The Promise (25 page)

I nodded, quite unable to find the strength to resist. I
could feel my child moving and kicking within me, as if eager to be born and get on with life. But what kind of a life would it be, with this man as a father?

I could kick myself for confiding my fears to the old hag at the corner grocery. No doubt she’d put the word about that someone was looking for me, and good old Billy Goat Gruff had heard the tale and put two and two together.

Lecture over, I was permitted to bathe, then sent to bed, like some recalcitrant child. I did not ask for a maid, nor was one offered to me. Because of the lie Kemp had told, no one had even missed me, and the few notes on my dressing table from Mama and Prue were nothing more than little lectures against my feeling sorry for myself, rather than expressions of concern.

Prue’s attitude when she called to take tea a day or two later reinforced that view. ‘You don’t seem to appreciate your own good fortune,’ she scolded me, with all the wisdom of her eighteen years. ‘I envy you your fine husband, beautiful home and wonderful life.’

What could I say? My sister had never been able to see through the gloss to the reality of life, rather like Mama. I refilled her cup and said nothing, all too aware of my husband’s condemning gaze.

‘You should be forever at dear Drew’s side, demonstrating your loyalty and affection as a good wife should, not wallowing in self-pity. He has protected your foolish desire for solitude these last few weeks, while I have protected your husband from the ladies of Frisco who circle like sharks at the first sign of a lonesome male.’

‘I cannot imagine how I would have coped without your regular visits,’ Kemp assured her with simpering insincerity.

‘Any woman would be a fool to neglect such a handsome man,’ Prudence cooed, casting him a sidelong look of adoration which caught me quite by surprise.

Goodness, was the silly girl flirting with my husband before my very eyes? But then my sister would flaunt her charms at anything in trousers.

‘A man would not feel so neglected had he a wife as pretty and accommodating as yourself, Prudence.’

I turned my face away, determined not to react to this foolish game they were playing, nevertheless the words slipped out of their own volition. ‘By accommodating I assume you mean obedient.’

‘Not something you could be accused of, dear wife.’

‘Georgia has ever nurtured a strong independent streak beneath that quiet exterior, while I have never been one for rebellion.’

I stared at my young sister in disbelief, remembering the fuss over the rouged cheeks, the low neckline of her gown, her refusal of countless offers of marriage. But I bit my tongue, anxious not to irritate my husband further, or appear affected by this silliness. And as Prudence continued to flirt and cast coy glances at Kemp I made a private vow to speak to my foolish sister later about the dangers she ran by such hoydenish behaviour.

I mentioned it the moment Kemp withdrew to leave us to our sisterly chatter, as he termed it. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I challenged her. ‘Fluttering your eyelashes
at him in that immodest way. What if he were to take your silly flirting seriously? Where might that lead? Into dangerous territory, I tell you. He’s not a man to tease like your foolish young beaus.’

Prudence tossed her head, and laughed. ‘Goodness, what an old fuddy-duddy you are turning into, Georgia. I do declare you’re jealous.’

‘I am not jealous, I’m concerned – for you.’

She came briskly to her feet. ‘Then pay better attention to your husband, and less to your own selfish needs. If Drew seeks feminine attention elsewhere you have only yourself to blame. Why, you haven’t even called or written to us, not since we came for dinner in January. Mama was vexed.’

‘So you choose to punish me with this sort of petty nonsense?’

She folded her hands primly at her waist, looking more like our mother than ever. ‘Having a baby is a perfectly natural event, and Mama and I think you are making far too much fuss over this pregnancy.’ So saying, she flounced off, leaving me in tears. It was not our first sisterly quarrel, but right now I rather wished she’d offered her support to me, instead of to my husband.

The house felt oddly lonely without Maura’s bustling presence. She wasn’t there to soothe me with a cold compress when my head throbbed with pain, or to bring a stool for my feet when pains shot up and down my legs, and I desperately needed her to rub my aching back. Not for a moment did I imagine my husband had banished her from his life, quite convinced he’d set her up in a
house of her own somewhere, where he could visit her at will. He did not volunteer the information and I was too concerned with my own situation to enquire.

