The Promise (23 page)

I was shaking so much by this time that my teeth were chattering. It hadn’t simply been foolish of us to delay our departure, it had been profoundly dangerous. ‘Even you wouldn’t go so far as to commit
murder
!’ No sooner was the word out of my mouth than I wanted to pull it back, as if by using it I’d given the threat credibility.

By way of reply he gripped my face in one hand, with such power in his fingers that I thought my jaw might actually crack. ‘I can do exactly as I please. Haven’t you learnt that yet? And
you
, dear wife, will do as I tell you. Tomorrow you will move back into the marital bedroom. If this child is to be accepted as mine, then we must be seen to be living as a happily married couple. Rather late in the day, I accept, but necessary. We shall call it a happy rapprochement.’ And having settled the matter to his own satisfaction, he sauntered to the door.

By the time he reached it, I’d collected what was left of my wits for one last show of defiance. ‘I will not return to your bed. Ever!’

He snorted with laughter. ‘Oh, yes, you will. If you want to keep this child, and your lover, safe, there’ll be no more talk of divorce, nor of spilling any beans. Otherwise, it could be blood and tears that are spilt, and I do assure you, my dear, they will not be mine.’

Determined not to be bullied by his threats, the very next day I secretly packed an overnight bag. The moment Kemp went off to one of his business meetings I slipped out through the breezeway and down a side street where I called a hackney cab. It was far preferable, I decided, to live in a dive on the Barbary Coast, or even at the Seamen’s Institute, than share a bed again with the monster I had been forced to marry.

The driver insisted I pay him extra when he learnt my destination was an alley just off Battery Street, where I knew Ellis was staying at a lodging house. When we arrived I understood why. The place was as far removed from Nob Hill as you could imagine.

There seemed to be people and vehicles swarming everywhere: handcarts and wagons, peddlers selling anything from buttons and shoelaces to soda pop and peanuts; Chinamen in their cone-shaped hats, pigtails bouncing, hurrying about their business with their hands tucked up their wide sleeves. Two women were brawling in the street, swearing and cursing and rolling in the mud as they tore each other’s hair out. Someone was singing ‘Wearing of the Green’ accompanied by an old man on a banjo. And over all were the sounds of drunken laughter and ribald curses, the shrill peep of a police whistle.

‘Do you want me to wait?’ my driver enquired, looking anxiously about him as we pulled up beside a rickety old frame building with a painted sign announcing this to be ‘Pete’s Place’. A lamp swung above the door bearing the message: Lodgings 25, 50 and 75 cents per night.

‘No, thank you,’ I recklessly informed him. ‘This is the place.’

Across the street a woman lounged in a doorway, flaunting her brazen charms in a faded yellow and blue gown that had never seen a bar of soap, plump breasts spilling out above the plunging neckline. She called to my driver. ‘Why don’t you come in for a drink, dearie?’

He didn’t answer, didn’t even glance in her direction. Handing me my bag, he asked in a hoarse whisper, ‘Do you know what this place is?’

‘It’s a lodging house where sailors live.’

‘And that bar opposite is a deadfall, the lowest of the low when it comes to beer and dance cellars. You pay 50 cents for a dance, half to the establishment, half to the girl, and maybe a drink to go with it. Any greenhorn stupid enough to accept her offer could find himself with a broken head and empty pockets come morning. He may well find himself married to the kind of gal he could never take home to Mama. And too often the sawdust on the floor is stained red with blood. You’d do better, miss, to let me take you home right this minute.’

I could see his concern was valid, and, suddenly remembering that Ellis might not even be back in port yet, was almost of a mind to accept. Then the door of the lodging house burst open and Ellis himself appeared, his face ashen with concern. ‘Georgia, what on earth are you doing here?’

I flung myself into his arms, leaning against his broad chest in relief. ‘Oh, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to
see you. Can we go inside, then I’ll tell you everything?’ And gathering up my small amount of luggage, he paid off the driver and led me into what might easily be a reincarnation of hell.

