Barefoot

by Daisy Burton

  She liked a surprise.

  5

  Sal was listening to ‘70s Christmas songs to get her in the mood to start wrapping the huge pile of presents that she had built in the living room. She was shocked that Marsh had taken himself off into town to do his Christmas shopping a whole two weeks before Christmas! It was so unlike him. She had just settled down to the task when the ‘phone startled her.

  “Hello, Sallie speaking?” Sal answered in the same, measured way she always had.

  “Hi sis, it’s me. Is Marsh about?” Mel announced.

  “No, he’s out shopping, but he’s only just left, so he’ll be a few hours. Why?”

  “Can I come and use the PC for a bit? I’ve got some stuff I need to do online and I can’t afford the internet café prices at this time of year.”

  “’Course you can, I haven’t seen you in ages. Shall I come and get you?”

  “Wicked. You’re a star…”

  Within half an hour Mel was installed at the PC, and Sal was making hot chocolate with spray cream and mini-marshmallows, intending to return to the ‘chore’ of wrapping presents. Paper, tape tags and scissors were scattered over the floor among dozens of presents waiting to be wrapped. A couple of already-wrapped ones were stacked in the corner, and the Christmas CD had been put on yet again. God help the neighbours.

  Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall…?

  They grinned at each other and started singing. In the old days, they’d have started a can-can style dance but not today. Mel was perched on the chair at the PC, sipping her hot chocolate through a straw, and Sal was flumped on the floor surrounded by all the detritus. It was frosty outside but warm in the house, and Sal was about as happy as she could be.

  She’d made a big dent in the wrapping, when the PC made a DING noise and Mel squealed. If the song hadn’t been a quiet one, Sal might not have heard, but she looked up.

  “What’s up?”

  “Oh, uh, hang on.” Mel said, tapping on the keyboard.

  Sal got up and went over to the PC.

  “You’re not nosing at Marshie’s stuff, are you? You know he doesn’t like anyone using his machine.” She wrinkled her nose; she could do without her sister doing anything to spoil the happy atmosphere today.

  Mel was deathly quiet, which was never a good sign. Sal looked at the screen, and saw a box in the middle with the name ‘Maire’ on it, and some typing underneath. Sal didn’t read it, but she knew that it was a messaging program. She responded brightly to her sister.

  “Ah, it’s probably a fan or something wanting to talk to him. Don’t worry.”

  “Sal. READ IT.” Mel’s tone had changed.

  Reluctantly, Sal cast her eyes over the screen.

  “Hey gorgeous man. How’s my sexpot Marshmallow today? You’re on early! What’s Florence Nightingale doing this time? Back at the invalid’s place?”

  Sal looked away and then at the screen again, but the words hadn’t changed. Her mind was running at about the same speed as her heart, and she reached out her hand to the desk for support.

  No, she thought. There will be another explanation. He wouldn’t have talked about me like that. He wouldn’t be doing this. Not my Marshma… oh.

  Mel’s face was a mix of thunder and pity as she looked up at her sister. Sal knew how furious Mel would be at Marsh if he were up to anything.

  “Shall I reply?” Mel hissed through gritted teeth.

  Still feeling lightheaded, Sal silently leaned against the back of the sofa to steady herself.

  “Sis? Do you want me to reply?” her sister repeated, reaching over to touch Sal’s hand.

  “Ummm… No.” Sal felt hot and sick. “There’s bound to be an explanation, Mel. Please leave it for now.”

  “Sal…”

  “NO. I said leave it. Thanks.” Sal stood up carefully and went to sit on the sofa, close to where she’d been wrapping.

  Thinking about it, Sal decided that if they didn’t reply, this Maire woman would be more likely to mention it to Marsh. It was quite clear they’d been in communication and it was bound to seem strange for this woman to see Marsh appear online and speak to him but get no reply. But if Mel did reply as him, would he see what they’d said on his behalf the next time he logged in? She didn’t know enough about how it worked, but either way was a risk.

  “It’s best we don’t say anything isn’t it?” Sal found herself speaking out loud. “Won’t he see whatever we do say next time he logs in?”

