Barefoot

by Daisy Burton

  “If you say so,” Mel rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m going to binge-watch my new Friends DVDs every evening, so that’s me sorted.”

  “Have fun with that – it’s my idea of purgatory. Oh! He’s up, thank goodness.” Sal spied Marsh as they drew up onto the driveway.

  Marshall had played bass in a group for decades. The Exploding Lightbulbs had been stratospheric in the ‘70s and early ‘80s. Unusually, they had continued with the same line-up right through to now and they’d never really fallen out. Although they had considerably less success these days, and were playing much smaller venues, they were still making good money.

  Jess, Sal’s best friend, had worked for them behind the scenes for a while before she dragged Sal along to a gig in 1996. She had introduced Sal to the bassist at the gig, and Sallie and Marshall had been inseparable ever since.

  There he was. Fully dressed and leaning on the open front door, lazily slurping a steaming cup of tea, looking casually gorgeous and smiling to himself. That rock-star style self-assuredness he exuded had been so seductive to Sal from the beginning, and she was amazed every day that he’d chosen to be with her. Although he was now officially middle-aged, he still had all his own teeth and a full head of hair, with only a sprinkling of grey. Being in a band meant he’d kept a similar hairstyle to the one he’d sported in the ‘70s, so it remained shoulder-length, layered and not terribly unlike Rod Stewart’s. Sal had pointed this out to him more than once, which he took to be an extreme insult, but the hairstyle stayed. Ultimately, she conceded that it suited him, and it was simply part of the way he was.

  He was a good-looking guy who always smelled gorgeous. He had a few wrinkles, but a great, casual dress sense that came from a life lived on stage. He had a massive following of groupies of all ages, and Sal often had to pinch herself, even when he left his toenail clippings on the bedroom floor. He had settled down with her, and everyone had commented on how besotted they were at the beginning. She was filled with a warm, soppy sensation, and congratulated herself on how fantastic her relationship was.

  Sal heaved Mel’s suitcase out of the boot with great difficulty. She was aware that Marsh knew better than to try to help her, and she looked up with a grin as he watched her. She was an Independent Woman who had made damned sure he knew that she wasn’t a helpless creature who couldn’t pull her own weight. Or one of her sister’s suitcases.

  “Christ, Mel,” she huffed. “What’s in here? You’re only staying a week…”

  “I need my stuff around me, okay? It’s all important. Give it here.” Mel grabbed the handle and pulled the case. “Hello, fogey face!” Mel greeted Marsh with a sideways look as she hauled the case past him, grinning and launching a gentle slap on his ribs. One day she might run to a hug. One day.

  “How’s my favourite teenager, then?” he laughed, crossing his legs and putting his mug across his crotch, anticipating a playful attempt at a kick. It didn’t come.

  Sal wished Marsh wouldn’t wind Mel up. It didn’t take much for things to kick off. Thankfully, it seemed that the singing had put her sister in a good mood, and Sal breathed a sigh of relief as Mel continued past him, humming.

  “Don’t give up the day job, Melody,” Marsh sniggered, taking another slurp of tea. “Bud won’t be threatened by that cacophony!”

  Mel continued walking and gave him the middle finger as she dragged her case up the stairs and into the spare room where she always slept. Marsh often teased Mel about her singing voice and she took it in good humour. It wasn’t half bad, actually, Sal didn’t think, but it wasn’t close to the beautiful voice that came out of Bud Erickson, the lead singer of The Exploding Lightbulbs.

  The Bulbs, as they were fondly known by their faithful fans, had sold over 30 million albums worldwide during their 24-year reign. Bud had perfect pitch and the way he was still able to soar through the band’s biggest hits amazed Sal. There were few people who could match him on technical ability and tone.

  Although the days of those arena sell-outs were now long gone, Sal was happy to accompany Marsh on tours around the world. The band had to do a lot more for themselves these days, but that was no problem. They had all earned enough from royalties and from their continued efforts at song writing and performing. Marsh was able to buy and maintain the beautiful, spacious home he shared with Sal in an expensive area with no mortgage hanging over them.

