Barefoot

by Daisy Burton

  Marsh: Baby, you shouldn't be alone. Ever. Especially not in that state. perfect naked you, waiting and ready. It’s so cold out. I need to dive into you; us alone together. Holding each other, feeling our body heat mixing together. I want you, Maire.

  Maire: When I'm alone I can conjure you up next to me. It makes sense of everything. I want to fill my senses with you. Want you to inhabit me. Literally and metaphorically. Beautiful man.

  Marsh: I LOVE how soft and delicate your skin is, especially when you’re pressed against me. Velvety. We melt into one another. You fill me up with total contentment when I’m behind you as we spoon, arms and legs entwined. Whispering in your ear as I kiss and nuzzle into your neck. Together. As we should be. I’ll be holding you like that as you sleep tonight.

  Maire: Need to feel that. It's the most gorgeous feeling, the way we slot together. I want it. I want you. Right now.

  Sal sat, tears streaming down her face. There was more, but she couldn’t bring herself to read it. Her eyes had been glued to the screen at first - part of her was desperate to read it and to be proved wrong; to see that it was innocent. The other part of her was craving her previous ignorance. If she hadn’t already been sick, she would have been by now, for sure. She couldn’t decide if she hated him or loved him, it all felt the same. The pain and fury at his deceit and betrayal was physically hurting her. He’d lied so much.

  How long has this been going on? Her head was full of snippets: He loves her. He wants her badly. They share something he’s never had before. I’ve lost him.

  She recalled the dream she’d had weeks back, and her mind flooded with images from it. She’d forgotten about it until now, but did that mean she’d known about it subconsciously before the trip to Ireland? Or was it mere coincidence? She couldn’t tell from their conversation whether they’d slept together already, but it was obvious that they wanted to. The worst thing, though was that he’d called her Pumpkin.

  She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t breathe. Shaking, she carefully came out of the messages, shut down the PC and plugged the phone line back into the telephone, before going into the kitchen. Lawrence meowed and rubbed against her leg, purring. She put the remainder of a tin of food down for him, grabbed some kitchen roll to blow her nose and wipe her eyes, and found her keys. Right now, she didn’t want to be here when he got back.

  She scribbled a note. Gone to Jess’s.

  6

  Jess was sitting at the kitchen table in her dressing gown, with the laptop open, as usual. She was trying to work out the best way to word a difficult email, but her heart wasn’t in it. It wasn’t in most things these days. As she sipped at a cup of tea she’d just made, she looked around her. No joy. There wasn’t one single thing in her life that brought a smile to her face these days. She was back here again, working in her kitchen when she was supposed to have been making a family, turning their lovely house into a messy, scream-filled, nappy storage unit. It remained a busy office, rather than a home to her.

  She’d wanted to be a mum so much. Now, that dream had been ripped away and worse, it had finally sunk in that she was less likely to get pregnant now than before. The names they’d considered; the school she’d hoped her child would attend; the images she’d had in her head of what her child might look like. All these things she’d thought about during the two years she’d been trying for a baby, were now pointless.

  Looking over at Adam, as he scrubbed the dinner plates from the meal she’d cooked, she wanted to feel content. She ached all over wanting to feel it. All she actually felt, though, was resentment. It wasn’t his fault she’d lost the baby. If it was anyone’s fault, it was hers - her body had let them both down. She couldn’t even have a baby properly and that was the one thing that her body was literally made to do.

  But she was full of resentment and pain. The familiar, heavy feeling returned to her chest and tears threatened to prick her eyes, but she was getting good at fighting them away these days. God knows she cried on her own often enough and she wondered if Adam did too. Did he ever cry for the baby they’d lost? She never saw it, if he did. He’d cried so much that first day in hospital, and then… nothing. He spoke about neither the operation nor their child. She assumed he saw it simply as a collection of cells, not a real baby. But it was. It was her baby, and it had died.

  Ah shit.

