by Clare Lydon
Scarlet smiled. “Don’t thank me — thank Joy. Her gran lives at Grasspoint, and she took me up there to meet her. It was her gran who suggested it — she knows Steph’s gran, too.”
“That’s a lot of grans,” Eamonn said, frowning. “But hang on, rewind. You went to meet Joy’s gran? Are you sure there’s something you’re not telling me here, because this sounds awfully like something’s going on.” He pursed his lips. “And you seem… different. Almost… is ‘happy’ the word I’m looking for?”
Scarlet’s cheeks turned pink at Eamonn’s words, mainly because she knew he was speaking the truth. But she wasn’t about to admit it. “Shuddup,” she said, eating her teacake. “You’re right, these are great.”
“Stop trying to change the subject,” Eamonn said. “Am I right, is there something — or someone — who’s putting a smile on your face?”
“No,” Scarlet said, reverting to her teenage self in an instant. She wasn’t ready to have this conversation, not after last night with Joy, and not after the night she’d spent tossing and turning in Joy’s spare room, thinking about Joy on the other side of her bedroom wall. There had been so little to stop them taking the next step last night, but then again, so much.
“Not a certain lady mayor, perhaps?”
Scarlet threw Eamonn her best scowl. “No!”
“Yeah, well, actions speak louder than words in my opinion.” Eamonn tucked into his second teacake as soon as it arrived. “And you’re allowed to like someone and be happy, just so you know.” He paused. “I take it what my mate Dean said was right?”
Scarlet froze: she didn’t want to betray Joy’s confidence, but Eamonn did kind of already know.
“Yes, Dean was right, but nothing’s going on. It’s just been nice to get to know her, that’s all.”
Eamonn smirked at Scarlet, just as he had a million times before in the pub after football. In many ways, Eamonn had taken the place of her brothers for Scarlet, filling the banter gap.
“I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.” Eamonn gave Scarlet a wink, then slugged back his coffee. “So when can I go and see this hall?”
Scarlet got her phone from her pocket and scrolled through to her notes app. Then she frowned. “Shit, I thought I put the number in my phone. Bugger.” She glanced up at Eamonn. “You planning on going to the shop later?”
He nodded. “Yep — still loads to do down there. Never-ending to-do list.”
“I’m going to try to get into my flat today if I can, so I’ll be going down there. Joy’s got the number, so I can call in after, or just text you, failing that.”
Eamonn nodded, sympathy flooding his features. “Shit, I forgot about that. Just remember, it looks and smells terrible, and it is. But it’s amazing what you can clean up in a few days. Don’t get me wrong, the shop is still fucked, but I suppose you come to accept it more when you see it a few times. But the initial shock… just prepare yourself, is all.”
Fear bubbled up inside Scarlet. “I will,” she said.
“Do you need me to come with you? Because I absolutely can.”
Scarlet shook her head. “Joy’s coming with me, she’s going to juggle some of her meetings.”
Eamonn raised an eyebrow. “I’m saying nothing. Honestly, nothing.”
Scarlet hit him on the arm. She didn’t need Eamonn on her case about Joy, too.
She was already on her own case 24/7.
***
When they got to Scarlet’s street, she could see the tarmac — that was a start. However, the road looked like a battlefield, with carpets strewn across pavements, sodden and sad. There were washing machines, desks, and shelving, now not fit for purpose; sofas, broken dining chairs, and clothes, never to be sat on or worn again.
The street also had a strange copper hue from all the claggy mud left behind after the flood waters had receded, which was now visible in clumps. The sun was shining bright today, making a mockery of everything that had gone before it. It was like a stage set, just waiting for the actors to enter, stage left.
Only, there was no stage left.
Literally.
Beside her, Joy sucked in a breath. “All this stuff, it’s people’s lives.” Joy stepped over a discarded lamp and shade, then a suitcase. “So much waste, it’s terrible.”