  When Sal had first got together with Marsh, she took to racing after work to every gig she could possibly reach. She had loved amateur photography her whole life, but had never had much time to indulge it. So, it was natural for her to take her camera to each gig and snap the band in action. Marsh had said that she captured the most mesmerising images of the band that he had ever seen, and although Sal figured that he was biased, the rest of the band and crew seemed to agree with him.

  Once the band had realised what she was capable of with a lens, they’d asked her if she would consider being their official tour photographer. They hadn’t needed to ask her twice. The next day, Sal had given her notice in to leave her boring admin job in the dreary office where she’d first met Jess Munroe ten years before. She was going out on the road!

  Jess had started working for the band officially in 1996, shortly after she had introduced Sal to Marsh, although she’d done a lot of unofficial work for a couple of years previous to that. Sal had missed Jess when she left their office for a glamorous life on the road, but suddenly, life had turned around and Sal was joining her. Working with her bestie and her new love, indulging her passion -what could be better? Life was incredible and Sal knew how fortunate she was.

  As she listened to her sister clumping around with the case upstairs, Sal yelled up that they were about to leave. She adored her sister and wanted to hug her goodbye. The sisters were hardly two peas in a pod, but if anyone else said or did anything to upset the other sibling, it was war.

  It was probably a good job, then, that neither of them could see what was coming.

  2

  “WAAAAAIIIIIT!” Mel was jogging down their driveway holding a bobbing Lawrence under one arm and waving frantically with the other, as Sal and Marsh drove away. “SAALLLIIIEEEEE!”

  “What the hell is up with her now?” Marsh spat as he stamped on the brakes. His mouth was pursed as he pushed at the gearstick, grinding into reverse and squealing the tyres backwards. They were already running late for check-in and his fuse was getting shorter.

  Sal got out of the car and Mel ran up, already breathless.

  “Jess has just rung your home number and asked if you’d left. She said if you hadn’t already gone, to tell you that she’s in hospital!”

  “Oh shit. The baby?”

  As Mel shrugged and nodded, Sal had a split-second decision to make. Should she go to Ireland with Marsh for a week, or stay and go to Jess in hospital? The band would miss out on their photographer and were clearly missing their tour manager, but there was no contest - she couldn’t leave her best friend like that. Not if there was any problem with the baby. She retrieved all her bags from the back of the car, making sure she gave Marsh his passport and ticket.

  Sal was surprised that he seemed okay about her staying, which helped because the mood he was in, she thought he’d be furious. Instead, he pushed her softly against their car, put his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. Looking into her eyes, he gazed at her in that special way he had, which made everything feel alright, and kissed her.

  “Love you, Pumpkin,” he murmured. “If you can get over in a couple of days, let me know. You know where we’re playing. Give Jess my love.”

  Sal welled up at having to say goodbye to Marsh, and at the same time imagining what her friend might be going through

  “I will. Love you too, Marshmallow. Ring me every day, okay? I need to know how the gigs go.”

  She stood in the middle of the road waving him off, then she turned, dropped her case back into the house, said a hurried goodbye to Mel and grabbed her car k
eys and handbag.

  *****

  Jess was staring straight ahead of her, arms across her belly, and seemingly didn’t hear Sal walk up to her. She turned her head with a start when Sal put her hand on hers and Sal could see the stark fear in her friend’s eyes.

  She squeezed Jess’s hand. “I’m here,” she gasped, breathless from running. “Got here as fast as I could. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “Oooh, Christ you’re cold!” Jess pulled her hand swiftly away from Sal’s blocks of ice. “Thanks for coming. Looks like we’re both missing Dublin then. Adam’s in Manchester with work, but they’re trying to reach him now, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “So, what’s happened?”

  “I saw that I was bleeding early this morning, so I went to see my doctor. She sent me for a scan and ... they think it’s ectopic.”

  Jess’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke and Sal had no idea what to say.

  “Ectopic? What’s that?” Sal asked tentatively – she didn’t want to make Jess go over it, but she didn’t have a clue what they were dealing with.