  “Yeah, I guess so, but surely you’re going to confront him about this? I mean, wow, sis…” Mel was glowering and pink in the face. She had an incendiary temper when she lost it. It was rare for Mel to explode these days, but Sal couldn’t cope with trying to calm her down at that moment.

  “Don’t ask me how I’m going to handle this,” Sal pleaded. “I have no idea yet, and we don’t know exactly what’s happened anyway.” She was as firm as she could be, when all she wanted to do was cry. Or throw up. Or both. Something in her stomach knew that this was bad.

  Incredulous, Mel looked at her sister, then turned and tapped away on the computer, carrying on with whatever she had been doing.

  Sal sat racking her brain for signs she might have missed over the past few weeks, her heart thudding hard in her chest.

  Maire. That name was going to haunt her. That’s an Irish name. Maybe she’s a fan he met over there and he’s taken to chatting online with her?

  Yes, he’d been coming to bed late every night, and she already knew that they hadn’t been intimate for ages. She hadn’t thought about it often because it had always been Marsh who had instigated it – that’s how it had always been with them.

  Hasn’t he been instigating, then? Sal thought back. She realised that he probably had, but she had dismissed all of his advances, being too busy, or too tired. She realised with horror that it had been weeks since he’d tried anything.

  Surely after four years sex naturally gets less regular? The love takes over and lust is a little less important? Sal thought, desperately searching for reasons.

  Casting her mind back, he’d been a little more grumpy than usual, but she’d figured he was tired from all the extra work he was doing for the band. She’d been with Jess (the invalid?) a lot, admittedly, but Marsh had understood that, and they’d still cuddled up when he wasn’t working. He was pleased she’d been looking after her friend.

  Is that so that he could have more time to chat to Maire?

  Mel was dutifully quiet and Sal could hear her tapping and clicking away on the computer.

  Why did she have to come and use it today? Sal felt a wave of resentment towards her sister. If she hadn’t come over, Sal would have been none the wiser, happily wrapping presents.

  She knew that wasn’t helpful, so she decided to put the kettle on. When she heard Marsh’s car on the driveway a few minutes later, she scooted back into the lounge.

  “Mel!” she hissed. “He’s back already! Shut it down right now! Don’t say anything. Please?” Sal looked pleadingly at her sister.

  Mel rolled her eyes and said nothing, but Sal wasn’t bothered if she understood her motives or not, she needed her sister to stay out of it.

  By the time Sal had carried in a tray festooned with a teapot, three mugs, milk jug and a plate of home-made mince pies, the computer was off. Mel was sitting fuming on the sofa, and a fresh-faced Marsh was taking off his coat surrounded by three or four carrier bags.

  “Hiya, how did you get on?” Sal summoned all her energy to seem casual, and put a smile on her face. She indicated to the tray, staying far enough away from him that it wouldn’t be obvious that she couldn’t bear the thought of kissing him right now.

  Glowering Mel picked up a mince pie and stuffed the whole thing unceremoniously into her mouth.

  “Hmmm, not too badly,” Marsh answered. “I got a few things, but I’ll have to go out again in the week.”

  Mel tutted audibly, so Sal shot her the type of furious look
that only a big sister can give.

  “You alright there, Faceache?” Marsh quipped at Mel, oblivious to the silent messages going back and forth between sisters. He motioned to Mel with a grin that she had a chunk of mince pie on her cheek. Mel continued to fume and chewed noisily, wiping her cheek hard with the back of her hand.

  It wasn’t unusual for Mel to be like that around Marsh, so Sal wasn’t too concerned. Mel, still chewing, looked at him and gave an overly wide, mince-pie-filled, sarcastic smile. He walked towards her brandishing the spray cream and aimed it vaguely in the direction of her mouth. Very vaguely.

  She squealed as he sprayed her mouth and nose, then she slapped his legs and swore a bit too ferociously, as he roared with laughter. She stormed off to wash her face.

