Nothing to Lose

by Clare Lydon

  “That’s a great way of looking at it, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Scarlet shrugged. “It’s the only way to look at it. It’s going to take a while for me to get back on my feet and replace everything I lost, but I will. I have a job, I have friends, I have family.” She paused, then beamed. Yes, she really did have family. It felt so good to say that sentence and really mean it. It meant the world.

  “And I have the support of my job and my community, who’ve all rallied round to help. The emergency services have been terrific, the council on top of things, and thanks to our wonderful mayor, Joy Hudson, I have a roof over my head. She kindly took me in on the morning of the flood and now it looks like she’s stuck with me.” Scarlet glanced around and saw Joy standing behind the camera — she’d missed her arriving. She smiled a grateful smile at her, and got one in return.

  “And how is your flat?” Kay asked.

  Scarlet smiled. “Buggered,” she said, before clamping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, am I allowed to say that?”

  Kay laughed, shaking her head. “It’s okay — let’s go again.” She turned to the crew. “You getting all this?” Her voice held urgency.

  The crew nodded.

  Kay counted Scarlet in and asked the question again.

  “It’s going to take weeks, maybe months for it to dry out — basement flats have a harder time recovering than most. All my stuff has had to be thrown away having been submerged for a few days, and we’re back to bare walls, no plaster. It’s a damp shell and it needs to be dried before any rebuilding work can start.”

  “But you seem — almost upbeat about it.” Kay sounded like she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth, let alone Scarlet’s.

  Scarlet nodded. “I am. The flood’s restored my faith in people and pulled me back to life. In a weird way, I’m grateful. I’d never have met the wonderful people of this town and known their generosity without it.”

  “Your attitude is commendable.”

  “If you’d asked me at the beginning of the week, it might have been a different story, but now…” Scarlet paused, then looked directly into the camera. “But there are still loads of people and businesses who really need your help, so please give whatever you can — time, food, money, whatever. It all adds up to us all rebuilding our town together.”

  Kay waited to see if Scarlet had finished, then brought the camera back over to her. “There you have it, I couldn’t have said it better myself — let me know if you ever need a job,” she told Scarlet, smiling. “The rebuilding effort needs your donations — the number and website are on the screen now, or just go to the website for more information. Thanks to Scarlet for speaking to us.”

  “You’re welcome,” Scarlet replied.

  The cameras stopped rolling and Kay tapped Scarlet on the arm, just as she took the few steps towards Joy. “Can we get some footage in your flat, too, just so people can see the damage?” Kay asked.

  “Sure.” Scarlet was pumped, jigging from foot to foot: she was so glad she’d agreed to do this. Making Dulshaw’s plight visible to as many people as possible was the plan, and if Scarlet could be part of that, she was thrilled.

  She turned to Joy and Kay and her camera crew readied themselves. “Was I okay?”

  She couldn’t quite read the look on Joy’s face, but she was smiling.

  “You were glorious.”

  Scarlet grinned at her. “Give me ten minutes to show Kay around the flat?”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Joy replied.

  ***

  “You were brilliant, a natural on camera.” Joy was sitting beside Scarlet in the pub, a look in her eye that Scarlet still couldn’t quite pin down. “And I loved the look you gave that woman when she asked you how you felt about having to evacuate your house at four in the morning.”

  “They ask stupid questions, that’s why I tend to avoid the local news. How does she think I felt? I wanted to say thrilled, but I thought that might make me public enemy number one.”

  “Probably a good move.”

  “You were just… incredible,” Steph said. “I can’t put it any other way. I thought you were going to tell them a sob story!” The interview was due to be broadcast any moment now on BBC local news. The pub already had the TV set on, ready to roll.

  “I was,” Scarlet said, running a finger up and down her fresh pint of Peroni. “And then all this stuff just came out of my mouth. Did I sound like a twat?” She was pretty sure she had, and the crackle of doubt was still crunching through her veins. She hated looking at photos of herself, never mind watching herself on the telly.

  Joy shook her head. “Far from it — you sounded like a compassionate, caring person.”

  “Which is what threw me, to be fair,” Eamonn added, grinning. “Invasion of the bodysnatchers. You’ve definitely been taken over — bring back moany Scarlet. I miss her.”

