by Daisy Burton
Jess had often extolled the wondrousness of the internet to Sal. She had waxed lyrical about the new browser that had been launched the previous year. “Google this, Google that”, but Sal hadn’t seen any need for it in her everyday life.
Despite all the shenanigans and heartache that the internet had previously caused Jess, she remained fully immersed in the online world. She continued to spend hours talking on The Bulbs’ newsgroup, although she was now moving across to Yahoo messenger. Jess wasn’t allowed to have her mobile in hospital either, although she could have the payphone wheeled to her if it was important. Sal found Jess’s indignance at such an idea quite funny.
She kept carrying ‘old-fashioned’ books and magazines to the hospital every day, but they didn’t seem to keep Jess sufficiently occupied. Jess was desperate to be discharged, but seemed to be ignoring the fact that she was recovering from life-saving surgery. She could have died and she had to be a patient … patient.
Despite having an eight-inch scar extending from hip to hip, and another small one by her belly button, Jess was made to get up and walk around several times a day to avoid blood clots. Sal helped her to get up, but it was awful watching her friend wince, and sometimes yell out in pain as she tentatively stood up. Sal accompanied her as she hobbled down the corridor and back, with her drip in tow. Jess looked terribly pale and wobbly, but the nurses had told Sal she had to let her do it herself. Still, every day the walk seemed to get a bit easier, and a little less agonising for them both.
That walk was through the main maternity corridor, and Adam was furious that his wife was being made to pass mothers and babies several times a day. Although she had a room to herself, there were screaming babies on the other side of her door, and she was subjected to that sound all day and all night.
Jess was getting on with it though and seemed to be successfully blocking the world out. Sal wondered how she was really feeling, but Jess swiped away any attempt to talk about it.
“They’re taking my drain out today,” she announced on the third day. “Will you stay for that? It’s going to hurt, apparently.”
By then, Jess’s drip had been taken out, so no more morphine for her.
“You know I will.” Sal wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving, despite her apprehension at having to watch her friend go through more physical pain.
“So, how’s Ireland going?” Jess asked, obviously trying to distract herself. “Any disasters without me? Everyone behaving?”
“You can’t just relax and forget about the band, can you?” Sal was smiling softly, despite her chiding words. “Yes, everything is great as far as I know, though Marsh hasn’t had much time to talk after the gigs. I think there have been a few parties...”
“Oh, well I guess it is Ireland. They do know how to party.” Jess grinned, clearly feeling she was missing out.
“Yep, the Guinness is out… I wish we were there.” Sal sighed, staring absently out of the window that overlooked the hospital grounds and beyond, to the High Street. The nearly-November weather was foggy and drizzly, and it felt even more dismal from where she was looking.
“I’m hoping they’ll let me out soon. I feel so bloody useless,” Jess moaned. “But I’m disappointed with the band. I thought one of the boys would send me a card, or ring me. Not a word from them, though, nothing! Bastards.”
“Oh, I should’ve said!” Sal interjected. “Marsh asks after you every day, so I’m pretty sure he’s keeping the others up to speed. Maybe they’ll send something later? It’s only a few days since it happened and they do care about you.”
“Humph.” Jess clearly wasn’t amused.
Sal understood exactly why Jess felt that way. She made a mental note to tell Marsh that the boys should at least send Jess a card, considering how hard she worked for them. Sal had stretched the truth – Marsh had asked after Jess only once. The men were pretty selfish and focussed on no one but themselves, but people seemed to excuse them because they’re musicians. Sal couldn’t understand that. In her world, everyone should have thoughtfulness and basic human kindness.
After she’d chatted to Jess for an hour or so, a smiling nurse strode in. She was pushing a trolley that presented a daunting array of instruments, which Jess chose to ignore.
“Right then, Jessica, are you ready?” the nurse smiled.
Jess glanced at the nurse. “Can my friend stay with me? My husband is at work.”
“Of course she can. It’ll be good for you to have company. Did you take that painkiller earlier?” The nurse peered over her glasses in a stereotypical matronly style.
