Nothing to Lose

by Clare Lydon

  She nodded again. “Yep.” Her life, her claimed possessions, all in one hard black suitcase, subtle and unassuming. Much like Scarlet.

  “Okay,” he replied. “I need to see you’re out, too. We can’t have anybody drowning.” The policeman gave her a smile to go with his last comment.

  Scarlet wasn’t in the mood for humour. She took a deep breath, checked her pocket for her keys, shifted her rucksack up on her shoulder; then with a leaden heart, she picked up her guitar and pulled her front door shut with a final slam.

  Bang.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Scarlet had only ever been inside the community hall twice before. First, to vote in the general election, but she’d ended up on the losing side in that contest. Second, to vote in the local elections — on that occasion, she’d been a winner. The Labour party had won, and the council leader was a lovely guy named George who Scarlet had a lot of time for. What’s more, the council had then voted in a female mayor, their youngest ever — younger than Scarlet, under 40. There had been much fanfare in the local papers about it: Joy Hudson was recently divorced, and not bad looking either, if you liked the blonde bombshell type. Scarlet normally went for brunettes.

  However, even the mayor hadn’t been seeing her promises through of late, reneging on her support for the local division two football team, Dulshaw FC, against some property developers who wanted to come in and bulldoze the ground to build yet more flats in a few years’ time. The one thing Scarlet held dear in her life was her love for Dulshaw FC. She didn’t get out much anymore with family or friends, but she went to watch Dulshaw every home game, rain or shine. Without the football team, sometimes she wasn’t sure what there was to live for.

  The community hall’s walls were an off-yellow colour, like the surface of a curdled pint of milk. There were electric heaters dotted around in an attempt to throw out warmth, but they were also filling the air with a stench of burnt hair, mingled with hot bodies and school hall.

  It was the smell that hit Scarlet first, and she wrinkled her nose as her stomach churned.

  A row of camp beds had been erected down one side of the hall, and parents were tucking children into them, in the vain hope they might fall asleep. Scarlet didn’t think there was much chance as the noise level was at fever pitch, with space and supplies being allocated, as well as strip lights blaring overhead. Elsewhere, adults and children milled about, dazed looks on their faces at what had just happened.

  It was a surreal feeling knowing this could be it. That everything was gone. Or if she looked at it another way, a clean slate and the chance to start afresh. But she’d tried that once before and look how that had turned out. A blank page appealed to her on one level, but absolutely terrified her on another.

  “You here on your own?” A woman appeared at Scarlet’s side, all pink cheeks and frizzy hair that hadn’t seen conditioner in quite a long time. When she smiled, her teeth were slanted at an array of angles.

  Scarlet nodded. “Just me, my guitar, and my rucksack.” She jerked a thumb to her shoulder. In less than two hours, two strangers had verified the fact that yes, she was completely alone.

  The woman nodded far too enthusiastically. “Right you are,” she said. “You can give us a song later when we might all need cheering up. But nothing about water.”

  Scarlet’s stomach churned. “Land-themed songs only, I promise.”

  The woman held out her hand. “I’m Sue. Grab a space where you can; there are some singles over there in the corner. If you can find a blanket, grab it.”

  Scarlet glanced over to the top left-hand corner of the hall where some men and women were sat, chatting.

  A singles corner. She didn’t think she’d ever heard a more depressing phrase. It might as well have been called ‘the corner of doom’, with them all wearing loser hats and one of them ringing a bell.

  The woman winced in her direction. “Families are getting the beds, I’m afraid. But there’s tea, coffee, and sandwiches in the kitchen area. And once you’ve got a drink, go and see Simon over by the far wall to register you’re here.”

  Scarlet followed the line of Sue’s arm to a kitchen on the right-hand side, ably staffed by the sort of women who always seemed to staff such efforts: stout, cardiganned, stoic. Even from the other side of the room, Scarlet was irritated by their irrational cheerfulness. If Scarlet was ever invited to appear on Mastermind, her specialist subject would have to be misanthropy.