  “She’s still here, she’s just sulking,” Scarlet said, putting her elbows on the table, her jaw cradled in her palms. “So I didn’t come across as a twat?”

  “If Mother Teresa is a twat, then yes,” Eamonn replied. “You’re going to be a local celebrity and saint after this, mark my words. People are going to come up to you in the street and thank you.” He glanced at Joy. “You might have a queue of people outside your door, waiting for advice on how to be more giving like Saint Scarlet.” He paused. “And frankly, I blame you.”

  “Me?” Joy said. “Why am I to blame?”

  “Because you’re the one thing that’s changed. Scarlet used to be reliably miserable and pessimistic, then she goes to live with you for a week and boom! She’s spouting self-help and heal-thyself bollocks down a TV screen.”

  Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Okay, we get your point, Irish boy.”

  Eamonn grinned, pointing a finger. “You see — casual xenophobia! That’s the Scarlet I know and love. Not this airbrushed flood poster child.”

  “I think you did brilliantly,” Joy said, ignoring Eamonn. “You spoke from the heart, and that’s what people will respond to — on that point, Eamonn is right. You’re saying what many of us are thinking: yes, we’d rather there wasn’t a flood, but look what it’s done for the community spirit and pride in our town.”

  “I didn’t sound preachy?” Scarlet pouted. She was still worried, but she’d find out soon enough.

  “You made me sound like a right wally, if anything, going on about my plight,” Steph said. “There’s us two, going on about our business and our wedding, and then there’s you, pushing away the spotlight and turning it on those in need. I really might start calling you Saint Scarlet.”

  Ten minutes later, and it looked like Steph was right. The interview had been aired, and they’d all come out of it well, but Scarlet in particular. The pub erupted in applause when it finished, and Scarlet was now installed in a circle of locals, all wanting to hug her, offer her furniture, or buy her a drink. Like the whole of the past week, it was all too surreal.

  Scarlet’s phone lit up with a text from Clark. ‘Proud of you sis — you were amazing. X’

  She’d just said what came naturally — she didn’t see what the fuss was about. Like Joy said, she’d just told the truth.

  “What did I tell you?” Eamonn said, as they eventually sat down an hour or so later.

  “I have never in my life had so many people give me their email address and phone number. I think I have a bed, two wardrobes, an armchair, and a coat that didn’t fit Amy over there, but she thinks would look great on me. Unbelievable.”

  “That’s the power of TV.”

  Scarlet shook her head as her phone buzzed again. She clicked, read the message, then her mouth dropped open.

  “That was Kay,” she said. “Apparently since it aired, they’ve been deluged with calls of help and support. The flood fund has been swamped and she’s had calls from people who want to help us specifically,” she said to Steph and Eamonn. “Your shop and me.” Scarlet shook her head.
“It’s crazy.”

  “You can say that again,” Steph said. “But crazy good — that’s amazing!” She gave Eamonn a kiss on the lips and he grinned back at his fiancée.

  “You’re amazing,” Eamonn told Steph.

  “Maybe your prophecy was right,” Joy said, covering Scarlet’s hand with her own.

  Scarlet felt it right the way down to her toes. Eamonn had just kissed Steph, and she really wanted to kiss Joy right now. Right at this very moment. Suddenly, Scarlet couldn’t remember the reason why she hadn’t done it before. Because she was stupid? What exactly had she been waiting for? This was a victorious moment, one to be celebrated. And she couldn’t think of a better way to do it than that.

  “My prophecy?” she asked, tuning out the rest of the pub. In this moment, it was just her and Joy.

  “The one about it not being the worst week of your life, but rather, one of your best.”

  A fuzzy haze ran down her and she was suddenly drenched with desire. It wasn’t the best week of her life yet, but she knew how to make it happen.

  Scarlet reached over and took Joy’s hand under the table, holding Joy’s gaze with her own. Scarlet’s grip was firm, belying the weakness in her knees and the thundering in her chest. This was it — the push they’d needed. There was no going back now. Scarlet had opened the door and they were both about to step through.