  “Hey, Pumpkin,” he smiled at Sal. “No looking in the bags, please, they’re full of pressies for you, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sal swallowed hard, trying to avoid the incoming kiss. “Here, have a cuppa. I’ve just made it,” she smiled, thrusting a cup and plate at him. “And have a mince pie quickly before they all disappear down Mel’s gullet.”

  “No, it’s okay, thanks. I’m going on a run later.”

  “A run?” Sal hadn’t known Marsh to run anywhere for at least three years. He used to go jogging when they first met, but that had lapsed early in their relationship because he maintained that he kept fit on stage.

  “Yeah, I need to get rid of this,” he pulled a face while tapping his belly, which was a perfectly reasonable size. “Anyway, I’ve got these to wrap.”

  He waved the carrier bags in the air as he went up the stairs two at a time. He wasn’t overweight and never had been, but Sal loved him the same whatever his shape or size. She thought he knew that, but it clearly wasn’t her he wanted to impress.

  “I need to make a move, Sal,” Mel said before slurping down the last of her tea. She’d washed her face, and was moving towards her coat. “I’ve done what I needed to, thanks.”

  “OK, I’ll run you back.” Sal was short and to the point.

  “Nah, it’s fine. I need to nip to the office while I’m over this way. I’ll get the bus back,” she said as she grabbed a handful of Quality Street from the dish on the sideboard on her way to the door.

  “Well, if you’re sure. It’s been great seeing you.”

  Mel cast a sideways glance at her. “I love you sis. Please be …”

  “It’s fine,” Sal cut her off mid-sentence and kissed her cheek. “See you soon, sis.”

  Sal waved her off, and watched Mel walk down the road, hunched up against the cold, her scarf dancing behind her in the arctic wind.

  Sal unwrapped a green triangle chocolate on her way past the tin and nibbled on it, hoping it would stop her stomach from gurgling. Throwing herself down with a thump on the sofa, she could hear Marsh upstairs cutting paper and wrapping. She only had a couple of the more trickily-shaped presents to wrap, so she found a Bulbs CD, put it on and set about finishing them.

  Doing something useful helped her to calm down. She loved wrapping things properly, with ribbons, bows, glitter and little doodles on the tags. Listening to Marsh’s backing vocals had always made her smile, too, although less so today. She sang along, so it took her a while to notice him standing on the stairs some time later, in his gym gear. He was holding a large sports bag and looking at her intently and unsmiling. Once she spotted him, he continued down the remaining stairs.

  “God, do you have to listen to that?” he rolled his eyes. “I’m off to the gym. Too bloody cold to run outside this time of year.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll have dinner ready for around eight, is that alright? I’ve made a chicken pasta bake. One of your faves.”

  “Yeah, sure. See you later. I’ll only be a couple of hours.”

  As she listened to his car back out of the drive and disappear, the hole that had been resident in her belly for the past hour or two chose to expand. The mince pie and Quality Streets were adrift, being sloshed around by hot chocolate and tea, and she felt nauseated. A feeling of disquiet jangled around inside her head, and she looked over at the PC.

  Stop it, one side of her mind chided. He’s allowed to have friends that you don’t know about. Hasn’t he always sworn that he won’t ever do that, because he knows how it feels? Trust the years you’ve had together.

  He’s a bloke, the other side replied. He’s been a player before, and he can do it again. Jess knows what he’s like. He’s had a week away, and come back acting differently. Check it out. Then you’ll know for sure.

  She could hear her own heartbeat echoing in her ears, and felt it pounding in her neck. She edged cautiously towards the computer as if it would bite.

  As much as she didn’t want to think that he might be guilty of something, she had to know. Shaking, she switched on the PC and modem.

  That bloody machine might have been new, but it took hours to load up. At least, it seemed that way to her. It had never bothered her before, but today it was the slowest PC in the world. She felt anxious about what she might see, guilty to even be considering that Marsh might have been unfaithful and terrified at what might happen if he had.

  She needed to know. Today. Now. As much information as she could find. She summoned every ounce of concentration she had, to recall what Jess and Mel had told her about the messenger thing. She hadn’t been remotely interested before, and so hadn’t paid much attention, though she knew both of them used it a lot.

