by Daisy Burton
No one was Marsh.
She didn’t want Mel, or Jess, or Blue and Alex around her by choice, but she had to put up with them, to a degree. They were only trying to help, but they wouldn’t accept that she was happier doing things herself. The girls had their mum to look after them, and they only popped over once or twice, thankfully.
She didn’t want to have to be ‘Sal – stepmother, friend, sister, shoulder’, she wanted to slob out and be Sallie – bereaved, betrayed, confused and hurting. Brandy shots had been helping to start with, but she knew she couldn’t keep doing that; alcohol wasn’t far off becoming a crutch.
She had the looming spectre of the funeral to gear up for and arrange. She heard that Marsh’s body was finally being released, so she could finally start putting everything into place, but the list seemed endless.
As for the funeral, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to get through it. So many people, and so much sympathy. Kind words. Fans feeling as bereft as if they had known the real Marsh. Friends and family, understandably as devastated as she was. They’d all be looking at her, and she wasn’t sure if she could do it.
Sal made sure that the funeral was arranged around the tour, as she had promised Jess. She could hear Marsh’s voice in her head - nothing interfered with gigs. He had gone on stage with food poisoning once, running off stage to throw up when he needed to. He’d always been devoted to the music.
She’d picked three of his favourite songs for the funeral, but she hadn’t been able to listen to them yet. Perhaps she should? She considered that hearing them for the first time in the crematorium probably wasn’t the best idea, so she looked the CDs out.
The hardest to listen to was ‘Old and Wise’. Marsh loved The Alan Parsons Project as the band had supported him in the early days, and he had remained friends with Alan. That song was perfect for a funeral, but the words killed her. As she listened to it, she knew everyone would cry, no doubt about it, but wasn’t that the point of a funeral anyway? They weren’t for the dead person – more for the people who knew them to pay their respects. She sobbed loudly for the whole song and for ten minutes afterwards. It wasn’t going to be easy to listen to it on the day.
Sal knew she had to carry herself with dignity at the funeral – Marsh would have wanted that. Crying was okay, but she needed to have some restraint, and she wasn’t at all comfortable crying in public, in any case. Cards addressed to her had been arriving every day. Some were from people she knew, family and friends, but countless dozen others were from faceless fans. It was nice that they cared so much for Marshy, but they made her feel worse. She put them all in a shoebox she’d found, figuring they might bring her some comfort later.
When she could breathe. When she could see straight. When the endless tears had stopped. Whenever this hideous, heavy blanket she appeared to be carrying around the whole time was taken off her back.
20
Sal decided to spend the day before the funeral getting herself together mentally. The knock at the door didn’t surprise her because there had been so many flower deliveries that she’d run out of vases. She’d used her washing-up bowl, two buckets, a big measuring jug and she was now at the point of putting flowers in pint glasses.
“Hello, sweets. How you doin’?” A soft smile and worried eyes greeted her as she opened the door.
“Doug! Blimey, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you. Come in!” effused Sal, self-consciously flicking her hair into shape with her fingers and pulling down on the hem of her top.
“You sure? I don’t want to impose. I wanted to see if you needed anything doing for tomorrow, y’know. I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself.”
“No, it’s nice to see you. Tea? Coffee?”
“Yeah, coffee would be great, cheers. I come bearing cinnamon doughnuts, too.” He waved a familiar box in the air and the penny dropped.
“That was you?” Sal was amazed. She hadn’t considered it might have been Doug who dropped the last lot off.
“I had to make sure you ate something, even if it was just fat and sugar. I know myself that when you’re feeling crappy you need comfort food. I remembered Jess saying you liked cinnamon ones when I came ‘round to look at the German document that day, yeah?”
Sal was so touched she was almost speechless. “That’s so lovely of you! They feed my soul. Milk and sugar?”
“Only milk, thanks. The doughnuts have enough of the sweet stuff,” he grinned. She saw that familiar dimple appear in his cheek as she turned to go into the kitchen.
