by Daisy Burton
Sal wasn’t sure where this hurtful outburst had come from, but she said nothing. She held the silence to see what Jess did. After an awkward pause, when she’d obviously tried to start an argument, Jess started shifting around. She looked increasingly less sneery and more embarrassed as the time ticked on.
After a long few minutes, Jess relented. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit hormonal at the moment, but I shouldn’t have said that stuff. So, anyway, you are going to come to the party on Friday, aren’t you? It’s going to be bloody marvellous. The boys are going to do a set, did Marsh say?”
So that’s the extent of her apology? Sal was used to Jess being a moody soul, but she was quite confused by the massive mood swings in only a matter of minutes. She was far too emotionally drained to challenge it, though, and she let it drop.
“Yes, he mentioned it,” she said after a few seconds of thought. “He wants me to go, but…”
“Oh, go on, come with me!” Jess butted in. “It’s the end of a century, you can’t sit at home with Lawrence waiting for the world to end. I want you with me if it does. Anyway, as I said, I don’t want to go without you. We’ve booked a room at the hotel, so you can bunk down in it with us if you like? Me and Adam will be too pissed to do anything more than sleep, once we go to bed.”
“Oh… go on then, thank you,” Sal conceded. “Ah. I’ll need a new outfit if everyone’s going to be there, won’t I.”
And that was how Sal found herself in the middle of Debenhams the day before New Year’s Eve, trying to find something that would do. ‘Fabulous’ was unlikely now. Everywhere was low on party gear stock, because the entire population of Britain was preparing to party and all of them were, apparently, a bit more organised than her. She was rather despondent as she flicked through the rails and was thinking of giving up, when she saw Doug looking at jackets in the next aisle.
“Hiya Doug!” she smiled cautiously, waving a little, awkward wave.
“Wotcha… Oh, Sal, it’s you!” He looked up, distracted at first. “Sorry, I was a bit engrossed. How you doing, sweets?”
Doug was always smiling, even when he was miserable. Sal liked that he had time for everyone, no matter what was going on in his own life. He had kind, blue eyes, and a slightly shy, sideways smile that crept onto his face at a moment’s notice. When he grinned, the dimple that appeared on his left cheek made him appear younger than his 38 years. He walked over and put his arms around her in a big, all-encompassing bear-hug, like he had when her mum had died. He smelled of washing powder and a soft waft of aftershave – a clean, comforting fragrance.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she lied.
He looked her straight in the eye. “No, come on, how you doing? Are you alright? Y’know…” he looked, frowning at her with genuine concern and his words trailed off. One hand remained softly on her shoulder.
“Yeah, honestly, I’m doing okay. Though I’d be a damn sight better if I could find something half decent for tomorrow night…”
He smiled. “Know what you mean, I’m doing the same. I wasn’t going to bother, but Marsh…”
“… told you that you should?” Sal butted in, giggling. “Yeah, Jess did exactly the same with me. She can’t wait. You know how she gets.”
They laughed, knowing only too well what Jess was like.
For some reason, it had taken until that moment for Sal to remember that Marsh had been staying with Doug. The man in front of her was bound to know a lot about Maire than her, and now was the perfect chance to ask him. She knew he would be gentle with her, but she was also fairly sure she could trust him not to say anything to Marsh.
“Doug, can I ask you something?” she ventured.
“Sure, sweets. Is it about Marsh?”
“Yeah. The thing is, I know about Maire, but he doesn’t know I know. At least, I know she exists, and that they’ve had a thing going online, and met up on the tour…” she faded off at that point, as a lump rose in her throat. She waited to see whether he corrected her about them meeting up on the tour.
He didn’t.
“She’s a slapper, Sal. Honestly, she’s not classy like you. Marsh is being an idiot, but he has to realise that himself. He’s having some kind of crisis, but I do know he loves you.”
“Have they…?” she ventured, feeling less wobbly at Doug’s lack of correction of her assumption than she would have imagined.
