“All sensible ladies, but can they really make changes?” Frieda asked. She didn’t want to put a damper on the evening, but she’d seen inquiries come and go before. She didn’t have much faith in committees.
“The chairman is a wealthy lawyer, Henry Stimson. Charlie knows him, he says he won’t stand for any nonsense. I trust my husband’s judgement, so I am hopeful they can achieve a lot.”
Kathleen spoke up. “Lily, most people are good at heart. Most don’t know how to stop people from burning in factories. They don’t want people hurt or worse. They just lack direction. What can they do?”
Frieda didn’t know the lady who spoke next. “We need to keep things in perspective, ladies. Not that many people died. We’re only talking about one hundred and fifty. More people die in influenza epidemics, don’t they?”
Frieda bit her tongue to stop herself from replying in anger. Kathleen glanced at Frieda before replying to the woman.
“Susan, those one hundred and fifty people included people Frieda knew personally. One of our friends is lying in a hospital in a coma. Her four orphaned siblings depend on her.”
“I’m sure every story is tragic Kathleen, my point was --”
Frieda had heard enough.
“I’m tired. I’ve been fighting against influenza all day at the hospital. Yes ma’am, more people die from it,” Frieda looked directly at Susan. “We can’t see the germs, we don’t understand how it spreads so quickly from person to person, and we don’t have very good treatments for it. In time we will gain more understanding and I hope a time comes when more people recover than die from influenza.” Frieda took a second to stop her voice from shaking. “But it doesn’t compare to the men, women, and children dying because they locked them into a factory, eight, nine, or ten floors above the sidewalk. Those people died from greed and no other cause. We can’t stop the influenza, but there has to be something we can do to prevent even one person burning alive due to someone else’s greed.” Frieda stood up. “Please excuse me.”
“Frieda, wait. I didn’t mean to upset you,” the lady called Susan spoke, her cheeks pink. “I meant we need to do more to help all those in need, not just the factory workers. I’m sorry I sounded so callous. My condolences for your losses, and I hope your friend recovers.”
“Thank you.” Frieda walked out and climbed the stairs to her room. They would see how New York valued the factory workers when the funeral came.
April 5th, 1911
Four days later, the whole of New York seemed to wear black. Black bunting hung from the buildings with men wearing black suits, their ladies wearing black dresses, hats and coats. Even the children were subdued, not racing around playing noisy games, but standing to attention as beautiful horses pulled the hearse carrying the empty coffin, representing the seven unidentified victims, moved past.
Thousands of people marched down the streets in silence, following the coffin. Despite the relentless rain, the crowds continued to gather as people congregated on the sidewalks, watching them.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people in one place, Conrad.”
Conrad glanced at the crowds, whose solemn expressions mirrored his own. “They feel they have to do something, but most don’t know what. There must be at least a quarter of a million people here.”
As Maria glanced around her, she couldn’t help but wonder where these people had been when the strikers needed their support. Maybe if they had come out in support then, her sister and friends would still be alive.
“Maria, you can’t change the past. Only the future.” He entwined his fingers in hers as she moved closer. He was her future now.
They walked back to Maria’s home, deep in thought. Eventually, Maria broke the silence.
“How will people recover from this, Conrad? Sarah told me her friend, Rose Weiner died, the sister Katie is still in hospital with her injuries. Esther’s sister and brother are dead. Deleo, the boy Leonie was dancing with at the party is dead too. From what Frieda says, Leonie is still in danger. What will her brothers and sister do without her?”
“Have faith in the Greens, Maria. Richard Green has a fine reputation. If anyone can save her, they will. Frieda is at her bedside as often as possible. She couldn’t get better care.”
Maria didn’t doubt her friends were looking after Leonie, but when they weren’t sure what was keeping her asleep, how could they fix it?
“I went up to check on Mr. Maltese last night, I brought him some food. He was just sitting there, staring into an empty grate. He’s aged twenty years since that night. His son said Mr. Maltese blames himself for losing his wife and daughters. He also said Rosaria was the youngest victim. So many gone.”
Conrad squeezed her hand. What could he say? Nothing would bring the dead back.
Chapter 44
April 1911
Maria looked at the notice in her hand. They had summoned her to give her statement about the fire. Conrad had one, too.
“Conrad, does the District Attorney really care about Rosa, the Maltese ladies, and all the other victims?”
“Charles Whitman has a reputation for seeking justice. If I was Harris or Blanck, I would be nervous. Don’t fret, Maria, we know what happened that day and we just have to tell them.”
“But what if they don’t believe us? I heard rumors the bosses were trying to bribe some survivors to say the doors weren’t locked, That the girls panicked.”
Conrad’s lips thinned. “You and I know the truth and no amount of money will stop us telling our story. Others will feel the same way. Let’s walk down there and see who else has been called to give their account.”
As they walked, Maria heard the dim ringing of a fire-engine bell. Feeling weak, she grasped Conrad’s arm.
“Maria, darling, it’s not near here. It’s another fire. You are safe.” He continued whispering until she composed herself.
“When will it stop? I can’t sleep. I hear fire engines and wake up in a sweat. When I fall asleep, every night, Rosa and the Maltese girls come into my dreams. I see all those I knew from the other factory. Sylvia, Mary Leventhal, all of them. They blame me for leaving them behind. I…” Maria stuttered, unable to speak properly.
Conrad led her into a park and found a bench where they both sat down. “Maria, you are not to blame. None of us are. We didn’t start the fire and we didn’t lock those doors. All we can do now is fight for justice for Rosa and our other friends.”