He was about the only person she felt happy to be around right now. He’d seen her at her worst, and although she wasn’t great, she didn’t think she looked too bad now; she’d showered every day for the past five days and she’d even managed to put a bit of make-up on in preparation for the serious effort she would need to make for the funeral.
As she tucked in to one of the doughnuts, licking the sugar off her lips and sipping her hot coffee, she sat companionably on the sofa with Doug. Feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time, she realised that he’d managed to take the metaphorical heavy blanket off her back for a little while, again. He had this way of making her feel completely chilled, not judged or anything negative, he only wanted her to be okay. He even managed to make her laugh with one of his stories about his early roadie days.
“… She actually had to go to hospital to get it removed?” Sal giggled. “She must’ve been so embarrassed!”
“Yep! We didn’t see her again after that. I don’t think she had the nerve to show her face. So, are you worried about tomorrow, then?” Doug’s face went from full of mirth to completely serious in the space of a few words.
“I’m dreading it, honestly. I don’t want to do it.”
“You’ll be great; you always are. You have to think about it as something to get through, and it’ll soon be over. There’ll be loads of people there to support you. Me and Jess for a start, and you’ll have your family there, and the girls and Marsh’s family…”
“I s’pose so…” she said dolefully, but she didn’t sound convinced.
“Fancy a drive out somewhere? No pressure, honestly, I don’t mind if you say no, but it might do you good. It’s a beautiful day.”
Sal thought for a minute and realised that since Marsh died, she’d only left the house when she had something important to do.
“Yes, okay, thanks,” she smiled. “I’d love that.”
*****
It was a cool spring day but the sun was bright and everything felt new. She hadn’t had that spring feeling at all so far, but she did as she climbed out of the car and they headed for the lake where they’d seen in the new year.
Sitting on the same bench – this time in bright sunshine rather than under the reflected light of fireworks - she breathed deeply and filled her lungs. Her back and shoulders ached like hell, and it felt as if she hadn’t been breathing properly for days. The cold air reached the bottom of her lungs and she closed her eyes slowly, savouring the blissful moment. Doug opened the flask of coffee she’d made for them to bring, and produced the half-eaten box of doughnuts. There were two remaining and they sat in the cool air munching, sipping and watching the water ripple as the fish bobbed up to catch whatever was on the surface.
They didn’t speak. They sat there in peaceful silence, taking it all in. Sal hadn’t realised how big the lake was when she’d been there before – it had been dark, and she’d been too distraught to take it in properly. It was nice to visit the lake again, even though she only ever seemed to come here when something terrible was happening. Still, there was less chaos in her head than the last time, and it felt as if the lake was a place to heal. Especially today; the sun was quite bright, and despite the cool air, the warmth on her face felt good. There were reeds to their right, and two ducks were swimming across the water towards them, hoping for some morsel or other.
“Ducks shouldn’t have doughnuts, should they?” Sal pondered out loud, breaking the peaceful si
lence.
“No, they shouldn’t, as it goes. Anyway, it’ll do you way more good.”
Over the other side of the lake, a young family were playing catch. She suddenly had the urge to kick off her shoes and paddle like she had as a child. The side of the lake was stone free and had a gentle incline into the water, so it was safe enough. As she was rolling up her jeans, Doug looked over quizzically.
“You can’t be serious. That water is practically ice! Sal… mate, please.”
She wasn’t listening. Carefully walking over to the water’s edge, she dipped in a toe. He wasn’t joking – the water was absolutely freezing, despite the sun. Regardless, she waded in up to her mid-calf and the cold took her breath away as much as if she’d jumped in. She stood with her arms out as if she were about to curtsey, gasping for breath and giggling hard.
“ARGH, it’s like the fucking Arctic!” Doug had followed her and was standing behind her, yelping with the cold. “You’re insane, woman!”
She could feel her feet going numb as she walked forwards and it struck her that if she stood on glass, she probably wouldn’t feel anything.
