The Lorimer Legacy (28 page)

Alexa was still wearing her ball gown, although now it was crumpled and dirty. Her bare shoulders were covered with a gentleman's jacket; but even so, she was shivering, and looked relieved when Robert held out the bag of clothing which he had carried from the apartment.

‘Were you still at the ball when it happened?' he asked.

Alexa hesitated for a moment before she shook her head.

‘No. Frank and I had gone back to the Davidson's house to have a celebration drink.'

‘What were you celebrating?'

Frank came out just as Robert asked the question, and stood with his arm round Alexa's shoulders. Unlike her, he had been able to change his clothes and was wearing a practical motoring outfit.

‘Has Alexa not announced the news yet?' he asked. ‘We didn't get around even to opening the bottle, as things turned out, but that doesn't alter the fact that the most beautiful woman in the world has agreed to become Mrs Davidson.'

Robert heard the news with interest, although not with any surprise. He was pleased at the thought that he would have some sort of relationship now with Brad – although he could not work out what it would be. He was grateful, though, that he was not expected to take any part in all the hugging and kissing that went on now, and wondered how Frank managed to put up with it so cheerfully.

It came to an end at last. While Alexa disappeared to change her clothes, and Frank went to find out what was happening in the city, Robert sat down to a proper meal with his mother. But he could tell that she was restless.

‘You want to get away, don't you?' he asked.

‘Yes. I can't just sit here when so many people may be hurt. But I don't like to leave you.'

For a second time Robert pointed out that he was hardly a child any more.

‘It's not that,' she said. ‘It's going to be difficult to keep in touch: that's what I mean. We're used to living in a society where everyone has an address and a routine -a bed to sleep in and some hope of meals appearing at regular times. Well, that was yesterday's way of life; not today's. The only safe way is for us all to keep together all the time. But I should find Alexa a hindrance. She's never been able to stand the sight of blood.'

‘I'll look after Alexa,' Robert assured his mother. ‘And
we could fix to meet at the hotel here between six and eight this evening. If either of us finds somewhere better to go, we leave a message here for the other instead. We might be able to go back to Nob Hill. Brad said that although his main house has shifted, they've got a little summer house in the garden which may be all right for camping out.'

He could tell that she was still unhappy about leaving him, so he gave her a brisk goodbye kiss and bustled her out of the hotel. By now he had discovered that there would be no bill for whatever he ordered, so it seemed a good idea to eat as much as he could before the food gave out. He was still sitting at the table when Alexa returned, wearing more suitable clothes than before.

‘My jewel box is still in the apartment,' she said as soon as she rejoined him. ‘Margaret must have forgotten. I feel anxious about it – with every building in the city abandoned, it will be tempting for looters to see what they can find after nightfall.'

‘Would you like me to fetch it for you?' Robert asked. He could tell what she wanted to say, but she hesitated for a moment.

‘Is the building safe?' she asked.

‘It seemed all right when we left. On the tilt, but not sliding any further. There were lots of people going in and out of their apartments to fetch their things.'

‘I wouldn't want to put you at any risk,' Alexa said, still doubtful. ‘If there's another ‘quake –'

‘If there's another ‘quake, then nothing will be safe and I'm just as likely to get a brick on my head here as I would be in the apartment. But until that happens, it's the sensible thing to collect as much of our stuff as I can. Everybody else is doing it. I could fetch some more clothes for all of us. And some blankets, in case we have to sleep out tonight. Where shall I find the jewel box?'

‘Underneath my bed,' she said. ‘It's a black leather case.'

On his way out of the hotel, Robert met Frank hurrying back with a grim expression on his face.

‘Where are you going?' Frank asked him.

‘To get some more things from the apartment. I'll be back as soon as I can.'

‘You may not find us still here.' Frank looked worried, as though wondering whether he ought to prevent Robert from going. ‘The whole of the Chinatown area is on fire, and it's out of control. There's no water to fight it. Some bright engineer apparently laid the city's water main right across the fault.'

