by Daisy Burton
Unlike Jess and Mel, Sal wasn’t particularly tech-minded. It wasn’t that she was afraid of technology, but it frustrated her that people seemed to be so obsessed with it. She had a new mobile; she knew how to use email and other packages from her office job, like Lotus 1-2-3 and WordPerfect. She understood how computers worked and could find her way around if she had to, but she rarely needed to.
Since she’d joined the band’s entourage, Sal had only used Marsh’s new, super-fast 486 computer when she had to. She knew how to download her photos, work on them and then save them on a floppy disk. She would spend hours enhancing the photos and marvelling at how incredible it was to be able to take a picture and see it immediately; even better, to then be able to manipulate it. It wasn’t long since she’d have had to wait at least a couple of days to get prints back, and keep her fingers crossed that she’d got a few good ones. Now, she felt like a real photographic wizard, but she’d never fully embraced the computer outside of that environment. She had never seen the point.
Soon, Marsh would be back and Mel would return to her flat in Bracknell. Sal couldn’t wait to see him - it felt as if he’d been gone for a year, not just one week.
*****
“MARSH!?” she screeched as she ran and bounced into his arms, curling both legs around his waist. She hung around his neck as she planted a huge kiss on his mouth.
“Hey you, how’s my favourite girl?” he spluttered, quietly.
“Oh, Mel is great,” Sal teased. “I’m not bad either, now you’re back.” She put her feet on the floor to save his back, and grabbed his suitcase, ready to sort out his washing, as she always did.
“Ha! You’re hilarious. No, leave that, I’ll sort my washing.”
“Oh. It’s fine, love, I don’t mind…”
“NO. Really, Sal, it’s fine. Let me do it.”
Marsh was frowning, so Sal let it go. She always did his washing as soon as they got home, but he was obviously exhausted and tetchy. Mel was packing up her stuff ready for Sal to drive her back to her own flat, so she didn’t argue. Especially not over something so minor.
“Okay, mister. See you later!” Sal decided to ignore his mood, so she winked and wiggled off.
It didn’t take long to run Mel back, and Sal was sad to see her go. She’d got used to having her around.
“What’s up with Grumpy Drawers?” Mel did have a way with words.
“He’s not grumpy, he’s tired. He’ll be fine once he’s had a mug of tea and a home-cooked meal.
“And a bit of you, no doubt.” A real way with words.
“Anyway!” Sal chose to ignore her sister. “Here we are. I won’t come in, but thanks for this week, sunshine. I appreciated you staying.”
“Anytime, sis. It was radical! Plus, y’know, online,” Mel grinned.
“Well, you know you can come and commandeer the machine whenever Marsh isn’t around. Thanks for everything, Mel, you’ve been such a help.”
“It’s no problem, I’ve had fun. See you soon, sis.” And, with that, she disappeared inside her flat.
*****
For the next few weeks, Sal was relieved to have some semblance of order in her life. She spent time seeing Jess, going through photos some fans had taken on the Ireland tour to see if she could use any, and generally enjoying having Marsh back.
She felt for her man, though. He’d had a busy week in Ireland and she could see that he was worked off his feet now he was home. The band had shared out Jess’s role during her hospital stay and recuperation because she’d been told quite clearly that she shouldn’t have any stress. Jess had other ideas. She was convinced that being stopped from working was far more stressful than doing her job. Still, Marsh had told Sal that the band members were adamant that Jess should take it easy.
Jess had apparently got them to agree that as she became able to do more from home - mainly because so much of her role was online - they would relinquish her job back to her in stages. Sal had offered to help Marsh, given that she used to do an admin job previously, but he had been quite insistent that it was down to him and that Sal had enough to do without that. So, in the event, she let Marsh get on with it, while she cooked, cleaned, washed, shopped, baked, visited Jess and rang Mel to check on her. Time slipped by without her noticing.
