Homecoming Girls (17 page)

‘Can you see the church down there?’

Clara’s gaze swept the vista. ‘The one with a bell tower? Is it a cathedral?’

‘I believe it might be,’ Jewel said vaguely. ‘There’s something niggling away at me and I don’t know what it is.’

‘Something about the church?’

Jewel nodded and then, turning round, she called the proprietor over to her. ‘Can you tell me the name of the church down there?’ she asked.

‘Si,’
he said, with a strong Spanish or Mexican accent. ‘It ees St Mary’s Cathedral. Twenty-one years old. The first cathedral of California. Built of granite, cut and brought from China, bricks brought from New England. A church for everyone; all communities, even the Chinese.’

He spoke as if he were a guide showing them around the edifice itself. Jewel thanked him and he moved away to attend to other patrons. Then he turned back. ‘Everyone ees welcome,’ he said. ‘Two blocks north from Chinatown, near the bay on Montgomery Street.’

‘Thank you.’Jewel smiled. ‘We shall visit. I feel as if I know it,’ she murmured to Clara. ‘As if I’ve been. But I don’t know when!’

‘Then we’ll take a look,’ Clara said. ‘But could we go tomorrow, please? By the time we get back down the hill it will be too late to walk there.’

‘All right,’ Jewel agreed, realizing that it wasn’t the lateness of the afternoon that was troubling her cousin but the intense heat, unused as they were to such high temperatures.

She would have liked to wander off on her own to find the church, but that of course was impossible. Wilhelm’s warning that they must only ever do things together rang in her ears. Besides, she was well aware that she would be very much at
risk if she were foolish enough to venture out in the streets alone.

They ordered lunch at the restaurant as they hadn’t eaten since breakfast and the aroma coming from the kitchen was tantalizing. They asked for a local dish that was not too spicy; the dishes that were being carried towards the other tables looked and smelled very pungent.

A dish of what looked like pale green cream flecked lightly with tomatoes was put in front of them, with warm flat bread shaped like little pancakes for them to dip into it; this, their host told them, was guacamole, made from avocado, chopped white onion and thinly sliced tomato and flavoured with lemon, black pepper and coriander. On a separate plate was a serving of raw fish in lime juice. They declared both delicious and were brought dishes of chicken and rice, black beans, and a plate of a delicious purple vegetable, stuffed with onions and tomatoes, which they were told was eggplant.

To finish, a plate of fresh fruit was brought to the table – melon, mango and banana – and another jug of lemonade.

Both were replete after the food and Clara declared she felt more rested and able to walk back down the hills. ‘Perhaps if we bear down towards the direction of the bay,’ she suggested, ‘we shall get an idea of the whereabouts of the cathedral in relation to our hotel. We can hardly miss it, after all. It’s quite a landmark.’

Jewel agreed, but unlike Clara, who had become more energetic, she was now feeling tired and lethargic after eating and pleased to be walking down the hills and not up.

By the time they reached the top of Clay Street, their legs were aching and both agreed that it would be nice to ride on the cable car again. They waited in line with the other passengers to board the car, and as they bought their tickets and stepped on board both felt a sense of smug satisfaction at riding a cable car and eating exotic food as if these were commonplace daily occurrences rather than adding memorable experiences to their lives.

They were up early the next day, aiming to be out before the heat became too strong and dressing appropriately in light muslin dresses and sun bonnets. But when they emerged from the hotel after breakfast the weather was dull and foggy and much cooler.

On stepping off the cable car the previous day they had seen the cathedral of St Mary’s in the distance and gulls wheeling in the sky where they judged the bay to be, and this was the direction in which they set off, Jewel having again determined that they should try to find their own way before contacting Dolly. It was a long walk and there were many people dashing about their business, waggons and traps clattering along the road. The two young women clung to each other’s arms in fear of being knocked over or carried along in the melee.

‘There are lots of Chinese people, have you noticed, Clara?’ Jewel asked. ‘And they’re all heading in the same direction as we are. Perhaps this is the way to Chinatown.’