March was crawling by in a blur of misery, but if I was not to miss the April sailing that Ellis had taken such pains to acquire, and worked so hard to pay for, I realised I must do exactly as my husband told me. I must be the most obedient wife in the entire city. My fear was so great that each day, each hour, stretched endlessly before me.

Would I ever be free?

First, I reclaimed the freedom of the house by pleading to be allowed out of my room and sit in the parlour for a few hours each morning. A few days after that I was permitted to take a short walk out in the afternoons, accompanied by a maid, as I had used to do with Maura. I was never allowed out alone, nor out of my husband’s sight unless someone was with me at all times.

Yet my mind was obsessed with escape. I would leave taking no bag this time, no cab, and hopefully with no Big Billy following me.

Could I appeal to his vanity? I wondered. I took a chance. With this plan in mind, I offered him my most humble apology, even to calling him by his first name. ‘I’m so sorry, Drew, for being so foolish.’ He looked at me in pleased surprise. Encouraged that my ploy was working, I continued, ‘I really can’t imagine what came over me. I must have been overcome with some crazed madness. I stayed in a dreadful little hotel close to the wharves. You wouldn’t believe the squalor or the stink of the place. I hated it and was absolutely miserable there.’ I sent up
a silent apology to Ellis for this betrayal. ‘It was all a terrible mistake. I swear I will never be so stupid again. I have been a poor wife to you, and, since you have sent Maura away, I promise I will mend my ways, I swear it.’ I began to weep.

I could see him struggling to believe me. ‘I’m glad to hear you say so.’

‘Can you ever forgive me?’ I looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, but there was still a strong hint of cynicism in his next words.

‘You will have to hope that I do, otherwise life could become remarkably difficult for you. But I do need my wife by my side. In fact, I’ve organised an impromptu cocktail party tomorrow night.’

I was dismayed. ‘Oh, but I could not possibly attend, not looking like this,’ I said, indicating the unseemly size of my belly.

‘Why should I not be proud of your condition?’ He gave that twisted, private smile of amusement, as if he knew something I didn’t. ‘You well know how much I would welcome a son.’

I stared at him, not for the first time marvelling at the strange way his mind worked. Most men would abhor the idea of taking on another man’s child, yet Kemp seemed to welcome it, or else enjoyed giving that impression to prove he was still very much in control.

He leant forward and whispered in my ear. ‘This one will do for now. We’ll call him the stand-in, shall we, until the right one comes along? And we’ll make sure the next one is all mine.’

I shuddered at the thought, but the next evening, as befitted a dutiful wife, I dressed in my finest and handed round canapés and smiles with equal measure, as instructed.

April was upon us and Kemp seemed to be everywhere, scarcely taking his eyes off me for a second. Only my certain faith in Ellis and his love for me kept me sane. It was well-nigh impossible for him to contact me, yet I knew in my heart that he would be waiting for me on the pier, no doubt for some hours before the ship was due to sail on the early morning tide of Thursday the nineteenth of April.

On Tuesday the seventeenth, Kemp arranged for us to visit the opera. Caruso was playing Don José in Bizet’s
Carmen
, and Mama, Papa and Prudence were to accompany us. A grand family occasion, no less.

I was a bag of nerves, which fortunately everyone put down to the fact that I had been unwell, and it was but two weeks to my confinement. I knew different, however.

As I prepared for the opera I felt my heart thudding in my breast. Might there be some opportunity during the show for me to slip away to the powder room, and then call a cab? The prospect of arriving at Pete’s Place in the grubby little alley off Battery Street in my blue velvet gown gave me justified cause for concern. And would Ellis be there, waiting for me? What if he was out working on the docks somewhere, unloading cargo? Would the old codger let me in looking like a grand lady, or leave me
out in the street to fend for myself and risk being robbed blind, or worse?

