Nothing to Lose

by Clare Lydon

  Joy laughed some more. “We can all gang up on Eamonn again. It’ll be hilarious.” She kissed Scarlet again. “But honestly, this is looking good, babe. You’re doing a great job.”

  Scarlet looked around and had to agree, she was. The walls had taken three months to dry out, then they’d had to rebuild the walls and floors, doors, and skirtings. Now she was at the final hurdle: decorating. She had a ton of donated furniture in storage at Grasspoint waiting to be moved in next week, and then it’d be home sweet home again. Well, a home for someone, at the very least: Joy and her hadn’t really addressed the issue as yet.

  Joy held up a present bag. “I bought you a gift, too. For your new place.”

  “You didn’t need to buy me a gift, you wally.”

  “I did,” Joy said. “Open it.”

  Scarlet reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of Glendronach, along with two crystal tumblers. Her heart almost burst with love.

  “You remembered.”

  “I promised you I’d bring you these, and I don’t like to break my promises.”

  “They’re beautiful, thank you.” Scarlet leaned over and kissed Joy. “I’ve come a long way since I was sitting on your sofa sobbing about my whisky glasses, haven’t I?”

  Joy nodded. “You have. And maybe we can try them out next week when we’ve got something to sit on.”

  “I would love that.” Scarlet paused. “Are you coming to the game tomorrow, too?”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. First game back in the sparkly new stadium, no true fan would miss that.”

  Scarlet smirked, pulling Joy towards her. “And you’re a true fan now, are you? Seven games is all it takes?”

  Joy nodded. “It’s not the length of time, it’s the quality of support. It’s like being a lesbian: I’m fully invested. Besides, like I told you, matches are a good anthropological experiment, watching football tribes in their raw state. Interesting from a psychological perspective, too.”

  Scarlet wound her arms around Joy’s waist, their faces now just centimetres apart. “Promise me one thing?”

  “What?”

  “Never say anything like that in front of Eamonn or Matt, I’d never hear the end of it.”

  Joy laughed. “I promise.”

  ***

  “I cannot believe your brother gave you his old car — it’s so incredibly kind. I can never imagine my brother doing the same.” Joy was sat on Scarlet’s new-to-her sofa, in her freshly painted lounge. The flat was shaping up nicely, and today they’d taken delivery of a bed, sofa, wardrobe, and dining table. They’d also taken a trip to Ikea in Clark’s old car — now Scarlet’s — to buy kitchen and bathroom essentials, and the flat was now somewhere Scarlet could live again, officially.

  And while Joy was thrilled with that for her sake, it was also tinged with sadness. She’d waited so long to find Scarlet, she didn’t want to be without her now.

  “I know, he’s so giving. I’m so pleased he’s back in my life. And Fred is flying over next month, too, and I can’t wait to meet my niece. She’s going to be one spoilt baby.”

  Joy relaxed back onto the sofa, springing up and down. “This is not half bad, you know, for a hand-me-down.”

  “It’s more comfortable than the one I had before, that’s all I know.”

  “Result,” Joy said. “Talking of families flying in, my parents are here next month as well, so we’re going to be overloaded with guests. You ready to meet them?”

  “I am — I can’t wait. Your gran has told me so many stories, though, I’m going to have to be careful not to blurt them all out.”

  “She’s a terror, that woman.”

  “A marvellous terror,” Scarlet replied, putting an arm around Joy. “You fancy a whisky in my new glasses to toast the flat?”

  “I would love that.”

  Scarlet grabbed the single malt from the kitchen, along with the glasses, stopping to admire her new units on the way. “You know, I’m actually happier with the new kitchen than I was with the old one. It’s a bit like my life, isn’t it?” she said, handing Joy her glass of whisky.

  “It is,” Joy replied. She glanced at Scarlet as she sipped her drink, then put it down on the brand new beige carpet. “And have you thought about what you might do with the flat now it’s done? Are you moving back in?”

  Scarlet put down her drink too, then turned to Joy. “I was thinking about that when I was painting it this week. I know we kinda talked about it, but we didn’t come to any hard conclusion.”

  Joy nodded, her heart racing. “I know.” She didn’t want Scarlet to move out, but she also knew she had to let her come to the decision on her own, no pressure. But that wasn’t easy at all, when what she wanted to do was throw herself on the floor and wail at the injustice of Scarlet’s flat being ready to live in again. No, Joy had to keep calm, measured. She was normally pretty good at that, but apparently not when it came to Scarlet.

  “I was painting the walls, and thinking about the colours I’d chosen, and the furniture that was coming,” Scarlet began, glancing at Joy, pulling her mouth one way, then the other. “But when I tried to picture myself here, I drew a blank: a complete blank. It’s almost like this isn’t my home anymore. I don’t belong here.”

