The Promise (20 page)

‘I thought you should know where your husband goes of an evening.’

‘I doubt it is any of my business, but I assume he is at the gaming houses or beer halls.’

‘’Tis a fact that he does visit those places. But isn’t he also visiting houses of ill repute and sleeping with whores,’ she bluntly informed me, falling into her Irish lingo as she always did when upset. ‘Did you know that?’

‘I did not.’ I stared at her, bemused, shocked by this news, although why I should be surprised by anything my husband did I cannot imagine. I felt sickened and disgusted by the thought that the man who still visited my bed, however infrequently, now consorted with women of the night, the lowest of the low. I shuddered at the thought. ‘What do you expect
me
to do about it?’ I asked.

‘Sure an’ I’m telling you that you should make him stop these shenanigans, at once.’

I gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘You want
me
to tell Drew Kemp what he should and should not do? I thought
you
were the one with the influence these days, Maura, not me. So why don’t you tell him yourself?’

There were deep creases marring her brow, lines gouging her round face from nose to mouth, making it look plainer than ever, her eyes like hard pebbles in the bright light of my reading lamp. ‘Haven’t I told him already, but he won’t listen. He just laughed at me.’

‘So why do you think he’d treat me any different?’ I patiently enquired.

Her lips thinned with disapproval. ‘Because you’ve not yet provided him with the son he so desperately needs.’

‘Ah!’

She took an eager step closer. ‘He’d be much more likely to listen to you because for all he knows you might be pregnant. And he wouldn’t want to risk any future son of his catching some nasty disease, now would he?’

The prospect of sharing my bed again with such a man filled me with horror. I was unwilling to get involved in my husband’s affairs. ‘As it happens, I’m not pregnant, Maura, thank heaven. But it’s rather late to be worrying about such things as diseases now, don’t you think? How long has he been calling upon these women?’

She gave a little shrug, her face a picture of misery. ‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t say.’

Her eyes, I noticed, were filling with tears. What was this? Surely she hadn’t fallen in love with him? Could this be a lover’s tiff? ‘One thing is very certain, Maura, in future you can have my husband all to yourself. He will never grace my bed ever again. So he can kiss goodbye to any hope of a son.’

Telling my husband of this decision was, however, another matter entirely. As the following day was a Wednesday, I slipped out without either Kemp or Maura noticing, and took the cable car to Golden Gate Park where I flew into Ellis’s arms. Just to be enfolded in his embrace was balm to my soul, making me feel human again, and loved. ‘What am I to do?’ I asked, once I had told him the news. His answer was unequivocal.

‘You leave him. Now! At once! Don’t even go back today.’

‘I couldn’t do that. The scandal! My parents would be mortified.’

‘Forget about the scandal – it’s your life, not theirs.’

My instinct was indeed to run home, to Mama and darling Prue, but how would that help? They would be sure to take Kemp’s side, for one thing. And Geary Boulevard would be the first place my husband would look, then he’d bring me back, kicking and screaming if necessary. ‘The problem is that my father’s business is not in such good shape, thanks to Kemp, who has largely taken control. But there’s no knowing what my husband might do if I went back home. He could destroy my parents completely.’

Ellis was frowning, his eyes sparkling with anger as he held me close, stroking my hair, kissing my forehead. ‘But that isn’t
your
problem, my darling, it’s your
father’s
. He sold you down the river, and for what? To save his profit and loss account? To evade bankruptcy?’

‘He did it for the sake of my mother, whom he adores. Mama comes from an aristocratic background. She has always had money at her disposal and has little grasp of reality.’

‘She certainly didn’t approve of me.’

‘I’m afraid not. Oh, Ellis, what a muddle.’

‘There must be a solution. We have to find a way to beat Kemp at his own game. You need to find grounds to divorce him. What about this affair with the maid?’

The prospect of fighting my husband in the law courts made me feel sick to my stomach, though it may well come to that in the end. ‘I’m sure half of Frisco businessmen
have affairs with their wife’s maids. I doubt any judge would grant one on those terms. Isn’t a wife supposed to turn a blind eye?’

‘Then we need more, something stronger. Has he ever struck you or hurt you in any way?’