‘How charming you look, wife,’ Kemp said, interrupting my thoughts. ‘You may not be quite so pretty as your sister, but you most certainly possess elegance and style, even in your present condition. I feel almost proud to be your husband.’

I glowered at him, distrustful of this sudden rash of compliments.

‘Now, do not overtax yourself this evening, my dear. I shall be keeping a very close watch on you. We can call for a carriage at any time should you experience a twinge of distress, or feel the slightest bit unwell.’

I glanced up, wary of this veiled warning. ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ I coolly informed him, then strode away to check on Mama and Prue. They would be returning with us after the performance, staying overnight for convenience of transport, as it would be late when the opera finished.

We drove to the Grand Opera House in Kemp’s newest acquisition, an expensive Buick motor car. I dread to think how he raised the funds for that, but it was not the only automobile gracing the front entrance of the opera house, which was almost invisible behind a trail of similar vehicles, carriages and broughams of every description. The less fortunate, or more prudent, travelled by cable car.

The evening passed in a blur of glorious music and singing, gentlemen in stiffly starched collars and tailcoats, and beautifully gowned ladies glittering with diamonds.
Mama was looking particularly fine in a gown of black lace set off by her emeralds.

Sadly, Kemp kept his word over keeping a close eye on me, even to insisting that my dear sister accompany me to the powder room. I knew better than to try any sort of escape with Prue around. She was my sweetest, dearest friend as well as my beloved sister, but her attitude towards my husband was still that of a capricious young miss. Attempting to explain everything that had happened in my marriage to her simple mind was quite beyond my skills. I accepted defeat, and hoped for better luck on the morrow.

When the curtain finally fell on the closing notes I almost sighed with relief, but, true to San Francisco’s reputation as the town that never sleeps, the evening was far from over. The ladies donned their gold lamé and
fur-trimmed
cloaks, and we went off to dine at Tait’s, where champagne corks popped and oysters were served.

I could barely eat a thing and the scent of dawn was in the air by the time I fell exhausted into bed, far too highly strung for sleep. I was counting the hours to the following afternoon when I would don my Easter bonnet and somehow or other escape the house and take a stroll in the park, no matter what. It would be my last chance to escape, and hopefully Ellis would be waiting for me in our usual spot by the Japanese Gardens. He would take me in his arms and kiss me, and with not a penny to my name, carry me off to England, where at last I would be safe from this callous, immoral brute I had married. Then I would set legal matters in hand, and we could
marry and settle to a happy life together for ever and ever.

These delicious thoughts were still playing and replaying in my mind when, at twelve minutes past five on the morning of the eighteenth of April, 1906, the earthquake struck.

It felt as if some giant hand had taken hold of the entire house and was shaking it in fury, venting their wrath for alleged misdeeds. I woke with a start to find the huge mahogany wardrobe advancing towards me. There was a great rumbling, crashing, sliding, wrenching and grinding, then the bed seemed to rise into the air and I was flung sideways, landing in the corner of the room where I banged my head on the wall, but not before I saw the floor open and the bed, still with Kemp inside it, slip sideways and disappear into the vortex that opened beneath it. I thought I would never forget the look of dazed shock on his face.

I must have been knocked senseless for a while, as when I woke I stared in numb disbelief at the sight before me. The mahogany wardrobe had come to rest at an angle against the far wall. Chairs and other pieces of furniture lay scattered about like broken matchsticks. And where our bed had once stood, where I had reluctantly suffered Kemp’s presence beside me these last few weeks, yawned a great black hole. I closed my eyes, not wishing to recapture the moment when Kemp had slipped into that abyss, his mouth and eyes wide open in a silent cry of shocked appeal. I could barely believe that I had survived. I lay huddled in a corner of the room not daring to move an inch in case the entire edifice tumbled about my ears.

With any quake comes the fear of fire. It was imperative that I get out with all speed, find Mama and Papa and Prue. Check on the servants. Yet for some reason I could
not move, couldn’t instil any sense of urgency into my shocked brain. Everything seemed to have happened in slow motion, even the dust settling floated slowly down with casual disdain.