  Finally! The computer was up and running, so she set about unplugging the line from the ‘phone and connecting it into the modem; she knew how to get online easily enough. As she heard the familiar chirping of the modem line, she noticed she was wringing her hands.

  “I need to keep breathing.” She startled herself by speaking out loud.

  The Yahoo Messenger box appeared automatically and Marsh’s details were already filled in, but it hadn’t logged in.

  So, then, Mel must have clicked on it to start it up? Surely he wouldn’t leave his details in there, if he were doing anything wrong?

  She was in.

  She scrolled quickly back through their conversation, slowing down when she realised that their chat had been going on well before the Irish tour. Months before. Feeling as if she’d been punched in the stomach, she subconsciously reached one arm around her waist for comfort as she looked.

  She wanted to get up and stop torturing herself, but she was rooted. At some self-destructive level, she wanted to read it. All of it. ‘The devil’s in the detail,’ as her mum used to say.

  Her stomach had other ideas, though, and as a cold sweat washed over her, she darted to the downstairs toilet and only just made it before throwing up. She clutched the bowl, gasping as she retched over and over until there was nothing left to come up.

  Sitting back on her haunches, she wiped her sweating forehead and started to wonder if he was at the gym at all. Come to think of it, who were all those presents he’d bought actually for?

  She could get in her car, drive to the gym, see if he was there and confront him. No. He would simply deny as much as he could get away with and she had to know the full extent of what he was doing. If anything; she had to remind herself there was a possibility that this was all harmless. It was so hard to think of him doing anything remotely like having an affair. Even if it were only sexual chat online, it still felt like a massive betrayal. Sal had never even considered responding to the many advances she had received since working for the band.

  Why am I not enough for him? Her eyes stung with tears.

  She hauled herself up and flushed the loo. Turning to the mirror over the sink, she stared at her reflection. She was flushed pink, her fringe pulled tight over her ear, and her forehead glistened with a faint sheen of sweat. But, being as objective as she could, the face looking back at her wasn’t that bad. Admittedly, she wasn’t wearing make-up but her hair was freshly styled with blonde highlights and she wasn’t wrinkled. Her skin was porcelain smooth.


  Plain, though. Plain Jane. Not exciting, beautiful or memorable.

  She bent down, turned on the tap and cupped two handfuls of water onto her warm face. It was freezing cold, which shocked her and she tried hard to pull herself together. She had to be cautious, because if Marsh came back earlier than expected, he mustn’t catch her looking at his stuff. He couldn’t know that she’d looked or that she knew anything about Maire. Not yet. Not if she could possibly avoid it.

  She dragged herself back to the PC clutching a tissue and steeled herself, scrolling forward to the beginning of their conversation the night before.

  Maire: Please tell me you could feel me earlier, when I was thinking of you. Was so intense. Xxxxxx

  Marsh: I felt you. I always do, Pumpkin, you know that. I wish I could feel you for real. xxxxx

  Maire: Can you feel me now? Every little word from you immerses me in memories. I'm full of you now. Need you. Even more than before.

  Marsh: I can’t think about anything else. Your lips, my hands on you, covering you in kisses. You know I have to be careful…

  Maire: I know, but I'm the one who’s here now. I’m focussed on only you, no one else. You come first in my world. I want to explore every inch of your perfect body. It does incredible things to me. I’m naked and imagining you here, touching me. Feeling your breath on me.

  Marsh: Are you actually nude?

  Maire: Yes. My robe is open and I have nothing on underneath.

  Marsh: Christ, you’re perfect. I wish I could see you. I want to be there now, so I can pick you up, bury my face in your flesh and throw you on the bed. I wish I could jump in it with you now.

  Maire: I'm cosy and it’s so late. I'm all alone and I just want to be with you. Away from the world. Away from the pressure of life, and expectations of people. Talking deeply, laughing, crying together, discovering each other all over again. Watching your lips move as you speak. As your tongue dampens them fleetingly. Want to kiss that mouth so softly. My perfect love. My Marshie