The Old Girls' Network. Judy Leigh

man who wriggled in the grass, his pink bottom stuck in the air like a pale peach. She attempted to cover a giggle with one hand and held out the other. She’d take him home now and put him in a nice clean bed in the spare room to sleep it off.

      Pauline and Barbara were in the kitchen, Pauline leaning against the Belfast sink and Barbara resting her back against the warmth of the Aga. The smell of toast and hot frying oil lingered in the air, and two empty plates were on the wooden table, with left-over smears of fried egg and crumbs of brown toast. Barbara glared at Pauline, who shrugged and turned to stare out of the window. Two blue tits hovered next to the coconut she’d hung at the bird feeder, and then a woodpecker fluttered down, its pointed beak pecking furiously at the fat. She turned back to Barbara.

      ‘He’s been asleep since yesterday afternoon. I thought I’d take him some breakfast up this morning. He must be hungry. I don’t think he ate anything at all yesterday.’ As an afterthought she added, ‘Poor man. He was tired out.’

      ‘He was drunk.’ Barbara folded her arms. ‘I can’t believe you had to pull his trousers up for him and half-carry him back here.’

      Pauline grinned. ‘I’ve seen a naked man before…’

      ‘That’s not the point.’ Barbara looked away and frowned. ‘He shouldn’t be here at all, that’s the point. He’s filthy, messing up your clean bed, stinking out the house with his sweaty smell. He had urine down his trousers.’

      ‘I put his clothes in the wash.’

      ‘You should have burned them, Pauline. They are just infested rags.’

      Pauline shook her head. ‘The jacket had been expensive once. The shirt too. They are drying out on the line now. I’d have offered him something of Douglas’ but I gave them all away after he…’ She let out a slow sigh. ‘I took them to the charity shop. Douglas’ clothes would have swamped Bisto anyway.’

      Barbara wrinkled her nose at the mention of his name. ‘I hope you’ll come to your senses today and dump him at the hospital. Let the experts patch him up and send him on his way.’

      ‘I certainly will not.’ Pauline raised her eyebrows, remembering how grateful he had been as she’d tucked him under the duvet in the spare room, how his eyes had closed in sleep almost immediately, like a soothed child. He had been in pain and exhausted. ‘He was apologetic, thankful and polite. I’ve taken quite a shine to him.’

      ‘You’re too soft, Pauline. That’s your trouble.’

      ‘And you are just too callous, Barbara.’ She couldn’t help the next words. ‘You’ve always been like that. Selfish.’

      Barbara snapped her head towards Pauline, her chin jutting out. ‘He’s taking advantage of your good nature. Whereas since I’ve come here to recuperate, all you do is argue with me.’

      ‘In fairness, Barbara, you are the one who’s being argumentative.’

      ‘I certainly am not.’ Barbara folded her arms, tucking in her chin. ‘I’ve been the voice of reason, trying to protect you from what is clearly an awful error of judgement. But you won’t listen to me, will you? Oh no. You’ve become stubborn, Pauline. Since Douglas died, I think you have probably become lonely and you’re just grasping at straws to stave off the feeling.’ Pauline shot her sister a horrified glance and Barbara smiled, triumphant. ‘You’ll even hang on to a filthy vagrant, Pauline, if it means you have a bit of company.’

      ‘That is utter rubbish, Barbara. It’s my house and I knocked the poor man over. He’s incapacitated. He needs to rest. And besides, he’s very pleasant.’

      ‘I’m being honest for your own good. You are getting on a bit now, and you’re vulnerable. Even losing your grip a bit, I dare say.’

      Pauline flushed, her face tingling at her older sister’s hypocrisy. ‘How dare you? Barbara, you’re a guest here and since you’ve arrived, you’ve been bossy and controlling.’

      ‘I have not.’

      ‘You have. And I wish you’d stop it. If you can’t be nice, you can just go back to Cambridge. You’re welcome to stay, but I do wish you’d just – well – chill out.’

      Barbara gasped. ‘Chill out? Are you mad?’

      ‘I think she has a point, to tell the truth.’

      A voice came from the doorway, a gentle gravelly lilt, and the sisters turned together to see a short man standing in front of them in a baggy blue nightgown that fell past his knees. The buttons, once fastened up to the neck, had been undone, exposing a mass of white curly chest hair.

      Barbara put her hands to her mouth. ‘He’s wearing my nightie.’

      ‘It suits him.’ Pauline grinned.

      Bisto shrugged. ‘I found it on your bed. I was starkers when I woke up this morning.’ He gazed from Barbara to Pauline. ‘I was completely poleaxed yesterday. After the Scotch I was totally wrote off. I have a hell of a headache on me this morning. But I promise, it was a one off. It won’t happen again.’ He paused and his eyes twinkled. ‘So, which of you lovely ladies stripped me naked and had your wicked way with me?’ He raised his eyebrows at Pauline, then stared at Barbara. ‘I really don’t mind which of yous it was. Or both.’

      Barbara breathed in. ‘As if we’d be that desperate.’

      ‘I took your things and washed them, Bisto.’ Pauline smiled. ‘They are outside drying. I’ll get you some breakfast and then I’ll see if they are ready to wear.’

      ‘That’s very kind, Pauline.’ Bisto hobbled over to the table past the Aga, brushing against Barbara. She could see the pale colour of his skin through the flimsy material. He plonked himself down, scratching the white curls on top of his head. ‘I could eat a whole house.’

      ‘Toast and scrambled eggs, then?’ Pauline held out a hand, almost tempted to ruffle his hair, but she thought the better of it. ‘How do you like your coffee?’

      ‘It’d better be black and sweet this morning.’ Bisto winked at her. ‘Thanks. You’re a good woman, Pauline.’

      Barbara heaved herself as tall as she could against the Aga and took a deep breath. Bisto clearly appreciated Pauline’s kindness so she thought she’d try to be slightly pleasant. Her words came out grudgingly. ‘I hope you’re feeling better. How is the swollen ankle this morning?’

      ‘Ah, not good, Barbara. And my head’s pounding. I’ve only just managed to see straight. Yesterday I thought there were two of yous – that’s enough to frighten any man to death, that’s for sure. But I’ll be out of your hair today. I’ll find a good strong stick to lean on and be on my way…’

      ‘You’re welcome to stay for a day or two. It’s the least I can do.’ Pauline poured eggs in a frying pan, easing Barbara out of the way with her shoulder, a gentle movement. She couldn’t help smiling. Bisto’s natural warmth was a perfect foil for Barbara’s frostiness. Her instinct had been right. With Bisto here, Barbara’s presence would certainly be more bearable. Pauline wondered if her sister might even develop a sense of humour.

      The eggs began to sizzle, and Barbara picked up the steaming kettle to make coffee. Pauline had her back to Bisto, but her voice was determined. ‘You can have a bath after breakfast and we’ll see how your ankle is. Based on that, you can stay until it is better, and that is that. We’ll say no more about it.’

      Bisto leaned back in his seat and sighed. It occurred to him that he had hit the bottom. After the events of the last few weeks, he felt empty, devastated – he’d lost so much that was dear to him. And now he’d lost his dignity.

      ‘That’s very kind of you, Pauline.’

      He met Barbara’s frown and winked. She twisted away, crinkling