God, it’d be so great if I could apply that to the rest of me.
In that moment, she felt so free – unrestricted, released from pain, from sadness, from Marsh. Just for a little while.
They stood there, legs going bright red, chuckling, ‘til Doug took her hand and led her out. She couldn’t feel her feet now at all and stumbled as she walked.
“You’d have got bloody frostbite or something if you’d stayed in there another second!”
“Ow! It was a bit chilly, yes.” Sal was half-giggling, partly because of the insanity of it, and partly from the ridiculous cold. Her ankles were blue, so Doug made her put her legs up on his lap and he rubbed them with a cloth handkerchief one at a time to get the blood flowing, and to dry off the excess water. Then he turned to his feet.
“I should’ve brought a towel,” he moaned. “Come on, I’m not going to be responsible for you losing toes, let’s get you home.”
Doug was firm but kind, offering his arm once they had their shoes back on.
“Spoilsport,” Sal smiled. “Thanks, though. I’ve had a lovely time and I wasn’t expecting that, today.”
“Ah, you’re welcome, sweets,” he grinned. “All part of the service.”
*****
Next day, the crematorium looked quite pretty inside, all things considered. It was a square, grey, ‘70s style, concrete building that was particularly ugly on the outside. The gardens surrounding it and the shrubs around its perimeter were impeccably kept, but although it felt peaceful, it was also uninviting. She’d arranged for beautiful fresh cornflowers, daffodils and tulips for decoration – seasonal blooms, which were also Marsh’s favourites. They both loved spring, and had always tried to go walking in the woods around bluebell time, hoping to see a carpet of beautiful cobalt streaking through the trees.
It was raining, and the tranquillity and warmth inside the crem, with such brilliantly coloured flowers dotted around, made her feel calmer. This was where her mum’s service had been held, and it didn’t hold happy memories for her, but then, it was a crematorium. It wasn’t meant to. This felt very different, in any case.
Sal had opted not to have a car for herself because Jess had suggested that Adam could drive them both together, and she liked that idea. Doug had arrived extra-early with Rex, and they’d both helped Jess to ensure everything was set up and that Sal was coping. They made sure that everything was running smoothly while Sal faced the guests and welcomed them as best she could.
Trying hard not to focus on who was inside the coffin as she followed it in, the tears were pushing at her throat. She was having trouble getting her head around the fact that he was in there, and that was probably for the best. She’d opted not to see him again after the hospital. This was the closest she’d been to him since then, and the closest she’d ever be again. The tears were already filling her eyes; she daren’t blink.
The band members arrived together and sat behind Sal, looking both smarter and more sombre than she’d ever seen any of them. They looked devastated but they were a stoic lot who kept themselves to themselves. They’d spent 30 years touring and recording with Marsh, so they were like his family and he’d been the youngest of them all. None of them had expected to bury him first.
Sal remained determined to be dignified, and to support the girls through the day. They’d lost their dad at such an important time in their lives and she needed to be strong for them. Their mum, Marsh’s ex, was there but had opted to sit at the back, and Sal was touched that she had been entrusted with the girls’ emotional wellbeing for the service.
Jess sat with Sal and the girls, with Mel and Kate preferring to sit two pews behind. Sal plastered a serene, sad, half-smile on her face as she turned to scan the room.
She could see the place was filling with people, with standing room only at the back, and considering that it was a fair-sized crematorium, he’d got an amazing turn-out. She knew that would be the case – Marsh was a well-respected musician, a well-known character in their town, and he had lots of friends.
She hadn’t expected to catch a glimpse of a small, dark-haired woman standing right at the back in a mustard-coloured dress, which stood out like a beacon among the black suits of the men she seemed to be surrounded by.
No. NO! It can’t be. She wouldn’t. Sal’s hand whipped to her mouth.
Apparently, she would. Even from quite a distance, Sal could see that Maire was already weeping and dabbing a white tissue daintily at her eyes like some kind of latter-day Scarlett O’Hara.
