by Daisy Burton
Jess was surprised that Sal had perked up quite considerably. “Right. But you still haven’t answered my Very Important Question.”
“Hmmm…” Sal sighed.
“Well?” Jess pushed harder, starting to lose the minimal patience she’d mustered.
“Yes, okay,” Sal snapped. “I suppose I probably would have said yes if he’d asked me in October. Satisfied?”
“It’s not about me being satisfied is it,” Jess said calmly, silently congratulating herself on not snapping back. “It’s about you loving Marsh and whether you want to be with him, or not.”
“Sorry, Jess. It’s not you I’m cross with.”
“It’s okay mate, I get it. It’s made you all sore again, but if you’re sure he wasn’t talking to Maire that day, then it’s not bad. If you’re not sure, you can stay here for a couple of days if you want? Give yourself a bit of thinking time?” Jess offered, hopeful that it might give her some time to talk about her own problem.
“Yeah thanks,” that hadn’t occurred to Sal. “I might. I need to be in a fit state to do the German dates.”
“And anyway,” Jess smiled. “It’ll make him realise what it was like for you when he left.”
*****
“Is this really necessary, Pumpkin?” Marsh was clearly not happy about her staying at Jess’s, even for a short time.
“Yes. I’m not leaving you; I promise. I’m only going to stay with her for a couple of nights, to get my head straight and help her prepare for Germany. Two birds with one stone and all that. I need to think about what I want, this time, okay?”
“It’ll have to be, won’t it.” Marsh pouted. “I’ve taken your sister home, by the way. I said you had to see Jess urgently, but she’s still miffed with you for not saying hello. Can you ring her? I don’t particularly want her turning up here while you’re away.”
“Yes, sorry. I’ll say Jess needs me to help her with something. It’s not a lie. Is she okay other than that? Nothing to report from when we were away?”
“She’s perfectly fine. Just cross with you,” Marsh sighed as he walked into the kitchen.
Sal packed up enough undies and clothes for a few days, and kissed Marsh goodbye on the cheek. He grabbed her bum, presumably in a feeble attempt to get her to stay.
She drove off with the radio blaring.
*****
Being at Jess’s for more than a few hours at once was a bit of an eye-opener. Sal hadn’t appreciated to what degree her friend’s kitchen turned into an office when there was a mini-tour looming. God knows what it was like before a major tour.
Sal was fascinated by the nature of musicians. The ones she knew, at least, seemed to be so focussed on their current musical project that they were incapable of feigning interest in things like admin, marketing or promotion. Once one project was complete, they immediately dropped it and moved onto the next one.
In the case of The Exploding Lightbulbs, it seemed to Sal that everything fell into Jess’s lap, and Jess encouraged that. People were in and out of her house non-stop and her laptop kept going ‘bing’. Jess used her mobile much more often than anyone else Sal knew, too. She had to, because the landline was constantly in use with the modem, so she could have constant access to her email. Goodness knows how much her ‘phone bill was.
Sal had never before had the chance to sit and watch Jess at work, and she was gobsmacked; this was a real lesson in time management. It was clear how hard Jess worked and how focussed she was from the files piled high on the kitchen table, the emails being sent, and the electronic proof copies of programmes, posters and press releases being batted back and forth.
She knew when the German version of the programme had arrived because Jess swore several times. She never trusted the local teams to check anything, it all had to go through her – which was a massive challenge when she didn’t speak the language. Sal knew Jess’s French was pretty good, but that was it.
“Shit! Do you speak German, by any chance?” Jess asked, always hopeful. Funny how Sal knew about Jess’s abilities, but Jess had no idea of Sal’s.
“’Fraid not, I don’t speak any other languages.”
“Damn. The only person I know who speaks a bit of German is Doug. I bet he won’t answer his mobile. He’s never got it on him. But I need someone to check that this programme hasn’t got any errors, and I need it done quickly.”