  By process of elimination, the unfortunate man with a clipboard and a queue of impatient people must have been Simon. He had a beard and was wearing one of those hessian jumpers that probably seemed like a good idea when he’d bought it on his travels, but now, back home in the north of England, just made him look like a chump.

  “Got it,” Scarlet said, but Sue was already turning away, greeting the next unfortunate through the door who Scarlet recognised from her local gym. Not that she was a regular there much anymore, not since her membership had lapsed and she’d given up on life.

  Scarlet stepped over a pile of suitcases on the floor in front of her and made her way down the impromptu pathway that was already established, walled in place by shoes, bulging bags for life, coats, and tables. At the kitchen, she accepted a cup of tepid black coffee from an overly smiley woman whose hair didn’t move when she turned her head. She’d clearly had more notice about the evacuation than Scarlet, time to administer great gales of hairspray.

  Scarlet stepped to one side before the woman had time to strike up a conversation with her. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with small talk this morning, not when her world had just been turned upside down.

  Two women to Scarlet’s left were in deep conversation, so she edged closer. Scarlet had always been nosy, and she could do with something to take her mind off her current situation.

  “The mayor’s house?” The woman who spoke had deep brown skin and a winning smile.

  Her friend, who in stark contrast was as white as a ghost, nodded. “Just now. The mayor’s opened her house up and someone just came in and selected people to go there. Daniel was one of them.”

  The first woman clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Typical. We get to spend the night on the floor of the community hall, while Daniel gets to live it up in the lap of luxury. That boy was born with the golden ticket, I tell you.” The woman shook her head again.

  Scarlet turned back to the room, processing the information in her head. She glanced at the ‘singles’ corner, already full, with no spare blankets on show.

  The noise and the lights of the hall were jarring her brain already.

  Some people had gone to the mayor’s house. She’d met the mayor a couple of times at the football, when she’d promised to try her best to lean on the council about the ground development. Most importantly, Scarlet worked for the local council, so she knew where the mayor lived. A ten-minute walk away. Not far at all. What if Scarlet went to the mayor’s house now and pretended she’d been sent there? Perhaps she’d take her in, too?

  It took Scarlet precisely 30 seconds to make up her mind. She took a final gulp of her coffee, then strode back down the makeshift pathway, past Sue and her clipboard and out into the freezing early morning darkness, the streets humming with life. Right out of the community hall, left up Culverdale Avenue, then walk to the top of the hill. There was no danger the mayor’s house was going to be flooded. Scarlet hitched her bag up her shoulder, gripped her guitar, and began the journey.

  She was halfway there when she began to wonder if this was such a good plan. What if the mayor didn’t recognise her? What if nobody answered? Should she have stayed and claimed her spot on the dusty community hall floor? Would Sue even let her back in? She couldn’t dwell on these questions, though. Her decision was made when she left the hall.

  Even though it was perilously cold, Scarlet didn’t feel it. She was running on adrenaline, on pure nervous energy. She took the final steps in galloping strides, wanting to get inside before the floodin
g began. Would she even know when that was? One thing was for sure: she didn’t want to be on the street, alone, to find out.

  Scarlet arrived at the front door and knocked four times. Her knock was confident, sure-footed. It said she’d been sent here, no question. She tried to ignore the sweat dripping down her back, the heat at the base of her neck. She rubbed her fingers inside her gloves.

  Nobody came.

  She was just about to knock again when the door opened. It was the mayor herself; for some reason, Scarlet hadn’t been expecting her to answer.

  And now that she had, Scarlet was stumped. She just stood on the doorstep, flicking through her vocabulary for appropriate words to say. She couldn’t locate any at all.

  The mayor glanced down at Scarlet’s guitar, then back up at her face. She raised one eyebrow, then broke into a grin.

  “Maria Von Trapp on my doorstep at 5am — this day just gets more surreal. You’re missing the wide-brimmed hat, mind.” The mayor stood back. “Come in, please.” She beckoned Scarlet across the threshold with her hand, as if she was directing traffic. “But I must warn you, I’m not a fan of The Sound of Music.”