I fell silent, for some reason ashamed of the beating Kemp had given me, as if I had been responsible in some way and allowed it to happen, which was nonsense. Nevertheless, if it served to free me from this man then it must be spoken of, and brought in as evidence against him. I briefly told Ellis how my husband had caused me to miscarry. Not unnaturally, he was livid. The rage brought a flush of crimson to creep up his throat and over his clenched jaw.

‘Damn the man, I could kill him with my own bare hands.’

‘Don’t say such things, Ellis. We mustn’t stoop to his level, and he is a powerful man in this town. We have to be clever, and patient. We must carefully think through our options.’

‘Devise a proper plan, you mean. All right, we’ll do that, my darling. But promise me you will at least move out of his bed.’

‘How could I not?’ My eyes were bright with love, and I made no protest this time when he kissed me.

Being the coward that I was, and anxious to avoid confrontation, I wrote Kemp a note explaining my reasons for moving out of his bedroom. Leaving it on his tallboy for him to find, I had Maura move all my belongings into
a spare bedroom further along the landing. She guessed at once what was going on.

‘You’ve seen Ellis again, haven’t you?’

‘Oh, please don’t tell.’ I grabbed hold of her in my anguish and gave her a little shake. ‘Promise you won’t say anything. Kemp would kill me if he ever found out.’

She looked at me out of those enigmatic hooded eyes. ‘You know that I am ever loyal, that whatever I do it is with your well-being in mind.’

‘I know that,’ I agreed, but I had the uncomfortable feeling that I’d put myself even more under her power.

I sat in the strange bed that night with one ear cocked for the sound of my husband’s step on the stair, quite certain Kemp would come and order my return, drag me back by the hair if necessary.

As I lay tossing and turning with anxiety, sleep quite beyond me, I heard voices below on the breezeway. Getting out of bed I went to peep out of the window. Unfortunately, I could see nothing because of the roof over it, so pulling on my dressing gown I crept down the stairs on bare feet. The front door was slightly ajar and I edged through it, slipping out on to the porch where I hid myself behind a potted palm.

Kemp was standing arguing with two men, one with powerful broad shoulders, looking very much as if he was about to shove a fist in my husband’s face at any moment. The exchange seemed to be growing ever more heated, but his weasel-like companion, standing quietly by the steps leading into the garden, took no part in the altercation. There was something about them both that
looked strangely familiar, but then I’d seen so many men come to this house in recent months that it barely signified. I was more fascinated by seeing my husband not have the upper hand for once. Grasping hold of Kemp by his collar, the big man almost lifted him off his feet and shook him, as a dog might a rat. His next words rang out loud enough for me to hear.

‘I’ve paid you good money to see that I’m not hounded like this. You get them cops off my back, pronto, you hear? Or you’ll discover I’ve ways of making you sorry that you couldn’t even imagine in your worst nightmares. OK?’

Kemp almost stumbled as his assailant let him go, then brushed himself down in an attempt to regain lost dignity. ‘OK, you need have no fears, the matter will be dealt with forthwith.’

‘Good, and I’ll have double the cash for the inconvenience caused. By tomorrow.’

‘Drat you, that wasn’t the terms of our agreement! I can’t find that sort of money, not so quickly.’

‘You will if you know what’s good for you. I just changed the terms, OK? If you don’t want any comebacks, you’ll find the cash.’

Kemp gave a low growl of fury deep in his throat. ‘And you’ll keep your side of the bargain, if I do?’

The big man smirked. ‘You can certainly hope so.’ And turning, he loped away down the steps. He so resembled a gorilla that you might see at the zoo, I almost giggled. The smaller man was about to follow him, but then suddenly glanced across and looked me straight in the eye. Had
I made a noise, or rustled the palm leaves? I thought, in a sudden panic. I couldn’t begin to guess, but in that heart-stopping moment I recognised instantly where I had seen the pair before. In the opium den. They had been the mashers who had waylaid us outside the theatre and kidnapped Prue.

As spry as ever, he caught me before I’d even reached the foot of the stairs. I would have cried out but his hand clapped over my mouth, stifling any sound. With consummate ease he half marched, half carried me out on to the porch, my feet pummelling his legs with all the energy I could muster. Watching all of this with an expression of wry amusement on his face, the big man merely jerked his head, issuing a silent order to his companion to take me out to the pea-green brougham waiting out front. Then to Kemp, he said, ‘We’ll take the little lady along with us for now, as insurance. Once you’ve got the dough, you know where to find us.’

