Barefoot

by Daisy Burton

  “I swear, if you’ve touched her…” Marsh threatened, rolling his fists in an almost comedic way.

  Doug rolled his eyes, and shoved Marsh’s chest lightly, watching with a wry smile as he fell drunkenly onto the sofa.

  “MARSH!” Sal’s anger was incendiary at his implication that she’d be off having sex with someone else tonight, even if that someone was as wonderful, kind and perfectly fanciable as Doug. She’d had enough of those kinds of accusations from David and she wasn’t about to start accepting them from Marsh. “Your FRIEND has been a perfect gentleman. He’s been nothing but kind to me, so back off. Right now!”

  Marsh scowled and stayed sitting on the sofa, as Sal walked up to Doug and gave him a long, warm hug.

  “Ignore him, please, Doug,” Sal pleaded. “Thank-you so much for all you’ve done tonight. There’s no sign of anyone here so I’m okay. You go and enjoy what’s left of the night.”

  Doug’s eyes darted to Marsh, then back to Sal. “Well, if you’re sure. But you know where I am. I’ll go back and let Jess know you’re safe.”

  He levelled a comment at Marsh, “Don’t come back to mine except to pick up your stuff, mate. I think it’s time you came back home and sorted things out.”

  Marsh held his hand up at Doug and sat on the sofa while Sal saw Doug out. Once she’d waved him off, she took off her stilettos, grabbed her handbag and stomped up the stairs. Marsh followed close behind, too drunk to see that it was probably not the best idea.

  He watched her get undressed and climb into her nightie with her back to him, then she sat down on the bed to take off her make-up. That was why she generally didn’t like to wear make-up; it was such a faff to get off. She ignored him when he sat gently on the bed beside her putting his hand on her knee, which she moved, to make a point.

  “Sal,” he started, softly but still slurring. “Can we talk? I can’t go to sleep like this.”

  She looked at him, with a mixed expression of fury, pity, sadness, disgust, humiliation, hurt, love and bitterness. She couldn’t decide which was the dominant emotion at that moment, it all felt jumbled up and painful. It was so rare that she felt angry like this, it was quite alien to her.

  “Welcome to my world,” she hissed. “What do you expect me to say, Marshall?”

  She knew that would make him stop and think. She’d never called him Marshall, not even at the beginning. Only when Jess had first introduced them, had she used his full first name; ever since, he’d been Marsh, Marshie or Marshmallow.

  He shrugged.

  “What do you want to do? I can’t carry on like this.” Sal asked, though she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “I don’t want her. I never have, it’s you I want.” He did seem earnest, but having seen his online conversation with Maire, he came across to Sal as untruthful and squirming. She stood up, full of fire again, remembering that he still didn’t know that she’d seen those conversations.

  “Oh, sure,” she said. Her tone was sarcastic and she cocked her head to one side. “It didn’t seem that way when you were talking to her on Yahoo Messenger and your mobile…”

  “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Marsh had genuine surprise and fear in his eyes but the drink had dulled his sharpness enough that he couldn’t see the game was up. Sal watched him trying to work out how long she could have known about Maire. It was obvious he thought she’d only found out today.

  “I’ve seen it all!” she yelled, picking up a cushion from the bed. “You saying you want to spoon with her, to be touching her. You called her PUMPKIN,” she screamed, flinging the cushion at him as hard as she could.

  Marsh looked mortified and suddenly seemed remarkably sober. “Shit. How? When did you find out?”

  “I’ve known for a few weeks. Yes, I knew you left me because of her. Cheers, Marsh. It’s been a wild festive season.”

  The gloves were off and the sarcasm flowed – Sal didn’t care in that moment what happened. All the pain and fear she’d been bottling up for the last few weeks flew out of her mouth.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” he whispered, horrified.

  “Why? I thought better of you. I loved you. I love the GIRLS. Christmas. Because I care about other people. Your other people. OUR FAMILY,” she yelled. “Or I what I thought was our family. Clearly I was mistaken.”

  She reached up to touch her bruised cheek, which was still throbbing where Maire had clouted her, and sat down on the bed again.

