Free Billy and the Golden Gate by Emma Gowing

undergarments and a pair of thick woolly tights.
    Daisy walks in and closes the door behind her.
    Madge watches her. “What’s all this then,” she says.
    Daisy replies, “Well, I found those,” she gestures at the clothes “and I thought you might like to wear them?”
    â€œWell I ain’t undressing in front of you.”
    Daisy pauses. “Hmm, I figure you and me, well, we’re both girls aren’t we, nothing I haven’t seen before,” she shrugs.
    Madge looks at the water and the clothes. A wash and changing into a fresh dress is very appealing. She wrinkles her lips in thought.
    Daisy waits and waits, and waits.
    Madge looks at her, top to tail.
    â€œI don’t want my hair mad, mind, like yours, and you can help me but I is doin it.” Madge tilts her head, an air of dignity beams out.
    â€œThat’s fine by me,” Daisy says deliberately. “It’s not everyone my hair would suit,” she finishes in an airy tone.
    â€œIndeed.” Madge starts to unbutton her dress; her hands are very knobbly and she has trouble with the small pernickety buttons. Gently, Daisy starts to help. They take off all Madge’s clothes – she is painfully thin. Her skin creases and is covered in age spots; she has sores in her armpits and along her legs. Daisy breathes in very quickly when she sees them, like a gasp, but if Madge noticed she doesn’t let on.
    â€œMadge, can I?” Daisy has the washcloth in her hands, wet and soapsuddy. Daisy feels her chest heave but her voice is steady.
    Madge nods.
    Together, they bathe Madge. It takes time and gentleness as the sores are, well, sore. When they are finished, Daisy takes the towel and pats Madge dry, taking extra care around the tender spots. Putting the clothes on, especially the tights, takes ages but Daisy goes at it slowly and, eventually, the job is done.
    The hair is another matter altogether; it is so matted Daisy has to wet it through and start combing from the tips in. Concentrated patience is the only way to tackle it. Halfway up, Daisy stops.
    â€œOK, I’ll be back in just one second.”
    She opens the bedroom door and runs into the pantry. Nothing, then she calls out to the boys, “Anyone find any powder, you know, like talc, or actually maybe oil or wax?”
    Peter replies, “Here Daisy,” and he hands what looks like a jar of some sort of hair oil to her.
    â€œLunch is nearly ready,” Billy says.
    â€œAnd the soup,” Rufus says.
    Rex is still outside, howling at Grimsby. Grimsby is suspiciously silent.
    Daisy resumes the combing, now adding some drops of oil to help ease out the knots. It must hurt but Madge never complains. Finally, her hair, silver white and darker grey in parts, is combed through. It is long but not as long as Daisy expected. She weaves it into a wide plait and pins it up with the circle hairpin.
    â€œSee what you think,” she says to Madge.
    Madge, moving slowly, eases her way off the bed and walks over to the old mirror. She starts smiling to herself; and says, “That’ll do.”
    Daisy sees the half smile and just replies with, “You look good.”

    *
    The smells from the kitchen do not match those of Gunner Sharpie’s, but, considering, they aren’t half bad. The boys have laid the table; odds and ends of crockery with chips missing and lots of different patterns – some plates have birds, others have flowers and some have nothing at all.
    Madge walks into the kitchen. She is standing up straight even though it must take an awful lot of effort. She walks over to her chair and sits down, she looks very regal.
    â€œWell yis are after makin a right mess here. Look at all them pots; they’ll need cleaning.”
    The boys are too busy to reply. Rufus ladles soup into bowls and Billy puts the finishing touches on the mushroomy, garlicy omelette. Peter has some scones crusting nicely over the open