“No.” Evelyn felt compelled to adopt a defensive tone. “Why would I?” She thought of her flight from West Coombe and the weight of expectations and admitted to herself that in some small way she had thought about those things, even if she wasn’t ready to say them out loud to Lilian.
“I don’t know. Because you don’t like being the property of a man? Because you don’t like that even though women can vote now, it’s only some women?”
“I’ve really never been interested in politics. It always seemed appropriate to me that, since it’s men who make all the big decisions, it should be men who vote for them. I don’t really know any women who are interested in politics.” Evelyn surprised herself by being able to give a considered response, even if it made Lilian frown.
“That is far from the point, darling. The issue is that we should be equal. Women can be in parliament too, so all women should be able to cast their votes. Why shouldn’t we be?”
“Well, when it was in the papers about the suffragettes, I remember my mother saying that they should be paying more attention to their homes and children, looking after their husbands better, and that if they did, they’d be happier.”
Lilian was apparently stunned that any woman would express these thoughts. “But surely you don’t think that too?”
“Well, no, not really. I don’t think I’d go to prison for the right to vote though, like those women did.”
“Fair enough. I saw some of the suffragette protests when I was very young. I even saw Emmeline Pankhurst once, as they dragged her away from the Buckingham Palace railings. We’ve always had family and friends in this part of London, you see. I thought it would be the finest thing ever to be a suffragette.”
“But you never got the chance?” Evelyn’s interest was drawn. Lilian clearly had more depth than had been revealed last night.
“Well, they stopped for war didn’t they? Then, in ’18, women were allowed to vote, so it all went quiet. I’m still involved in the campaign for women’s rights though. I’ve helped them distribute pamphlets from time to time and listened to some speeches. If you want any books on the topic, I have several.” Lilian gestured to the bookcase behind her.
“Thank you,” Evelyn said. “I might like to read a little more about it.”
“You really should. It’s a battle that’s far from over, you know.”
“Of course.” Evelyn really had little more to add on the subject. Instead she decided to move the conversation on. “You really do have a lot of books,” she said.
“You’re welcome to borrow any. I’ve gone through most of them. Have a look.”
Evelyn rose from the low seat of the armchair and bent to examine the closest bookshelf to where they were sitting. There were a few copies of Vogue with garish cover plates showing the latest styles lying on the shelf. But next to them she found a group of novels and poetry collections, with many colours of binding, some with dustcovers and some with gold-embossed titles and author names. She read some of the titles: The Rainbow, Sonnets to Orpheus, The Great Gatsby. Evelyn had heard of none of them. A little further on she found Mrs. Dalloway, The House of Mirth, and a thick work called Ulysses. Not wanting to appear ignorant, she passed over these, seeking a title she recognised or something she could pass intelligent comment on. There were some books with French titles Evelyn could not read, and then she found a pamphlet, “The Morality of Birth Control,” and Ideal Marriage: Its Physiology and Technique. At these, she frowned.
Lilian, watching her, noticed. “What’s that you’re looking at?” She leaned over Evelyn’s shoulder to peer at the spines of the books. “Oh, I see! I’m not sure I can let you borrow Ideal Marriage, darling. It’d be awfully corrupt of me, you being innocent as you are.”
Evelyn flushed. “I don’t think I understand.”
Lilian’s smile turned into intrigue. “You don’t understand?”
“What’s the book about?” Evelyn wished Lilian would just answer her.
“Gosh, Evie, just how innocent are you? I thought everyone knew about that book. It’s about sex, and how to do it well.”
Evelyn stared at Lilian, unsure what to say. “Sex?” she finally said, weakly.
“Yes.” Lilian’s eyes narrowed. “You do know what sex is, don’t you?”
Evelyn drew a deep breath. “I know what a man and woman do when they’re married. I mean, as much as I can know, without being married myself.”
“Without being married yourself? Don’t you think it’s good to know about how it all works before you get married? It’s all very well understanding what goes in where, so to speak, but do you know how to enjoy it?”
Evelyn stared at Lilian, lost for words, wishing she’d never accepted the offer to look at Lilian’s books. “I didn’t know I was supposed to enjoy it,” she ventured, in the end.
Her mind went back to the evening before her sister’s wedding, the final night on which they’d shared a room together. Never especially close, Annie had still confided in Evelyn on occasions through the years. That night, Annie had been nervous about performing what she called her wifely duty. Evelyn had dearly wished she had more worldly experience with which to comfort and inform her sister. Their mother did not consider it a decent topic of conversation and there were really few other places to glean information. She’d felt dreadfully uninformed, and had done since. Now Lilian was looking at her incredulously, and Evelyn sensed she was on the verge of learning those secrets, whether she wanted to or not.
“Oh Lord! But there’s so much to enjoy, darling.” Lilian spoke with the tone of a woman who knew from experience.
Evelyn contemplated this. She did not want to reply in a way that sounded naive or judgemental, but Lilian was not married and Evelyn really did not understand. “You’re not married, so how do you