As Sal gasped, turning her head sharply back and looking at Jess in horror. Jess looked around to see what she’d seen and nearly dropped her order of service as she spied Maire.
“What the bloody hell is she doing here?” Jess hissed at no one in particular, forgetting herself for a few seconds.
She looked at Sal to see if she was okay, but obviously she wasn’t. Sal, quite frankly, felt like she wanted to punch someone. One person. The only thing that stopped her from walking straight up the aisle and doing it, was the fact that Alex and Blue were at her side, and were curious as to what was going on.
Sal pursed her lips and shook her head purposefully at Jess who got the message and they kept their eyes forward throughout the service. The only times that Sal’s fierce restraint failed her was during Old and Wise, and again as the coffin carrying the man she loved disappeared behind the curtain. She thought she’d done pretty well up to that point, but she couldn’t hold back the tears and they made their escape down her face and neck.
As soon as the signal was given to Sal to stand and walk out, Jess darted to the back of the room and grabbed Maire’s arm. Before Sal realised where Jess had gone, she’d disappeared. A few minutes later, she slid effortlessly back to her place next to Sal outside the crematorium, acting as if nothing had happened. Sal had no idea what had been said, nor did she care right at that moment. She was just happy that it seemed to have been dealt with; she had quite enough to think about, without having to worry about what that tart wanted.
The wake passed by in of a whirl of hugs and promises to meet up, and afterwards Sal couldn’t remember much about it. She had a vague memory; an interminable haze of hugging, handshaking, sympathy, and ‘oh wasn’t it a lovely service’ ‘he would’ve been so proud of you’ and ‘chin up’. Much of it superficial. Sal longed to go home, but everyone had wanted a piece of her and she felt obligated to stay.
Alex and Blue kept themselves to themselves in one corner, surrounded by their close family. Blue was inconsolable; Alex was stoic as usual, and looked like she couldn’t wait to escape. Sal wanted to go over and spend more time with them, but every time she tried, someone else grabbed her and started expressing their shock, sympathy and admiration for the day, as they chewed on a vol-au-vent.
She kept one eye on the door for Maire, and the tension of waiting for
her to appear was exhausting. Jess kept going like a trooper all day, and Sal couldn’t thank her enough for shouldering some of the load. She watched as Jess directed, smiled, explained, chatted, cleared and generally shielded Sal as best she could. Jess looked pale and distracted at points, but when Sal checked on her, she said she was ‘absolutely fine’.
“It’s the least I can do with everything you’ve had to face, lately. I’m glad to be able to help,” Jess said, hugging her.
Eventually, everyone was gone and only Sal, Jess and Adam were left in the hall, along with a few cleaners. Jess sorted everything out and walked towards Sal waving a receipt for the payment she’d made to the hotel they were in.
“Come on lady, you’ve done a fantastic job today but you must be exhausted. Let’s get you home,” Jess sighed.
On the way, Sal had to prod the elephant in the room.
“Thanks for paying the bill, Jess. I’ll give you a cheque when we get home. What happened with Maire? Thanks for getting shot of her, I’m not sure what I’d have done if I’d have got close to her.”
Jess was driving, as Adam had been drinking and she didn’t break her gaze on the road for a second.
“Let’s not talk about that … woman today. We can do that another day. You can be assured she won’t come back here now. Not if she knows what’s good for her.”
*****
The days after the funeral were odd. She’d finally managed to change the bedclothes shortly after the funeral, and had stood watching as the last vestiges of Marsh were washed away.
But it felt as if almost everyone had drawn a line under Marsh after the funeral, and everything had gone back to normal. People stopped calling and popping by to see how she was, and there were no friendly calls for no particular reason. Sal couldn’t get her head around that. The world carried on exactly the same, as if nothing had happened. How could that be?
She occasionally woke up in a state of blissful ignorance of the situation. She cherished those days, though they were fewer than before, but she was relieved to notice that the shock was much less when it did kick in.