The mornings were now dark, crisp and frosty, the heating was on full blast and every other advert on TV was banging – or jingling - home the realisation that Christmas was getting closer. Sal was typically organised, but this year she’d left it much later than usual. She wasn’t feeling festive at all and there were far more pressing things demanding her time. She’d got the girls’ presents already, and she knew what she was going to get for Jess and Adam. Mel would get money, because that’s all she ever wanted, but she hadn’t had a chance to think about Marsh yet. He was easy to buy for, though, because his guilty pleasure was reading superhero comic books, and there were always dozens he wanted.
When she’d fallen asleep before midnight, Marsh had still been up tapping away, working on the computer. Next morning, when she had to be up early, she left Marsh snoring in bed while she crept around getting dressed. She had no idea what time he’d finally given up and come to bed, but it must have been late, so she let him sleep. She was so proud of him. Organisation and admin didn’t come easily to him, yet he had taken on more than his fair share to help Jess.
Jess seemed pleased to see Sal when she arrived, despite her being there to take Jess to her follow-up hospital appointment. Adam’s work had insisted that he attend an important meeting in Liverpool that day, and Jess had been happy to dispatch him the day before. Sal knew that Adam was terminally squeamish and would be of no practical help. Jess was struggling with the thought of the appointment herself, without having to worry about him too. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to take everything in, Jess needed someone who could listen to what the doctor said and take notes for her. It was obvious to Sal that her friend was dreading it, so she’d agreed to go with her.
Adam had done his part, anyway. He had been off for two weeks to look after her, but as Jess recovered, he’d got increasingly on her nerves. They weren’t used to being in such close contact for so long and not away on holiday. Being cooped up in the house made for a fraught atmosphere and she had been delighted when he’d told her about Liverpool.
“Marsh is still working hard, then?” Jess asked as she lowered herself into the car and carefully clasped the seatbelt across her belly. She said she wasn’t in any pain now, but she was cautious and protective of her fresh scar.
“Yep, so hard,” Sal said, with a hint of pride. “He’s been up doing band stuff ‘til all hours most nights. Last night, I woke at 1.00am and the downstairs light was on, so I let him sleep in this morning. He’s totally shattered, bless him.”
“Really? Do you know what he’s doing?” Jess seemed surprised and somewhat curious. “I’m not completely up to speed yet, but I’m doing quite a lot of my job, now. They’ve stepped back and are letting me get on with it. I’m not aware of anything Marsh is doing for the band now.” Jess raised her eyebrow, looking across at Sal.
“No idea, but I can’t wait ‘til he’s finished.” Sal didn’t register Jess’s concern, as she was driving. “We hardly see each other at the moment, but at least they’re not touring again until next year. If you’re nearly all caught up, I might actually get to spend some time with him.”
“Well, as long as you’re sure he’s behaving, it all works in my favour. He must be missing his time with you too, the soppy sod.”
Sal grinned. She was proud that everyone knew how loved-up the two of them were.
“Yeah, of course he’s behaving. Could have done with him last night, though – nothing quite works as well as Marsh…”
Jess shot a look across the gear stick at Sal. “Yeah. TMI, dearie, even for me. I haven’t had any action in weeks, but hey, feel free to remind me of that.” She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.
They were ev
entually called in to Mr Barker’s room to see one of his team. Sal figured it was a good sign that the consultant who’d operated on her didn’t feel it necessary to see Jess himself. Sal had resolved to watch her friend during the consultation, as well as listening carefully to the doctor. She was aware that Jess was avoiding any mention of the baby, despite Sal’s occasional gentle efforts to broach the subject over the last couple of weeks.
“Hello Mrs Munroe and…?” The meticulously dressed woman gesticulated over to Sal as they walked in to her office, but she was looking down at the notes in front of her.
“Oh sorry, yes my husband is away with work today, so this is my friend, Sallie. Call me Jess, please.”
Jess reached for Sal’s hand while the doctor asked how she was doing, checked that she was not sitting all day, and that she was eating plenty of iron-rich foods to help her blood count to normalise. After examining Jess, she was apparently pleased with how quickly the scar was healing.