When Sunday came at last, Chrissie felt a nervous wreck, yet today she must somehow impress Ben’s rapscallion of a daughter, because despite her better judgement she was falling in love with him.

Delighted as she’d been to receive an accolade of support from her grandmother, following that difficult interview, relations between them were still not exactly comfortable. It was encouraging that Georgia was at least still prepared to talk to her. But, perhaps wearied from relating her tale, she’d finally sent her away, warning Chrissie to take no further action with Vanessa until she’d had time to think further on the matter.

Chrissie had avoided the Hall ever since, not even taking breakfast there. And as no invitation to call was forthcoming, she was beginning to wonder if it was wise
to stay on at the loft. Camping out over the shop may well be her best option.

So today she’d made an extra effort to look her best, choosing to wear a smart navy suit with a nipped-in waist, full skirt and pink blouse which seemed suitably conservative for the occasion. Surely dealing with a
nine-year-old
child would be nothing compared to that most difficult interview. Even so, Chrissie presented herself feeling very much like a lamb to the slaughter.

With the now-familiar grim expression on her face, Mrs Gorran led her into the housekeeper’s parlour where Karen sat perched on the arm of the sofa rather like a malignant gnome, her small face alight with triumphant amusement. Chrissie inwardly groaned. Word obviously spread quickly. There was no sign of Ben, and even old Sam, Mrs Gorran’s husband, was absent. A polite enquiry revealed they were out fishing, but would be back in time for lunch.

Gathering her courage Chrissie smiled in a friendly fashion, offered a few inane remarks about the weather, gaining nothing by way of response save for a frosty silence. She decided to grasp the nettle. ‘I want you to know, Mrs Gorran, that I have spoken to my grandmother and my apology was accepted.’

‘I wouldn’t jump to conclusions too quickly, if I were you,’ the housekeeper snapped, her tone showing no sign of any thaw. ‘Mrs Cowper isn’t prone to impulsive gestures. She might have listened to your apology, but that’s not the same as accepting it, nor of finding it in her heart to forgive your lies.’

Chrissie felt suitably chastened. ‘You’re right, of
course. Forgiveness is often the hardest won. I shall have to hope for the best, shan’t I?’

‘You’ll have to go back to where you came from,’ piped up Karen in her shrill childish voice. ‘Whatever hole that is where worms like you live. We don’t want no liars here, do we, Nan?’

‘Here, you mind your manners, miss,’ chided her grandmother. ‘You’re that sharp you’ll cut yourself one of these days. Now, I have vegetables to prepare, do you reckon you can entertain Mrs Emerson without giving her any more of your lip? We might not approve of her behaviour, but she’s our guest, all right?’ There was no response to this beyond a sulky shrug. ‘Good. I’ll fetch the sherry when I’m done, and a glass of sarsaparilla for you, miss, if you behave.’ With that she marched off to the kitchen leaving Chrissie alone with Ben’s rebellious daughter.

Determined to remain friendly and calm, and dreading yet another ordeal, she selected a seat and made herself comfortable.

Karen smirked, her small face a picture of malice. ‘That’s my nan’s chair.’

Chrissie almost leapt to her feet, but then thought better of it. Playing musical chairs with this imp wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Smiling, she settled back against the cushions. ‘I shall be happy to give it up when she returns.’

‘Why did you do it?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Why did you tell those porkies? Mam tells me off
when I tell fibs, but then she’s a good person, my mam. She doesn’t go around stealing other folk’s husbands for a start.’

Chrissie leant forward, her face soft with sympathy. ‘Karen, I’m sorry about your parents’ divorce, truly I am, but it happened long before I came here. I’m not responsible for that.’

Karen slid from the arm to flop across the sofa full length, propping her chin on one hand as she glared across at Chrissie, bottom lip trembling slightly as she stubbornly stuck it out. ‘They were going to get back together till you showed up, I know they were. We was planning a new wedding, Mam and me, with orange blossom, organ music and everything, and me as the bridesmaid. Did you know that?’

‘Er … no. Are you quite sure?’

‘Course I am. Who else would Mam marry? Not that other bloke what hangs around all the time. Not when I don’t like him. Granddad says he’s her jigsaw.’

‘Jigsaw?’

The eyes screwed up in thought for a moment. ‘No … what was it …? Her jiggle low.’

Chrissie nodded, struggling to keep a straight face. ‘Ah, I see.’