  Her eyes had started to well. It did her no good to think of all this stuff; it only served to make her more miserable. Yet those thoughts of a lost future filled most of her days now. No one knew or understood. How could they? They hadn’t lost a baby in such a dramatic, life-threatening way. Her closest friend didn’t want a child, so how could she possibly conceive of how Jess was feeling.

  Oh, nice turn of phrase, Jess. She rolled her eyes at herself.

  She wanted a curious toddler that opened cupboards and drawers when it shouldn’t, kept her awake night after night, threw food around the kitchen from its high chair, asked ‘Why?’ a zillion times a day, and drove her absolutely batty. She wanted to look down and see a little version of her, or Adam, sleeping peacefully as she cradled him or her. She wanted to be proud when they came fourth in the egg and spoon race at school, or passed their swimming certificate. All the things she’d imagined the minute she’d found out that she was pregnant.

  But they were gone. The baby. The dreams. Her future.

  Jess was pulled sharply out of her deep thoughts by a loud knocking on the front door. That had to be Sal – she was using the special knock. Adam was halfway to the door before Jess had started to get up from her stool.

  He threw the door open and couldn’t hide his shock at the state of the woman standing there.

  “Christ, are you alright? Come in, come in! Jess?” he called through. “It’s Sallie.”

  He put his hand out for Sal to hold onto as she stepped inside. He closed the door behind her, locking it carefully as usual, and took her coat.

  Jess shuffled out to the hallway in her slippers, took one look at Sal and sent Adam back into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She ushered her best friend into the sitting room and sat down with her on the sofa. Sal looked at Jess through her swollen eyelids, and Jess’s heart melted.

  Jess knew that Sal had never understood how striking she was, and Jess had never told her. If they hadn’t been friends, she would have been hideously jealous of Sal’s slim but curvy figure, naturally fair hair, high cheekbones and porcelain skin. Even now, pale, with red, swollen eyes and a dripping nose, she looked beautiful.

  “What’s happened?” Jess asked, putting her arm around Sal, trying to imagine what could have made her friend look so ill.

  “Marsh … has got … someone else… he…” The mere act of saying the words out loud had a catastrophic effect on Sal, and she began sobbing loudly.

  Jess frowned. Although she wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen, she wasn’t surprised. Marsh had never been faithful to anyone, despite what he might have said to Sal, and Jess had been shocked at how domesticated and settled he had appeared to be with Sal. Jess had done her best to warn her friend to be aware of his record, but Sal hadn’t reacted well. It had seemed churlish to push it further, so after that, she kept her thoughts mostly to herself.

  “Really?” Jess said, trying to sound at least a little shocked. “I hate to say it, but I’m not that surprised. So … how do you know?”

  Sal looked at Jess with an expression of pure fury. Jess had never seen her look that way.

  “How dare you sit there all I told you so?” Sal exploded. “I’ve fucking seen it online. I’ve read it all, and he’s been telling her about how he wants to be with her. And sexual stuff. I can’t …” She dissolved again, into angry tears.

  Jess sat dumbfounded– shocked only at her friend’s uncharacteristic outburst. She figured the anger was meant to be for Marsh instead of her, though, so she ignored it.

  “Oh mate, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that,” she said more softly, trying to be k
ind. “It’s horrible finding that sort of thing out. What did he say about it?”

  “I haven’t told him. He’s out. I’ve only found out today and I don’t know what… to … dooooo…” Sal dissolved again.

  Jess pulled Sal gently to her while she howled, trying to console her.

  Sal sniffed and blew into a tissue. “I-I-I think it’s been going on for a-a-ages,” she stuttered.

  “You’re joking!” This time, she was genuinely surprised.

  Sal shook her head silently. Jess let her gather her thoughts. Adam brought in a tray of tea and Victoria sponge, but Jess indicated with her eyes that he should make himself scarce. Jess knew that he understood that look, and he actioned drinking a pint. She nodded to her husband, knowing full well that he didn’t need telling twice to go to the pub. She watched as he grabbed his jacket and disappeared out of the back door.

