Page 13 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘Of course, being married is not all delights,’ she commented, when there was a break into which she felt confident to insert her views. ‘I might be alone in thinking it, but sometimes I feel my husband is not the tidiest of fellows and he has a habit of tapping his teaspoon that sends me quite wild. And my son is dreadful at writing to me.’

It was the first time she’d ever admitted to another person that her life was not perfect. She waited for condemnation, but to her relief, Mrs McAllister groaned.

‘Oh, that’s very true, Mrs Waters. The times I’ve laid awake listening to Robert snoring, wishing I could drug either him or myself into oblivion.’

There was general laughter. Gwen joined in, buoyed up by the realisation that she was not alone in her frustrations, and not even minding that the older woman had got her name wrong. How marvellous it was to discover this group of women had the same vexations. From the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Rosewood nodding subtly.

‘I recently happened upon the most marvellous remedy,’ Gwen ventured. She looked around nervously, half hoping that no one had heard her and the whole scheme would die before it was fully born.

‘Remedy for what? Snoring husbands?’ asked the woman of her age, a Mrs Casper. ‘I do wonder some nights if that young lady in the Bible with the tent peg had the right idea there.’

There was more laughter.

‘What were you talking about, Mrs Walters?’ Miss Rosewood asked, artfully steering the conversation back to Gwen. ‘A remedy for restless nights? Is it something I could buy in your husband’s pharmacy?’

‘I’m afraid not. It’s something I purchased by writing off to an advertisement that promised not only sleep, but a sense of bliss before sleep came.’ Gwen looked around, a little unnerved to be the centre of attention.

‘Did it work?’ asked Mrs McAllister, leaning forward with such eagerness she was in danger of spilling tea into her saucer.

‘Oh, yes,’ Gwen answered with enthusiasm, warming to the subject as she remembered the sensations of floating or sailing and the unaccustomed swelling of desire that accompanied them. ‘I completely lost all sense of time and experienced the most superb creative urges and quite enchanting daydreams. Then I slept wonderfully.’

‘This sounds quite remarkable. What is it called?’ Mrs Casper’s eyes gleamed. ‘You must give me the name of the manufacturer and I shall keep my eyes open for an advertisement.’

Gwen caught Miss Rosewood’s eye. This was extremely good progress but foolishly they hadn’t thought of that.

‘I can’t remember the name, I’m afraid. That is, there must have been a name in the advertisement, but I couldn’t tell you the name of the manufacturer, only that the address was in, umm… Sheffield, I think.’

She rummaged in her handbag and produced the small bottle.

Miss Rosewood reached for it. ‘May I?’

Gwen handed it over and Miss Rosewood held it up to the light, examining it as if she had never seen it before.

‘How remarkable. Is it more effective than anything sold over the counter in the pharmacy?’

Gwen smiled. ‘Indeed it is, though I would not want to do my husband or your uncle out of any profit by saying so.’

Miss Rosewood smiled at her. ‘Of course not. I wonder…’ She shook her head in a show of regret. ‘No, it would be a liberty to ask.’

‘No, please, speak freely,’ Gwen urged.

Miss Rosewood gave another great show of reluctance to speak.

‘Miss Rosewood, you are too reticent,’ Mrs Dowson interrupted, pushing her pince-nez higher so that her eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘I shall ask what you are clearly thinking but are too afraid to say aloud. Mrs Walters, might I be bold enough to try a little of your remarkable remedy?’

Gwen hid her elation with difficulty. This was progressing so much better than she had expected.

‘Oh, no. We can’t ask that,’ Miss Rosewood said, handing the bottle back to Gwen. ‘It must have been expensive, and we couldn’t take liberties or put you in an awkward position.’

Gwen clasped the bottle in the palm of her hand with the tenderness with which Mrs Browne might cradle her newborn.

‘Miss Rosewood, really! What do you take me for!’ Mrs Dowson frowned. ‘I shall gladly compensate Mrs Walters. Would a shilling be fair, Mrs Walters? Not for the whole bottle but for a single dose. Jenny, you will pay that, too, I’m sure.’

‘I’m not sure I should do that,’ Gwen said, knotting her brow.

Only some of her hesitancy was simulated, because faced with the group of women staring at her with expressions like gulls eyeing the morning catch, her mind filled with worries. ‘It might not be safe,’ she mumbled.

‘Nonsense, if it is safe for you, then it is safe for me,’ Mrs McAllister said. ‘Shall we all partake of this remedy?’