Nothing to Lose Read online

  Joy gazed at Scarlet for a brief second. “Good,” she said. “I’m going to jump in the shower and when I come back, I’ll dig out some wellies for you. I’ve got a few sizes in the garage.”

  She flashed Scarlet a broad smile, before disappearing up the stairs.

  Scarlet made the tea on auto-pilot, adding water, then milk, then slumping down on one of the breakfast bar stools. She wasn’t hungry now, after all. This time yesterday, life had been shitty, but predictably shitty. Now, everything had been turned on its head, and Scarlet was reaching out for something to cling onto.

  Joy had thrown her a lifeline, and for that, she was eternally grateful.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Joy trotted up the steps to Grasspoint, the old folks’ community her grandma had been part of for the past few years. It was a forward-thinking home, which Joy was grateful for, because the thought of leaving her grandma there had filled her with anxiety at the time. The thing was, her grandma didn’t have dementia and she wasn’t ancient, at 80. But her failing joints meant she had trouble getting around sometimes, and Grasspoint provided her with all the assistance she needed. Now, Joy’s grandma still had a modicum of independence with her own bathroom and shared lounge area, and she got all her meals cooked for her. Plus, she’d made some great friends who she was sitting in the lounge with when Joy arrived.

  Joy nodded to Fred, the handyman, as she crossed the sitting room to the circle of friends. There was Carol, who’d apparently dyed her hair a rasping shade of pink since last week; Annie, who liked to moan about anything and everything; and Robert, one of the few men in the home who lapped up the female attention with glee. Joy had a soft spot for them all, but none of them were her beloved grandma.

  “Hey, shortie,” Joy said, bending down to give her grandma a hug. Shortie was the affectionate nickname she’d given her over the past few years, as her grandma had slowly but surely begun to shrink into old age, literally.

  Her gran gave her a grin as Joy pulled up a chair. “Wasn’t sure if I was going to see you today, what with all the flooding,” she said, sweeping her wispy grey hair off her smooth forehead.

  It was one thing Joy hoped she inherited: her grandma’s skin. Sure, she had some wrinkles, but people were constantly amazed she was 80 years old. Most people put her at least ten years younger.

  Joy smiled. “I’ll always come and see you, especially after the flooding, make sure you’re okay.”

  Her grandma dismissed her comments with a wave of her hand. “We’re fine, we’ve lived through worse, haven’t we Robert?”

  Robert furrowed his brow. “What’s that, Clem?”

  Joy’s grandma was named Clementine, and Joy had spent her entire life wishing she’d been named after her grandma, instead of some wispy, difficult-to-pin-down emotion.

  “I was just telling Joy, we’ve all lived through worse than this flood, haven’t we?” Her grandma was shouting now.

  Robert grinned when he heard, still fiddling with his hearing aid. “World wars, Clem,” he said. “And I’ve lost count how many floods I’ve lived in. Even London used to get flooded all the time. We’re an island; people shouldn’t be so surprised.”

  Joy laughed — whatever the crisis in her life, she could always count on being soothed when she visited Grasspoint. Grandma and her friends had a way of putting events into perspective.

  “I can’t stay long, though. I’ve got to get into town and see how people are doing.” Joy rubbed her hands together as she spoke. Even though the lounge was baking, her hands were still acclimatising from the cold outside.

  “People will be going bananas,” Clementine replied. “You know that.”

  “Some people have lost their homes, so I’d say they have good reason. I’ve got some staying with me. One of them is a local woman who’s lost everything — Scarlet. She had a basement flat and it’s completely flooded.” Joy smiled, picturing Scarlet this morning, her dark hair unruffled. “The devastation is shocking, even if you have seen it before.”

  Her grandma put a hand on her arm. “I never said it wasn’t shocking, I just mean people will recover. It’s how things work.” She squeezed her arm, and Joy was taken back to all those times in her childhood where her grandma used to do exactly the same thing while Joy spilled her troubles at Clementine’s kitchen table. They’d always been close, ever since Joy was young. Joy had a brother, Michael, but it was Joy who was her grandma’s favourite, a fact Clementine never tried to hide. Clementine even favoured Joy over her own son, Christopher, Joy’s dad. And in return, Clementine was Joy’s favourite grandma.