It turned out to be a tiny hall used as a small office or reception area. An old man, looking very like a pirate with a patch over one eye, sat behind a desk, his purpose clearly being to take payment in advance. ‘And who might we have here?’ he asked, giving Ellis a knowing wink.

‘This is my wife, Squint-Eye, come on a visit,’ Ellis lied, and I did not protest. How else could we share a room? It was obvious that sleeping quarters on the Barbary Coast would not be anything like the standard I was used to, and taking my driver’s words to heart I had no wish to share with strangers in this dangerous place.

Pete, or Squint-Eye as he was more oddly named, accepted the few cents Ellis gave him with a grunt of satisfaction, then jiggling the coins in his hand, cast me a cunning look out of the corner of his one eye. ‘You’ll not be wanting to take yer
wife
into the bunk room, will you, son? Stinks of male sweat and cheap whisky in there, as you well know. You could have a room of yer own for double.’

With a sigh, Ellis handed over another 25 cents, and I was at once filled with guilt that I should already be costing him money. ‘Oh, I can pay for myself,’ I started to say, but Ellis silenced me with a fierce squeeze of my hand, laughing as he turned back to the curious Squint-Eye.

‘A bit of a harridan, my wife; thinks she should call the tune even though she doesn’t have a dime to her name.’

The old man laughed. ‘That’s women for yer, allus after yer hard cash. Right, this way,’ and picking up his lamp, he led us along a dark passage which emerged into a large central area, around which were a number of little rooms. ‘You can rent these by the month,’ he was telling Ellis. ‘Let me know tomorrow how long you’ll be wanting it for. They’re furnished and everything; wash yer own dirty sheets and blankets, and find yer own food a’ course.’

The room might be considered furnished in so far as it boasted a chair as well as a rope-strung wooden bed with a straw mattress, a couple of pillows, and a not-very-clean pile of folded sheets and blankets. I looked about me, struggling to hide my dismay, almost wishing I had accepted my driver’s offer, after all. This was far worse than I’d expected, or hoped for. Hell indeed.

‘Some of the beer-slingers live here,’ our guide was explaining. ‘With their fella or husband, whoever it is who robs them blind of their earnings, and makes their lives even more of a misery than it already is.’

‘What’s a beer-slinger?’ I whispered to Ellis.

‘A girl who works in a dive serving beer, and other services too in some cases.’

Handing me a couple of tallow candles, the old man kindly patted my hand. ‘There’s a grocery store on the corner, little miss, that sells everything you’ll need, but
these’ll get you started.’ Then he shuffled off and Ellis quickly closed the door behind him. Turning the key in the lock, he wasted no time in asking what had gone wrong.

I sat on the edge of the bed and told him everything.

‘How dare you! How dare you interfere in family matters in this way? You have absolutely no right to even be here trying to take control of my life.’ Chrissie was taking out her disappointment and frustration by shouting at Peter.

She couldn’t understand why the old lady was proving to be so obstinate. Hadn’t she apologised, most humbly? Hadn’t they talked? She was aware that Ryall’s wife, Clare, had arrived but no invitation had been forthcoming for Chrissie to meet her – a pleasure to be looked forward to, she thought wryly. Chrissie rather thought it might be these two who were blocking her visits.

This morning she’d risen deliberately early, then hung around the gardens for a while hoping to find Georgia, as she had so often in the past. Chrissie was quite certain that if only she could catch her grandmother on her own,
this whole unfortunate matter could be cleared up. But there was no sign of her.

Eventually she gave up and hurried to the sanctuary of her tiny shop, to her paint pots and rolls of wallpaper. She took the path along by the lake, cheered by the sight of the mallards paddling serenely by, moorhens with their little red beaks pecking happily in the mud. And beyond the lake, in the distance, was the breathtaking vista of distant blue mountains. The beauty of the scene made her appreciate the reason she loved this place. Why should she give it all up just because of stupid Peter?