  After about five minutes, and several dozen tissues, Sal could speak coherently despite sounding as if she had a head cold.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t mean to. It’s not you I’m upset with, he’s a scheming, lying, cheating… how could he?”

  “Are you absolutely sure it’s been going on for ages, Sal?” Jess knew it would be easy for her to jump to conclusions in the state she was in.

  “No, they were definitely talking online before the Irish tour because I scrolled back months. The way they talk to each other feels as if they’ve known each other for ages He’s never mentioned her to me – not that I recall.”

  “What’s her name?” Jess was hoping she didn’t recognise it.

  “Maire?”

  Jess looked shocked, while her stomach leapt. She tried to hide her recognition of the name, but she was out of luck– Sal knew her far too well.

  “What? Come on, Jess, you know something… Please…” Sal pleaded, wiping her nose.

  Jess didn’t know what to do for the best, so she decided to be honest. Sal deserved that.

  “The only Maire I know is Maire Doyle. She’s been around for four years or so, doing various bits of PR for the Irish gigs, but I’ve never noticed anything special between her and Marsh. They’ve been pally, but she’s friendly and flirty with all of them. She’s like that.” Jess chose to keep it factual.

  “What’s she like? Physically, I mean,” Sal gabbled, transfixed by every word.

  Jess thought about it. How can I put this?

  “She’s Northern Irish. Early 30s, long, dark – almost black – hair, high cheek bones, full lips, gap in her front teeth, green eyes. Far too much make-up. She’s … petite and shapely.” She darted a look at Sal’s sullen face. “She’s tarty, though. And she’s definitely not gifted in the intellect department. Not like you,” she added in a desperate attempt to give her friend some calm for now.

  “Oh yeah, she sounds like a real troll,” Sal snuffled, looking utterly devastated. “I saw what they said with my own eyes, so you were right all along.” Her eyes were red and shimmering in the Christmas fairy lights Adam had put up that day. “Whether it’s just online or actual sex, it feels like I’ve lost him.”

  “Well, if it’s only online, it’s just words, mate. It’s not like he’s actually shagged her, if that’s the case. Words don’t mean anything.” Jess said, believing it would help.

  Sal shot Jess a withering look. “Oh, don’t give me that! You of all people know that’s not true. Look at Sam. And Taylor! Your relationships with them both started online and you were obsessed with them within days.”

  Jess was stunned. Sal hadn’t ever spoken like that about the flings she’d had nearly five years before. She had been so supportive of Jess at the time, but it was a source of unending guilt for Jess that she’d behaved so badly. She might have been separated from Adam at the time but she could so easily have lost him for good. Strange, but having it brought back into her mind now, Jess realised that she didn’t feel anything at all for either man. After all those crashing emotions at the time, and the awful fallout afterwards, she felt empty about them now. There was literally nothing there.

  “What are you going to do, then?” Jess asked, forcing herself to focus on her distraught friend.

  Sal went quiet for a minute. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought.” It was clear that she was flailing.

  “Well, let’s go through the options.” Jess had to take charge, and this was where she came into her own. She’d been through some pretty awful situations where Sal had helped her, and she now had the chance to help her friend in return. She was in her element.

  Sal’s eyes stopped watering and she listened intently to Jess, as she continued.

  “So, your options are:

  A - You could leave Marsh. Take Lawrence and your stuff, and move out. You could stay here. You don’t have to explain yourself to him, or have awful rows. Just go.”

  “B - You say nothing and act the same – if you’re able to. You wait and see what happens with this thing with Maire, and whether it burns itself out. You keep an eye on him and watch what happens, but you risk their feelings continuing to grow, and then he might leave you.”

  “C - You decide to stay, say nothing and actively fight for him. Be clever about it, change your behaviour in some way and win him back without him realising that you know.”

  “D - You have it out with him. You’ll feel better in the short-term, but you’ll also be risking a massive row and him leaving anyway.”

  They both sat back. Sal had some deciding to do.