  Marsh’s eyes started to fill up. She’d never seen that before, during their entire relationship. He wasn’t the sort of person to cry, having been brought up in a time when boys shouldn’t do that, and men had a stiff upper lip. It had been the one thing she’d wanted to change about Marsh before this. Now, even in her state of fury, it physically hurt her to see him so upset. Yet it didn’t break her resolve.

  He tried to say something, but had to stop to clear his throat. When he managed to speak, it all tumbled out.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Pumpkin,” he stuttered. “Maire is pretty full on but I never should have gone along with her. I’m a vain arsehole, I know that. I had no idea you knew. She confused me completely, but the time with Doug made me realise what we’ve got, and I love...”

  “Don’t you DARE call me Pumpkin, now!” she had tried to hold it in but she couldn’t wait for him to finish. “You’ve wrecked that. Anyway, you shouldn’t need someone to point out to you what we’ve got. I didn’t need it, I knew. Or I thought I did.”

  Sal was standing over Marsh, yelling, so he stood with her and went to put his hand on her shoulder.

  “GET OFF ME!” she shrieked and he whipped it away. “You shouldn’t have promised you’d never be unfaithful. That makes all of this ten times worse. I was an idiot to believe you’d be loyal. Jess knew you’d do it.”

  Instead of backing away as she normally would have in such a confrontation, she was now standing right up against him. Defiant. Righteous. But her resolve wasn’t sticking around as much as she’d hoped. She still felt so much for him, and now, watching the tears run down his cheeks and seeing him crumple in front of her was so hard. He looked beaten. Fearful. It was having an unwanted and unexpected effect on her.

  “I love you, Sallie,” he wept.

  Oh god, he’s actually properly sobbing ...

  She couldn’t give in though. Not tonight. She climbed into their bed and told him to sleep in the spare room. As she switched out the bedside light and pulled the duvet over her, he turned and left the bedroom, wiping his face.

  Lying awake, she stared at the ceiling as if it might have the answers she needed. After around twenty minutes, she could hear him snoring loudly next door.

  How can he fall asleep, just like that! Bastard!

  “Happy new millennium, Sallie,” she muttered out loud.

  She was so wound up, that it was impossible for her to sleep immediately. Still, by the time the bedside clock read 3.18am she had drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  12

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  “You are KIDDING me, right? A holiday? After what he’s done?” she yelled, when Sal filled her in.

  Mel was clearly having trouble getting her head around what her sister was telling her. Marsh had shot to the front of the firing line of her stratospheric temper now.

  “No, I’m not kidding… it’s the best way to sort things out.”

  Sal had her mediation head on again. She’d put off talking to Mel about what had happened on New Year’s Eve until now, precisely because she had feared this reaction. It was such hard work dealing with her kid sister, sometimes. Now, in the face of Mel’s scorn, Sal was feeling a little defensive of Marsh and their relationship.

  “We’ve booked the tickets and we fly to Denver on 12 February. We’re going, and that’s that.” Sal dug her heels in.

  “So he can show you how much he ‘loves’ you?” Mel spread the sarcasm on thick, her lip curl
ing up. “Come on, sis, this isn’t you. You’ve just said he’s been off shagging some bit of Irish stuff and you’re having him back?” She threw herself, bouncing, onto the sofa.

  “No, we’re going away because the band has two weeks clear of any commitments and he wants to give us some space to try to sort things out.” Sal explained, hating that she sounded as if she was making excuses for him. “Anyway, he didn’t sleep with her, he says it was just flirting, kissing and online sex, not the real thing. Nothing real.”

  “And you believe that? You’re giving him a chance? So, all that stuff he did with her is okay with you? How fucking dare he, Sal?” Mel spat. “Who does he think he is? You two were meant to be forever.” She looked incredulous, and hurt.

  Sal could see clearer than ever before how much her sister had got invested in Sal’s relationship with Marsh. She wondered how much of this was tied in with their father leaving, and whether Mel’s general reluctance to trust Marsh had been because of their dad. Now, Mel had just started to trust Marsh and he’d done this.

