by Clare Lydon
She peered inside: the enveloped was thick with money. Scarlet shook her head. “I appreciate that, but I can’t take your money—”
“—Yes, you can.”
“I can’t, Clark.”
“You can. Listen, this is from my inheritance — I haven’t spent it yet, been too busy working. But this is our money, family money. And if Mum and Dad were here, they’d give it to you, but they’re not. But I am. So please, just take it. I don’t want any arguments. You need it more than me, it’s that simple.”
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Scarlet was overwhelmed with his love and generosity. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, taking her in his arms.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, until Scarlet spoke. “Clark?”
“Yep?”
“The gear stick is jammed into my ribs and it really hurts.”
He laughed, letting her go.
Scarlet wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then fished a tissue out of her pocket to blow her nose. “Can I put it in the glove compartment for now? I don’t want to take it into the flat in case it gets wet.”
“You can do what you like, it’s your money.”
“You’re an absolute gem, you know that?”
He cast his gaze down, then back up. “Anything for you,” he replied.
She shook her head. “I don’t deserve you, little brother,” she said. They got out of the car. “Ready to face the music?” Scarlet turned up her collars against the wind as she walked onto the pavement.
“By the way, I didn’t say anything wrong before, did I?”
She furrowed her brow as she fell into step with Clark. “No, why?”
“You just went a bit quiet when I mentioned Joy coming, too. I picked up a vibe when you were talking about her — is something going on?” He paused. “I’m assuming you want it to.”
Scarlet licked her lips. Was something going on? It was the million-dollar question. But the honest answer was, Scarlet wasn’t sure. She was putting a heck of a lot of her faith in hope right now. That, and the feeling she got when she was with Joy, which she knew was 100 per cent real from her side.
“We’re not together… yet, even though everyone else thinks we are,” she said. “I think we’re on the same page, but we’ve been skirting the issue. Too much else to deal with. But hopefully, we might be at some point in the future.”
Clark gave her a cheesy grin. “It’s about time,” he said. “Liv’s been over for too long, you need to start living again.”
Scarlet rolled her eyes: everybody in her life was a bit too carpe diem at the moment for her liking.
“I wish everyone would stop saying that, too. It’s getting old.”
“Like you, grandma,” Clark replied.
She gave him a slap, but laughed anyway. It felt good to laugh with her brother, someone who understood exactly where she came from.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, as they turned into her road. She stopped when she saw the now-lessened piles of debris, with the familiar faces of her neighbours hauling it around. She clung to Clark’s arm to steady herself. He took her hand and guided her around her nextdoor neighbour’s piano, waterlogged and useless.
“We’re doing this together, okay?”
Scarlet nodded.
“And not just us — Mum and Dad are watching over us, too,” Clark said. “I can feel it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The following day, having chaired a few more meetings and met with the heads of all the agencies to get a response update, Joy met Steve at one of those out-of-town retail parks, the ones you have to drive at least half an hour to get to and everyone always looks sad. Today was no exception.
Steve had been vague on the phone as to why he wanted to meet, but Joy wanted to speak to him anyway and was happy to get out of Dulshaw, to go somewhere that wasn’t flood-affected. It made a pleasant change to drive down clear roads as if nothing had happened, and she was glad the sun had made an appearance again — Scarlet needed all the help she could get today going back to her flat. She’d seemed apprehensive but determined this morning, which was as much as anyone could hope for.
Joy recognised Steve’s truck as she pulled into the parking lot — it was hard to miss, being bright red, with his company’s building logo down the side. Steve had started The Builder Man just after they got together, and from being a one-man band, he now employed a crew of workers. Joy tugged on the handbrake of her Mini Cooper — her pride and joy, but not a car that was useful for ferrying much around apart from her and some shopping — and got out, wincing as the sunshine caught her unaware. She ducked back into her car and grabbed her sunglasses; the weather this week was so different to five days ago, it was astounding.
