by Clare Lydon
“Three years ago. It was messy — my wife,” Scarlet said, checking Joy’s face for any trace of surprise.
There was none.
She carried on. “My wife turned out to be a secret gambler. Might have almost been easier if she was unfaithful with a person, rather than money.” Scarlet shrugged. “That’s my sorry tale.”
Joy nodded, licking her lips. “So you were married to a woman?”
Was this going to be an issue after all? Scarlet’s cheeks flushed red as she nodded her head. “I was. I’m a lesbian, in case you hadn’t worked that out yet.”
Joy looked her in the eye, then looked away. Joy was flustered.
Scarlet put one foot on the ground. Had she read this wrong? Was Joy not a bleeding-heart liberal like the rest of her friends? If she was a right-wing Tory, this living arrangement might be problematic. Perhaps she might have to take Eamonn up on his offer. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
Joy shook her head. “No!” she said, her voice high-pitched. “Of course not, not at all.” She paused. “It’s just… I thought you might be, but I wasn’t sure.” Another longer pause. “It’s the reason I left Steve — because I think I’m gay.” She still wasn’t looking at Scarlet. “Actually, I don’t think it, I know it. I just haven’t had much practice. I was a bit of a late bloomer. Didn’t clock it till I was in my thirties, and by that time, I was married.” She finally looked at Scarlet. “And that’s the first time I’ve said that to someone who wasn’t my ex or my gran.” Joy paused. “Does it surprise you?”
Scarlet smiled at Joy, relief washing through her body. So Eamonn had been right in what he’d told her. “It takes a lot to surprise me these days,” she replied. “But well done on your first coming out to a stranger. It wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Joy shook her head. “It wasn’t,” she said. “Although, I wouldn’t call you a stranger.”
Warmth swept through Scarlet: neither would she. “I know, but we have only known each other for 24 hours, even if those 24 hours have been counted in dog years.” Scarlet laughed. “How did your ex take it?”
“Surprisingly well, we’re still friends. On some level, he said he’d always known.” Joy laughed a hollow laugh. “I just wish he’d have told me, save me wasting a good chunk of my life.” Alarm spread across her features as she glanced at Scarlet. “Not that he was a waste, far from it…”
Scarlet held up a hand. “I get it,” she said. “You don’t have to explain. I’m not going to put a report in the local paper saying we’ve got a lesbian man-hating mayor.” Scarlet shot Joy a grin.
Joy returned it with a wry smile of her own. “That, at least, is good to know.”
“So you were married to a man, but now you’re a lesbian. I don’t know much about you, do I?”
And Scarlet didn’t. She’d been in Joy’s house for a day, but the spotlight had been on her — with good reason. But now it was time to discover some more about her host. What she’d already found out had been enlightening. Truly enlightening.
“Do your parents live nearby? You said your mum’s a chef — does she work anywhere I’d know?”
Joy shook her head. “No — they used to run one of the pubs in town, but they sold up and moved out to Spain a couple of years ago. Mum said she put in enough hours in the kitchen, and it was time to enjoy what years she had left. I agreed whole-heartedly. My brother, however, had a different opinion. But then again, that’s the story of my brother. Michael generally has different views from me.”
“Does he still live around here?”
Joy nodded. “Lives in a village about half an hour away, but I probably see my parents more often than I see him. He sent me a text to ask if I’d drowned today, but that’s as far as his brotherly love stretches.” Joy shrugged. “We get on okay when we don’t see each other too often, and that suits us both fine.”
“Whatever works,” Scarlet replied. Images of her twin brothers flashed through her mind, but she pushed them to one side. She hadn’t spoken to either of them for months either, but that was her doing, not theirs. Her brothers were constantly in touch; it was Scarlet who’d decided to step out of the loop, to press pause on family life. What did she have to offer them, after all, apart from self-pity and misery?
Joy nodded again. “I go to see my parents at least once a year, usually twice, and they come over at least once to see Gran. They tried to convince her to go out, but she’s not keen on flying.” Joy paused, looking wistful. “In fact, when the town is back on its feet, I may just fly off there to get a sunshine injection. I might need it after the next few weeks.”
