you can learn to drive too.” Bee was bubbling with enthusiasm.
“You’ve got the fellowship?” Pat’s grin spread even wider.
“Yes, it just came through.” Bee looked a little self-conscious.
“That’s marvellous. After all we’ve talked about with women in science, it really is a triumph that you should have got it.”
Bee smiled.
“There’s a Botticelli painting in Florence where the Virgin Mary has exactly that smile,” Pat said, before she could stop herself.
“I feel just as smug about the fellowship as she did about her baby,” Bee said.
Every weekend that autumn Bee took Pat out for a driving lesson. Together they explored the countryside around Cambridge. They watched birds, and Bee showed Pat the patterns of hedgerow growth she was studying. Pat never said anything about what she felt for Bee, though now she was quite sure she did want to touch her. She asked Lorna in strict confidence what it was that women did, and was surprised and enlightened by the answer.
Then, at the end of October, Britain, France and Israel invaded Egypt to take back the Suez Canal. Cambridge was full of anti-war protesters, Bee and Pat among them. There was a march through the town center, with chants and banners. The two of them went back to Pat’s flat afterwards, chilled by the wind and the events. “Let’s get the news,” Pat said. They huddled together on the sofa drinking tea. As the newsreader appeared and tapped his papers together, Bee said, “He knows already. He’s read what he’s going to read us, and we don’t know yet.” There wasn’t any real new news, except that the Russians had invaded Hungary to crush the protests there. “And what can we say? We’re as bad as they are,” Pat said.
Then Bee turned and clung to her, and Pat hugged her back, and they were kissing. “Are you sure,” she said, when they drew breath. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“If it’s what you want,” Bee said.
“It’s what I want,” Pat said. She had kissed before, had kissed Mark, but it had always been awkward and frightening. This wasn’t awkward, and she was dizzy with excitement but not afraid. They kissed while the newsreader told them of deaths in Suez and deaths in Hungary, until Pat got up and turned it off and then they went into the bedroom.
She was glad she had talked to Lorna, but she felt that it wouldn’t have been necessary. It was a case of touching and paying attention and asking what felt good. Afterwards she was so proud to have made Bee happy that what she felt herself was secondary to that, and yet what she felt was momentous, was unlike anything else. Later in the dark she felt that Bee was crying. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m so lucky,” Bee said.
“No, I’m the one who’s lucky,” Pat replied.
They paid almost no attention to how the Suez crisis unfolded, nor to the horrible things happening in Hungary. The US intervention and the return of the troops seemed to be happening in counterpoint to the unfolding of their love. All her interests took a back seat to Bee. They told a few friends, but most of them did not make any assumptions at seeing two women constantly together. Pat felt replete, her joy in Bee’s existence redoubled by Bee’s return of love, and transmuted entirely by the happy glow of sexual satisfaction they shared.
Pat’s Venice book came out in the spring. Only in the classroom was she entirely focused on something that was not Bee. When Britain joined France, Germany and Italy in a new European Economic Community, signing the Treaty of Rome, Pat only paid enough attention to realize that now she would be able to buy her house in Italy.
She and Bee drove down the length of Europe in June 1957, stopping to eat and explore wherever they wanted to. In Florence Pat felt she would explode as she showed Bee everything, until Bee protested laughing that she could not take it all in at once. They stayed in Pat’s usual pensione but
“You’ve got the fellowship?” Pat’s grin spread even wider.
“Yes, it just came through.” Bee looked a little self-conscious.
“That’s marvellous. After all we’ve talked about with women in science, it really is a triumph that you should have got it.”
Bee smiled.
“There’s a Botticelli painting in Florence where the Virgin Mary has exactly that smile,” Pat said, before she could stop herself.
“I feel just as smug about the fellowship as she did about her baby,” Bee said.
Every weekend that autumn Bee took Pat out for a driving lesson. Together they explored the countryside around Cambridge. They watched birds, and Bee showed Pat the patterns of hedgerow growth she was studying. Pat never said anything about what she felt for Bee, though now she was quite sure she did want to touch her. She asked Lorna in strict confidence what it was that women did, and was surprised and enlightened by the answer.
Then, at the end of October, Britain, France and Israel invaded Egypt to take back the Suez Canal. Cambridge was full of anti-war protesters, Bee and Pat among them. There was a march through the town center, with chants and banners. The two of them went back to Pat’s flat afterwards, chilled by the wind and the events. “Let’s get the news,” Pat said. They huddled together on the sofa drinking tea. As the newsreader appeared and tapped his papers together, Bee said, “He knows already. He’s read what he’s going to read us, and we don’t know yet.” There wasn’t any real new news, except that the Russians had invaded Hungary to crush the protests there. “And what can we say? We’re as bad as they are,” Pat said.
Then Bee turned and clung to her, and Pat hugged her back, and they were kissing. “Are you sure,” she said, when they drew breath. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“If it’s what you want,” Bee said.
“It’s what I want,” Pat said. She had kissed before, had kissed Mark, but it had always been awkward and frightening. This wasn’t awkward, and she was dizzy with excitement but not afraid. They kissed while the newsreader told them of deaths in Suez and deaths in Hungary, until Pat got up and turned it off and then they went into the bedroom.
She was glad she had talked to Lorna, but she felt that it wouldn’t have been necessary. It was a case of touching and paying attention and asking what felt good. Afterwards she was so proud to have made Bee happy that what she felt herself was secondary to that, and yet what she felt was momentous, was unlike anything else. Later in the dark she felt that Bee was crying. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m so lucky,” Bee said.
“No, I’m the one who’s lucky,” Pat replied.
They paid almost no attention to how the Suez crisis unfolded, nor to the horrible things happening in Hungary. The US intervention and the return of the troops seemed to be happening in counterpoint to the unfolding of their love. All her interests took a back seat to Bee. They told a few friends, but most of them did not make any assumptions at seeing two women constantly together. Pat felt replete, her joy in Bee’s existence redoubled by Bee’s return of love, and transmuted entirely by the happy glow of sexual satisfaction they shared.
Pat’s Venice book came out in the spring. Only in the classroom was she entirely focused on something that was not Bee. When Britain joined France, Germany and Italy in a new European Economic Community, signing the Treaty of Rome, Pat only paid enough attention to realize that now she would be able to buy her house in Italy.
She and Bee drove down the length of Europe in June 1957, stopping to eat and explore wherever they wanted to. In Florence Pat felt she would explode as she showed Bee everything, until Bee protested laughing that she could not take it all in at once. They stayed in Pat’s usual pensione but
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