Steve jumped out of his cab and gave Joy a hug, before they started walking towards the shops. He was dressed in jeans and a hoodie, along with some new black boots she hadn’t seen before. He hadn’t washed his fair hair today yet, either — she could tell from the way it was still matted on one side. Steve reserved his shower for the end of his workday, when it was more needed.
“So why are we here? And if you say to buy tiles, you know my answer.” Joy had a tile phobia, the origins of which she could never explain.
Steve laughed. “I’m well aware you think tiles are the devil, I was married to you for quite some time, remember?” Steve gave her a grin. “No, I need to buy some bedside lamps and I wanted your opinion.”
Joy stopped walking, taking off her sunglasses. “Bedside lamps? With your ex-wife? Really, Steve?”
He raised both eyebrows and gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “What? I want a woman’s opinion, as Sharon told me I need some. And you were always good at interior design, whereas me, I’m more your house builder than your house decorator.”
“That is true,” Joy replied. “Just don’t tell Sharon, okay? There are some things a woman never wants to hear, and her boyfriend calling up his ex for style advice is one of them.”
“Women are weird. But you’re going to find out all about that soon, aren’t you?”
Joy gave him a look as he pushed open the door to the homeware store and stepped aside for Joy. “With any luck, yes,” she replied.
“Talking of which, how are things going with your new lodger?”
“There’s nothing going on. I’m just being a good Samaritan in her time of need, that’s all.” She wasn’t sure he bought it, but she kept her poker face anyway. Besides, strictly speaking, nothing had happened. They hadn’t had sex or even kissed yet. But Joy could feel it every time she looked at Scarlet, kept wondering when it would happen. She believed it was a case of when and not if now, but she was prepared to wait till Scarlet’s life began to resemble some kind of normality first.
“Sure you are,” Steve said, as he skirted round some sofas near the door and led the way, following the signs to the bedroom department.
“How are things going with Sharon?” Joy asked, changing the subject.
Steve dug his hands into his pockets — his defensive gesture. “Things are good,” he said, not sounding too sure. “She’s lovely, and we get on great, so you know.” He paused, glancing sideways at Joy as they arrived at the bedroom department. “I’m a lucky man. Not as lucky as I used to be, but still.” He busied himself consulting the price of a lamp with a pink shade.
“You’re not buying a pink lampshade, just FYI.”
Steve turned. “No?”
“Nope.” Joy paused. “And you’re better off with Sharon, believe me.”
Steve said nothing, walking round to the side of one of the beds to look at another lamp.
“You know, we really should try the lighting department — this is more bedroom furniture.” Joy began craning her neck to look at the signs hanging from the ceiling. In the meantime, Steve lay down on the bed, patting the space beside him.
“Test this one out for me. I need a woman’s
opinion on a new bed, too.”
She gave him a withering look.
“Come on!” he said with a smile. “I really do need a new bed, you know that,” he said. “Our old one is… well, old.”
“You’ve still got our bed?” she said, making a face. “I thought you were buying a new one.” It was the first thing Joy would have got rid of: too many memories, and not all of them good as far as she was concerned.
Steve looked embarrassed. “I never quite got around to it, but there’s no time like the present.” He patted the bed again. “Come on, tell me what you think. I’m hardly going to jump on you in public, promise.”
Joy stood firm for a few moments, before shaking her head and laying down beside Steve. “If someone comes in with a camera now and we’re suddenly on Facebook on a bed together, you’re dead meat, okay?”
“I think the paparazzi are too busy chasing other celebs, lucky for us. The mayor of Dulshaw isn’t high on their list.”
They both laughed at that. Then there was a pause.
“You know, I miss this — I miss us,” Steve said. “And yes, I know, before you say it, I know it’s done. I know we’re over. But I’m still allowed to miss you. You can’t stop that.”