  Sal was determined to sort this out. “No, it’s not okay and he knows it,” she said, calmly. “It was awful for a few days after New Year’s Eve, but he’s been trying so hard to make it up to me. He’s like the old Marsh, but better – more attentive, helpful, listens to me when I talk, that sort of thing.”

  “Guilt,” Mel announced, arms folded.

  “He’s promised that he hasn’t been in contact with her since New Year, and that she’s tried calling, but he’s ignored her. He’s given me access to his phone any time to look if I want to.”

  “… and have you?” Mel cocked her head to one side, and Sal could tell she doubted her.

  “Well, no. But...”

  “Of course you haven’t!” Mel interrupted, sticking her chin forward in defiance.

  “… but I could if I wanted to, and that’s the point.” Sal pursed her lips and carried on, ignoring her sister’s tuts and barbs. “The thing about trust is that you can’t trust a little bit. It’s like being a bit pregnant. You either trust or you don’t, and if I don’t trust him, then I might as well leave right now.”

  “Yup. You should. Ship on out, right now.” Mel saw things in a very black-and-white way.

  “I haven’t agreed to anything other than going to Colorado, and talking. I love him, Mel, and I know you can’t forgive him, but I have to at least try, for my own peace of mind.” Sal’s expression and voice were both pleading. She didn’t feel as if she could climb this particular mountain without her sister’s moral support. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, or that I’m not worried that he’ll do it again, but he knows that if he does, it’s over. No conversation, no negotiation, I’ll be off.”

  “You should be off now, Sal. He’s shagged her, it’s obvious! But you can’t prove it, and he knows it. He’ll do it again. You wait.”

  “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, Mel, my nerves are in shreds. Can you please just let me do this?”

  Mel’s face softened a bit. “Okay, sorry. If you insist on going to America, you bloody look after yourself, okay? It’s a long way and I need to know you’re going to be alright.”

  Mel had a habit of being over-dramatic.

  “I’ll be fine,” Sal sighed. “Thanks for worrying, but honestly, it’ll be cool. I want to see if we can salvage this – whether we both want to. Anyway, I’ve always wanted to see the Rockies, you know that, and we’ve never been to Colorado with the band. If nothing else, I’ll have a lovely holiday.”

  Sal hugged her sister tightly. Sometimes it wasn’t clear who was the older sibling in this pair.

  “He owes you a great time at the very least, sis.” Mel said quietly.

  Sal could see that her sister was trying hard to control her feelings for her sake. That was touching.

  “Well, he’s not in the clear yet, I promise you. New Year’s Eve was horrendous for me, but it was worse for Maire. He abandoned her at the hotel, as far as I’m aware. The only text he sent her after that was to ask her not to contact him again. It’s tricky because she does work for the band occasionally, so she has to have contact with the people around him.”

  “Typical of you to think of the woman who tried to steal your man,” Mel looked exasperated. “I wish I’d been there, Sal, I’m so sorry I went to that London bash. I’d have sorted her out … and that bastard.”

  “Yes, I know, and it’s a good job you weren’t there. That wouldn’t have solved anything, you’d have just looked like a thug.”

  “It’s not thuggish to want to protect your sister. It’s morally sound behaviour.” Mel was indignant. That would have amused Sal in different circumstances.

  “Anyway, I’m glad you went up to London with your friends. You had a great time, didn’t you?” Sal asked, realising with some shame that she hadn’t asked her sister anything about her big new year bash in London.

  “Yeah, it was good. Kate got completely smashed too, so we had a bit of trouble finding where we were staying, but you know me. It was a great laugh.”

  Sal grinned. She knew she was lucky to have a sister like Mel. She was a pain in many ways, but it was lovely knowing that she had her back. She had always been there for Sal to lean on, and of course, if anyone upset Mel, Sal had always been there to defend and support her sister. They’d always been a team.

  As it stood, Sal wasn’t sure that her sister would ever be able to forgive Marsh for this, and that worried her. If she was going to be able to move on from it, she would need Mel to do the same.

  “I haven’t seen you nearly as much as I usually do over Christmas and New Year, sis. I’m sorry.” Mel interrupted Sal’s meandering thoughts. “I’ve had stuff on.”

  “Oh god, that’s not a problem, I know you’ve been manic and I’ve … well, you know.”