“Slept together? I don’t know. I wouldn’t like to guess. He says not, but...” Doug glanced at Sal, but she was fine. This part was actually good news for her. He hadn’t said yes.
“Thank-you so much, that’s kind. Please don’t let on to Marsh that I know, though,” she pleaded. “You won’t, will you? It’s important.”
“Of course not. It’s not my business, Sal. I’ll stay out of it. I’m sure you two will work things out – if you want to?”
That last bit sounded to Sal like a question that she wasn’t ready to answer.
“Thanks Doug, I knew I could trust you,” she smiled brightly ignoring the query.
“Okay, well, you take care, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow, no doubt.” He kissed her gently on the cheek and he was off with a backwards wave, deeper into the menswear section.
Grinning, Sal spied the perfect outfit almost at once.
Cor, Doug’s my lucky charm!
It was a smart but elegant pair of black silk trousers that had been paired with a black and silver sparkly top. Not overstated, but smart and it would go with her posh silver shoes. And they had it in her size. And it was reduced!
*****
The next day passed quickly. Sal had asked Mel if she’d like to come to the party but, unsurprisingly, she was all sorted with a big do along the Thames embankment in London. She was going with Kate from work and Mel sounded so excited. There would apparently be fireworks, water displays, music and all sorts. So, they said ‘Happy New Year’ early and Sal agreed to call her sister the day after New Year’s Day. From past experience, Sal knew it was likely that Mel would be hung over, in varying states of repair and still in London for most of the first day of the new year.
Sal was putting on the last bit of eyeliner when the doorbell rang. She took a quick look at herself as she passed the mirror and perked up.
Not half bad, considering.
She rushed downstairs, grabbed her overnight bag, checked that Lawrence had enough food, and that the cat flap was locked. Fireworks and Lawrence outside did not mix. She shoved her feet unceremoniously into the silver stilettos that she’d bought for Christmas three years ago but which hadn’t seen much action. She wobbled towards the door, wishing she’d practised walking in them.
Jess was looking lovely, standing on the doorstep. Vibrant in black and glittery red, with dyed, bright red hair tied back, red lipstick and smoky eyes.
“Wow, you look amazing!” Jess looked approvingly at Sal. “Come on, get a move on, we’re already fashionably late.”
Adam was sitting at the steering wheel, waving and smiling as Sal teetered down the drive. When they arrived, the hotel was heaving with people and the DJ was in full flow. Sal recognised almost all of the guests as crew or working for the band in some form or other, which was a relief. She grabbed a Bellini from the table and sat down to do some people-watching. The band had already set up and they’d apparently been sound-checking at 5.00pm but they were nowhere to be seen now. That wasn’t a problem, though, she knew Marsh would be there soon and was undoubtedly going through his pre-gig traditions.
Jess was in her element, mainly because she knew everyone there, so she was relaxed and dancing. Adam stood at the side of the room watching her and sipping an Old Fashioned. He spied Sal and walked over, plonking himself on the seat next to her. Neither of them were that fond of dancing all night, and Sal had decided to save her feet for later. She could see Doug on the other side of the room with a beer can and a cigarette in his hand, deep in what looked like a serious conversation with Rex.
There had to be over 200 people
there, including the band. Taking in her surroundings, Sal was impressed at how beautifully the place had been decorated. A big illuminated clock-face dominated one wall, and Sal checked to see if it was accurate. It was, so it was obviously going to be the feature that heralded the new millennium. She wondered whether the world really was going to end at midnight, or whether all the electronics would conk out, as many of the pundits were convinced would happen. She’d heard on the news that most IT departments had been working on the transition for months because of the issues being caused by the change in date from two digits to four. No one else at the party seemed too bothered about the problems that might plague their existence in the next few days, though, so she put them out of her head.
The DJ put on 1999 by Prince, and the whole place erupted into applause and cheering. Adam obviously loved Prince, but Sal knew from past experience that there was no way he would dance until he’d had a few more. He seemed happy to watch his wife boogie with her shoes kicked off and Sal melted a little when she saw the way he was watching Jess on the dancefloor.