  “You want to go home soon?” She hoped that sentence communicated everything it was laced with: her voice had dropped an octave, which spoke volumes. She dropped her gaze to Joy’s lips, back up to Joy’s eyes, then back to her lips.

  Joy’s gaze never left hers, her eyes pooling with unmistakable desire.

  “I would love to,” she replied.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  They got a cab home, at Scarlet’s insistence, and held hands all the way home, without talking. Joy’s heart was beating hard, and her palms were beginning to sweat, too, but she tried not to think about it. Keep calm, that was her motto. But it was hard to keep calm when she cast her mind forward and almost wilted with yearning. She’d visualised this moment so many times in her mind, and now here they were, Scarlet smiling nervously at her, on their way home.

  Scarlet paid the driver and unlocked the front door, moving aside for Joy to go in first. She closed the door gently and turned to look at Joy.

  Joy hadn’t moved. She was just standing, staring, her breathing sketchy. She couldn’t take her eyes from Scarlet, who suddenly seemed larger in her vision, almost pulsing. Joy’s mouth was gluey, and when Scarlet spoke, the words felt like they were coming from a speaker in the wall and not from her at all.

  “You want to go through to the lounge?”

  Joy nodded, wordless, shrugging off her coat. When Scarlet took her hand to lead her through, it trembled with want. Joy had to get a grip, or she was going to pass out before anything happened. And she seriously didn’t want to do that. Not after this lifetime of wait.

  Not now.

  Joy sat on the sofa, taking her usual seat, staring at the magazine on the coffee table. It was Scarlet’s magazine, one on guitars. She liked that Scarlet was feeling comfortable enough to leave her magazines around the house now. Joy’s insides glowed at the thought that Scarlet was beginning to relax here.

  Joy’s gaze settled on Scarlet, who was on her haunches, filling the log burner with wood and firelighters. When it was done, she closed the tiny door and glanced over at her sofa.

  Scarlet’s seat.

  Scarlet hesitated as she stood, but then veered left and sat next to Joy.

  Joy held her breath. The logs began to smoke and glow, a bit like her. Joy was the kindling, and Scarlet was the firelighter.

  Scarlet took Joy’s hand. “I don’t quite know where to start,” she said. Scarlet was shaking. “You’ve been so amazing to me since I arrived, and you’ve been by my side through this exhausting week.” She exhaled. “And after the interview, after seeing Eamonn kiss Steph, all I wanted to do was kiss you.” Scarlet licked her lips, her gaze caressing Joy’s face. “It’s still all I want to do. But I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do. We can do this however you want, slow as you like; you’re in control.”

  Scarlet swiped her thumb over Joy’s knuckles.

  Joy’s body trembled from head to toe: Scarlet was causing mini-earthquakes with a minimal touch.

  “That’s the thing,” Joy replied, leaning in so their faces were within touching distance. Up close, Scarlet was even more beautiful, and Joy stroked her cheek with the back of her hand.

  Scarlet closed her eyes on contact.

  Joy continued: “I don’t think I’ve been in much control since the moment you walked through my door. I’ve kept a lid on it, but that’s about it. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you swept into my life almost a week ago, and that’s a lot of waiting. So going slow wasn’t on my mind today.” Joy paused. She seemed to have turned into a character from a film, one with gumption and sass. “This is what’s been on my mind today.”

  Joy leaned forward and pressed her lips to Scarlet’s, leaning in for dear life. When they finally made contact, the impact was instant, their lips crashing together with a hunger that had been building for days. Scarlet’s lips were warm and wet, and they tasted of glittering potential. Joy was transfixed: now she’d finally kissed them, she only wanted more. Finally, after days of flirting, and nights of longing, she was kissing Scarlet Williams and it was divine. It was as if this was what Joy had been born to do, and really, what the hell had taken her so long?

  She moved closer to Scarlet just as Scarlet moved to her, their breasts brushing against each other as their lips locked. Joy drew in a breath and her clit stood to attention. She clung to Scarlet as pent up need overwhelmed her. The longing wasn’t just for Scarlet; the longing was for the last 38 years she’d wasted. So much time. But she couldn’t dwell on that: now was the time to look to the future. But mainly towards getting to know Scarlet better.

  So much better.

