Hope - Lesley Pearse [151]
Perhaps if she had been on any other ward she’d have found it easier to put Bennett out of her mind, for at least part of the day. But the very nature of the lying-in ward was a constant reminder of physical union. Most of the mothers were bawdy characters who spoke openly and graphically about their sexual experiences. Sometimes she was deeply shocked, at other times she found their stories amusing, but hardly a day passed without her learning something new.
It was at times like this that she felt a wave of grief for Betsy, for she heard so many things that she would have given anything to talk over with a friend. There were women at the hospital she liked – strangely, mostly the nuns – but she couldn’t tell them she couldn’t sleep for imagining Bennett caressing her intimately, or ask questions about how big a man’s penis was, and if it hurt a woman when it entered her. She couldn’t even ask if she was normal to think about such things.
In quiet moments during the day her mind always turned to Bennett, reliving their kisses and the good feeling when he held her tightly and told her that one day they’d be married and have babies of their own. She would spin a little daydream of Bennett being the doctor in a village much like Compton Dando. They would have a pony and trap for him to visit his patients, and their cottage would be a pretty one with roses growing around the porch. She hoped to have at least four children, and that they’d growup as gentry, never having to go into service.
Her brothers and sisters wafted into this daydream too, bringing their children to visit. She didn’t ever try to think how she and Bennett were going to overcome the problem of Albert, for it was a miracle that Bennett loved her, and therefore anything else was possible too.
But she did worry about Dr Cunningham’s opinion of her. He very occasionally came to St Peter’s, and she was fairly certain he asked about her, for someone always told her when he’d called. But as he never came and sought her out, it was clear that his interest in her was only because he’d been instrumental in sending her here.
On Hope’s eighteenth birthday in April Bennett took her on the train to Bath for the day.
She had thought it wonderful at Christmas when he’d bought her a new dark blue wool cloak with a warm hood. She would have been thrilled if he’d only given her something small, like a handkerchief, a book or scented soap, but for him to have gone out and chosen something so personal and beautiful brought tears to her eyes. Every evening she would sit in her room hugging it round her and thinking of him. He would never know just how touched and delighted she was.
Yet in a different way the trip to Bath meant even more because he’d noted that she was dying to find out what it was like to ride on a train. While they waited to get on it at Temple Meads station she had been so excited she thought she might burst.
The station building was almost enough of an astounding sight with its huge glass-domed roof, but she was so impressed by her fellow travellers that she barely looked at it. Everyone looked so elegant: ladies in fur-trimmed cloaks and fancy hats, gentlemen in top hats and tail coats. There were little children, equally well dressed, in the charge of their nursemaids. Even the people who weren’t gentry and who Bennett said would be travelling third class, looked as if they’d polished up their appearance for the trip.
But there was so much going on elsewhere in the station too. Hope had never seen a train up close before, and the engine was so huge and so noisy that when Bennett took her closer