  “Me neither, so you’re safe there,” Scarlet replied as she stepped inside the hallway.

  She’d cleared the first barrier; her plan was going to work. Relief soaked through her. If this was going to be one of the worst nights of her life, at least she was going to spend it somewhere warm and inviting. Scarlet’s feet sunk into plush grey carpet, and the decor was rich olive green, as befitted a Victorian hallway. Abstract fine art prints draped the walls and the curtains were thick and lined. The hallway told Scarlet this was a home with similar taste to her own. She immediately felt at ease, even though she knew she should be seething at the mayor for her treatment of the town’s football club. Still, that was a topic for another day.

  “Baltic out there, isn’t it?” the mayor added. “I thought we had the lot already, but you were clearly a straggler.” Her face was warm, her teeth straight and white. Scarlet had noticed that about her when they’d met at the football. Scarlet’s own front teeth had been knocked out playing hockey at university and the replacements glowed neon under ultra-violet light. The mayor’s teeth looked permanent, real.

  She was far more casual than Scarlet had ever seen her before, too. Off-duty and in her own home, the mayor wore well-fitted jeans and a powder blue top that brought out her piercing blue eyes. Despite the early hour, the mayor was well put together.

  “Yes, I was a bit late leaving,” Scarlet said. “I ran as fast as I could.”

  The mayor nodded. “With a guitar, too? Well done. Although I’ve already allocated the spare bedrooms, but you’re welcome to take the office sofabed.” She paused. “First off, let me take your coat.”

  Scarlet put down her rucksack and guitar, then shrugged off her jacket, smoothing down her sweatshirt as she did.

  “Sounds great,” she replied. “Better than my flat, which will be a soggy mess when I get back, so the police told me.”

  The mayor glanced over her shoulder as she hung Scarlet’s jacket on top of a pile of others. “Terrible shame, but it had to be done. It was either that, or flood many more. The environment agency had no choice after the pumping station was flooded and there was a risk of electrical failure.” She put a hand on her hip. “Still, it doesn’t make it any better for those affected. I’ve only just got back myself — we all had to get home before they activated their plans.” She sighed. “It feels like we’re in a disaster film, doesn’t it?”

  “Only it’s very real,” Scarlet replied, fixing the mayor with her gaze. “Horribly, life-changingly real.”

  The mayor nodded. “I know.” She stepped forward, and then fixed Scarlet with a puzzled stare. “I’ve met you before, haven’t I?” She paused. “Do you work for the council?”

  Scarlet nodded. “I do, but we’ve met up at Dulshaw FC, too. I’m a big supporter there.”

  At the mention of the football ground, the mayor dipped her head. “Right,” she mumbled, turning on her heel in the square hallway. “So you probably don’t think very highly of me right now, am I right?”

  Scarlet blushed, remembering her thoughts from earlier. If anything, the mayor was possibly her favourite person right at this second. “I think you’re pretty okay, taking me in like this. Let’s not worry about the football — it’s not high on my list of priorities tonight.”

  The mayor looked Scarlet directly in the eye, then gave her a nod. “Probably best. But just know, I’m on your side still — it’s the rest of the council that needs convincing.” She paused. “Do you want to come through to the kitchen for a drink? The others are in there now, I can introduce you.”

  “Love to,” Scarlet replied.

  ***

  The others turned out to be the aforementioned, golden-ticketed Daniel and his boyfriend Harry, along with Joe and Daisy, a young couple who’d only owned their flat for three months on the next street over from Scarlet.

  “Our sofa was only delivered last week,” Daisy said, her face revealing she didn’t quite believe she was even uttering that sentence. But she was.

  After a cup of tea and biscuits, they all trooped off to their respective bedrooms, leaving Scarlet and the mayor alone. After a few seconds of silence, the mayor walked around the breakfast bar and nodded her head one way to Scarlet.

  “You want me to show you to the office and get your bed made up?” she said, before pausing. “Or if you fancy going through to the lounge, we could have a drink first. Something stronger than tea? I think we might have earned it tonight.”