Clara had observed the Chinese men, dressed in cotton tunics and trousers and wearing hats shaped like wide lampshades, carrying pliable bamboo poles across their shoulders with a basket at each end filled with such diverse contents as laundry or sacks of peas, beans, rice or sunflowers. Many of these porters wore their black hair in a queue which hung halfway down their backs and sometimes to the tops of their thighs. This, Jewel and Clara had learned, was a symbol of
subjugation imposed by the Manchu dynasty in eighteenth-century China, and although many Chinese had rebelled against it, there were still those who retained it in deference to their culture.

But the Chinese were not the only recipients of the Englishwomen’s curiosity; there were also tall and handsome black-skinned men with their striking exotic wives, and women with honey-coloured complexions dressed in beautiful silk garments, their heads swathed in richly coloured turbans, who were given a second furtive glance. And then Clara gave Jewel a gentle nudge with her elbow to point out a little Chinese girl, as petite as a doll and dressed in gold satin with a wide sash round her waist, her black hair dressed high on the top of her head and adorned by a lily; she was being carried by a man – either her father or her husband, for who could tell in this new and alien country – because her tiny bound feet were too fragile to walk on the cobbled roads.

There were other people who were given a quick glance before eyes were averted: women with coarse and reddened complexions, who sat on cane chairs outside hostelries with a glass of liquor on the table in front of them, a cheroot between their lips and one leg crossed indelicately over the other, chatting in a free and easy manner to men dressed in rough working clothes sporting large-brimmed hats.

After walking for half an hour and not seeming to get any closer, Jewel suggested they hail a horse cab and ride for the rest of the journey to the bay. A high-stepping horse drawing an open surrey pulled up almost immediately. It had a fringed canopy over seating for four, but the driver said he would take them wherever they wanted to go.

‘Down to the bay, please, if you would be so kind,’ Clara said.

The driver grinned at her accent. ‘Sure thing, ma’am. Where exactly? Plenty of coves to choose from. You want Steamboat Point if you’re going on a trip. Or Telegraph Hill to see the view, or I can drop you on the corner of Broadway and Montgomery.’

The two girls looked at each other. ‘The nearest place to Chinatown,’Jewel said. ‘Close to St Mary’s Cathedral.’

The driver looked at her and his smile faded. He nodded. ‘Montgomery, then. If you’re sure. You gotta be careful down there.’

‘We will be,’ Jewel said stiffly.

Coming from the town of Hull, they had in their naivety thought that the San Francisco wharves would be similar to, though larger than, the docklands adjacent to their homes. They were therefore unprepared for the huge bay full of shipping which shortly confronted them. There were hundreds of tall-masted ships, steamboats, barges, vessels carrying timber and coal and passenger ships sailing to all corners of the world. Other coves they passed by were occupied by numerous shipbuilding yards, lumber yards piled high with timber and a great number of warehouses edging the waterfront.

They both exhaled a breath. ‘I had no idea,’ Jewel murmured.

Clara shook her head. ‘Nor I. Shall we ask him to take us straight to St Mary’s?’

‘Yes,’Jewel said, and then added in a low voice: ‘Will you ask him, Clara? I don’t care for his attitude.’

Clara nodded. She too had noticed his change of demeanour when Jewel spoke to him. Was he prejudiced against the Chinese? She had noticed anti-Chinese slogans pinned to hoardings and graffiti written on walls, calling for Chinese immigration to be halted.

Clara called to him and he changed route and took them to the cathedral. As they paid his fare, he pointed in the direction of Chinatown.

‘Careful then, miss, if that’s where you’re heading. Just keep close together and don’t try anything they offer.’ He looked to where Jewel was waiting. ‘And take care of your friend. She’s got Chinese in her, ain’t she?’

‘Thank you,’ she said, pointedly avoiding his question, and turned away.

‘What did he say?’ Jewel asked in a small voice.

‘Nothing.’ Clara smiled. ‘Just said he hoped we’d have an enjoyable day.’