  “The baby. It might be stuck in my fallopian tube. If it bursts the tube, I could haemorrhage and that could kill me.”

  “Oh fuck,” was all that Sal could manage. It sounded awful. “Will … will they be able to save the baby?” Sal felt dreadful for asking.

  Jess looked Sal in the eyes, but didn’t speak. She just shook her head and her tears fell sideways into her ears.

  “It’s going to be okay. I’m here and I’m going nowhere,” Sal reassured her, trying to be as strong as she could while feeling utterly helpless. “You’ve got through an actual hurricane before, and we can get you through this.”

  Sal was meant to be The Calm One in their friendship. That was her role, whereas Jess was The Reckless One. Sal was supposedly wise and she rode the storms that occurred in Jess’s life, alongside her. They’d been through quite a lot together, but Sal had always been there supporting, rather than having any drama to contend with in her own life. Jess had always had enough of that for both of them.

  This time, though, Sal’s insides were a raging ball of speed-ravished butterflies, and although she tried to distract Jess with inane chat about Marsh, she knew she was mostly talking to herself.

  “Mrs Munroe?” The consultant was standing over them both, but Sallie hadn’t noticed him enter Jess’s room.

  “Oh, yes doctor. What’s happening?” Jess looked up wide-eyed.

  “Well, we’ve studied your scan, and we need to do a laparoscopy immediately as the ultrasound showed there’s a lot of unexplained fluid in your abdomen. That means we’ll put a camera in an incision near your navel, and have a look to see what’s going on inside. If the fluid is because you are bleeding internally, we’ll need to open you up immediately. Do you have children?”

  “No. This is my first.” Jess was squeezing Sal’s hand hard. Her lips were dry and her breath was shallow, but her eyes were still dripping tears as she squeezed.

  “Okay, well, we will do all we can to save your fallopian tube in the event that we do need to operate, but we may not be able to. You will be under a general anaesthetic for the laparoscopy anyway, so we will simply open you up at the time, if it’s necessary. I will need you to sign this consent form now, just in case.”

  Well, he’s certainly to the point. Poor Jess.

  Sal watched as he thrust a piece of paper at Jess, who duly signed it. The consultant asked a bemused Jess if she had any questions. When she indicated that she didn’t, he left and instructed the nurse to ‘prepare the patient for surgery’ as he walked past.

  *****

  It was a long hour-and-a-half for Sal, sitting in a busy, warm, clinical-smelling corridor near the ward waiting for news. She’d read in detail every page of the trashy magazine she’d originally bought to read on the ‘plane. She had heard nothing, but considering how long Jess had been in surgery, it seemed obvious that they’d had to operate fully and that Jess was going to lose her baby. Sal knew only too well how much this little one meant to Jess and Adam. The baby wasn’t just the thing they both wanted most in the world, it signified to them that they had been right to reconcile.

  Sal knew that Jess had been feeling much broodier since they’d started trying two years ago, but it hadn’t come as easily to them as they’d hoped. Sal had watched the pain her friend went through every month as their hopes slipped away yet again. Jess had been so bouncy and excited when she’d found out she was pregnant. She was now ten weeks’ gone, and at 32, she was being referred to by the hospital as a ‘geriatric mother’. That wasn’t helping.

  So, it was unbelievably painful for Sal to hear that her friend was going to lose that little mite. Sal had become so attached to it, despite having no obvious maternal instinct at all. Having two wayward teenage stepdaughters unexpectedly enter her life had shown her exactly what a challenge parenting was. It had only reinforced her determination that she didn’t want her own kids, but she’d grown to love Alex, who was now 19, and Blue, who had just turned 18.

  The girls had never lived with Marsh full-time after he had separated from their mum ten years before, mainly because he was constantly having to up sticks and tour around the world. It had wrecked their marriage, but the girls had nevertheless spent a lot of time with him, whenever touring and school allowed. Sal knew she was lucky to have been able to slot into their lives relatively easily.

