The Old Girls' Network. Judy Leigh

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      4

      ‘You don’t have to come with me, Barbara. There will be lots of people there. You mightn’t enjoy it.’

      ‘What makes you think I won’t? I’m flexible for my age.’ Barbara glanced up from the chair at the kitchen table and smirked at her own joke. ‘Physically and mentally.’

      ‘I don’t mean that. I mean, I’ve been going for over a year. I know all the people at yoga – all the villagers. They might not be, you know, your sort of people.’

      ‘There you go again, making assumptions. What are you trying to say, Pud? That I’m not the sociable type?’

      ‘Pauline. I hate being called Pud.’ She took a breath, determined to be assertive. ‘You’re the only person who’s ever called me that and it’s not my name. And I didn’t mean to imply that you’re antisocial, it’s just that—’

      ‘When I was on holiday in Suffolk recently, I went out hiking and made a new friend, a woman who came with me on the coastal paths.’

      ‘Oh yes?’ Pauline raised her eyebrow in disbelief. ‘What was her name? Was she young?’

      Barbara shrugged. ‘My age, I suppose.’

      She couldn’t remember the woman’s name: Doris, Dorothy? Barbara had been walking in front most of the time, surging ahead and trying to ignore the woman’s pleas to go back and the complaints about her raw bunions. She forced a smile.

      ‘I make friends easily. You never know, I might even like yoga. I might be good at it.’

      Pauline looked at her sister in the purple baggy t-shirt and the well-worn jogging bottoms she’d just borrowed, which reached her calves. She turned away and muttered, ‘I doubt it,’ then raised her voice. ‘Come on then – let’s get going. Yoga starts in half an hour.’

      ‘We’re far too early.’

      Pauline grabbed her keys and her jacket and moved towards the front door, pretending she hadn’t heard. After all, it was her house, her friends, her yoga class.

      Barbara had insisted they walk into Winsley Green, despite the chill in the air. She maintained that it was a crisp April day and that a stroll would be good for them both. She added that Pauline needed the muscle tone. Pauline said nothing, although she was piqued: she thought her muscle tone was fine for a woman of seventy-five. They arrived in the village, Barbara surging ahead and Pauline strolling several paces behind, five minutes before eleven o’clock when the class would start.

      A stone sign on the brickwork proclaimed that the village hall had been built in 1947. It was dilapidated now; a dull grey two-storey building used for all purposes from the Guides’ meetings to the local am-dram group’s twice-yearly productions, usually an Ayckbourn comedy and a pantomime. The sash windows were rotten, the paint flaking and the window panes dirty. Inside, in a little cloakroom, several women were sitting on narrow benches, taking off their shoes and wriggling bare toes. One woman stood in the centre of the space: a petite woman in her forties, dark glossy hair tied loosely on the top of her head. She opened her arms in a gracious gesture.

      ‘I’ve put the heating on full. All the radiators will be lovely and warm in a few moments. It’s quite cool today, so I thought we’d feel the benefit of the ancient central heating system.’

      Pauline grasped the woman’s hand, smiling. ‘Hayley. Nice to see you.’

      The woman hugged Pauline. ‘I’m so glad you could come. And who’s this?’

      Pauline stepped back and waved her sister forward, but Barbara was there already, clutching Hayley’s hand and shaking it firmly.

      ‘Barbara Harvey. Miss Harvey. Pauline’s sister. I’ve come to try the yoga.’

      ‘Welcome. I’m Hayley Choy. Please take your shoes off and come into the hall. I’ll find you a spare mat.’

      Barbara turned. Pauline was in conversation with a woman she called Dizzy, who was waving her hands and whispering something about someone being in the family way. Barbara frowned: it obviously wasn’t Dizzy, she was too slim and too old – at least forty. Barbara thought she was a little brash and her hair was far too lurid for a woman of her age, her fringe a stripy concoction of red, orange and burgundy; she wondered why Pauline seemed so at ease.

      Barbara felt a light pressure on her shoulder and saw a round faced woman smiling at her, her cheeks dimpled, with a wide mouth and good teeth, a cascade of black curls, slightly greying at the temples. Barbara stared into the twinkling hazel eyes and glowered. ‘Hello?’

      ‘Hello – you’re Pauline’s sister, Barbara. I’m Chrissie Drake, the local vicar. It’s lovely to meet you.’

      Barbara noticed the vicar didn’t let go of her hand and didn’t stop grinning. She waited for the obligatory phrase about becoming one of Chrissie’s flock while she was staying in Winsley Green. Barbara had no intention of visiting the church. She made her lips into a thin line.

      ‘I don’t do God.’

      Chrissie Drake smiled. ‘What’s important is that God is always ready to “do” us. But never mind that now. I’m all revved up to do yoga. Revved? Get it?’

      Chrissie Drake chuckled. Barbara remained disinterested, but the vicar didn’t seem to notice, her voice full of enthusiasm. ‘I must introduce you to everyone after the session.’

      Barbara felt a hand on her back, guiding her to the open doorway. She stood firm: she wasn’t about to be shepherded inside by a woman of God. Chrissie took no notice, bringing Barbara’s attention to the people in the room.

      ‘There’s Dr Natalie – she and her husband are GPs – she has some good news – the patter of tiny feet is due in September, I believe. Over there is Yvonne from the village Post Office.’

      Barbara gazed at the doctor, a young woman with dark hair who had just relaxed in a lying down position, and then at an older blonde woman with rosy cheeks who was unrolling her mat. Chrissie kept talking and waving her hand.

      ‘Over there is Dulcie and there’s her neighbour Phyllis. As yet, we haven’t found a way to bring them together, but I’m sure God has something up His sleeve.’

      Barbara looked from one angry-looking elderly lady to the other, both busy at opposite ends of the room, rolling out mats and staring furiously at each other and СКАЧАТЬ