Sal vaguely remembered Doug telling her that he had worked on tours for a big German band during the late ‘80s. As it was one of his first jobs, he’d made the effort to learn a few words of the language. Then, he’d met his German ex-wife, Annika, out there so he’d picked it up quickly after that.
“Shall I text him and see?” Sal wanted to be of as much use as possible, but equally, she didn’t want to get in the way of the well-oiled machine that was in motion at Jess’s fingertips.
“Lifesaver,” Jess muttered, without looking up from her screen.
Doug replied to Sal within ten minutes, and said he’d be ‘round within the hour.
“Blimey, Sal, you must have magical powers - he usually takes forever to answer! I have to get the proof approved and back by 8.00am tomorrow our time, so that man deserves doughnuts. So do I, actually.”
“I’ll go and get some, yes?” Helpful Sal was still trying.
“Nah, it’s okay,” Jess said, already getting up from the table. “I desperately need some fresh air, my head’s banging. I might have a walk down to the shop through the park. You could stick the kettle on while I’m gone though, if you like? If Doug turns up before I get back, can you show him the document? It’s right there on the screen. That’d be fab.”
And with a grab of her coat, mobile and a fiver from her bag, Jess was gone. Sal watched her answer her mobile as she walked down the road.
Silence washed over the kitchen and it felt weird without the usual racket. Sal had got so used to the noisy chaos that had just walked out of the door, her ears were ringing with the silence.
She took the opportunity to make herself useful and clean up the kitchen. She was making a pot of tea when there was a tap at the back door. Everyone in the band’s circle came direct to the back door, which was in the kitchen, because they knew that’s where Jess worked. Sal looked over and saw Doug’s face beaming at her through the glass. He knocked again and Sal rushed over to unlock it.
“Wotcha, Sal!” Doug smiled as he hugged her. “I was surprised to hear from you. What are you doing here then, helping out?”
He seemed pleased to see her, despite the fact that it was so unusual for Jess to have anyone else in her workspace – even Adam tended to try to stay clear when his wife was working.
“Yeah, I’m not sure how helpful I’m being though - she’s a like a machine! Fancy a cuppa?” Sal smiled warmly at him. It was good to see him again. “I’m staying over a few days, y’know…” she shrugged, hoping to give off an air of nothing important happening.
That was never going to work with Doug, who was far too perceptive.
“Oh no. What’s he done now, sweets? Was America all good?” Doug asked, accepting the cuppa, and taking a long, loud slurp. He sat on one of the stools at the kitchen table, and looked so concerned already, Sal almost started crying, but she fought it. She really had no reason to cry. It was ridiculous how much the tears flowed when she was alone with Doug, so she chided herself and bit her tongue hard. That was meant to help stop tears.
“It was good. He hasn’t done anything, really…” Sal tried, but she wasn’t looking him straight in the eyes like she always did.
“Sure? Nothing? Sal, you’re forgetting - I know Marsh pretty well and your face tells a story. I know he loves you, but he’s a screw-up at the best of times. You can tell me; what’s he done now?”
She looked at him mournfully and with a hint of embarrassment at what she was about to tell him. She recounted what had happened, and once she started talking, she couldn’t stop. He had a way about him that made her want to tell him ev
erything.
He understood. He never dismissed her feelings, or gave her ultimatums in his advice; he listened and saw it from her perspective. No one else did that, not even Jess.
After she’d regurgitated all the details – good and bad – of the holiday, she realised she was holding his hand across the table. That one single action had made her subconsciously feel safe and at ease. She hadn’t cried when she talked, not even when she spoke about how paranoid she felt with Marsh now. Doug held her hand in one of his and drank his tea with the other, never once distracted from what she was saying. His eyes were fixed on her in a such a comforting, non-intrusive way. Where did he learn to do that?
“Okay. I get exactly how you’re feeling.” Doug finally spoke. “Do you want my opinion? I’m cool if you don’t - I know how it feels being told everyone’s differing opinions and ending up feeling more confused than ever.”