I couldn’t hear a sound: no screams or cries for help, no rumbles or vibration in the broken building. Nothing but an eerie silence. It was as if the entire city were too shocked to move or even breathe.

I struggled to gather my thoughts. Everyone knew that San Francisco was prone to earthquakes. Due to the San Andreas fault, and the Hayward and San Jacinto faults, we suffered countless tremors every year as the plates constantly shifted against each other and stress built up. But I had never experienced anything of this magnitude before. The last quake of any size had been almost half a century ago.

Strict codes about construction had been put into place since then, and I felt grateful that the house was at least still standing. But I had to get out. I couldn’t stay here another second.

Flexing my limbs, I checked that my fingers and toes, legs and arms were all working properly. Then very gingerly I pushed away some rubble and dragged myself into an upright position. I was alive, and apparently in one piece. All I had to do was cross the floor and walk away. The door was mere feet away, yet to my confused brain it looked like miles. Somehow I reached it, the door hanging by one hinge as I stepped through it, and within seconds I was out on the landing. My success must have put new life into my legs because
I managed a stumbling run to Mama’s room.

I found her calmly dressing. There was no sign of my father. ‘Ah, there you are, dear. Can you find my emeralds? I’m afraid I left them carelessly lying about last night when I retired, as it was so very late, and now I can’t find them anywhere.’

‘What do emeralds matter? Are
you
all right, Mama? Where’s Papa?’

She looked at me then with tear-starred eyes. ‘I don’t know, darling, not for certain, and I daren’t look. But I do recall his cry, and a window smashing.’

As one we turned to stare in horror at the window, which was ominously empty of glass. I ran to look out and there Papa was, half buried under a pile of rubble in the street below. I could just make out his bare feet and the hem of his nightshirt. The urge to scream and cry out was almost unbearable, but this wasn’t the moment. There was no time for grief right now.

‘Now where did I put my dratted gloves?’ Mama was saying, eerily calm.

I turned back into the room. ‘Forget about your gloves, forget your emeralds. Mama, we must find Prue and get out of here. Now! A fire could start at any moment.’

‘Nonsense, we have an excellent fire department which has ensured that all buildings are fire-proofed and the city properly equipped.’

I was pushing her towards the door. ‘I’d rather discuss the merits of the fire department outside, if you don’t mind.’

At that moment Prue burst in, well-nigh hysterical.
Enveloping us both in a warm hug of relief, she cried, ‘Where is Papa? And Drew?’

‘Not now, Prue. Let’s get you and Mama out first.’

‘Ah, there they are.’ Breaking free of my grasp Mama stepped across a broken floorboard and pounced upon a glittering pool of green. She clutched them in her hand with joy. ‘Now where are your clothes, Georgia, Prue? You cannot go out in your nightgowns. What will people think?’

Even in the midst of chaos, proper etiquette must be adhered to. I managed to find a few clothes for Prue and myself, and we quickly pulled on as many layers as we could, since that was the easiest way to carry them. Only then did I persuade my mother to evacuate the building.

Once out on the street I ran to check on Papa, but could see at once it was hopeless. A huge pile of rubble from the upper floor of an adjacent building lay on top of him. Rather poignantly, I covered his bare feet and said a small prayer.

Prue began to weep as I held her close. ‘Come now, dearest, chin up. He would want us to concentrate on helping Mama, and to think of our own survival.’

I gathered together those of the servants I could find, some of the men already clearing rubble in case there were other survivors. It would not be a pleasant task. We must have made a sorry sight, no one knowing what to do next, yet already Mama was complaining about having nowhere to sit.

‘I’ll find you a chair,’ I began, but my heart was racing
with fear at the thought of venturing back into the house. Fortunately, one was found lying in the road and she settled upon it as if she were the Queen of Sheba awaiting her minions to restore order to her universe.