“Jessica, I’m sure that you recall how serious your condition was when Mr Barker operated,” the doctor said with a frown. “You’re aware, of course, that the tube could not be saved on the right side, and while this doesn’t mean you are infertile, it will reduce your fertility, especially as you are over 30.” She looked up for the first time during her speech.
“Yes, doctor,” Sal piped up for Jess, who was silently nodding.
“You should also avoid attempting to become pregnant for a least six months, to allow your body to recover. Do you have any questions?”
She looked at both Jess and Sal, handing a leaflet to Jess as she spoke. It was a barrage of difficult information and Sal was glad that she’d come to absorb it first-hand.
Sal felt her hand being tightly squeezed again, and looked across. Jess was staring silently at the doctor, eyes widened, and shaking her head.
The tears that were collecting at the bottom of Jess’s eyes started overflowing and falling down her cheeks. She began sobbing and bent over to put her head in her hands. Sal had no idea what she could say to help, but although it was a little awkward, she knew that Jess needed to do this. Not only had she lost her baby and been through a major operation, but she might have difficulty in conceiving in future. It was clear to Sal that they hadn’t told Jess that before.
“I realise this has been an extremely traumatic experience for you, Jessica.” The doctor reached for a box of tissues on her desk and handed them to Sal, who handed an inconsolable Jess one tissue. It was soaked in seconds.
Sal kept hold of Jess’s hand and asked as many questions as she could think of while the doctor was there. She made a mental note of everything that was said, because she knew that Jess wasn’t capable of taking anything in. Sal was surprised that a female doctor wasn’t more empathic to a woman in this situation, but it was all very clinical.
Eventually, Jess was able to hold back the tears for long enough to thank the doctor, shake her hand and to walk out of the hospital with Sal. It was clear that she was barely keeping herself together, but that wasn’t surprising. Jess clearly hadn’t let herself grieve for her lost baby yet; for the lost future she’d allowed herself to imagine, the possibilities, and the hope it had represented. All of that had gone.
Sal helped Jess into the car, and they drove home in conversational silence, listening to Ken Bruce’s calming tones. As they parked outside the house, Jess spoke.
“Thanks Sal, I’ll be fine now. You can go home, and be with your man.”
“Not a chance, woman, come on, let’s be ‘aving you.” Sal got out of the car and helped Jess out. She was needed and she wasn’t going anywhere.
In Sal’s world, in the absence of spaghetti hoops, nothing helped situations like these better than tea. While the kettle was boiling and Jess was sorting herself out, Sal rang home to let Marsh know where she was. Despite trying several times, it remained engaged so it was obvious that he was up and working again.
Ah, he’ll be fine, he knows where I am.
She raided the biscuit tin, found some chocolate digestives and ginger nuts, piled them on a plate, and put it on a tray with two steaming mugs of tea.
Seriously, who puts ginger nuts in a tin with other biscuits? She tutted to herself.
“Here we go,” she announced, as she carried it through to Jess. She saw a heaving figure curled up on the sofa, clutching a cushion to her, sobbing her heart out. Sal put the tray down on the coffee table and sat next to her broken-hearted friend.
“They’ve thrown my baby away, Sal. Only tiny, but my baaaaaaaaaby,” she wailed.
Sal didn’t say anything. She couldn’t, because she knew it was probably true. The doctor hadn’t said anything about what they’d done with the foetus, but it was probably best not to know. She pulled Jess gently to her, put both arms around her and let her cry it out. Sal was relieved that her friend was finally letting her grief out.
As she gently rocked her, holding her head to her own chest and stroking her hair, she couldn’t believe how much Jess had had to cope with over the past few years. It had been a rocky road Jess had chosen to walk in the past, and the trouble she had faced before had been mainly her own fault, but this? This was more painful than anything her friend had been through. Jess and Adam both wanted a baby, but if that wasn’t to be, it was going to so hard for them to accept.