“I think you might be right.”
Scarlet bit her top lip, still thinking about her brothers. She really should let them know about her flat and where she was, but she was putting it off. Ever since her mum had died and Liv had left, she’d been putting life off. But after the flood, she might have to start tackling life, get her hands dirty again. She’d lived in a sterile world for long enough. And sitting here in Joy’s kitchen, she could almost feel the fanfare of living being pressed back into her being.
“Seeing all the devastation today, I just want to say it’s brilliant to come back here and feel at home.” Scarlet paused. “Because I really do feel at home here, and that’s an amazing thing for me to say. I don’t usually feel at home anywhere. Sometimes not even my own home.”
Scarlet held Joy’s gaze, and there was something in the way Joy was looking at her. Joy’s gaze held weight, like there was something else she wanted to say, but was holding back.
Embarrassment crept onto Scarlet’s cheeks because of that and because of what she’d just admitted. It was shameful that she didn’t feel at home in her own house sometimes, but it was the truth. Scarlet had felt uninvited, uncomfortable in her own skin for most of the past few years.
But now, there was none of that. She was just being truthful, being Scarlet. And that was amazing.
“You’ve been so welcoming, far more than I might have been had someone turned up on my doorstep at five in the morning.” Scarlet bounced her gaze around the kitchen, anywhere to get it away from Joy’s kind eyes. She took in Joy’s old-school kitchen clock, her bright green splashback, her neatly hung utensils.
But when she did look back, Joy was smiling at her.
“You’re welcome. To tell you the truth, it can be a bit lonely being mayor and having so much to deal with, so it’s nice to have the company.” Now it was Joy’s turn to look away. “And it’s weird to think we only met properly last night, isn’t it? And here we are eating beans in my kitchen.”
Scarlet nodded. It really was. She couldn’t believe it’d been less than 24 hours since she’d turned up on Joy’s doorstep. So much had happened. So many emotions. In reality, more emotions than Scarlet had let herself feel in years. Keeping a lid on feelings was far easier than allowing them to roam free. Open yourself up, and people punish you, leave you. Scarlet had learned the lesson and toughened up.
Until last night.
“It is weird, but it’s lovely,” Scarlet replied. “And you were right — the kindness of strangers today was overwhelming. At the stadium, the guys who run the local Indian restaurant round the corner brought over a whole pot of curry. They set up a makeshift table and served it with rice and naan bread. Nobody asked them, they just did it.” Scarlet shook her head. “And the amount of people at the club — supporters, footballers, coaches, and just locals, all helping to do the clean-up of the stadium and the surrounding area. People power in action.”
Joy smiled at that. “You see, what did I tell you? Never underestimate the power of people and the kindness in the world.”
Tears pricked the back of Scarlet’s eyes, but she swallowed them down. Kindness wasn’t something that had been in her life much lately, but recent events had restored her faith in humanity. It was going to take more than one day, but Joy was living proof it was out there, as was everyone she’d met today. Her parents would have been part o
f it, too, if they were alive.
Oh no, why did she start thinking about them? She didn’t want to cry again in front of Joy, not two nights running. But her body had other ideas. A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly, turning her head away. She took a huge sniff and wiped her sleeve across her nose, a trail of snot glistening there. Attractive.
Scarlet held it together in life; it was what she did. But where Joy was concerned, that seemed like it was impossible. Joy tugged down her defences, laid Scarlet bare.
And Joy was a lesbian. A newly out lesbian. Scarlet wasn’t truly sure what implications that held. Whatever they were, she wasn’t sure she was ready for them. From moving at a snail’s pace, life was suddenly hurtling around her senses and through her veins at 100 miles an hour.
***
Joy could see Scarlet was floundering. She raced back over the conversation, not sure what she’d said to provoke tears, but they were there in Scarlet’s eyes. What could she do to make it better? Perhaps a change of subject, or a cup of tea. Was it talking about Scarlet’s marriage that had set her off? Or talking about Joy’s family?