They crossed the road towards the cathedral and Jewel slowed her steps. ‘Just a moment,’ she murmured, and took a shallow breath as she looked about her. ‘There’s something—’

‘What?’ Clara asked. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I don’t know, I’m – I’m remembering something, but I don’t know what.’

‘Would you like to go inside and sit down for a moment?’ Clara took Jewel’s arm. She seemed anxious, unsure of herself.

‘I think I would,’ Jewel said. ‘There’s some recollection niggling at me; perhaps if I sit somewhere quiet I might remember what it is.’

They went into the cool dark interior and sat in a pew at the back. They were both glad of the respite as the weather was now very hot and once more they were wilting. Clara said nothing, not wanting to distract Jewel, who was gazing round the old church as if gathering up memories.

‘I’ve been here before,’Jewel whispered. ‘But not with Papa.’ She lifted her eyes up beyond the marble altar and the arches which rode above it to the high vaulted ceiling. ‘With Aunt Gianna.’

Clara stared at her but again said nothing. Jewel’s voice had taken on a childlike quality as she spoke her adoptive mother’s name. The name she had called her before coming to England.

After about ten minutes, Jewel indicated that they should leave and they stepped outside into brilliant sunshine. She looked about her and then said, ‘This way. This is the way we should go.’

Clara demurred. ‘But this isn’t towards Chinatown.’

‘I know.’ Jewel put up her parasol. It was green, which matched her gown but made her skin look paler and more translucent. ‘But this is the way to Papa’s house.’

‘How can you remember?’ Clara was astonished. ‘It’s so long ago.’

Jewel nodded. ‘I’m almost sure.’ She led the way towards a steep hill. ‘Gianna – Mama – when she first came to visit Papa Edward’ – she added on her real father’s name so as not to confuse him with Wilhelm – ‘used to take me out shopping or looking at places. And one of them was the cathedral. I’d never been before. I suppose my father never thought of taking me. In fact I don’t remember going anywhere very much, only that people came to see us. Like Dolly and Larkin.’

They continued up the hill, stopping now and again to catch their breath. ‘I hope they put a cable car up here,’ Clara gasped. ‘I think the city needs more than just one.’

The street was lined on both sides with tall buildings, shops, offices and apartment blocks. Jewel’s steps began to slow, not only because of the steepness of the hill.

‘I’m having doubts,’ she said. ‘I don’t recall any of these buildings. They must all be new. I only remember wooden houses and shops. Even Papa’s house – I think it was a wooden cabin.’

‘Such a lot has happened since you were here, Jewel, and remember you were seeing everything through a child’s eyes,’ Clara reminded her. ‘It’s a prosperous city now, with so many business people coming here, trading on the back of the gold mining.’

Clara had done her research on California as soon as Jewel had asked her to accompany her, and had read all she could about its history, particularly regarding San Francisco.

‘I know,’ Jewel said. ‘Perhaps it was happening even when I was a child, but I wouldn’t have known about it. And now the city is bigger and wider and taller and unrecognizable. I’m looking at it through the eyes of a stranger.’

She became pensive, her emotions mixed. ‘Mama said that my father told her he arrived in San Francisco with nothing; just the clothes on his back and a pack of cards which someone gave him.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘And he finished up with enough money to buy a saloon and a theatre.’

‘And sufficient to leave you a legacy,’ Clara interrupted. ‘For you to come back here!’

‘Yes.’ Jewel nodded. ‘That too.’ She glanced at her cousin. ‘Do you think he knew that I would come back?’

Clara took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m certain that it would have been what he hoped for.’

They were almost at the top now and slowed their steps, both feeling very hot. The hill levelled out and the tall buildings were replaced by single-storeyed ones, some built of timber. They walked on, passing a row of stores and then a plot of land which had been marked out as if to be built on. Next to it was a long low restaurant and simultaneously they drew in their breath as a rich aroma assailed their nostrils.

‘Food!’ Clara said.

‘Tomatoes! Onions,’ Jewel added. ‘Fresh bread! Is it lunch-time already?’ She paused for a moment, gazing at the closed door and the windows, where the blinds were pulled down. Her forehead creased slightly in concentration and she pressed her lips together before moving on.