‘And I know me own dad, don’t I? He still loves her – me mam. He said so. So they’re bound to get back together, ’cept you juiced him.’

‘I what? Oh, you mean I
se
duced him. Actually, you’re wrong, Karen. Nobody has seduced anyone.’ She wondered if this child even knew the meaning of the
word. ‘Your dad and I are just good friends. And I’d like to be friends with you too, if I may.’

The girl stuck two fingers down her throat and pretended to vomit. ‘That’s another lie. I know you juiced him ’cause I saw you kissing.’

‘Oh, well, he is rather nice to kiss, your dad. But it wasn’t quite how it looked.’ By this time Chrissie was having a hard time not laughing. She was deeply relieved when she heard the front door bang and the sound of men’s voices in the hall. Except that she was jangling with nerves again. If everyone else had heard the story of her deceit, Ben would certainly be aware of it. What would be his reaction? Would he too condemn her for a liar and a cheat, only interested in the old lady’s money? He walked through the door, and coming straight over to her, drew her into his arms.

‘Sweetheart, how are you? What a terrible thing to happen.’ Ben seemed to accept, without question, that she was not the one responsible for the lies and subterfuge. He also made it clear that not for a moment did he believe she would have any ulterior motive in going along with what her mother had asked.

‘You’re just not that sort of person. I’m surprised anyone could even think that of you.’

‘Uncle Ryall doesn’t even know me, so why would he believe in my innocence?’

‘You could equally well ask why he would believe you to be guilty. He’s not an easy man at the best of times, but I can’t see Mrs Cowper allowing him to influence her too much. She very much likes to make up her own mind about things.’

‘Thank goodness. You too, I see.’ Chrissie put her hands to Ben’s face and kissed him. It was meant as a light kiss of friendship, as she was all too aware of a pair of gimlet eyes watching them closely, nevertheless it was filled with warmth, and promise. ‘Thank you for that. I appreciate your loyalty, and those few words of comfort.’ His faith in her was wonderfully reassuring, giving her hope that all might not be lost.

Lunch passed off surprisingly well, considering the circumstances. There was an unfortunate incident with a spill of gravy in her lap when Karen was passing her the sauce boat, which made Ben snap at his young daughter, ordering her to behave, rather as her grandmother had done earlier. But Chrissie dismissed it as unimportant. A scrub of cold water with a kitchen cloth got the worst of the sticky mess off.

‘It’s not a problem. The suit needed dry-cleaning in any case.’

Mrs Gorran cast the girl a sharp look and, after a surprised glance in Chrissie’s direction, as if she’d expected a far worse reaction, Karen dutifully applied her attention to the excellent roast lamb.

After lunch had been cleared away Ben suggested that Karen sing for them. ‘I’m sure Chrissie would love to hear you sing “Now is the Hour”.’

‘Indeed I would,’ Chrissie agreed. ‘I didn’t realise you could sing, Karen. What a marvellous gift to have.’

‘I take after my mum,’ Karen said, pouting a little as she leant against her father’s arm. ‘She has a really lovely voice, doesn’t she, Dad?’

‘I think Sal would disagree with you there,’ Ben laughed, clearly not prepared to play the game of ‘Mum is best’. ‘She would say you have far the better voice. Come on, I’ll accompany you.’

Ben went to the piano and played a few opening chords. ‘Ready?’

The girl sang beautifully, capturing each note with perfect pitch and reaching the high notes with ease. Everyone joined in with the final chorus and when the song ended Chrissie applauded with genuine appreciation and enthusiasm. ‘That was lovely. Do you know anything else?’

Wrapping her arms about her father’s neck, Karen sulkily shook her head.

‘Course you do,’ said her grandfather, happily sipping his glass of port. ‘Sing that “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah” song, and “There’s No Business Like Show Business”. I like them jolly ones.’

Casting a dismissive glare in Chrissie’s direction she kissed old Sam’s weathered cheek. ‘All right, Grandad, just for you.’

After a while, thanks to the encouragement from her grandparents, the genuine appreciation of her audience, and joy in her own singing, Karen opened up a little. She stopped sulking and began to giggle and laugh as a young girl should, allowing Chrissie to see how charming she was when not intent on doing battle and causing mayhem. She shone with happiness, and by the way father and daughter teased and played together, it was obvious they enjoyed an excellent relationship.