And it was. Three days ago, her street had been normal, with cars buzzing up and down on their way into the centre. But now, it was eerily quiet, just the odd person appearing to bail out yet more unsalvageable belongings. A woman across the road had a box in her arms, so wet it was drooping. She leaned against her dining table, now out on the street too, and her body began to shake.
Scarlet’s feet were stuck to the ground — she wanted to help the woman, but she couldn’t face someone else’s pain right now. She had to protect herself from what she was about to see.
Joy came to the rescue, because that was Joy’s forté. She walked over to the woman and muttered something to her, and the woman just bowed her head and cradled the box. Joy gave her an awkward hug, before coming back to Scarlet.
“Family photos, ruined,” Joy said with a shake of the head. “Some things can’t be replaced, can they?”
They picked their way down the street until they reached Scarlet’s front door, which was wide open. The hallway had a tide mark on the wall — Scarlet reckoned it reached to about her thigh. When she put her foot down, the carpet squelched beneath her feet. She recoiled, holding her breath. She wasn’t sure if she could do this, but she had to face whatever was down the stairs. But right now, it felt like going down to the basement in a horror movie: what lay beneath? Scarlet conjured images of her flat before the flood, but that just made her want to weep. And she wouldn’t do that; she’d promised herself.
It was just stuff, she could replace it. She had to keep remembering.
“Okay?” Joy asked.
Scarlet nodded, took a deep breath, then wished she hadn’t: a mix of sewage and damp filled her lungs, taking her breath away. The bleach hadn’t reached this part of the street yet. Her part of the street. Her flat.
She choked, then began to cough, which meant she had to breathe in more air. A bad move.
Joy put a hand on her arm. “You want me to go first?”
Scarlet shook her head. She was more than grateful Joy was there to support her, but this was something she had to do alone. “No, you stay here. I think I’d like to see it on my own first, to see how bad it is. That okay?”
“Whatever you need, I’ll be right here.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a man coming up the stairs, his every step accompanied by the splodge of water underfoot. He was wheezing as he came up, his massive stomach held in by a cheap-looking brown belt. He was wearing wellies, as was everyone around town, along with a thick red-and-grey anorak that wouldn’t have looked great on anyone. His forehead furrowed when he saw them, then he looked down and consulted his clipboard, lifting up a couple of pages before clearing his throat.
“Scarlet Williams?”
Scarlet frowned. “Yes — who are you?”
The man scribbled something on a form, then tucked the clipboard under his arm and held out his hand.
“Paul Barker, Best Place Insurance.”
Scarlet shook his hand — it was stone cold.
The man blew onto his hands. “Freezing down there and still very wet.” He glanced at her feet. “But you’ve got wellies on, you’ve come prepared.” He sniffed, got a tissue from his pocket and blew his nose. “I was just assessing the damage, seeing what you’re going to need. A new flat, to be blunt, but that’s what we’re here for.” He gave Scarlet a smile. “I know you hear a lot of scare stories about insurers, but you won’t get that from us in this case. This is cut and dried.” He frowned at his choice of words. “Or at least it will be dried, eventually — you’re going to need dehumidifiers, heat and bleach. Lots of bleach.
“There’s still a couple of inches of water, although now we’ve got the pumps
on full blast as well as sunshine, it should be out in a couple of hours. We’ve got lorries coming to clear out the major items today, too. You’re welcome to have a look, but you won’t be able to get down there to start the clean-up proper till we’ve cleared the worst. Tomorrow, all being well.” He paused, not quite willing to look into Scarlet’s eyes. “And I have to warn you, it’s a mess, as you might expect.” He paused again. “And it smells.” He wrinkled his nose.
“Do you have somewhere to stay?” He consulted his clipboard again. “I don’t have a note of you needing any emergency accommodation?”
Scarlet shook her head, still trying to take everything in. It was a lot. “No, I’m staying with my friend, Joy,” Scarlet said, nodding towards her.
“Excellent,” Paul said, smiling at Joy. “Friends are just what’s need in a situation like this.” He paused. “I was just nipping out to my car to get my tape measure — the electronic one’s not working, would you believe. Back in a minute, so I guess I’ll see you down there?”