“Yes, I’m not daft,” Jess snapped, which showed Sal that she was getting nervous.
Jess was already flat on her back, so she pursed her lips and grabbed Sal’s hand. Sal leaned forward to be as close to Jess as she could get, and readied herself for unpleasantness.
Jess held on so tightly that Sal’s fingers went numb, but Jess didn’t make much noise. As the nurse peeled off the dressing and began pulling out the drain, it seemed to go on forever – Sal wondered where the hell all that tubing was coming from. But it was over in a few minutes and a smaller dressing was put over the hole where the tube had come out.
“You okay, mate?” Sal’s white fingers were finally released, and she shook her hand to get the feeling back.
“Yeah, it didn’t hurt as much as they said it would, but it did feel a bit odd. Cheers, Sal,” Jess smiled weakly.
“I mean… are you really okay, Jess?” Sal frowned as she spoke.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Jess snapped. “You don’t need to stay now I’ve got these magazines to look through. Thanks for bringing them.”
She brandished the issues of Heat that Sal had managed to find, in her face. They didn’t look like the kind of magazine that would be helpful to The Bulbs at all, but Sal kept her thoughts to herself. Jess was best left to it when she was in that sort of mood.
“You’re welcome,” Sal said. “Well, I guess Adam will be here shortly so I’ll make a move, but I’ll see you tomorrow? Is that husband of yours taking time off at all?”
“Yes, he’s got a couple of weeks off starting next week, when I’m out of hospital, so he can look after me. He’ll drive me mad, but there you are,” Jess quipped. “See you tomorrow, then.”
Sal smiled and hugged Jess gently goodbye. She’d planned to go shopping afterwards, but the events of the afternoon had turned her stomach and she decided to go home instead.
*****
As Sal turned the key in the lock and opened her front door, she was aware that someone was home. That was odd. It was too early for Mel to be home from work, and Marsh was meant to be in Ireland. Looking through into the living room, she saw Mel looking quite flushed on the sofa with a young woman Sal hadn’t seen before.
“Oh, thank god it’s you. I thought you’d be at work! Everything alright? You’re home early.”
Sal was breezily taking off her apparel and hanging it on the pegs in the hallway as she spoke, but she caught that her sister wasn’t looking herself.
“Hi, I’m Sallie,” she smiled broadly at the woman sitting comfortably on her sofa, and extended a hand.
The woman smiled back, gently shaking the hand that was offered.
“Kate. Pleased to meet you,” she said, softly but formally.
“I thought you were going shopping?” Mel whined, crossing her arms. “I finished work a little bit early because I’ve had a cracking headache all day. Kate works in my office and she drove me home because I felt so pants, so I asked her to come in.”
She pointed to the half-empty, still-steaming mugs on the small coffee table in front of them.
“Oh, gosh, thanks for bringing her home, Kate. I didn’t see a car on the driveway, though?”
“Yeah, I parked over the road. It was easier than negotiating the driveway,” Kate fidgeted as she spoke. She was looking increasingly uncomfortable.
Sal was tired, but she could sense the discomfort around her,
so she decided to make herself as scarce as possible. “Sorry, I’ve disturbed you. You carry on, and I’ll start dinner. Would you like to stay, Kate?”
“No, it’s okay, thanks all the same,” Kate smiled. “Look, I should go. Feel better soon, Mel. Maybe see you tomorrow at work?” She patted Mel’s hand and stood up.
“Sure, thanks for the lift, hun. I’ll see you out.” Mel said as she got up and walked towards the front door with her.
“’Bye!” Sal smiled brightly, as she walked into the kitchen to start dinner.
Mel sauntered into the kitchen once Kate had gone, and watched her sister chop onions.
“Nice of her to bring you home.” Sal was concerned for her little sis and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You look a bit pink, maybe you’re coming down with something? I can heat up some spaghetti hoops if you like?”
Spaghetti hoops were well-known in the Ford household for possessing magical properties. Their mum had instilled this into them at an early age and there was always at least one can in Sal’s cupboards as a result. Hoops made everything better. That had been the case their whole lives, and cans had been sent into action countless times to address heartbreak, colds, insomnia and any number of other ailments over the years. It worked pretty well, too.