Chrissie felt privileged to be part of this delightful family scene with everyone relaxed and happy, and her own delicate situation seemed to have been forgotten, or at least set aside. Ben took pains to make her feel included, frequently asking her opinion on something, or just squeezing her hand and grinning at her. She wanted to tell Karen how very fortunate she was, both in her singing voice and her close family, but was nervous of reopening the issue of her parents’ broken marriage, so kept quiet.

Eventually the piano was locked up again, Sam went off to see to his precious hens, and Karen for a bike ride. Ben too offered his apologies. ‘I’ve a repair to finish in my workshop, for Mrs Johnson. I’ve been replacing a pane of stained glass in her cabinet. Do you mind? It won’t take long but I just need to finish it off and polish the whole thing up. I promised I’d deliver it first thing in the morning.’

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Chrissie said. ‘I should be going anyway. Lunch was lovely, Mrs Gorran. Thank you.’

Ben looked instantly disappointed. ‘Oh, I thought we could take a walk later, when I’m done. Could I call for you?’

‘Why don’t you stay and keep me company for a bit?’ his mother suggested, quite taking Chrissie by surprise. ‘I’ve just to take Mrs Cowper her tea, then we could have a pot ourselves. I don’t know about you but I’m ready for a brew, and mebbe a slice of fruit cake?’

Delighted by this sign of a thaw in the housekeeper’s
attitude, Chrissie smilingly agreed. ‘That sounds lovely.’ It might also offer an opportunity to ask a few further questions.

‘So, you’re Vanessa’s girl? Did she have any more children?’ Mrs Gorran had taken a tray to the library for her employer and Mr Ryall, one loaded with cucumber sandwiches, slices of fruit cake and scones all carefully arranged on a cake stand beside a silver teapot, strainer, and china for two. Now she settled back in her chair ready for a gossip, and sipped thankfully at her own tea.

Chrissie shook her head. ‘No, there’s only me.’

‘That’s a shame. Vanessa always used to say she wanted a quiverful, two of each if she could choose. I’m sorry that didn’t work out for her. But at least she’s happy, eh?’

There was a small silence as Chrissie pondered on how best to answer this question. In the end she settled for honesty. ‘Not exactly. Mum has never really got over losing Dad at Dunkirk, or his leaving her some years before, for that matter. He was very much the love of her life. No one else could ever hold a candle to him.’

Mrs Gorran nodded, smiling softly. ‘I remember. Besotted they were, struck dumb by Cupid’s arrow from the first moment they clapped eyes on each other.’

‘Yet my grandmother did not approve of their marriage. According to my mother, she accused Aaran of being a charlatan and a chancer, who only wished to marry her for her money.’

The older woman frowned. ‘I wouldn’t know about that. I do seem to recall there was some history of a
problem with the boy’s mother, of which we weren’t fully conversant.’

‘Really? What sort of problem?’

‘I couldn’t say, but there was talk of Vanessa going to America. Mrs Cowper was terrified of losing her daughter, and her new grandchild.’

‘America is a long way away, I suppose, particularly back then. Yet they did go in the end.’

‘I believe so, yes, though I can’t recall quite when it was. I do remember the big row afterwards. Vanessa storming out. Poor Mrs Cowper was devastated. She kept saying over and over, “I should have told her the whole story.” Like a cracked record she was.’

‘What was it, this whole story? Did you ever find out?’

Mrs Gorran sadly shook her head. ‘She wrote screeds of letters to their shop in Chelsea, begging Vanessa to call, but they were all returned unopened, marked “gone away”, so I suppose she never got the chance. It was very sad.’

‘That must have been the time my parents sold the gallery, the time their marriage fell apart. I wish I knew why. I may be prejudiced but I thought my father was a lovely man. Why would Grandmother hate him so much?’

Mrs Gorran stopped heaping raspberry jam on to her scone, looking slightly surprised by this remark. ‘She didn’t hate him. Like I say, it was the boy’s mother she distrusted, due to some old grudge between them, apparently.’

‘But Mum says she never accepted Aaran, and that
money continued to be a source of dispute between them.’

‘That may well be so, though as to the reasons, I couldn’t say for sure. All I do know is that I once saw young Aaran here with my own eyes. He was alone on that occasion, without your mother, and the pair of them looked fairly friendly to me.’