Scarlet nodded again. “Sure,” she said, as Paul squeezed past them both and out onto the street.
Scarlet still hadn’t moved forward.
“I thought you said you didn’t have insurance?” Joy said.
“I’ve got buildings insurance, just no contents.” She inhaled, then coughed. She wasn’t going to stick around here for long, not with this smell. Paul hadn’t seemed concerned with it, but Scarlet guessed he was used to it. She scrubbed insurance assessor off her list of possible jobs.
“I’m going down. Second thoughts, will you come with me?” Scarlet had thought she could do it alone, but now, after Paul’s damning verdict, she needed reassurance. She needed someone to back up what she saw. But most of all, she needed someone to hold her hand.
As if reading her thoughts, Joy took Scarlet’s hand in hers.
Even that simple act made Scarlet smile on the inside, if not on the outside. She couldn’t move her face. It was stuck in alarm mode.
“Of course I will. But you have to walk forward in order for me to follow you.”
Scarlet did as Joy asked.
The bottom of the stairs held a cold, brown well of misery, as Paul had warned. The water was still up to just over Scarlet’s ankles, and judging by the smell, she didn’t want to know what she might be treading on or through.
“Fucking hell,” she said, covering her nose with her arm. Joy was already doing the same.
Her light fitting in the lounge, her gorgeous chandelier, was covered in brown sludge, some of which she could only assume was shit. Her sofas, too. Her once-white walls were now a curious grey-brown colour, and dripping. She breathed in, then wanted to retch.
Joy touched her back and she immediately calmed down.
Scarlet walked through to the kitchen. It was bleak. There was sewage on every surface, her once white cupboards now… not so. She didn’t want to even open a cupboard; she knew what she’d find.
Scarlet turned, her face stricken. This was almost too much, but she was determined to carry on.
Joy touched her arm, her sleeve across her nose. “You sure you want to carry on today? We can come back tomorrow when the insurers are finished throwing the majority of it.”
Scarlet shook her head. “I just need to see… everything.” She waded through the brown waters towards the bedroom, her foot hitting something solid. She stumbled, but Joy caught her. Her heart sped up so much, it was nearly out of her mouth. She wobbled.
“Please don’t fall over. I don’t want to drag you out of the sewage, too,” Joy said.
Scarlet laughed, despite herself. “I’ll try not to.”
The bedroom told the same story: sodden, ruined, bedraggled. She’d spent so long choosing that bed linen, too, and had only had it six months.
But she could get some more. That’s what she needed to tell herself.
Joy’s hand was on her elbow now. “You can replace all this, you know.”
Joy could clearly read minds. Which must mean she was an awesome life coach.
“I know,” Scarlet replied. And she did know that. But it didn’t stop her mind spinning at just what needed to be done.
Everything. Absolutely everything.
There was one room left that Scarlet had been dreading the most. Her bathroom. Her pride and joy. The one she’d photographed in Milan and spent a ton of money having modelled just as she liked it. Mosaic tiles, double shower, the works. She took a deep breath as she approached it, then opened the door.
The double shower was raised, so was almost free of water. But it also had human waste sitting in its tray, along with some sodden clothing, some toiletries, and a dead bird.
She’d seen enough.
“Let’s go,” she said to Joy, moving faster now, the water still sloshing around her feet. She pulled her boots free and trudged up the stairs, remembering all the times she’d worried about stepping in dog poo and treading it into her carpet. Her whole flat was one giant cesspit now. How ironic.
Scarlet took the stairs fast, then almost ran out of the hallway and into the fresh air. She hadn’t thought it was fresh when she’d arrived on the street, but it tasted mighty fresh now. She opened her mouth wide, doubled over, gasping for breath, trying to get rid of the stench that was clogging up her body. Scarlet retched, but nothing came out. She could hear Joy taking deep breaths behind her, too, then her soothing hand was on Scarlet’s back, rubbing gently up and down.