“Bit loud, isn’t it,” he mouthed to Sal.
She nodded and laughed. That was so like him – what had he expected from a millennium party? He and Jess were vastly different, but Sal was happy they’d sorted out their differences because they rocked along so well as chalk and cheese. They complemented each other in many ways, and it was heartening to see how Adam doted on her. Sal felt wistful for a second, wondering if she and Marsh would ever be like that again, when an announcement over the whistling microphone crashed into her thoughts.
“FEEDBACK!!” everyone yelled through their slightly drunken haze, happy that it wasn’t their problem tonight. It was already 10.00pm, and the band were on stage to do a set to thank all the people that they couldn’t tour, or exist as a band, without. None of the usual lights were used, and they’d done their own amp set-up, so that the crew wouldn’t have to work. It was a very small room compared to the venues they usually played, so this arrangement was loud enough, and was easily outdoing the DJ’s set-up.
She watched them all walk out onto the makeshift stage and joined in with the massive applause and whistles. Sal’s eyes were firmly on Marsh – even more than they usually were. He was looking dapper, but he was obviously drained. He’d lost some weight, but it was clear that the gym had toned him up because he looked broader across the shoulders to Sal. He was wearing a shirt she didn’t recognise, but it made him look younger and cooler. Her stomach leapt like it used to in the early days. He still had it - that thing that had made her want him originally.
It didn’t matter that 100 percent of the crowd had seen the guys perform at least 10 times, and a good number had worked through more than 300 performances. The band was there to entertain them tonight, and the Bellinis and Old Fashioneds were helping to oil the wheels of enthusiasm.
As they started playing the first number – their biggest hit, the crowd went crazy and all of the band members grinned. It didn’t matter if they made any mistakes, they were in for a great time themselves, so they relaxed and messed around with the lyrics. It was everyone’s favourite kind of gig.
It was going to be a night in a million.
10
The band had reached their third song by the time Doug sidled up to Sal, frowning.
“Wooooh, hiya!” she shouted over the booming music. “Isn’t this fantastic? Your outfit looks great, by the way!”
He half-smiled, and gestured for her to follow him. She looked up at the stage and back at Doug, indicating her reluctance to leave the show, but he was insistent. She followed him through the reception area and onto the lawn outside. It was cold, damp and windy, and although it had stopped raining, Sal wasn’t keen on being outside.
“What’s up?” she asked, putting her arms around herself to keep warm.
He turned to her, frowning. “She’s here, Sal.”
Sal looked at his face, and knew that this couldn’t be a good thing. “Sorry, who’s here?”
“Maire.”
Doug took her arm, but she didn’t realise that she’d almost toppled over in her stilettos because she had closed her eyes. He caught her, put his jacket over her shoulders, and led her to a nearby damp bench. She sat down hard and she didn’t realise she was hyperventilating until Doug put his arm softly on hers.
“Sal? Try to breathe a bit slower, love.”
She looked at him, wide-eyed and did her best to control her breathing. Her chest was tight, her breath was rapid and shallow, and she was consumed with a feeling of dread. Her head was spinning with questions that she knew Doug probably wouldn’t be able to answer.
“Where is she?” Sal gasped, squeezing her hands and trying to slow her breathing. “What does she want? Does she know I’m here? Did he know she was coming? Is he happy for her to be here? Did he invite her? If he knew she was coming, why hasn’t he warned me?” Her words tumbled out.
“I don’t know what she wants. I’m so sorry, Sal. I didn’t want to upset you and spoil your night, but I had to let you know. It’s not fair on you, but she is classed as part of the band’s support team, so she has a valid reason to be here. She’s an absolute bitch to come when she knew you’d be here. She should have stayed away.”
Still gasping for breath, Sal looked at Doug and it was obvious that he hadn’t known Maire was coming.
