She worked on the Venice book in Italy and back at home. Pat felt life was going smoothly for her, until she fell unexpectedly in love.
Bee was just finishing a Ph.D. in biology. She was two years younger than Pat. They met in choir, and what first drew Pat was Bee’s soaring voice. She befriended her, invited her to parties, and discovered that Bee had original and fascinating ideas. They became close and spent a great deal of time together. It took Pat much longer than it should have to realize that it was something more than simple friendship. It was the summer that made her realize. She was in Italy as usual, in Venice putting the finishing touches on her book, and then in Florence, which increasingly felt as much like home as Cambridge did. But that summer for the first time since she had first seen it, Italy wasn’t enough. She missed Bee. She wanted to show everything to her, and know how Bee felt about it. Sitting below Cellini’s Perseus, watching the sky darken above the Palazzo Vecchio and wanting to share it with Bee, she realized with a shock that this was love.
It was a very different love from the love she had had for Mark. There she had felt Mark was far above her, but also that he had chosen her. She had felt privileged to be the object of his choice. With Bee it was all different; she was the one who had chosen. Pat sat staring at the windows of the Palazzo, one of which had been Machiavelli’s office. They reflected the darkening sky and were now a luminous twilight blue against the pale stone. Pat had never considered being a lesbian herself, had never thought about it personally. It was her sense of injustice that had led her to take up Marjorie’s cause, and then go to the meeting with her. She wasn’t sure if what she felt for Bee was even physical. She was, at thirty, still very naive and entirely lacking in sexual confidence. She had no idea what Bee felt, except that she knew Bee admired her, as she admired Bee. It would probably be best never to say anything about anything else, when she wasn’t sure. There was so much else in the world that was so beautiful, and their friendship was a wonderful thing. She felt glad to have identified what she felt, even if she could never talk about it. Perhaps next year Bee would agree to let her show her Florence. Meanwhile the windows and the sky darkened together, and Pat felt happy because the world had Bee in it.
Bee met her on the station platform on her return to Cambridge. “You shouldn’t have come all the way out here!” Pat said as they hugged each other.
“I have bought a car,” Bee said, proudly. “You don’t need to drag all the way into town on the bus when you’re tired and I can drive you.”
“A car!”
“Yes, and taken lessons and passed my test.”
“You told me about that in your letters, but not about buying a car.” Pat felt shy with Bee, knowing that she loved her, especially as Bee had taken her heavy bag and was swinging it as they walked along the platform. She looked sideways at Bee’s square face and slightly stooped shoulders, unable to suppress a grin.
“What are you smiling at?”
“I’m just so pleased to see you,” Pat said, honestly. “It’s so lovely to be met.”
“It’s easy with a car. And I needed one. I’ve got the fellowship. So I’ll be going out to the countryside all the time to research, and a car seemed like a sensible investment. It’s second hand, but it runs. And now 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.