“Nah, it’s fine, thanks. I’ll have dinner, though. What is it?”
“Only a basic spag bol, nothing flash, I’m too knackered. Why not go and have a bath? The steam might help your head. I’m guessing you’ve had a tablet?” At times like this, she morphed into their late mum. She couldn’t help it.
“Yeah, I took a tablet earlier. I might catch a shower.”
The guest room that Mel stayed in had its own en suite bath and shower, so she disappeared off while Sal stood over a simmering pan.
What was it about frying minced beef that made Sal so content? She remembered that it was one of Marsh’s favourite dishes of hers, and of course, her mum had prepared it often when they were young. It was usually mince out of a can in those days, rather than the organic steak mince and fresh vegetables that Sal used, but even so, she remembered her mum had said she felt terribly posh cooking it in the ‘70s.
Imagine tinned mince being avant-garde! Sal smiled to herself.
The aroma of cooking carrots, onions, mince and tomatoes transported her back to those childhood days of relative hardship but total love, and she was overcome with a deep, tender sadness. It might have been two years since her mum had gone, but the feeling that washed over her was so raw, it might have only just happened. Tears spilled down her face as she stirred sporadically, and her chest filled with a heaviness and an actual ache. God, she missed her so much. Sal disappeared down Memory Lane.
Their dad had left home and all but disappeared when Sal was only eight, and their mum had to work herself ragged to make ends meet for her babies. But a closer family you would be hard-pressed to meet and despite working every hour she could, their mum had cooked a meal for them every evening.
Helping mum was important to little Sal and she had relished the role of big sister. Their mum worked all of her hours early in the day, and was out of the house by 5.00am to get to her first job. Sal’s job was to ensure that Melody was properly clothed, breakfasted and at school on time, carrying a packed lunch. Mum was always there when they got in from school, though, she made sure of that. Not that she ever sat down– she would be busy cooking, washing, ironing and cleaning their house. But she was there.
Although Sal was sure that Mel didn’t remember anything about their father, her sister seemed to have been left with an unhealthy wariness of men in general. Mel hadn’t ever had a relationship that had lasted more than a few months and she was only just starting to trust Marsh with her sister’s heart after nearly four years. Despite Mel being the younger sibling, she was fiercely protective of Sal and suspicious of anyone who might hurt her.
Sal, on the other hand, had been old enough to remember how awful life was when their dad was around, so she hadn’t been unhappy when he left. They did just fine on their own.
When she came to from her thoughts, she didn’t know how long she’d stood there absent-mindedly stirring, but more red wine was needed by the look of the mince.
She smiled absently through the sentimental, dripping tears as she poured more wine into the pan, then into a glass, and thought of Marsh. That feeling of absence - that mum-shaped hole in her chest - tied in to the ache of missing Marsh. He’d be getting ready to go on for the set now, she realised, looking at the clock. They were playing at a place called Dolan’s in Limerick that night.
“Deep Space Nine is on!” A shrieking voice from the sitting room shook Sal out of her thoughts.
Apparently, Mel was out of the shower. Sal peeked around the door to see her in her pyjamas and dressing gown snuggled on the sofa with Lawrence.
“Oooh, okay,” Sal grinned, wiping the tears from her face. “I’ll dish up and we can have trays, like the old days.”
“Oh God, are you alright?” Mel went to get up, suddenly noticing her sister’s wet face, but Sal held up her hand to stop her.
“I’m fine, honestly, it’s the onions. You stay there, and I’ll bring it through in a tick.” She grinned at her swaddled sister and a wave of contentedness washed over her. If she couldn’t have Marsh around, Mel would always make things better.
*****
“Finally!” Sal reached over to the ringing landline phone, and eagerly blew a kiss into the receiver before she’d even heard who it was.
“Good job it’s me,” a gruff voice retorted.
“Who else would be ringing me at twenty past midnight?” She rolled her eyes with a smile – she was so happy to hear from him. “How was it tonight then? I miss you, babe.”