Joy jumped up and put the kettle on, turning to Scarlet, who was still sniffing. Maybe she could even up the family score by asking about Scarlet’s nearest and dearest. Yes, that was a good plan.
“Are your family from round here? I take it not, with your accent.”
At the question, Scarlet’s face went from sad to alarm, and Joy could have kicked herself. Clearly, this change of subject wasn’t welcome.
Scarlet began to bite her nails, then shook her head slowly. “I’m from down south originally, Dorset. My parents are both dead, and I’ve got twin brothers — one in Australia, one near Preston, but I don’t see him that often.” Scarlet hugged herself with both arms, exhaling deeply before she spoke again. “I’ve got some aunts, a few cousins, but we don’t really keep in touch.” She shrugged. “You know how it is.” A pause.
“Then my relationship went kaput, so I moved here a few years ago because everyone told me people up north were friendly. But when I got here, I found the people were the same as they are everywhere else.” She shrugged again. “I live in a basement flat and I barely even know my neighbours.” She paused. “Lived in a basement flat.”
“But you were out with friends today?” Joy was trying to halt the evening’s slide into melancholy. She’d been enjoying this new side of Scarlet, the more care-free, open side. The one who giggled and smiled broadly. Her whole face lit up when she laughed. Joy didn’t want to lose it, but she could already feel the mood slipping through her fingers like sand.
“They’re my football friends — I only ever see them on matchdays, never at any other time. One of them offered me his spare room, but I don’t want to be a spare part in his house with him and his fiancée. And that’s how I feel most days, really — a spare part.” Scarlet shook her head, her every action appearing heavy, grating. “I’ve never really fitted in anywhere, so I guess that’s just me.” She picked up her knife, then quickly put it down again. “I’m a misfit, but I live with it.”
Joy didn’t think Scarlet was a misfit, not by a long shot. Scarlet was strong and bold, living her life just the way she wanted it. She’d got married to a woman she loved, she’d endured loss, but she was still standing, coming out the other side. If anything, Joy was the misfit in this situation, not Scarlet.
Definitely not Scarlet.
Scarlet got up abruptly and took her plate to the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher. Then she stood next to Joy, clearly not sure of her next move. The tension of the moment hovered in the air around them. Joy could feel Scarlet packing up the conversation, sweeping it under the carpet and wiping her hands on the way out already. But she didn’t want Scarlet to disappear — literally or metaphorically.
Joy had been enjoying her company and wanted her to stay, so she jumped in, determined to lift the mood back up. “We’re all misfits of some sort. I hardly fit the mayor role, do I?”
She touched Scarlet’s arm, and her guest almost jumped out of her skin. Whatever was going on inside Scarlet’s head, Joy would love to know. She wanted to sit Scarlet down, get her to tell her everything, make her see that her life wasn’t worthless, meaningless, and that she could easily have exactly what she wanted. Because what Scarlet was searching for was probably the same thing everybody was searching for: love, happiness, friendship, and connection. All anybody needed, when it came down to it, was connection. That, and a reduced email inbox.
“You fancy a nightcap in the lounge?” Joy asked, keeping her voice light, trying to take the edge off the situation. “I promise, no depressing talk, only light, upbeat chat.” Joy turned on her special smile saved for special occasions.
It didn’t work. Scarlet had already shut down.
There was a short delay, as if they were speaking on a really bad international phone line.
“I should try to get some sleep tonight,” Scarlet replied, shaking her head. “I might be able to get to my flat tomorrow, so I’ll need to be rested for what’s to come.” Scarlet paused. “Thanks anyway.”
Joy nodded, resigned, her shoulders slumping. She knew when she was beaten, that she should let Scarlet go and be alone, even if Joy desperately wanted to carry on talking. She hadn’t talked truthfully in years, and now she saw her chance, craved it like an addict.
But it would have to wait.
