It was towards the end of the Trinity term of her second year that Patty fell out with the Christian Union.
There were two girls who lived on her staircase in St. Hilda’s, Grace and Marjorie. Marjorie was in the Christian Union and as such was a friend of Patty’s. Grace she knew mainly for her extreme shyness and nervousness. She was reading chemistry and was reputed to be brilliant, though how brilliance in chemistry manifested itself Patty had no idea. She had long pale hair and large breasts and tended to scuttle, clutching her books to her chest, darting sideways glances if addressed. The first Patty knew of the scandal was when it was whispered to her by Ronald.
“Have you heard about Marjorie?”
“Heard what about her?” Patty had stopped in at Bible tea on her way back from the river. She’d had a ducking and her hair was dripping down the back of her neck, which made her rather impatient. The Bible tea was a regular event held in the house of Mr. Collins, a minister attached to the Christian Union. A group of them would meet in his house for tea and then a Bible reading and discussion—they were working their way through the Acts of the Apostles, and Patty generally enjoyed it very much. She was early today, and nobody was there except Ronald, who had an artificial leg and was reading PPE. PPE, the dreaded Politics, Philosophy and Economics degree, often seemed to attract know-it-alls, in Patty’s experience. Ronald was one of the members of the Christian Union toward whom she found it most difficult to extend charity, though she had prayed to do better.
She cut herself a thick doorstep of bread and buttered it, then ladled on gooseberry jam. The gooseberries had been extremely plentiful that year, and they had all saved their sugar ration for the jam. Patty had put in a great deal of time stirring the jam in Mr. Collins’s kitchen, so she felt entitled, as well as hungry. She felt that Ronald was observing her greed and that he would report on it unfavorably to others.
“She’s a lesbian!” Ronald said, as if delighted to pass on the intelligence. Patty literally did not understand for a moment until he went on. “She’s actually been caught sleeping in the same bed as another girl.”
Patty knew about this kind of thing. It went on in girls’ schools as it did in boys’ schools, however hard the teachers tried to stamp it out. She was more repelled by Ronald’s prurient delight in telling her about Marjorie than by what Marjorie was supposed to have done, which she could not clearly imagine.
“Mr. Collins has spoken to her and she refuses to give it up or repent,” Ronald went on.
“It’s probably all the most ridiculous nonsense,” Patty said, stuffing her bread and jam into her mouth and speaking with her mouth full. In Patty’s private opinion, Mr. Collins was too ready to be uncharitable and had it in for the women. “I’m going to talk to her.”
“You’re not!”
“I certainly am.”
Patty strode off full of indignation, which carried her back to her residence and to the door of Marjorie’s room. She hesitated before knocking, and then the memory of Marjorie’s clear voiced declarations of her love of God sustained her. She knew Marjorie wouldn’t have done anything wrong. She knocked.
“Who is it?” Marjorie asked.
“It’s me, Patty,” Patty said.
“What do you want?”
“Just to talk to you.” Patty’s courage was draining away. “It’s not important. But Ronald told me the most frightful nonsense about you and I wanted to tell you I didn’t believe it.”
Marjorie opened the door. It was apparent that she had been crying. “Oh, it isn’t true!”
“I knew it couldn’t be.”
Marjorie ushered Patty into her room, where she sat on the bed to allow Patty the chair. “Would you like—” Marjorie hesitated. “Well actually I haven’t got anything except some cough sweets my sister sent me, but would you like one of those?”
“I’d love one,” Patty said politely.
“The thing is, I have been sleeping in Grace’s room,” Marjorie said, once Patty had the cough sweet in her mouth.
“Grace!” Patty said.
“I know. But she has the room next to mine. And I could hear her crying in the night, and I couldn’t just leave her to sob on and on. I went in to her. It turns out that she was blitzed and all her family killed. She was buried in the rubble for a day and a half. She can’t bear to be alone in the dark, it brings it all back. Of course she can’t keep a light on all the time, because they come around and check we’re observing lights out, though she did try for a bit with flashlights except that she couldn’t afford the batteries, and with candles she worried she was going to burn the place down. So I started sleeping in there with her, and she can get to sleep, and when she wakes up in the night I hold her hand. And that’s really all there is to it.”