Scarlet stared at the pavement below her, full of what she’d thought was claggy mud, but now realised was probably sewage. She retched again, this time some sick winding its way up her windpipe. She allowed it to escape, retched a second time, and then stood gulping in air, her palms on her thighs, doubled over. The world was spinning up above and below; nothing made sense.
Eventually, Joy’s arms were around her, levering her slowly upwards. She let her.
Then Joy handed her a tissue to wipe her mouth, and led her away.
***
They walked for a while without saying anything, just concentrating on getting out of the street without tripping over people’s possessions. When they’d breathed in enough fresh air to kill the smell of sewage burnt into their lungs, Joy spoke.
“So that was rough.”
“Uh-huh."
“How you feeling? Apart from the nausea.”
Scarlet smiled at that and stopped walking, staring up into the metallic grey sky. “That was more a reaction to the smell than anything else,” she said. “Honestly? I feel detached, like that wasn’t really my flat. Which essentially, it wasn’t. My things weren’t my things anymore — and they’re just things, and I can replace them.” She started walking again, thrusting her hands into her pockets.
“I was thinking about this before, and it’s like stages of grief. I’m going through denial at the moment, pretending that flat’s not really mine.” She paused. “It’s a coping mechanism at the end of the day, but whatever works.”
“Makes sense,” Joy replied. “When something’s too difficult, your mind can’t process it, so you shut down.”
“Shutting down was definitely the best option. But not totally, just temporarily. Just so I can cope.” She glanced at Joy. “Before you go into full therapist mode on me.”
Joy nudged Scarlet. “I wasn’t going to do that. And anyway, I’m allowed. And for your information, I wouldn’t be doing it as a life coach, I’d be doing it as a friend. There’s a big difference.”
Scarlet smiled at Joy as they turned onto the High Street, which was a similar scene to Scarlet’s road, just wider.
“Holy shit,” Scarlet said as they walked in the middle of the road — the lack of cars meant they could.
Not one of the businesses were open to customers, but they were all a hive of activity. Just like on Scarlet’s road, equipment and furniture was strewn across the pavement, and the stench of bleach was overwhelming as people fought to get their premises cleaned up. Joy stopped to chat to the own
er of the material shop, rolls and rolls of ruined fabric lying on the street in front of them.
Scarlet drifted left and drew in breath when she saw the state of the town’s bookshop. She could see the mark where the water had reached inside the shop, and on the pavement out front, there were piles upon piles of sodden books. That almost made Scarlet want to weep more than her own flat. This flood wasn’t just about her: it was about the whole town. Her possessions held memories and experiences that were personal to her. But all these wasted books had held ideas, answers, and dreams, until a torrent of water had been poured on them. Now, those dreams would never be read and realised. It was devastating.
“What a sight.” Joy joined her, staring at the books. “But they’ll get it cleared up and we'll recover. I was just talking to Gayle at the material shop, and she said Steph has been making sandwiches for everyone to keep their spirits up, and the community have been bringing mops, food and drinks.”
Scarlet nodded as they fell into step on the road again, heading towards Great Bakes. “That’s great, but why do things like this happen?”
“To test human nature?” Joy replied. “Who the hell knows?”
When they arrived at Great Bakes, Eamonn was bleaching everything in sight and Steph was making coffee. When he saw Scarlet, he did a double-take.
“Twice in one day — people will start talking,” he said, putting down his sponge and giving her a bear hug. This was Eamonn’s new greeting post-flood, and Scarlet had to admit she kinda liked it.
“This is Joy — our esteemed mayor and my current landlady,” she told him.
Joy shook Eamonn’s hand and smiled. “Good to see you again.”
“You, too. I hope you’re keeping Scarlet in check. Although she walked in here sort of smiling, and I assume you’ve been to the flat already?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“So why are you smiling?”
“It’s either that or break down, and I’ve decided to give that a miss today. It’s buggered, but walking around here makes me realise I’m not alone, and it helps a bit. Not that I want other people to share the misery, but it’s nice to know you’re not the only one.”