“No, I genuinely want to know what you think. You know him so well, and you know us together.” She was ready for whatever he had to say.
“Well…” he was obviously being careful and thoughtful before he spoke. “I reckon he’s trying to make things better with you after his crazy stuff, and the episode in the hotel room was just Marsh being an idiot. It was always bound to make you feel insecure again, I mean, you were barely recovering from his betrayal. This is about whether you can work at trusting him again properly and he’s got to earn it. It’s not going to come back just like that, is it?” he said, clicking his fingers. “As for the call, if it was a sex line, and not Maire or someone else he knows for real, then it’s down to your own views about that sort of thing.”
Sal was surprised, but quite relieved inside when she heard that. It didn’t last long; because as she processed his words she was overcome with worry.
“Oh god, have I overreacted?”
“Not at all. After the stunt he pulled with Maire, you’re bound to be a bit touchy. And you still don’t know for certain that it wasn’t Maire. But Marsh has always done the porn thing – you knew that, right? I mean, blokes do...” For the first time, he looked mildly embarrassed.
“Yeah, don’t worry, I know, it’s not a problem. It didn’t bother me in the slightest, before. It’s only that… now…” she trailed off as she heard footsteps coming towards the back door. Jess was back! “Oh shit, I was meant to show you the document!”
She grabbed the laptop, and shoved it at Doug. Thankfully, the screen saver disappeared and the document was there, ready. He was as calm as ever, and was reading it in the few seconds it took for Jess to reach the door.
“Oh, hi Doug! That was quick! You’re a gem, honestly,” Jess breezed in the door, bringing a draught of chilly air with her.
She plonked a box of fresh doughnuts and pastries of varying flavours on the table in front of him. She was red-cheeked from the cold and clearly enlivened by her walk, because she was chattering ten to the dozen as she walked through to the hallway to hang up her coat and take off her shoes.
Doug and Sal silently exchanged smiles.
“You’re welcome, Jess. I’ve only just got here. Are these for me?” Doug raised his voice so it would carry down the hallway after Jess, pointing to the pastries.
“Knock yourself out. The cinnamon one’s for Sal, though. They’re always hers.” Jess took the mug of tea that Sal had made for her, and wrapped her reddened hands around it as she watched him read.
Sal was off in her own world now, though, chewing a cinnamon whirl. Jess and Doug were discussing the programme, but Sal was distracted and mulling over what Doug had said. He was right, wasn’t he? The sex line wasn’t the issue; it was more that she didn’t trust Marsh. If she could never get that trust back, what then? Was there any point in trying?
“… isn’t it, Sal?” Jess said, with a clearing of her throat.
“Sorry, what?” Sal jumped, pulled sharply out of her thoughts.
“Are you alright?” Jess asked, obviously picking up on the change in Sal’s mood.
Doug stayed quiet, and winked at Sal.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thinking about stuff, that’s all.”
“Pensive Sal, that’s you! Don’t worry, go back to your thinking, you’re no use to me when you’re like this,” Jess quipped with a grin, and returned to her deep discussion with Doug.
Sal took herself off to the sitting room, the same thoughts jostling around in her head.
After some time, Jess flew through the room to the toilet, as she flew everywhere. Doug followed shortly afterwards, heading for the sofa, and Sal.
“You okay now, sweets?” he asked.
“Not particularly.”
Doleful was not a role Sal liked playing but she clearly wasn’t getting anywhere on her own.
“Why don’t we meet up for a coffee and some cake later?” Doug suggested. “Cake solves most things and I’m always happy to listen.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Sal hesitated, worried that she’d already bored the living daylights out of him.
“Come to mine,” Doug continued. “I don’t bite and I want to help. We won’t be seen there, so no one will report back to Marsh that you’ve been meeting men!” He laughed as he spoke and that made Sal giggle.
“Yeah, okay then, if you’re sure, why not. Thank you, I’m not sure I’m getting anywhere on my own.”