He looked so sad, Joy reached down and squeezed his hand, before turning her face to him, the plastic underneath her head squeaking as she did. “I miss you, too. But we have to move on. And we’re still friends, aren’t we?”
He nodded. “We are — we’re so modern,” he said. “But Scarlet — you like her, don’t you?”
Joy paused, turning her face skywards, pondering whether or not to lie to Steve and tell him no. But what was the point of that? The whole reason she broke up their marriage was to be who she really was, so why try to hide it now? She nodded her head slowly.
“I do,” she said, turning her head to him. “I really do, but I don’t know if she likes me. I think she does, but until you say it or act on it, how do you know for sure?” She exhaled. “All of which means, I’m keeping everything under wraps for now, till we know each other a bit better. But what if she just thinks we’re friends? Then I’m going to make a right tit of myself, and we’ll never be friends again. And that would be awful.” She turned her head. “Maybe you’re right — maybe going out with women was a mistake if they’re going to be this complicated.”
If Scarlet did turn down her advances, Joy would probably go into hiding for the rest of the year.
Steve smiled at that. “Welcome to my world,” he said. “But I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. I saw the way she looked at you when I turned up the other Sunday, and believe me, there was nothing platonic about that. She wants you, too, but she’s probably worried about overstepping her boundaries. It’s your house, after all, she doesn’t want to mess up her homelife when she doesn’t have anything else to go to.” He paused, squeezing Joy’s hand right back. “But I’d say one of you should overstep the boundary at some point, because even if you didn’t feel the sexual tension in that room, I did.”
“Oh, I felt it alright. And you turning up was completely the wrong time, but maybe in a way, a good thing.” Joy felt it all over again, all over her body just thinking about it. “It’s just… scary, the thought of getting into something real. Something 3D, rather than 2D.”
Steve’s face fell. “I was 2D?”
Joy shook her head. “Not you — the other women I’ve been with. We were real, Steve. Just not right.”
Steve’s face hadn’t perked up. “There were other women?” His voice was choked.
“Yes — but only after we split up, never before. But they were never going to be long-term. Whereas Scarlet…” She didn’t finish her sentence.
“Scarlet might be?”
Joy swallowed down hard, then nodded. “She might.”
They lay on the bed together, holding hands, lost in a moment.
“Did you ever think we’d end up here, laying on a bed in public, holding hands and discussing women like this?”
Joy let out a strangled laugh. “I never did.”
“Funny how life turns out, isn’t it?” Steve said, squeezing Joy’s hand again.
She squeezed it right back. “It is.”
Joy remembered the day they got married, remembered the hope, but also the distinct lack of oomph she thought she should have been feeling. And now she knew why.
Then Steve dropped her hand and started rolling around on the bed, trying it out. “So what do you think?” he asked. “Is this the type of bed for a man about town?”
“It might be — if you meet him, tell him it’s a go.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Scarlet had decided to go with an all-black suit and shirt for the news interview, and Steph had approved. According to her, it lent Scarlet an air of authority you didn’t tend to get when these news crews just interviewed someone on the street, still shell-shocked by what had happened. Scarlet cast her mind back to earlier, retching on the pavement in front of her flat. Yep, she was glad the news crews hadn’t been there to catch that particular moment.
She’d spent the past hour at Steph’s getting made up; Steph had insisted.
“We’re going to be broadcast across the county, we have to look our best.”
Scarlet hadn’t liked to object. Only now, looking in the mirror Steph had just given her, she was pretty sure she could give a circus clown a run for their money. Scarlet normally favoured the subtler make-up approach, whereas Steph favoured the ‘caked-on’ look.
“You don’t think the blusher’s overkill?” Scarlet asked, twisting her face to the left.
Steph shook her head. “You need more make-up on camera, so overkill is good — think of it as a performance.”
Scarlet screwed up her face. “I’m just telling them about what happened.”
“It’s a performance! Remember, you were the star of your very own cliffhanger: will Scarlet get out in time or drown as the flood waters rise?” Steph painted the scene with her hand above her head.