“I’ve moved your stuff into the room at the top of the stairs. I’ve changed the sheets, too, so it’s all ready. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Scarlet nodded, unable to hold Joy’s gaze. “Will do,” she said, brushing past her.
“And Scarlet?”
She turned and gave Joy a heart-breaking look. Whatever or whoever had happened to Scarlet, it’d left its mark, one that would be difficult to erase. The mark on Scarlet’s heart was clearly done in permanent marker.
“You’re very welcome here till your flat gets fixed up, so don’t worry about that, okay? I mean it.”
Scarlet gulped, then bit her lip. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a whisper, before leaving the room.
***
The conversation with Joy had knocked Scarlet out. If you could call it a conversation. Words in a room, maybe. Scarlet had been rude, and Joy didn’t deserve that: she was thoughtful, understanding, compassionate. Plus, it was becoming clear to Scarlet, attractive.
Scarlet slammed her head into her pillow as her libido pepped up, agreeing with her thoughts. Yes, Joy was attractive. And gay. And available. But the thing was, Scarlet really wasn’t sure whether or not she was available. On the surface, sure. But underneath? She was too damaged, and she didn’t want to inflict that on someone else. And that was even supposing Joy was amenable to it.
To her.
And Scarlet wouldn’t blame her if she wasn’t.
Scarlet had noticed Joy was good looking previously, of course she had. But back then, she’d just been ‘the mayor’, and everyone knew you didn’t fancy the mayor. Who the hell fancied their mayor? The mayor was normally a sweaty, older man with a patronising manner. A million miles from Joy.
And what if Scarlet told Joy? What then? If she let her guard down and acted on any feelings that might be stirring towards Joy, she knew the way it would go. The way it had gone with all of her previous encounters with women since Liv. It would start off fine, with Scarlet on her best behaviour. She would be courteous, and they’d be keen. And they’d have dinner, have sex, have drinks. Perhaps not in that order. It would be nice. Nice. What sort of a word was that?
But Scarlet would never really commit, unbeknown to them. And then gradually, slowly but surely, she’d begin inching out the door, unhooking herself from the unsuspecting woman, until before the other person knew it, Scarlet wasn’t returning their calls, she wasn’t answering their texts. Scarlet had left the building, leaving the other woman totally confused.
Because as soon as the other person wanted to know more
about her, Scarlet was gone. Scarlet had been down that road before, and she knew where it led. Love, dependency, hopes, dreams. When you opened yourself up, people took advantage. When really, all it took was some gumption up front, some strength, and you need never let yourself get into such a vulnerable position. Simple.
Only, this time, Scarlet had begun differently. This time, there was no beginning, no dating, no pretence. This time, life had thrown Joy and her together, and Scarlet’s defences had been breached, much like the town’s flood defences. Scarlet didn’t stand a chance, and the only plan she’d come up with was to run out of the kitchen, because if she didn’t run, who knew where it might lead? Yes, she was upset about her parents, but also about what was happening. Was ‘upset’ the right word? Perhaps ‘confused’ covered it better. Or even ‘scared’.
Scarlet wasn’t ready to take a chance again.
At least, that’s what she had thought. The only thing was, Joy made her feel like she could be ready, at some point. Around Joy, Scarlet was smiling again. There was a kernel of friendship budding, and Scarlet hadn’t had one of those in years. Not with another woman. Not with another gay woman. She didn’t want to scupper the chance of that with her libido, which needed tending. She could handle that herself.
She needed a friend way more than she needed a lover, and she didn’t dare to dream the two could be interlinked. Opening herself up to any possibility was just too scary to consider, so she held back; it was the best way. Yes, she was living life on cruise control, between the lines. She had no relationship ups, no relationship downs. She simply had time, hours and hours of time, with nobody to spend them with and nowhere to go. The chat about her family had truly brought that home to her — she’d tried to come off as nonchalant, but every word had shredded her heart.
Scarlet exhaled. Joy had even made up a new bed for her: where had she come from? She was so normal, so grounded. Everything Scarlet wasn’t.