‘What's the fault?' asked Robert, bewildered.

‘The San Andreas Fault is a weak part of the earth's crust that's been responsible for most of San Francisco's tremors. Everyone knows about it. How anyone could be such a fool – anyway, the fault shifted and the pipes parted and the result is that there's no water, except for the cistern on Nob Hill, and that won't last long. The fire could spread to the whole downtown area of the city. Van Ness is safe enough, so I suppose there's no harm in your going there. But if the wind blows this way, we shall have to leave the hotel. In that case, I shall take Alexa and Aunt Halloran out to the Presidio hills. You know where I mean?'

Robert nodded. It was in the open north-west corner of the peninsula that he and Brad spent their free time constructing a network of tunnels; and with other boys from the school they often fought mock battles in the old fort which guarded the Golden Gate.

‘The military authorities are opening the whole area as a refuge. Ask in the streets before you start back whether the hotel is still safe. If it's been evacuated, look for us on Buena Vista.'

‘Right,' said Robert. The tension in Frank's voice had affected him, and he began to run as fast as he could. But the way was impeded by a slow procession of people leaving their homes. They were not hurrying, but instead moved with a shocked sadness, their backs bent with the weight of their burdens as they tried to save as many of their household goods as they could. Some were dragging sledges or even upturned tables loaded with possessions. Others, more fortunate, owned or had appropriated delivery vans and were able to move furniture as well as clothes. From time to time they stopped and looked back. Robert looked too, and saw that the whole of the eastern sky was blanketed with smoke. He started to run again.

The Marie Antoinette block of apartments was still standing, and looked no more dangerous than when he had left it. Relieved, Robert ran to the entrance. A soldier who had been lounging by the broken doors straightened himself and put out an arm.

‘No one admitted to this building.'

‘I live here,' said Robert. He assumed that the man was acting as a guard against looters, and was glad of it. ‘If the janitor's still here, he'll tell you. I've just come back to collect some clothes.'

‘No one admitted for any purpose whatsoever. Safety reasons. I've got my orders, son. Don't hang around.'

Puzzled and annoyed, Robert retreated. There must be a back entrance to the block, though he had never had cause to use it. When he found it, this too was guarded, and his attempts to pass were equally unsuccessful.

Back in the main avenue, he looked around. Somewhere there must be an officer in charge of the soldiers. But he, when discovered, proved even less sympathetic than his men. He was clearing everyone out of the avenue as Robert approached him. The families who had been sitting in clusters on the ground were grumbling but
obedient. Robert's request was turned down out of hand, and his attempt at an explanation brought only an explosion of fury.

‘For Christ's sake! We've got a whole city burning and you're worried about a spare pair of socks. Get out of here, and don't let me see you again.'

Robert's freckled face pouted with resentment as he walked slowly away. Even if it were true that much of the city was burning, there was no sign of fire here. And he would only have needed a few moments. He would have great difficulty in persuading Alexa that there had been no way to get past the guards. She had had a night without sleep, and Robert knew that she must have hated having to appear in public looking as dirty as when he had first seen her that day. Now she would be preparing to spend a second uncomfortable night, this time perhaps in the open. Robert recognized that anyone's temper might become strained under such circumstances. He was likely to be given the rough edge of her tongue if he reported failure.

The thought persuaded him to wait around. The guard would change at some point, and the new men might prove more sympathetic. Or perhaps it would be possible to sneak past them after dark, when there would be neither gas nor electricity to light the streets.

He waited, out of sight, but without success. The evening guard was reinforced by a foot patrol which kept the whole avenue under surveillance. Just as he was screwing up his courage to make a dash through the entrance hall in the hope that he could hide immediately in an abandoned room, he heard the officer in charge of the new patrol shouting out his orders for the night.

‘Looters should be challenged first where practicable, but you have authority to shoot on sight.'