“I always told her she should be in the movies,” Eamonn said, lifting his head from his phone. The mobile networks were all back up now, and he’d been glued to his device ever since Scarlet arrived. “She’s wasted in a cake shop,” Eamonn added.
“Artisan bakery,” Steph corrected, smudging some eye shadow above Scarlet’s right eye.
Scarlet winced as she did it.
“Although right now, it’s more like a sad, wet statement of industrial art. God knows when we’ll be up and running again. At least the insurers look like they won’t be an issue, fingers crossed.” Steph’s shoulders sagged as she spoke.
Scarlet checked her watch, then raised an eyebrow at Steph. “Save your sad looks for the camera, remember — way more effective if you haven’t just had the same thought five minutes previous.”
“Good point.”
“It’s a performance,” Scarlet added.
Steph shot her a grin. “Glad to hear you were listening.”
“Should we be going soon, by the way?” Eamonn asked, leaning over to grab a biscuit from the tin on the counter.
“We should,” Steph replied. “Ready?”
Scarlet nodded. “Face on. I’m ready.” And she was.
***
The street was strangely quiet as the camera crew set up, with Scarlet standing behind the camera, her heart racing. The news anchor, Kay, was chatting to one of her colleagues, and she’d just finished briefing Scarlet on the questions she was going to ask her, telling her to relax. Easy for her to say. If nothing else, Scarlet was going to concentrate on Kay’s fabulous hair and just-so make-up. Mind you, her own hair was looking none too shabby tonight, a shock of dark gloss all held in place with a gallon of hairspray — Steph had seen to that.
Steph and Eamonn were standing behind her now, their piece to camera already done. Joy was on her way, and Scarlet wished she was here now to squeeze her hand and give her reassurance. Somehow, in only a week, Scarlet had c
ome to count on Joy’s support in her daily life, even welcomed it.
Someone tapped on her arm: it was Kay. “Ready?”
Scarlet nodded. She was used to giving presentations at work, she could do this. Piece of cake.
“Hello and welcome to Valley News, this is Kay Wright reporting from Dulshaw, which was hit badly by last week’s devastating floods. And I have with me Scarlet Williams, who was one of the worst affected residents. Scarlet was given half an hour to evacuate her basement flat before it was completely flooded due to the flood barrier failure.” The camera swung from Kay, and Scarlet squinted as the bright lights shone in her eyes.
“Scarlet, tell us, what was it like getting that knock on your door?”
Scarlet licked her lips: her heart-rate was strangely normal, her breathing steady. Not at all how she’d expected to feel. “Surreal — like it wasn’t really happening to me.”
“I bet. And what did you take in those brief moments you had?”
“Laptop, phone, guitar, clothes. But there wasn’t much time to decide.”
Kay nodded, fake concern on her face. “And then you just shut the door and left?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“What a feeling that must have been,” Kay added, gravely.
Scarlet nodded. “It was the start of what I thought was going to be the worst week of my life. And believe me, I’ve had some rival weeks in my time.” She smiled, replaying them in her head: Dad, Mum, Liv. “But actually, it turned out to be one of the best weeks.”
Kay’s face registered surprise. “Really?” She glanced over at the camera crew and indicated towards Scarlet.
Scarlet guessed they were going in for a close-up. She tried to block it out.
“My flat was flooded and I lost everything I own, more or less. I was there today, trying to get stuff out, and it’s still a total mess. And I wasn’t insured for contents, so that’s pretty bad, right?”
“I would say so.”
“But it hasn’t been. One thing, I’m not the worst affected. Dulshaw FC lost its brand-new gym, facilities, and stadium — that affects many jobs and lives. Businesses have been sunk, like Great Bakes, and next to them the bookshop was shovelling out piles of ruined books — that’s a tragedy. And the cinema’s shut, with livelihoods affected, too. I’m one, tiny story — just one of many.”