“See you later. About 6ish? You know where I live, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ll be there.”
17
Doug’s flat was obviously inhabited, decorated and furnished by a bloke, and had received no female input. Still, it was cosy, clean, tidy and homely, full of black ash furniture, with the odd bit of grey and flash of red to contrast. It screamed ‘80s and was massively dated by the standards of the new millennium, but Sal felt instantly comfortable when she walked in. He had also been to the shops on his way home, as promised, and bought cake. A gorgeous, buttery lemon drizzle cake – her second favourite thing to eat. How could he possibly have known that? And, standing on the little coffee table next to an inviting armchair, was a big mug of milky coffee, exactly how she liked it. The man must have intel on her but she didn’t find it in the least bit creepy.
She hugged him hello and made herself comfortable. She’d told Jess she needed to get out for a walk on her own and there had been no arguments. Jess had remained engrossed with German documents and Sal wouldn’t have been surprised if Jess hadn’t even remembered that she’d gone out.
The armchair Sal sat in was so huge and soft that it practically swallowed her up as she fell into it. It felt blissful sipping at the hot coffee, and biting into the luscious, drizzly delight, surrounded by soft cushions. It was like she’d crawled into a little haven of perfect tranquillity.
Lifting her legs up underneath her and resting her head on her arm, she watched as Doug planted himself on the big sofa next to her armchair. They talked out her situation until she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. They didn’t come to any conclusions, and no answers were provided, but she felt so much better for having someone who truly listened and empathised with her.
They inevitably moved on, and started discussing the band’s annoying habits, foibles and funny things that had happened on tour. The group of women that followed them around to every gig – The Bulb Brigade, as they had christened themselves - were a group of women that attended almost every UK gig and some even followed them overseas. One of The Brigade brought a spare top to every concert. She would have a regular slot on her knees with Lloyd the keyboard player before each gig, to ‘help him concentrate’. She took her role particularly seriously, and occasionally dirtied her top in the process, hence the spare. Her faithful friend and fellow Bulb Brigadier would take home the dirty one and wash it, so that no one, including the perpetrator’s husband, was any the wiser. Both Doug and Sal thought it distasteful but inevitable, unlike most of the crew who found it hilarious.
Then they started discussing the guy who helped the band with computer and tech things, i
ncluding their brand-new website. He was slightly older than Marsh, and married, but was easily distracted by the younger women at the gigs and known for constant leering. He would occasionally ‘help’ Adam out with the merch, which gave him an opportunity to talk to the female fans, some of whom were rather more impressed at his involvement with their heroes than anyone else could believe. He was extremely ‘active’ at gigs and although he was good company when he wasn’t being a letch, Sal kept away from him as much as possible.
She enjoyed talking about life on the road, even though she’d only been doing it for three years or so. It had been a real adventure for her when she had first accompanied the band on tour, and she’d been genuinely shocked at how popular these middle-aged men were with much younger women. She’d discovered that she was also in the firing line for some reflected attention from male fans, although she couldn’t rival Jess for that. When the fans realised Sal was part of the entourage, and caught sight of her coveted Access All Areas badge, all sorts of sexual approaches were made to her. The fact that she was the band photographer, not a musician, seemed to make no difference to them; nor did it seem to matter that she was known to be Marsh’s girlfriend. With some people, it seemed to be the main reason for the attention she got.
Some of the advances she’d received had been completely inappropriate and rather scary. All of them had been politely but firmly rejected, yet it continued and it never ceased to amaze her. The most interesting one she’d had was someone wanting one of her worn ankle socks. They were part of a snazzy outfit she’d put together in 1998, and someone with a foot fetish had taken a shine to them.
Not all the approaches were so crass though, and she could quite see why famous married musicians might find it hard to be faithful given some of the lovely communications she’d received. The madness had calmed down somewhat after she’d been around a couple of years, but she still received ‘requests’ every so often.