  Her only grandma, but always her favourite.

  “So this Scarlet — is she single?”

  Joy’s cheeks flushed red — she didn’t need a mirror to know, she felt as though her whole face was a bright neon light blinking at her grandma. Joy looked out the window at the rolling hills, before glancing back.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, shaking her head, glossing over the fact. Trust her gran to arrow straight to the pertinent point. “But she’s got nowhere else to go, so I’ve said she can stay.” Joy shrugged, as if inviting a stranger into your home was the most natural thing in the world. “She’s nice though, I like her. We get on, and I could use a new friend.”

  Clementine eyed her granddaughter, then gave her a nod. “You’re not wrong there,” she said. “It’ll be nice for you to have some company. And if she’s single and available, all the better.” Her grandma followed up that comment with a knowing look. “And because I can see you’re entertaining the idea, I take it she’s gay, too?”

  If Joy had been blushing fire-engine red before, she was pretty sure her cheeks had just burst into flames. Being in politics, she really should be used to dealing with tricky questions, but her grandma always had known which buttons to push. She guessed it was all a part of the whole I’ve known you since you were in nappies deal.

  Joy glanced at her gran, then looked away. “I’ve no idea.”

  But if Joy were a betting woman, she’d be prepared to put a sizeable bet on the table to gamble that Scarlet was. Joy wasn’t sure what it was, but she got an inkling from her, a notion. Yes, Scarlet had been married, but she hadn’t said whether it was to a man or a woman. And Joy, of all people, knew that sexuality was a fluid thing and could easily change.

  “But even if she was, it doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen. It’s not like I’m going to fall for the first lesbian I meet in my daily life, is it? I need to feel an attraction, a connection.” But even Joy knew she was protesting too much, that she did feel that attraction, that connection. She’d felt it from the moment Scarlet walked into her house last night.

  Clementine lowered her reading glasses from her face, giving Joy a tender smile. “I never said any different, did I?” she said. “And I understand how dating and attraction works; I’ve been around a bit longer than you have.” She gave Joy a wide smile. “But I also know when you’re interested. And judging from your reaction, I’d say you are.”

  Joy went to respond, but they were interrupted by the home’s warden, Celia, hovering over Joy’s shoulder.

  “Cup of tea, Joy?”

  Joy swivelled her head. “That’d be lovely Celia, thanks.”

  Saved by the bell — Joy had always liked Celia. Clementine was still watching her, but Joy wasn’t giving her anything else, because there was nothing to give. For now, Joy was doing exactly what she’d told her grandma— helping out someone in need.

  “Another round of tea here, too?” Celia asked, raising her voice to the group.

  They all murmured their approval.

  “And some of that cake that Maureen brought round earlier,” added Clementine. She squeezed Joy’s arm again, telling her, “It’s your favourite, Guinness cake. She should go on that Bake Off programme, I keep telling her. And she’d get to meet that Peter Hollywood.”

  Joy smiled. Another slice of Maureen Armitage’s Guinness cake. It was a good job she ran thre
e times a week. “It’s Paul, Gran,” Joy said.

  Clementine frowned at her. “Who’s Paul?”

  “Paul Hollywood, on the Great British Bake Off.”

  Clementine looked at Joy like she’d gone mad. “That’s what I said, Paul Hollywood.” She shook her head.

  Joy let it go.

  “Anyway, has your dad been in touch? I texted to let him know the whole town was drowning, but I doubt he cared that much.” Clementine had been less than impressed about her son’s decision to move away from his family to Spain after his retirement. Joy had always felt a little sorry for her dad; she got the impression her gran had been a harsh mother, but had softened into being a grandmother. Or at least, she had when it came to Joy.