Robert was a level-headed boy, well able to judge when
the odds had changed from adventure to recklessness. He was not a looter but it seemed that he might not be allowed time to convince anyone of that if he were seen. Even to slip quietly away was risky enough. As soon as he was safely out of the guarded area he walked despondently, trailing his feet through the debris which littered the road. In the adventure stories he had read, the heroes never gave up like this. They dodged through a hail of bullets, always in the end managing to rescue whatever needed to be rescued. But then the bullets were guaranteed never to hit them. This real-life adventure offered much less certainty that there would be a happy ending for everyone. The blood on his mother's skirt had been a sufficient indication of that.

The way back to the hotel proved to be barred. The troops who stopped him on this occasion were more sympathetic than the guards, but equally definite. The fire, they told him, was spreading so rapidly that there was little hope of saving any of the downtown area. Only approved firefighters were allowed within the triangle edged by Hyde Street and Mission Street.

Alarmed to find that the rendezvous with his mother had become impossible to keep, Robert remembered Frank's instructions and turned towards the Presidio. By now he was very tired, and the walk was a long one. As darkness fell, it was difficult to pick his way safely along the unlit streets, but at last he arrived in the hilly open area.

The whole of San Francisco seemed to be there already. Tents had been pitched in long lines, and soldiers were still hard at work erecting more. Families not yet fortunate enough to be offered shelter squatted in circles round their piles of possessions. A few cooking fires were burning, but it was impossible to recognize anyone without going right up to a group and staring. Without
warning, Robert found himself gripped by panic. He had promised to look after Alexa, and now he did not even know where she was. She and his mother must both be somewhere in the crowd, but how could he ever hope to find them amongst three hundred thousand people?

Robert had been frightened for the brief period of the earthquake itself, but that fear had quite quickly given way to a feeling of excitement, and a determination to make himself as useful as a grown man. The new fear which swept over him now was worse than anything he had felt as he waited for his bedroom ceiling to crash down on his head. He was tired and hungry; he had failed in his errand and lost touch with his family. He was in a foreign continent, in a strange city – a city which was collapsing before his eyes – and he didn't know what to do. For more than an hour he ran between the lines of the tents, calling his mother's name and Alexa's. Tears began to run silently down his cheeks and he was too tired even to be ashamed. At last, stumbling over a guy rope, he allowed himself to lie where he had fallen, sprawled in misery on the ground. Within five minutes he was asleep.

Terror disappears when danger ends: shame lasts longer. At the moment when the earthquake struck the Davidson mansion on Nob Hill, Alexa was in bed with Frank. She had not until that moment felt guilty – for they were, after all, engaged to be married now. As they clung together in that terrifying moment when some demon seemed to be shaking the house from side to side in an attempt to eject its occupants, it was difficult to feel
anything more specific than physical fear. Only afterwards, as they held their breaths, wondering whether there would be another shock, did it occur to her how unfortunate the timing had been. Even the most liberal-minded aunt – and Miss Halloran was far from being that – could not be expected to condone such immoral behaviour if it was unmistakably brought to her notice.

Alexa's anxiety on this count was quick to control any temptation to panic. As soon as the first violent tremor had subsided to a residual quivering, as though the air were trembling like a jelly, she hurried into her ball dress again – while Frank, equally conscious of the need to preserve his fiancée's reputation, acted as her dresser.

‘I brought you home for a celebration drink,' he instructed her as he fastened the tiny satin buttons with surprising dexterity. ‘Servants all asleep. You were sitting in the drawing room when the ‘quake struck. I was fetching the champagne. If you're seen on the stairs now, then you're looking for me.'

He opened the bedroom door and glanced quickly up and down the gallery. Alexa waited for his signal that there was no one about. Then she slipped out of the room while he in turn set about dressing himself. There was no need to be quiet, for the air was full of noise. From outside the house a ragged jangling of church bells provided a discordant background to the crashing of falling walls and the hiss and crackle of electric cables. Inside, Mr Davidson's collection of clocks, suddenly set askew, protested with a whirr of broken springs or the untimely striking of some hour which had not yet arrived, and somewhere in the background the water from a broken pipe could be heard cascading down a wall in a noisy waterfall.