“Yeah, it was fine. Been busy, and I started playing the wrong intro for the first encore, but it was fine. I can’t stop, though, stuff going on.”
“Jess is much the same, thanks for asking.” She couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice. She’d waited ages for him to ring – it was the highlight of her day, and yet he was going so quickly?
“Sorry, love. I’ll let everyone know.”
“You should have all sent her a card and flowers or something, she’s pretty down you know.” Sal had tried not to sulk, but his lackadaisical attitude was irritating her.
“Christ, it’s not easy to arrange over here. Jess would usually do that kind of thing anyway. Can you sort it?”
She should have anticipated that. “Okay, but can you please tell the others I’m doing it?” Sal knew she’d have to spell it out for him. “They need to be aware. She’s pretty upset that no one’s asked after her, and I don’t blame her.”
“OK, gotta run, speak soon.”
And he was gone.
4
“Have you got everything?” Sal asked as she fussed around Jess in the hospital room.
“Yes, mum.” Jess rolled her eyes, but Sal knew she was grateful for the lift home and for helping her to get packed up.
“Come on, then, give it here,” Sal took matters into her own hands, loading herself up with all Jess’s bags. “The band” had finally sent her an enormous bouquet, and Jess had been thrilled with it, much to Sal’s relief. It was far too unwieldy to carry home, though, so they decided to leave it with the nurses to say thanks for such good care.
Piled high, Sal managed to help Jess too, as they meandered through the ward, waving to and hugging the nurses. Adam could have collected her himself, but Sal figured that Jess had asked him not to come because she didn’t trust him to drive slowly and carefully enough. He was at home instead, getting the house perfectly prepared for his wife’s arrival.
They eventually made their way out to the car, but after a week in hospital, Jess wasn’t used to walking that far at once. It was not only exhausting but incredibly scary, and she walked holding her tummy protectively. At one point, she had said that her stitches felt like they were pulling open. Thankfully, Sal had managed to
park the car close to the maternity entrance.
Sal had never driven as carefully as she did that day. She felt Jess stiffen with every slight bump, and Jess joked that it felt as if her insides were about to tumble into the footwell. But they managed to get her home with no blood loss or entrail escape, to Sal’s genuine relief.
Adam appeared at the door with a big, forced smile that poorly masked his concern. With much fussing, cooing and encouraging, he helped his wife to install herself gently onto the sofa, and supplied her with a blanket, a mug of tea and biscuits.
“Ring me if you need me to do anything, right?” Sal stood holding her hands on her hips and looking at Jess, who was considerably paler after the journey.
“Are you going already? Oh… okay, I know you have vitally important things to do. I do so appreciate what you’ve done.”
It was a good job that Sal didn’t register Jess’s barbed sarcasm. She was looking around at how beautifully Adam had cleaned in preparation for his wife’s return. The carpets were spotless, he’d dusted, and he might even have cleaned the windows. She didn’t mention it and Jess might not notice, but it was clear to Sal that he was on top of everything. Jess could take it easy and recuperate.
Sal was happy that her friend was home again. She kissed her goodbye and left her in Adam’s capable hands.
*****
The week had finally crawled to an end. Sal could tell that the tour had been incredibly full-on as Marsh had been so exhausted after the gigs that they hadn’t had much chance to chat when he called. In anticipation of a shattered man, she’d planned his favourite meal, bought his favourite wine and rented a video he’d wanted to see, ready for his first evening back home. She’d missed him.
Not that it’d been a hardship spending time with her sister – far from it. They’d managed one evening of Trivial Pursuit when, as usual, Mel had absolutely trounced Sal. Apart from that, they had spent chilled evenings companionably together, with Sal watching TV while Mel gave Lawrence some major love or took advantage of having access to a PC that could dial up to get online. It was a luxury that Mel couldn’t afford, and she took advantage of it whenever she could. Sal knew that Marsh didn’t like Mel using the computer, but he wasn’t there to stop her. As long as Mel made sure she vacated the phone line before Marsh was due to call, Sal was happy for her sister to fill her boots.