  Joy ran a hand up Scarlet’s back, and Scarlet kissed her harder. Raw energy and passion collided as they raced through her, and when Scarlet’s tongue glided into her mouth, Joy swelled with passion. Scarlet was everything Joy had dreamed about and more. And the way she’d been on camera today? Joy didn’t think she’d ever been more attracted to anyone. Ever.

  Until Scarlet began to nibble the side of her neck. That was when Joy had a feeling this attraction was only going to go one way: skywards, to the moon.

  Scarlet’s breathing was heavy as her tongue flicked over Joy’s neck, before settling near her ear. “I’ve been wanting to do this all week, too,” she whispered, placing a hand on Joy’s breast. “And you feel incredible.”

  The words rolled down Joy’s body like a thunderclap, sending shuddering sparks of electricity through her.

  Scarlet had felt it, too: a small chorus of rejoice began in Joy’s mind. She smiled, before tilting her neck, giving herself over to Scarlet.

  Scarlet didn’t need a second invitation, setting to work, her tongue and mind working in perfect harmony.

  Within minutes, she was tugging at Joy’s top, her nimble fingers pulling it over Joy’s head. And then Scarlet stopped to admire Joy.

  “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Scarlet said, before enveloping Joy in her arms, running her hands up and down Joy’s back.

  A smile creased Joy’s face as she breathed in Scarlet’s sweet scent. “I’m glad you approve,” she said.

  Scarlet’s eyes were dark pools of want as she stared at her. “One hundred per cent.”

  And then Scarlet pushed the fabric of Joy’s bra to one side, wrapping her mouth around one of her dark nipples.

  The sensation almost wiped Joy out. Looking down at Scarlet like this, Scarlet’s mouth on her breast, it was almost too much to handle. Joy couldn’t rip her eyes from Scarlet as she reached round and unclipped her bra, releasing Joy’s breasts. Scarlet cupped them both, nibbling left then rig
ht, her focus laserlike.

  Joy, for her part, was now pulsing inside and out. Her knickers were already drenched; she couldn’t wait for what was to come.

  And yet, she also wanted to. She wanted to lie in the moment, revel in it, savour it. Because even though there was nothing she wanted more right now than Scarlet’s touch, there was also only ever going to be one first time and she wanted it to be as perfect as it could be. Because she’d never wanted anything so much in her life.

  Scarlet tugged Joy up and led her to the rug in front of the fire, easing her onto her back. Then her mouth was on Joy’s stomach, then her breasts, then her neck.

  Joy didn’t know what to concentrate on or what to think: Scarlet kissing her did so many things to her, she was almost floored. Everything she’d ever known before had been wiped away, Scarlet had made sure of that. The room went fuzzy around her as Scarlet’s tongue worked its magic.

  Then Scarlet straddled Joy and slowly undid her own black shirt above her, a slight smile playing on her lips.

  Joy’s blood was rushing so fast, it was almost deafening.

  When Scarlet slipped off her shirt, Joy couldn’t take it anymore — she was too far away from Scarlet, she wanted to be closer to the action. She wanted to touch Scarlet, so Joy got to her knees, facing her, then placed her tongue on Scarlet’s breasts, drawing back the material of the white bra and claiming them for her own.

  Scarlet moaned as Joy sucked, licking and teasing Scarlet, who was lost to her touch just as Joy had been to hers. Seeing the effect was mesmerising, and only made Joy want to do more. To go further. To take Scarlet to places they’d never been before, together as one.

  It only took a couple of minutes for Scarlet’s bra to be removed and then they were kneeling together, breast to breast, lips locked, hands over backs.

  Kissing Scarlet naked, bare flesh to bare flesh was so much more erotic than with clothes on. Exquisite tingles rippled up and down Joy’s body as Scarlet trailed her tongue along Joy’s bottom lip, before sliding it into her mouth, at once rough but also gentle. Scarlet’s kisses were scrambling Joy’s senses and she could think of nothing else but the here and now. Of making love to Scarlet. Her mind was a blank page, and Scarlet’s tongue was writing a new story with every second that passed. Joy was in heightened emotional territory, somewhere she’d never been before. But she wasn’t scared — not one bit.