  Scarlet smiled a grim smile. “Something stronger than tea sounds good.”

  The mayor’s house wasn’t as big as Scarlet had envisioned, the lounge situated towards the back, leading off from the square downstairs hallway. The decor was modern, neutral, and although there were a few homely touches, there weren’t as many as Scarlet might have imagined for someone who’d lived in the area all her life. Scarlet, at least, had an excuse — all the personal touches had been ripped from her life and she’d had to start again from scratch.

  Now, it looked like she’d be doing it all over again.

  The lounge had two large cream sofas facing each other, with the television cleverly concealed on a shelf in front of a dark wall panel. The rest of the walls were painted white and there was a cream rug thrown on the polished floorboards in front of a log burner. It looked like a show home, not one that was lived in much. Scarlet was almost afraid to sit down, for fear of making a mark.

  “Please,” the mayor said, indicating the first sofa. “And my name’s Joy, just in case you were wondering. You don’t have to call me mayor.”

  Scarlet had known, but had just avoided addressing her directly until now. “Thanks, Joy,” she said, sitting down. Her body sunk into the plump cushions and she relaxed for the first time since she’d been woken up so abruptly. Scarlet sighed, allowing her muscles to relax, her spirit to unclench. Then she checked her watch. It was still before 6am. Only two hours since she’d been woken up, but it felt like she’d been up for hours, like this was her new reality.

  “Single malt?” Joy’s voice came from behind her, along with a slight squeak as something was opened.

  Scarlet turned her head to see Joy standing beside a teak sideboard, the middle of which was now opened up to reveal a cocktail cabinet, complete with a lit, mirrored interior. She’d only ever seen such things in films, and got up to stand beside it.

  “Single malt would be lovely,” Scarlet said, her fingers caressing the smooth curves of the cabinet door. “This is ace — like something from a Bond film.”

  “I can make you a dirty martini if you’d prefer: shaken, not stirred?” Joy said, a smile playing around her lips.

  Scarlet shook her head, returning Joy’s smile. “Single malt’s fine.”

  Joy took a crystal tumbler from the shelf inside the cabinet, poured Scarlet a generous measure, and handed it to her.


  Scarlet mumbled her thanks and retook her seat on the sofa. It wasn’t lost on her how normal this situation felt, despite it being anything but. She was sat on the mayor’s sofa drinking whisky, her whole life on hold, waiting to be drowned.

  Joy took a seat on the opposite sofa, raising her glass to Scarlet. “Cheers,” she said. “Here’s to making the best of a horrible night.”

  Scarlet grimaced and raised her glass to Joy. “Cheers.” She took a sip of the golden liquid, rolling it around her mouth before letting it slip down her throat. Its searing heat scorched its way down her system, landing in her empty stomach and lighting a fire there. She settled back again on Joy’s sofa and allowed herself to be soothed by it, comforted.

  They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks and mulling over the situation. This wasn’t where Scarlet had expected to be this morning.

  “Did you have plans for today?”

  Scarlet blinked. What day was it? Saturday. “I normally go to the football.” She paused. “Other than that, nothing much.”

  Her Saturday routine was football with Eamonn and Matt. It wasn’t the best social life in the world, but it was the day she most looked forward to out of the whole week. Saturdays out of the football season were just as bleak as Sundays, if not bleaker because Scarlet knew what she was missing. And Sundays were the worst days ever. At least when she was at work, she was kept busy. For Scarlet, free time was the enemy, not to be trusted. The hours stretched into days, and the days went on forever.

  A pained look crossed Joy’s face. “Ah yes, the football. You know, when all this is done, we can chat. The issues are political when it comes to the ground, which I’m sure you’ve read about.”

  Scarlet nodded. “I have.” The developers who wanted to build on the club’s site had fingers in many pies at the council, hence the push-back on their plans hadn’t been as swift or categoric as the fans had hoped for, despite Joy’s support.

  “But I’m still working on bending some ears, believe me,” Joy added.