As usual, her words were rolling off him like the proverbial water off a duck’s back. They were standing in the empty shop, their raised voices echoing soulfully. Chrissie strove to recover her composure, and absolutely refused to invite him upstairs.

He started wandering around the shop, examining the half-finished shelves, smoothing a hand over the unvarnished wood and checking the fittings as if he were an expert in such matters. ‘I have every right to be here. What we had together isn’t something you can just shuffle off because it got a bit difficult. I was ready to make a vow to love you till death us do part.’

Chrissie closed her eyes in despair. ‘I didn’t ask you to do that.’

‘Oh, I know you have a thing about not marrying again,’ Peter scoffed. ‘But what is so wrong in being a good wife to a man? Isn’t that the role of women, the way of the world?’

‘Look, there’s really no point in going over all this. I’m
sorry things didn’t work out for us, but there it is. We aren’t the only couple to have been badly affected by the war. You were – are – a good man, Peter, and I’m still very fond of you, but that doesn’t give you the right to follow me here and interfere in my life in the way you have. Grandmother is old and fragile, and with a bad heart. Shocks such as you gave her could have a devastating effect upon her health.’

The familiar peeved expression came into his face, as if the entire world were against him. ‘
I’m
not to blame for this situation.
You
were the one who lied and deceived her, making out you were an innocent stranger when the truth is very different. Dangerously so, in fact.’

Chrissie’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean, “dangerously so”? What are you talking about?’

He raised both hands in a defensive gesture, and clamped his lips tight shut, making the point that he was obeying instructions not to get involved in family business.

‘What else did my mother say when you called on her the other day?’

By way of reply he arched one brow in that irritating way he had when he knew something she didn’t, or felt he was in the right and she in the wrong.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’m tired of listening to your innuendo and veiled threats. I think you should go. Now!’ She pulled open the door to find Ben hovering on the doorstep, loaded down with his toolbox and lengths of wood. ‘Oh, hello, I didn’t hear the doorbell.’

He grinned at her. ‘I was struggling to find a spare finger to press it.’ Then as Peter stepped into view, taking
a stance beside Chrissie as if he had every right to be there, Ben’s face changed. ‘Ah, sorry. Didn’t realise you had a visitor.’

‘He’s just leaving. No doubt you’ll be heading home tomorrow, Peter. Do call in to say goodbye before you leave.’

‘I was hoping we might have some time together. I could take you out for a meal. There must be somewhere halfway decent to eat around here, and we really do need to talk.’

He attempted to slip an arm about Chrissie’s waist but she hastily disengaged herself. ‘I’ve already told you, Peter, you and I have nothing more to say to each other.’ Then turning quickly to Ben, ‘Let me help you with that. It looks a heavy load.’

‘I can manage, thanks. I’m not too early, am I?’

‘No, of course not.’

Ben set the load down on the shop floor, and, by the way he was watching his rival, she rather feared one wrong move on Peter’s part and Ben would welcome the excuse to lay him out cold right next to those planks of wood. He’d not been pleased to learn that it had been Peter who’d upset Mrs Cowper by spilling these particular beans.

With an artificial smile pinned to her face, Chrissie started to ask after Karen, but was interrupted by Peter’s sarcastic laugh.

‘Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes by asking if it’s too early. I’m quite sure you’ve only just left her bed in order to fetch that wood. I did know she’d taken a lover.’
He looked at her rather sadly. ‘Chrissie, I’m no fool, so don’t treat me as one.’

The silence following this remark was profound, and despite her innocence Chrissie was embarrassed to discover that a tide of hot colour was flooding her cheeks. But before she had the chance to find her voice, Ben bounced forward in a fury.

‘Don’t you speak to Chrissie like that or you’ll find your chin making a close acquaintance with my fist.’