“All I know is that Marsh didn’t ask her to come, in fact, I overheard him telling her not to fly over. He still isn’t aware that she’s here. At least, he wasn’t when he went on stage. I guess she wants to surprise him after the set?”
Sal was trying hard to digest all of this information. She knew how Marsh operated, and he wouldn’t like this situation one bit – he wasn’t keen on surprises and definitely didn’t like confrontation along the lines of what was coming. Sal was an easy-going, gentle soul by nature, but she wasn’t going to let this Irish bitch swan in, stomp all over her life and walk off into the sunset with the man she loved.
“Where is she?” Sal’s teeth were gritted and her brow furrowed. “Where IS she?” she hissed, standing up.
“Sal, I don’t think this is a good idea yet,” Doug was holding her arm gently. “Please. Take five minutes before you go looking. The boys are still on stage, so nothing’s going to happen yet.”
She took a deep breath and looked at his pleading expression. He was right. She exhaled hard and sat down with another bump, crossing her arms and legs. She wasn’t used to feeling this level of fury and she wasn’t sure how to process it. She felt like screaming, but holding Doug’s warm hand again, she reminded herself that none of this was his fault.
They were only colleagues, Doug and Sal. They had always got on in a group, but he had no implied loyalty to her. If anything, his loyalty should be to Marsh as his roadie and long-term friend, yet here he was. Maybe the fact that Doug’s wife had left him for someone else meant he understood how awful she was feeling.
“Thank you… for being a good friend to me. It can’t be easy for you, being stuck in the middle and I do appreciate it. I’m sorry. It’s not you I’m mad with.”
“It’s the easiest thing in the world to be your mate, Sal,” Doug mumbled. “He’s treated you fucking badly, and she’s a cheap tramp. I’ve seen her try it on with someone else in the band, but that time it didn’t work. She’s young, a looker and his head has been turned. But he loves you, I know that.”
“Bloody funny way of showing it… Hang on, you said she’s a looker? Jess said she was nothing special to look at.”
Doug shifted uneasily on the bench. “Well, y’know, it’s subjective…”
Okay, so she’s gorgeous. Great.
“But just because she’s pretty, doesn’t means she’s nice inside,” Doug continued. “She’s a conniving weasel, and that makes her ugly. She’s always got her wares on show; there’s no mystery.”
Sal’s breathing was slowing, and she leaned into Doug. He automatically put an arm around her, pulling h
is jacket closer around her shoulders. As her head was leaning against his shoulder, he started stroking her hair, but she realised he was shaking.
“Oh my god! You must be freezing!” Sal felt awful.
It was coming up to 11.00pm and he’d given her his jacket when they had first come outside. The sky was mostly clear and that made it feel quite arctic.
“I’m so sorry. You’ll catch your death.”
“It’s fine, Sal, honestly, I’m more worried about you.”
“No, I insist. Let’s at least go inside.”
He didn’t argue, and they both got up. Sal stumbled a little in her muddy stilettos, so he put his arm around her waist to steady her, and led her in.
When they got inside, the music was much louder than before and it was hard to have any kind of conversation. The warmth flooded over them both and she handed his jacket back.
“You’re such a gent. Thank you,” Sal took a deep breath. “So, come on then, where is she?”
“Are you sure? I mean…”
“Totally.” Sal was defiant.
“Come with me.”
He tentatively took her hand and led her to a room where a selection of the cold buffet food from earlier had been put aside for the band to enjoy after the gig. It was quite a spread. The door was shut but there was a narrow window in it, which she looked through.
The room was empty of people, apart from one petite, dark-haired woman who was munching on a stick of pineapple in what can only be described as a seductive way. Sal thought that was odd, given that she was alone in the room. As she watched, Maire started twirling her long hair around her finger and swaying absent-mindedly in time with the familiar live music that was drifting in from the main room. She was wearing the highest stilettos Sal had ever seen. They had to be six inches and they made her stand strangely, with her hips forward. Nevertheless, she looked stunning.