  Sal was happy that Mel was suddenly so independent. Sal had missed spending as much time with her as she usually did during the festive season, but it was also a bit of a relief this year.

  “So, you spent Christmas Day at Kate’s?” Sal continued. “The girls missed you, but it was the same old, same old. You didn’t miss anything except my legendary mashed potatoes.”

  “Oh god, were they lumpy? They’re always lumpy.”

  “No, they bloody weren’t! Cheeky mare. They were mashed to within an inch of their lives, with loads of salt, butter and cream,” Sal grinned, well aware that Mel loved her cooking really. “They were fantastically unhealthy and gorgeous.”

  “Like me?” giggled Mel, finally laughing at something, even if it was her own joke. “Well, I’m sorry I missed them, then. I stayed over at Kate’s Boxing Day. I wasn’t meant to but her mum, dad and brother are a real laugh and we ended up playing Trivial Pursuit and drinking games until the early hours on Christmas Day night. I crashed there and I had such a terrible hangover the next day, I stayed over again.”

  “Blimey, she’s got understanding parents! I’m glad you had a good time.” Sal tried to imagine their own mum indulging in drinking games. Kate’s parents couldn’t be that much younger than their late mum and although she’d been partial to a sherry on a Sunday night and a gin and tonic on special occasions, that was the extent of her debauchery. She certainly wouldn’t have taken well to strangers staying over on Christmas night.

  Mel beamed. “Yeah, they’re so welcoming.”

  *****

  After spending a couple of hours with her sister, Sal headed over to see Jess.

  Jess seemed remarkably unsurprised about her friend’s news, when Sal dropped by, laden with homemade mince pies. Sal wanted to repay her for the all the home-cooked dinners she’d provided during The Crisis.

  “You’ve always wanted to go there, haven’t you?” Jess asked, already tucking into a cold mince pie as Sal filled her in. She always said that she loved Sal’s crumbly homemade pastry, and never passed up the chance to devour it. Jess had a strange habit of eating the pie lid, then scooping the mincemeat out with her ton
gue. It irritated Sal no end, and she did her best to avoid watching Jess as her tongue furtled around inside the pie. Instead, Sal made herself focus on being impressed that Jess had remembered her love of Colorado.

  Sal remembered telling her about it one night during a Swedish tour. They’d been lazing around in their pyjamas in Jess’s hotel room, and had a long heart-to-heart about all kinds of things, including her love of Colorado.

  She realised that she’d been side-tracked by her thoughts and hadn’t answered Jess.

  “Yes, it’s incredibly beautiful. Even in February, it’ll be amazing.”

  “Will you go up to Aspen to ski and hobnob with the rich and famous?” Jess pulled what Sal figured was meant to be a terribly snooty expression, then giggled, presumably at the mental image of Sal on skis.

  Sal glared and blushed, recalling her attempt at ice-skating years ago that Jess had witnessed with great hilarity. Jess knew very well that Sal was anything but at home on a slippery surface – any shred of elegance and dignity went out the window, and limbs were flung in every direction.

  “No,” Sal said, sticking her chin out. “And I wouldn’t ski anyway. I can’t imagine Marsh would want to either, but we will go up into the mountains. I need to have a dip in the fountain of youth at Glenwood Springs. That’s not a million miles from Aspen, but it’s far enough away, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Jess was bored already. She had travelled enough with the band that to her, a holiday was staying in Britain. “So, come on, how’s it been? Last I heard, you’d spent the whole of New Year’s Day talking, and Marsh had grovelled constantly. He’d sworn he’d never speak to The Irish Tart again after telling her not to contact him, but you weren’t having any of it, at that point. So, how come all of a sudden you’re going on holiday in a few weeks?!” Jess asked as she helped herself to another mince pie and settled in for the story.

  “I did think about it before I said yes, but it makes sense for us to go. It’ll be just us alone for two weeks, which is very unusual for us. But there’ll be enough sightseeing and interesting stuff to stop us from going stir crazy with each other. It’s a kind of make-or-break thing - I feel as if I want to make a go of it again, but I need to be completely sure. I don’t want to mess him around chopping and changing my mind.”