  Joy nodded. “Yeah, Mum called when she heard — I let her know we were all okay. More than I can say for Michael, though. He dropped me a text to check I was alive, but that’s about it.”

  Clementine waved a hand through the air, dismissing Michael as she always did. “He gets it from your father, that boy. Plus, it’s men — they’re different creatures. Thank goodness for your lovely mother is all I can say. Although how she puts up with Christopher is beyond me. The woman’s a saint.”

  ***

  Joy’s phone had been non-stop all morning, being kept up to date of the multi-agency response to the flood. Co-ordinated by the police and the council’s emergency planning officer, it involved a number of organisations including police, fire, army, council, mountain rescue, and ambulance. But there was one thing all of them had in common: nobody had good news. The flood warnings had proved correct, and the water had caused more damage than expected. Yes, the controlled flooding had meant less damage, but there were still hundreds of homes and businesses underwater, along with tons of allotments, the football club, and the town cinema. The main bridge over the river had collapsed under the strain of the water, too, leaving the town cut off at one end.

  Joy stepped into the community hall and the noise level hit her, with kids screaming and voices elevated to be heard. The smell of bitter coffee and burnt toast wafted into her nostrils, and she struggled to see the floor as she stepped over makeshift beds, clothes, and discarded sleeping bags. An eating area had been set up near the kitchen in the far corner, with a couple of tables and a handful of scuffed red plastic chairs. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best that could be managed in the circumstances.

  Despite this, everywhere Joy looked, she saw smiles. This was the community spirit she expected: everyone in the same boat, and they were going to sail on together. In one corner was a tower of bleach — bottles and bottles of the stuff. They’d been shipped in this morning by the council, and residents were helping themselves. By the time the clean-up was done, Joy was sure Dulshaw would be one of the most sterile towns in the UK.

  “How’s it going, Sue?” Joy was addressing a portly woman with a clipboard. Sue Janus was a regular at the council, at her happiest when clutching a clipboard with a pen on a string. This morning, she was positively beaming. The flood was manna from heaven for her.

  “As well as can be expected,” Sue replied, pursing her lips and nodding slowly.

  “Sure you’re making it better, though,” Joy said. “Keep up the good work.”

  Joy felt someone draw up alongside her, and when she turned her head, it was Scarlet.

  Joy gave her a grin; it was already automatic. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Scarlet didn’t look happy — her face was set to scowl. She shrugged. “I went to the ground, but they’re in disarray. They told me to come back in a bit when they’d pumped some of the water out, so I thought I’d come and get my suitcase, take it back to ours — I mean, yours — and then go back. There are some residents round there that need help, too.”

  “You brought a friend along?” Sue enquired, smiling at Scarlet, then at Joy, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Scarlet, this is Sue Janus, one of our community heroes,” Joy said. “Scarlet was one of those I put up last night after her flat was flooded.”

  Sue frowned. “That’s right, I remember you now,” she said. “I thought you came in after—”

  “—Looks like you’re doing a great job here,” Scarlet said, interrupting Sue abruptly.

  Sue stopped, thrown off course with whatever she was saying. “Yes, well, you have to pull together in times of need, don’t you?” She raked her eyes up and down Scarlet. “There are food parcels being delivered later if you need them, and coffee over there.” Sue clasped Scarlet’s hand and shook her head from side to side. “It’s a really tough time, but we’re here for you.”

  Scarlet stiffened on contact, withdrawing her hand. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Sue gave her a nod, assured her duty was done, and scuttled away.

  Joy gave Scarlet a half-smile. “Sue Janus, community hero and busybody,” she said, in a whisper. “Still, she means well.”

  Scarlet nodded, wordless, scanning the room. “Listen, I just came to get my case,” she said, indicating downwards with her head to where it was standing at her feet. “I was hoping to take it back to yours, like I said. Are you heading home or can you give me a key?”

  Joy checked her watch. “I wasn’t planning on it just yet.” She fished in her bag and gave Scarlet her set of keys. “It’s the blue one, or else I’d forget every day,” she said, pointing at the key resting in Scarlet’s outstretched palm. “And the gold key unlocks the deadlock. Can you drop it back here on your way to the ground?”

