given her arrival less than seven hours ago. And Joy looked fresh-faced, like staying up half the night and putting up a load of strangers in her home was something she did every day. Perhaps it was all a part of the mayor’s remit. Whatever, Scarlet was impressed.

  Joy’s kitchen was straight out of a magazine, all sleek white surfaces, sparkling cupboards, and chrome fixtures. It was an interesting mix of masculine and feminine, exactly the kind of space that Scarlet would have chosen, had her kitchen been more than the size of a postage stamp. From the little Scarlet knew of Joy, it seemed to fit her perfectly. Did this kitchen represent the two sides to her personality? Or was it a remnant from her previous marriage?

  “Now please help yourself to tea, coffee, milk’s in the fridge.” Joy was pointing to a cream American-style fridge, taller than Scarlet and about three times as wide. “If you want anything stronger, I think you know where that is,” she added with a grin.

  “Bit early.”

  Joy shrugged. “These aren’t normal times, are they?” She paused. “Bread’s in the breadbin, there’s bacon in the fridge, and cereal in this cupboard.” She was pointing at the cupboard above her head. “TV and radio, help yourself.” She stopped and assessed Scarlet. “Are you going to the community hall?”

  Scarlet nodded, picking up the kettle and filling it with water. “Think so,” she said, when the noise had died down. “Going to have to face the music at some point, aren’t I? Plus, I need to see if my suitcase is there, otherwise I’ll be wearing the same clothes for quite some time.”

  Joy nodded, now grim-faced. “I don’t think you’re going to get into your flat today, from what I’ve been told — the waters won’t have subsided. I’ll know more when I meet the police chief later — the council leader’s asked me to be there so I’ll be able to give you some concrete news.”

  Scarlet nodded. The thought of all her things underwater made her nauseous now. Was her flat like a weird dream, a freeze-frame of her life, underwater? She couldn’t picture it, all her possessions, floating like they were in some time capsule, suspended in space.

  “Did you have any other plans?” Joy’s voice broke through Scarlet’s thoughts.

  She blinked, trying to gather her thoughts in a neat bundle, but it didn’t work. Her thoughts were destined to be scattered today.

  Scarlet cleared her throat. “If I can’t get into my flat, I’ll probably go to the football later, take my mind off things.”

  Joy’s face dropped.

  Scarlet clocked it and frowned. Expressions like that were never good news. “What’s that face for?”

  “I don’t think the football will be on,” Joy said, folding her arms across her chest. She winced before she continued. “The club’s been hit hard. The pitch is under water and the stands are buried, too. I saw it on the feed this morning — the water was up to five foot. It’s affected the surrounding houses, too. So if you can’t get into your flat, maybe you could help out there? I’ll try to get down there later after I’ve been to check on my grandma, then onto the community hall and the town hall. There’s a lot to do.”

  Scarlet could feel the blood seeping out of her features. Besides work, football was the one constant in her life that kept her sane, never let her down. It was the one thing that had kept her afloat over the past three years.

  Afloat. She really did have to stop using these water metaphors.

  “They’ve just had all that new equipment installed in the gym and everything,” Scarlet said. She sat down on one of the breakfast bar stools now, shaking her head.

  “I know,” Joy replied.

  Scarlet simply couldn’t take it in, it was too much. First the flat, now the football club. And what about Eamonn? He was due to get marrie
d there next week. She doubted that would happen now.

  “It’s just all too real, isn’t it?” Scarlet said, her earlier optimism now drying up. “You cope with one setback, and then another comes your way. My home and my club?” She shook her head before getting up. “Still, keep calm and make tea, isn’t that what they say?”

  Joy nodded. “It’s the British way.”

  When Scarlet turned away from Joy to re-boil the kettle, tears pricked the back of her eyes again. She took three deep breaths before turning back to her host.

  “Do you want a tea or coffee, by the way?” Her eyes were watery, but she was determined not to cry. If this happened every time anything to do with the flood was mentioned today, she’d be spending a great chunk of her day underwater herself. She didn’t want that. What was done was done. Now, she wanted to help fix it.

  Because Scarlet was a fixer.

  Joy flicked her eyes up to the clock on the wall, then back to Scarlet. “That’d be lovely. Mugs are here,” she said, pointing to right. “And the dishwasher is hidden here when you’re done.” Joy opened what looked like a cupboard beside her, to reveal a dishwasher.

  “Goddit,” Scarlet replied, swallowing madly.

  “My tea is white, one sugar,” Joy added, sweeping out of the kitchen, before stopping in the doorway. “And I’m really sorry about the stadium,” she added. “I know it’s been a bone of contention for some time, but I think the football club is vital to the community.”

  Scarlet bit her top lip and swallowed down hard, nodding at Joy.

  Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together.

  “And you know what, this is the third cup of tea someone’s made for me this morning. And I have to say, it’s an upside to having people here. Living on your own, you forget how nice it is to have someone else make you a cup of tea, don’t you?”

  Scarlet smiled at that. “I know exactly what you mean, and I’m happy to make it for you. It’s the least I can do,” she said, her voice getting lodged in her throat. Yep, Scarlet was well aware of the kindness of small acts, especially when they never normally happened to you.