  “I’m so mad with him, Jess,” Sal said, sounding a bit more together. “I’m not sure if I could go back and act like nothing’s happened – as if I don’t know. Every second he’s on his own, I’d be wondering whether he’s ringing her, or when he’s up late whether he’s talking to her on the computer. But I don’t know how I’m going to feel when I actually face him.”

  “Well, you might have to decide once you’re there. But don’t forget, you and Lawrence will always have a room here. Tizzy’s an old cat now and she sleeps most of the time, so I’m sure she’d tolerate Lawrie boy coming into her house. I’ll always help out if I can, and you’ve got Mel to hel...”

  “Oh my god!” Sal butted in, suddenly remembering. “Mel knows something’s wrong! She saw a little bit of the conversation between them. I don’t know how much, but I know she saw enough to be super pissed-off at him. She’s bound to say something to him when she sees him, you know what she’s like.”

  “Well, she’s going to be annoyed with him. She’s your sister; it’s natural. Maybe you should fill her in on the rest you found?” Jess knew that Mel was a loose cannon and fiercely loyal to Sal, but sisters are the best support, Jess figured. Not having any siblings of her own, it was hard to know for sure.

  Sal laughed at that idea. “I have no idea what Mel might do. If I did try to act normally around Marsh, Mel could blow it sky high with her temper, so I’d have to do it without her.” She went quiet, then started to sob again. “This morning, I was so happy. Everything was great in the world. Why did he have to do this to me?”

  Jess watched as Sal rested her head in her hands and she decided to take charge.

  “Why don’t I ring Marsh?” Jess suggested. “I could say I’ve asked you to come over because I need you here tonight to help me. You’re welcome to stay in the spare room and it’ll give you a chance to think things through without having him right under your nose.”

  Sal looked up, glassy-eyed. “No, I can’t, Jess. I’ll only be worrying about what he’s doing. Look what I’m turning into. I swore I’d never let anyone do this to me again, after David, but now look at me! I’m back to being the paranoid one that checks up on her partner constantly and panics as soon as he’s left to his own devices. I’ve never been like that with Marsh. I’ve always trusted him so…”

  “I know, mate,” Jess said trying to soothe her. “You’ve never been a jealous person, since I’ve known you.”

  “I’m so jealous of Maire now. What kind of woman goes for
a guy who is clearly in a relationship?” She said it out loud, though it was actually a hypothetical question.

  “One that has no self-confidence. One that needs to win over a guy who is taken, to feel worthwhile. One who doesn’t care about herself or other women at all. One who’s incredibly selfish.” Jess reeled them off – she didn’t have to think about it.

  “Shit, sorry Jess, I-I didn’t mean…” Sal stuttered.

  “No, it’s fine, honestly,” Jess smiled, well aware of what she’d done before. “What Maire’s done to you is disgraceful. Exactly the same as the things I did to other women. Totally unforgiveable. She’s either not thinking about the consequences, or she doesn’t care about them.”

  Sal’s expression changed in that instant. “I need to go home. I have to see him; look in his eyes and see if there’s anything there. Any love, or remorse. I’m scared I might not see anything.”

  Jess said nothing. She knew Marsh could be emotionally cold because she’d seen him speak about the girls’ mum and, at the time, she’d been surprised at his callousness.

  “How do I look?” Sal asked as she hooked her hair over her ear, and carefully wiped under her eyes.

  “Honestly? Like shit. But we can sort that - at least partially.” Jess stood up, carefully, protecting her belly and started making her way slowly upstairs.

  Sal dutifully followed her. Jess watched as Sal splashed her face with the freezing cold water that made her gasp again, and buried her face in the warm fluffy towel that Jess handed to her from the radiator.

  “Here. Try this,” Jess whispered, handing her a small pot of gel. “It’s magic for baggy, red eyes. It’s got essence of cucumber in it or something. I couldn’t live without it at the moment.”

  Sal smeared the cold gel under her eyes and, looking in the mirror, over the top lids too. She peered through gel covered lids and saw that they were just as red and puffy as before.

  “It takes time to work, you know,” Jess added, knowing exactly what Sal was thinking.