  Scarlet nodded. “Of course.” She paused. “Everything okay with your grandma?”

  Joy nodded. “Luckily, they’re up high, or that could have been a huge disaster. They’re all talking about how they survived the war, so people will get through.” She paused. “When we’re old, we won’t have stories of war to fall back on, will we?”

  Scarlet smiled. “We’ll just have to tell them about the great flood that nearly washed us all away.”

  “But we survived.”

  “Just about.” Scarlet shifted, then picked up her case. “Thanks for this,” she said, holding up the keys. “I’ll be back within half an hour, so don’t go anywhere.”

  And with that, she picked up her suitcase even though it was on wheels, and turned on her heel.

  Joy wished there was more she could do, but there was nothing. She simply watched Scarlet rush out of the community hall, and then turned back to the hubbub in the hall. Now, all she saw were crying children, crumbs, and strained faces.

  ***

  Scarlet slammed the door to Joy’s house and ran down the road as fast as she could, the wind whistling in her ears. She had no idea why she was running, but it was something she needed to do. Expel the excess energy that had built up inside her body and try to make some sense of what had happened in the past 24 hours.

  She’d just dropped off a suitcase containing her life to the temporary home she was sharing with a stranger. She needed to call her brother, to hear his voice. Not that she’d heard it much lately, having not returned his calls or emails. He’d probably given up on her, and she didn’t blame him. She made a mental note to call him later.

  The town looked eerily calm and normal from up high — you wouldn’t be able to tell there was anything different. But when Scarlet turned the corner and got a view of the city centre again for the second time that day, her run came to a crunching halt. She struggled for breath, gasping as she put her hands on her thighs and leaned forward. If she’d eaten any food, she might have vomited, but she was running on empty.

  She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  It was as if a section of the town had been erased, and the gaps coloured in sludge brown. The bridge had collapsed under the strain of the water, that much she knew. But the whole east side of the city had just been swallowed up, too, as if Mother Nature had been tremendously hungry the night before.

  The cinema was half-submerged, as were all the streets near the river and beyond. Water was lappi
ng at the bottom of the hill she was standing on, and she knew she was going no further in that direction. There was movement on some of the roads that were now impromptu rivers, with rescue boats ferrying people and belongings to safety. The army had been bussed in to help, too, along with countless mountain rescue teams.

  But any hope Scarlet had of seeing how bad her flat might be were now confirmed. She’d guessed as much when she’d seen the damage to the football ground, near the smaller part of the river. The scene in front of her was one of devastation. Where there had been fields, there were now lakes. Where there had been roads, there were now rivers. She still couldn’t make sense of it.

  Scarlet sat down on the weirdly dry ground and stared. It was so close, she could almost reach out and touch it. Visions of all her belongings buried at the bottom of the ocean swam in her mind. She was pretty sure they hadn’t made it that far yet.

  After five minutes contemplating the new Dulshaw, she stood up, brushed down the back of her jeans and carried on along the top road. Her feet were now weighed down with dread, the glimpse of her new reality pressing claustrophobically into her brain.

  The football stadium was on the other side of town, where the river meandered round, and she knew what awaited her there. There was nothing she could do for her own flat, but maybe there was something she could do for the club and the people around there. She needed something to keep her occupied today, because if she thought too much about everything that had happened, she was going to go crazy. Above her, dark clouds threatened more misery tonight — the forecast she’d seen earlier was for more rain. Exactly what they didn’t need.

  “Scarlet! Scarlet!”

  She turned, and saw Eamonn running towards her in his regulation outfit of jeans and a bomber jacket.

  “Can you believe this shit?” Eamonn’s accent was pure Dublin, all lilts and swagger that had women falling over him on nights out. He was still perplexed why Scarlet had never fallen for his charms, despite Scarlet explaining it a million times before. Eamonn was one of those men who was perplexed why everyone didn’t find him irresistible, which was the constant butt of their jokes.