Terrified he might actually carry out the threat, Chrissie rushed to grab Ben’s arm and pull him away as she hastily addressed Peter. ‘Actually, you couldn’t be more wrong. Ben is simply a good friend and nothing more.’

She could feel Ben’s gaze burning into her, querying this hot denial.

Peter too was evidently unconvinced. ‘You’re becoming quite the accomplished liar, Chrissie. It must run in the family. Your mother is the real expert, of course.’

‘Will you please keep your nose out of our family affairs.’

A cruelty came into his expression then, one that startled her by its coldness, and he almost snarled, ‘“Affairs” being the operative word. I’m beginning to think that I’ve had a lucky escape. Marrying you, let alone starting a family, would have been a complete disaster.’ He glanced across at Ben. ‘I should warn you, young man, that all is not quite as open and honest as it may seem in this family. Did you know, for instance, that Chrissie’s parents were brother and sister? So if you’ve no wish to become entangled with the consequences of an incestuous
relationship, I’d recommend you leave right now.’ Chrissie was too shocked to respond. It was Ben who forcibly ejected Peter from the premises, then warned her not to believe a word. ‘It’s pure jealousy. Take no notice.’

‘I’ve no intention of doing so.’ But her heart was pounding in her breast, fear cascading through her even as she denied it. ‘The trouble is I have this passion for digging out my roots, a humble desire for everyone in this family of ours to get on. Have I gone too far, that’s the question?’

This time when Chrissie rang Vanessa, her response was barely audible. ‘Oh my God, I hoped and prayed that was a question you’d never ask.’

Chrissie began to shake so much that her knees gave way and she sank to the cold concrete floor of the call box. She felt as if she’d been drenched with ice and yet there was a burning sensation in every limb, her heart thundering in her ears. She could hear tiny sobs coming down the phone, sounds not of outrage or indignation, but fear and horror. The last thing she wanted to hear, given the circumstances.

Had she indeed opened Pandora’s box?

Her mother arrived by train late the following day, and Chrissie could hardly bear to witness the anguish on that still lovely face.

‘Don’t worry, Mum, I don’t believe a word.’ Outrage was loud in her voice as she held her close for a long moment, deliberately shutting out the memory of Vanessa’s first reaction, as well as the image of Ben’s face looking
completely poleaxed. ‘This is all some sort of petty revenge on Peter’s part because I’ve refused to marry him. I shall never forgive him for this, never.’

When no response came, Chrissie busied herself finding a taxi, stowing her mother’s luggage on board, then stared bleakly out of the window, not taking in the beauty of the autumn colours, or the way the lake gleamed almost blue in the sunshine. They drove into Bowness, passed the steamer pier, turned into Rayrigg Road and parked by a large Victorian detached property, now used as a private hotel.

Having paid off the taxi and unpacked her mother’s small brown suitcase, her mind still blessedly blank, Chrissie gave what might pass for a smile. ‘I’ve barely eaten a thing since yesterday, so why don’t we go and eat? I don’t think I can face a long discussion on an empty stomach.’

‘That would be lovely, darling,’ Vanessa agreed, as if everything were perfectly normal and this was some sort of unexpected holiday. For Chrissie, it felt as if nothing would ever be normal again. They ate supper, freshly caught trout, at a small café on Ash Street, although neither woman had much appetite. Chrissie’s misery and guilt were keen, making her feel quite ill. She understood, or at least sympathised, with why her mother had insisted she shouldn’t identify herself. Oh, but she did so wish that she’d gone with her first instincts and told Georgia who she really was from the start. And if only Peter hadn’t taken it into his head to come looking for her.

Chrissie sipped her wine, struggling to sort out the
confusion in her mind while this huge unacknowledged problem loomed between them. Unable to bear the silence any longer, she said, ‘Can you explain how this crazy notion that you and Dad were – you know – related came about?’

A flush crept over Vanessa’s pale cheeks.