‘My jewels,’ she suddenly cried. ‘I stowed the box away in its usual place before we left for the opera. Where is Maura? You must get her to run along and fetch it for me.’

‘Maura isn’t here anymore, Mama, and your jewels are at home on Geary Boulevard.’

‘Then
you
must go and fetch them, dear.’

I stared at her in horror, instinctively recoiling from the prospect of walking anywhere amidst this turmoil. Then I thought of Ellis. Might collecting my mother’s jewels also allow me the opportunity to look for him, in the park perhaps, where we used to meet? Besides, there were our own servants to think of: Mrs Sharpe, our
cook-housekeeper,
and John, our driver, the maids, and Ruby the skivvy. How were they faring? ‘Maybe we should check that the house is at least standing, and that the servants are safe and well, not to mention our neighbours.’

Mama grasped my hand in a grip tight enough to express the urgency of her demand. ‘My jewels are of
paramount
importance. They may be all I have left.’

More important than the woman who has cooked and ordered your household for the last thirty years? I wondered. But I didn’t speak the thought out loud.

‘All right, but you’ll both have to come too. I’m not leaving you alone. Who knows what would happen if we split up? We must stick together at all costs.’

Oh, Ellis, where are you when I need you? my heart cried.

The maids and servants had all disappeared by this time, no doubt gone in search of their own families. And some of our equally shocked neighbours had set off to walk downtown in search of breakfast, almost as if they imagined their favourite restaurants would be open as normal to cater to their demands, not dealing with their own catastrophe.

Mama expressed a desire to go with them. ‘I could kill for a cup of hot coffee,’ she mourned.

‘Coffee?’ I stared at her in bewilderment. We seemed to be facing Armageddon but all my mother could think about was food.

To my amazement, coffee and hot rolls were indeed being served just two blocks away at the new Fairmont Hotel. From here we had a good view of the city and could see columns of smoke springing up here and there, indicating that fires had already broken out.

All about us were the mansions of the millionaire pioneers of ’49, those who had struck it rich. I caught glimpses of them through the windows, scavenging through their priceless treasures, desperate to save their fine collection of oil paintings, their Persian rugs, glass and china. But they were running out of time. Advancing upon them was an unstoppable wall of fire.

San Francisco had developed originally on the back of the Yukon gold rush, both as an embarkation point for prospectors on their way to the Klondike, and where
the lucky ones had come to invest their new riches. As a result, the downtown skyline had grown with many eight-, nine, and even ten-storey buildings. Now, as we walked through the familiar streets we saw that taller buildings had toppled on to smaller ones, floors had concertinaed down, one upon the other. We experienced a deep sense of unreality, feeling like strangers in our own city. The streets themselves had lifted and split, water mains broken open with water gushing up through the cracks, leaving none to fight the fire. Telegraph poles lay where they had tumbled, crackling wires long since gone dead. Communication in this fine modern city was now lost. The oddest thing was that often on one side of the street damage could be trifling, while on the other would be complete devastation.

I’d hoped to hire a carriage for Mama from Conlan’s on California, or at Kelly’s livery stables on Pine Street near Van Ness Avenue, but by the time we found the stables there were no horses left at Kelly’s, and we could as easily reach Geary Boulevard as Conlan’s. We kept on walking, my mother leaning heavily on me, bitterly complaining about the state of the world.

‘You just cannot get the service these days,’ she mourned.

A woman passer-by stopped to tell us that the City Hall was in ruins. ‘All the bricks were just shaken from the dome, like a child’s toy rattle, leaving only the steel frame. Market Street is piled high with the wreckage, so don’t try going down there.’

‘We won’t,’ I assured her, and she hurried on to some unknown destination.

Mattresses, pianos, books and pictures, hats and shoes and other treasured possessions littered the sidewalk. Streams of people were heading for the Golden Gate Park, hoping for sanctuary. Many were carrying their few precious belongings, women looking fat with all their clothes piled on, just as Prue and I had done.