Listening to Jess’s sobs, groans and the grief ripping her apart was horrible. She couldn’t do anything much to help, except be there. They sat like that for almost two hours holding each other on the sofa, in silence except for the snuffling, crying and hurting. The tea went cold.
“I’ll go and put the kettle on again, shall I?” Sal eventually felt she should move her bones.
“Yeah… thanks,” Jess snuffled.
Sal looked down at Jess’s red, puffy eyes and pained expression as she got up. Bless her, Sal thought as she pulled at her jumper, which was damp from tears and snot.
“Bloody hell, I’m getting old, I’m stiff as a board.”
Sal bent her knees and elbows in a vain effort to ease her joints. It was gone 1.00pm and Marsh would probably be wondering where she was. She tried the landline again while the kettle boiled, knowing that, like Adam, he never bothered to put his mobile on when he was at home. Engaged again. He must still be working. She tried his mobile on the off-chance, but it was switched off.
“Get this down you,” Sal said, offering a new mug of steaming tea to Jess, who cupped her hands around it gratefully.
“Thanks … sorry Sal. I lost the plot.” Her eyes were glistening but there were no tears now.
“Mate, don’t apologise. You needed to do that, and I’m so glad you did. Have you talked to Adam about everything yet?” she enquired softly, with a hand on her friend’s shoulder, trying not to lead Jess to break down again.
“No. I didn’t want to upset him. I’ve tried to get on with it, and focus on getting better, but it’s been like walking around with a boulder on my chest. He wouldn’t be able to cope with my grief as well as his, he’s so upset about losing the baby.”
“You two need to talk about it. I know Adam is hurting, but he’s better than most at dealing with emotions. You’ve both been through this and you need to talk about it together.
“It’s been a heavy morning,” Jess changed the subject as expected. “Would you watch a video with me? Would Marsh mind, do you think?”
Sal decided Jess had been through enough for one day. “’Course I will,” she smiled. “Marsh won’t mind at all, he’s working. Which one do you fancy? I’ll nip to Blockbusters and get one.”
“I wonder if that new Julia Roberts one is out yet?”
“What, Notting Hill? Yeah, Mel saw it at the cinema – she said it was funny. I’ll see if they’ve got it in yet.” Sal loved watching films, but she hadn’t watched any at home for a long time with all the travelling she’d done.
“If not, whatever you think. I haven’t seen Something About Mary yet. That’s been out a while and I’ve
been meaning to rent it.” Jess was smiling, at last.
“Okay, I’ll see what they’ve got,” Sal said, pulling on her coat. “Good job I’ve got my Blockbuster card on me!”
*****
When she finally got home, Marsh looked up, smiling. “You’re back! Is everything okay? How’s Jess?”
“Sorry I was gone so long, babe. She’s not too bad now, but it’s been a rough day. I did try and call to let you know, but...” Sal walked over to hug him, gesticulating at the computer.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I’ve been hogging the line,” he interrupted, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in extra-close. “I don’t mind you being gone, I got loads done. Fancy a curry or a Chinese tonight? You look too whacked out to cook.” He kissed the top of her head.
This is nice. He’d been so busy since Ireland, when all she had wanted was to have a glass of wine and chill out with him.
“Curry sounds amazing,” Sal mused. “You know what I like, so you order. I could do with a bubble bath.” She reached up and lovingly rearranged his wayward fringe as she spoke.
“Tell you what. I’ll run the bath while you get a glass of wine and undress, then I’ll ring the order through while you’re soaking. How does that sound?”
“What did I do to deserve you?” Sal melted at his thoughtfulness. She headed into the kitchen to find the bottle, then climbed the stairs wearily, put a CD on and wallowed in a gorgeous hot bath. She was happy to be home, but also pleased and relieved that Jess was on the mend.
She luxuriated in the bubbly hot water, letting it and the wine soothe her frazzled body. Water always soothed her and she felt better as soon as she climbed in.
She could hear Marsh speaking downstairs, through the music as the wafting notes washed over her. She didn’t strain to listen to what he was saying because she didn’t want to hear what he was ordering for her.