‘It’s all a nonsense, right? You and Peter were drinking together, weren’t you? You promised me you’d give up the booze, the gin and the champagne cocktails, but you didn’t.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You know how crazy you get after a glass or two. Were you pleading for sympathy, trying to find some way to force me to come home, and he got completely the wrong end of the stick? Or did he go snooping through your things?’ Chrissie had blocked from her mind that telling remark:
Oh, God, I hoped and prayed that was a question you’d never ask!
‘Come on, Mum, what did you say that put such a daft idea into his head?’

‘Chrissie, please don’t lecture me, and don’t be cross with silly Peter. I certainly don’t remember saying anything of that sort, but he may well have riffled through my private letters while I was under the influence – in which case …’

A cold feeling began to creep over her. ‘And what would he find, if he did?’

‘I think you should listen to my part of the story first – all of it – before you judge me.’

Chrissie took a steadying sip of wine, then set it down with a click. ‘All right. I remember that Aaran came to
the house, and that Georgia fainted and you fell in love at first sight. Then something about a letter, a request for money from his mother? Some sort of promise. I’ve heard snippets from Mrs Gorran, which tantalise more than explain, so yes, I would be interested in the rest of your story. I’m listening.’

Vanessa cleared her throat. ‘We were like a pair of lovesick ducks.’ Her face softened into a smile. ‘Do ducks get lovesick, I wonder? Anyway, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, or bear to be apart for a moment. My mother was perfectly aware of what was going on, and it didn’t seem to bother her, not at first anyway. We were deeply in love, and soon I suspected I was pregnant, with you. I didn’t dare say a word to anyone, not even to Aaran, let alone my mother. Then, quite out of the blue, on a romantic sail one moonlit night on the lake, he proposed.’

Vanessa’s eyes were shining, the radiance in them that of a young girl in love, not the disillusioned middle-aged woman she’d become. Chrissie couldn’t help but warm to her. It was a long time since she’d seen her mother look this happy.

‘What did you say?’

‘I accepted in a flash, as he’d known I would.’ She gave a soft laugh. ‘I admitted to him then that I’d fallen pregnant. Oh, I was so nervous, scared that I’d lose him, but he was thrilled, kissed me and said we’d just have to bring the date forward a bit. Mother had to be told, of course.’

‘That must have been difficult,’ Chrissie said, thinking
they must now be coming to the part where they fell out, for the most common reason of all: an unexpected pregnancy.

‘Surprisingly Ma wasn’t in the least bit disapproving.’ A thoughtful frown creased Vanessa’s brow. ‘She was all smiley and weepy, delighted at the prospect of becoming a grandma.’

‘So what changed?’

Pausing while Chrissie refilled their glasses, she took a long slug of wine before going on with her tale. ‘Aaran was concerned for his own mother, naturally, as there was to be no offer of financial assistance forthcoming from Georgia. He suggested he should return to San Francisco and help her sort things out. Then he pointed out that I should go with him, as his wife. And that did it. Ma absolutely blew up. She was furious. She lashed out at him like a whip, accusing him of underhand behaviour, of trying to steal her precious daughter. Oh, and a great deal of hysterical nonsense of that nature. She got quite upset and angry at the prospect of our child being born in America. She wouldn’t hear of it. Once we’d made that decision she turned against Aaran completely, wouldn’t lift a finger to help us. Even ordered me to stop seeing him, but it was far too late by then. I loved him too much to give him up.’

‘Perhaps she feared you might never come back, that she’d lose you for good.’

Vanessa frowned. ‘I didn’t consider that possibility at the time, although I suppose you might have a point. America doesn’t seem quite so far away today perhaps,
not now ships have a much greater speed, although it’s still halfway across the world, isn’t it?’ She made a little scoffing sound in her throat. ‘Anyway, that wasn’t the reason. Her behaviour was outrageous, so cruel and heartless, accusing Aaran of only being interested in my money. She just turned against him.’