I longed to go with them, in case Ellis was there waiting for me. I felt so weary I longed to lay my head on his strong shoulder and weep. But there was no time for such weakness, or to search for my beloved. I could only trust in God and keep faith that he was safe and well. My own future must wait until I had seen to Mama, found her precious jewels and some form of transport for her and Prue out of the city. For my part, I had no intention of leaving until I had found him.

It was pitiful to see such anguish all around us. An old woman, wrapped in a blanket, weeping over her dead son. A young boy struggling to carry his terrified dog. A young mother pushing a pram loaded with her personal treasures, a baby screaming in her arms. At least her child was alive. And a middle-aged man in a tattered tailcoat staggering by as if he were in a dream, or more likely a living nightmare. I stopped him to ask if he was all right.

He stared at me with those same dull unseeing eyes. ‘Last night I was worth three hundred thousand dollars, now I have nothing. Even my family is gone.’

What was there to say? I put my arms around him for a moment and held him close. Then he wandered off like some bemused down-and-out drunk.

By the time we reached the house on Geary Boulevard
we were all exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Even my strong no-nonsense mother was openly weeping. And she hadn’t demanded more coffee for three whole blocks.

‘It’s still standing!’ Prue cried, and to my joy I saw that she was right. Yet surely not for long.

Looking back over my shoulder I saw the flames coming ever closer. Showers of hot cinders rained down everywhere. A blustering offshore breeze, reeking of the scorched remains of hundreds of ruined homes, fanned giant billows of smoke, inciting the fire to a raging furnace that devoured block after block at astonishing speed. My eyes were streaming, and poor Prue was suffering from a coughing fit.

‘We must hurry,’ I cried. And then almost sobbed with joy as I saw a familiar round plain face, and a grubby figure running towards us.

Maura fell into my arms, as delighted to see us as we were to see her. I couldn’t believe how ridiculously pleased I felt as I hugged her tight. ‘Where have you been all these months, you silly girl? I’ve missed you. Are you all right?’ My feelings for my erstwhile maid remained ambiguous. Was she my friend, or my enemy? I still couldn’t decide. Had she spared me from worse attentions by sleeping with my husband, or ruined the chance of creating any sort of relationship between us? Not that this was the moment to examine that conundrum, as there were far more important concerns on our minds. Besides, Kemp must surely have died as the bed slid into that dark pit
of hell, and to my shame I felt little grief.

‘What are you doing here, and where is Drew?’

This, not unnaturally, was her first question. I gave a little shake of my head, and squeezed her hand, seeing how tears at once filled her eyes. So she really did love him? ‘Papa too is gone. I’m intending to take Mama and Prue to the ferry, then they can catch a train to Washington. They’re to stay with Aunt Candice for a while.’

‘Just until the house is presentable again,’ Mama put in.

Glancing back at the encroaching flames I doubted it ever would be. ‘But first we’ve come to rescue Mama’s jewels,’ I explained, and Maura gave me one of her enigmatic smiles.

‘That’s why I’m here too. I had the same thought, but don’t worry, I’ve buried them in the back garden, Mrs Briscoe. Your jewels will be quite safe there, safer than with us, or in the line of that fire,’ she added.

‘I want them in my own hands,’ Mama protested, but I disagreed.

‘No, Maura is quite right. Anyone could steal a box of jewels off any one of us. How could we, mere females, protect ourselves? There’ll be looting soon, and heaven knows what crime. And the flames are just two blocks away. There’s no time to save any more possessions.’

It was afternoon by this time and I feared my mother couldn’t take much more. Nor could Prue, as we were all exhausted. ‘We’ll retrace our steps, find somewhere safe to spend the night, then I’m taking you to the ferry, Mama, first thing in the morning. Come on, we must go. Now!’
All night the city burnt. By dawn the sky was blood-red, marred by a thick pall of smoke in shades of ochre, rose and lavender. There seemed little hope of ever seeing the sun again. Whole buildings were broken, tilting at impossible angles; twisted columns and pillars stood as if petrified by the flames.