  Blue was 13 when she had first met her, and she had grown especially close to Sal. She was demonstrative of her affection for both her dad and her step-mum. Alex had been 15 and was much more difficult to get to know, being withdrawn and moody most of the time. These days, though, they were both quite independent and had their own lives, so they had less free time to spend with their old dad and his girlfriend.

  Sal shifted around on the hard, uncomfy, plastic chair waiting for news. She was gasping for a drink but hadn’t wanted to go and get a coffee, in case she missed the doctor while she was away. Her stomach was churning and she wasn’t convinced that she could keep anything down anyway – not ‘til she knew for sure what’d happened. With every door swinging open, with every scrub-wearing, clog-scuffing individual striding purposefully towards her, her heart thudded.

  Christ, what’s going on in there? Why is it taking so long?

  Eventually, one of those scrub-wearers stopped in front of her and spoke.

  “Miss Ford?”

  “Oh yes, that’s me!” she jumped. “How’s Jess?”

  The tall, bearded, serious-looking doctor had startled her. She’d got so used to everyone walking past that she hadn’t expected him to stop.

  “Mrs Munroe is coming around from the anaesthetic now. She’s been incredibly lucky – she’s lost a lot of blood internally and if we hadn’t operated when we did, it would have become critical extremely quickly. The foetus didn’t survive, but Mrs Munroe is out of danger. We haven’t managed to contact her husband. Have you?”

  “No… no, I haven’t been able to reach him but I will keep trying.”

  Sal had left messages everywhere she could think of for Adam. She was so proud of her brand-new, top-of-the-range Nokia, given that it was pretty new technology. It was almost always switched on – a necessity when you’re away as much as she was. But although Jess had bought Adam a basic mobile to keep in touch with her when she was away, he hadn’t got used to switching it on each morning.

  “Can I see her now?” she pleaded with the tall doctor.

  “Not yet. Give it about half an hour and she will be back in her room. She will be weak and she has a large incision, which will be painful, so she will have a morphine drip. So’s you know what to expect.”

  Well, obviously! Sal thought, looking at the doctor and wondering how he could look so matter-of-fact about the loss of a much-wanted baby.

  “OK, thank-you, doctor. I’ll wait here, then.”

  He walked off without another word, and her heart sank for her
friend as she slumped back on the plastic chair.

  Poor Jess. Losing a child is such a terrible thing to have to cope with. Even if it hadn’t been born.

  She sat back, picking intently at the side of her fingernail until it bled, occasionally looking at her watch. She could hear the clinking and jangling of a tea-trolley doing the rounds and nurses chatting close by about their plans for the evening. It was hot, even for her cold bones, and she was feeling ratty and worrying about Jess as she sucked her sore, over-picked finger.

  Her handbag started ringing loudly, and she leapt to answer it. She knew mobiles weren’t supposed to be used inside the hospital, so she scrabbled frantically around to get it, almost dropping it in the process. She managed to answer within three rings, but could barely hear Adam on the crackly line.

  “Sal? What’s happening? What’s up? Jess isn’t answering.”

  “Oh god, Adam, where are you? I’ve been trying you for hours.” She spoke in frustrated, lowered tones, hoping he could hear her.

  “I’m almost home,” he answered. “About an hour away. I stopped to get petrol and put on my mobile to let Jess know, but I got your message to ring you?”

  Sal took a deep breath. “You need to get to Heatherford Hospital. I’m here. Jess is alright, don’t worry, but head for the maternity ward.”

  “Oh shit. Shit! What the hell’s happened, Sallie?”

  “I’ll fill you in when you get here, but honestly, Jess is okay. She needs you to get here in one piece, though, so drive safely.”

  “I’m on my way. I will take it steady, don’t worry - as long as Jess is honestly fine?”

  “She is. For goodness sake, put your mobile on in future. Bye.”

  She hadn’t meant to bark at him as she hung up because it was clear that he was now as stressed as she was, but he needed to switch the damned thing on more often. Reluctantly switching off her own mobile, she put it back in her bag and sighed. That had been unpleasant, but necessary. At least he was on his way.