  Scarlet took Joy’s hand in hers, and kissed it. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, would it be okay if I didn’t move out from yours?” She paused, her cheeks flushing red. Then she cleared her throat and put her focus back on Joy. “Because I don’t want to. Because I love you. And because it just doesn’t feel right being here anymore. I belong with you, not here.”

  Joy’s mouth turned upwards as she heard the words fall from Scarlet’s mouth — a love letter just to her. These were the words she’d been waiting to hear for such a long time. Not pushing Scarlet to reveal her feelings had been so hard, but now she was glad she’d done it, because hearing Scarlet say this of her own accord meant so much more.

  Joy had been pretty sure Scarlet loved her: she acted as though she did in day to day life, and she’d got better at revealing her feelings, but she still wasn’t comfortable with it like Joy.

  But telling Joy she loved her? That was a huge step. So as well as being thrilled, Joy also felt proud.

  Joy took Scarlet’s face in her hands and kissed her lips, hoping she was conveying everything she was feeling in that single kiss.

  Scarlet loved her. And she loved Scarlet.

  It really had been as simple as that all along.

  “Oh sweetheart, I belong with you, too. And I don’t want you to move out, either.” She paused. “I love you, too, you must know that.”

  Scarlet nodded, a weird noise escaping her lips. “I hoped so,” she croaked. “I had my fingers and toes crossed.”

  Joy let out a strangled laugh. “Well, I do. And I don’t want you to move out.”

  Scarlet grinned. “Good,” she said, exhaling. “I was thinking I might rent it out for a bit, as I don’t think anyone’s going to want to buy it at the moment. Not after everything.”

  “Good call.” Joy’s breathing was all over the place: Scarlet’s announcement had floored her. “And you really love me?”

  Scarlet trailed a thumb down Joy’s cheek, nodding her head. “I really do. I’m sorry I haven’t said it before, but I plan on saying it again quite a lot in our future. It might just take a little while for me to get used to it, okay? Love and me don’t have a good track record.”

  Joy smiled. “Okay.” She paused. “You know what this means though, don’t you?”

  Scarlet shook her head. “Tell me.”

  “It means your whisky and whisky glasses are going to have to come and live with mine.”

  Scarlet smiled. “Not such a hardship. I’m sure they could get used to living at yours.”

  Joy shook her head. “It’s not mine, it’s ours. Our place, okay?”

  Scarlet nodded her head. “Give me a few months, I might learn to start saying it. No promises, tho
ugh.”

  “No promises?”

  “Only to keep loving you.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Joy replied.

  THE END

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  A NOTE FROM CLARE

  I wrote this book after reading the story of one man’s plight following the devastating 2015 floods in northern England. I decided to use it as a premise for my own tale of love and redemption, and it was an emotional book to write — I hope that came over in the storytelling. I did wonder if releasing this book in the summer was the right thing, but it turns out flooding is getting worryingly more common, and in the week I published, London and the south-east had flash floods. In June. Welcome to global warming!

  I hope you enjoyed this book, and if you did, I would love it if you told your friends and shared it on social media. Better yet, buy them a copy for their birthday! Let’s get this book into as many hands as possible. There’s nothing that makes me happier than people reading my books.

  And please let me know what you thought — you can get in touch via social media or email, details below.

  Twitter: @ClareLydon

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/clare.lydon

  Instagram: @clarefic

  Find out more at: www.clarelydon.co.uk

  Contact: mail@clarelydon.co.uk

  AND FINALLY, THANKS FOR READING!

  ALSO BY CLARE LYDON…

  The London Series

  London Calling (Book 1)

  This London Love (Book 2)

  The All I Want Series

  All I Want For Christmas (Book 1)

  All I Want For Valentine’s (Book 2)

  All I Want For Spring (Book 3)

  All I Want Series Boxset, Books 1-3

  Other Novels

  The Long Weekend

  Coming in 2016

  All I Want For Summer (July)

  All I Want For Autumn (October)

  New book in the London Series

  Discover Clare’s books on Amazon UK

  Discover Clare’s books on Amazon US

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First up, thank you to my early readers for their comments and feedback — your encouragement and honesty made this a better book, so thank you! Thanks especially to Tammara Adams, Angela Peach and Petra Harridge. Gratitude also to Hilary Sangster for her advice on emergency response to floods.

  Tip of the hat to my editor, Laura Kingsley, for being a cheerleader while also delicately pointing out what needed to be changed; to Izzi for her on-point proofing; to Rachel Lawston for stepping in and providing the bang-up front cover; and to Adrian McLaughlin for his typesetting and London Book Fair wine drinking commitment.

  Love & thanks by the bucketload to my ever-patient wife, who puts up with my writing habit with style & grace. Yvonne, you’re my everything. Well, you and Tottenham Hotspurs.

  And finally, thanks to you for reading. I write because I have to, but it makes it a way more fun journey sharing my work and getting feedback. I love all of your comments, especially on the days when I doubt myself. You rock. Thanks for reading and supporting.