Maria huddled close to him. She didn’t think she could fight anyone.
“Maria, I know you’ve been brave,and tried to appear stronger than you are, but I’m with you every step of this journey. Together we will survive. We owe it to the others.”
Chapter 45
“Kathleen, are you sure we should be doing this? It doesn’t seem right to go to a party given everything that has happened.” The last thing Frieda wanted was to go out celebrating. Leonie needed her.
“Richard told me you spend all your spare time at Leonie’s bedside. I admire your commitment, darling, but that’s not healthy. We are all here for Leonie, praying for her, visiting with her. You need to live a little. Frieda, life has to go on, and we owe it to the dead to make every day count. We missed Patrick’s birthday, so let’s have a good time tonight.”
Frieda knew it was pointless arguing when Kathleen used that tone of voice. People thought Kathleen was softer than Lily. She was more easy going, but when it came to it, she had an inner core of steel and wouldn’t let something drop until she got her way. Frieda was too tired to fight.
Kathleen helped her dress in the new clothes she had bought her. Was it only a month ago? It felt like a year or more. Only when she was fully satisfied was Frieda allowed to leave her room. She walked downstairs to where Cook and the girls were waiting for her.
“You look beautiful, Frieda. Like a Broadway star,” Lily almost whispered as she held out her hand as if to touch the dress, but stopped before she reached Frieda.
“You look
like a princess,” Carrie added.
“Where’s her crown then? All princesses wear lots of jewels. Like diamonds and all sorts,” Alfred complained, bringing everyone back to reality. “Where are you going?”
Her mouth dry, Frieda whispered, “To a birthday party.” She feared the children would think she was callous, but Carrie didn’t blink an eye.
“Will you bring us back some cake?” Carrie asked, rubbing her stomach.
“Come on children, plenty of cake in my kitchen,” Cook smiled, “Frieda, enjoy yourself.”
Frieda watched the children troop after Cook before Kathleen called her to tell her the cab was waiting.
“Maria and Conrad said they would be there early so you go to meet them. I have to chase Richard. He’d only arrived home when I left to come over here. Doctors.” Kathleen rolled her eyes. Then she hugged Frieda but didn’t squeeze her hard like usual. “Don’t want to crush your outfit. Head high now darling, you look amazing.”
Frieda kissed her friend on the cheek and walked out to the cab, taking in the glance of admiration from the driver. It felt nice to be seen as a woman and not a student nurse or doctor for a change.
When the cab arrived at Charlie’s , the man himself came out to greet her. “Bellissima Frieda! You look beautiful. I didn’t recognize you. You look like you walked off a stage. Mama, come see Frieda, Maria’s doctor friend. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“The poor girl is blushing so hard, I could cook eggs on her cheeks. Stop making a fool of her and escort her to her table,” Mama ordered before winking at Frieda and whispering, “All it takes is one good looking girl and every man turns into a fool.”
Frieda couldn't think straight. She followed Charlie past the larger tables into the area where the smaller double booths were seated. Where were the others? She looked around, trying and failing to spot Maria or Conrad. Was she the first one there? She couldn't sit at a table on her own, that wouldn't be respectable. She looked up at a low whistle and found herself staring at Caldwell. Her spirits plummeted.
“You scrub up well, Frieda. You looking for a date?” His voice carried and some diners gasped while others laughed. Frieda’s cheeks heated.
She didn’t answer as Charlie directed a stream of Italian, none of it sounding too friendly, at Caldwell. Frieda wished the ground would open up and swallow her as other diners turned to stare. She brushed a finger across her eye, she couldn't cry, not here in front of everyone, but she’d never been so humiliated in her life.
“I think this is our table.”
She recognized his voice as he took her elbow and guided her to a booth for two. She glanced up at him. “Patrick?”
“I hope you weren’t expecting another man?” His eyes danced with amusement.
Frieda looked around. Caldwell was on his way out the door with Charlie holding him by the shirt collar. The other diners were staring at Caldwell, not her. She didn't recognize anyone else.
“Maria, Conrad, the others?”
“The only reservation is a table for two,” he said, taking a seat.
Frieda tried to focus on what he was saying. She’d never felt so shy and awkward around Patrick before. She rubbed her hands in her napkin, for fear he’d see she was sweating.
"What did Mother tell you to get you here?” he asked as he poured wine into their glasses.
"You were having a belated birthday party and everyone was coming to celebrate.” Even as she said the words, she knew they sounded stupid. “Kathleen came over to the Sanctuary, helped me get ready, and told me your dad would be late home. I took her excuse at face value.” She studied the cutlery on the table. “I guess I was a bit naive.”
She was babbling, her nerves making her speak faster.
“You believe the best of people, Frieda. You shouldn’t change. I bet Mother was very convincing.”
Frieda couldn't think of Kathleen, not now. She picked up a spoon and put it down again. Folding her hands on her lap, fighting the urge to fidget, she tried to act normal.
She didn't speak as he rubbed her hand with his. “You’re amazing. So beautiful and kind-hearted, so considerate of everyone else.”
As he held her hand, their eyes locked, it could have been just the two of them in the restaurant.
Charlie’s appearance startled both of them.
“Two of Mama’s specials. You want more wine?” Charlie served their meal before taking up the wine bottle and refilling their untouched glasses. Embarrassed, she took her hand away and folded it once more in her lap. She couldn't eat, her stomach was swirling around so fast, she thought she might be ill.
“Thank you, Charlie. Please tell your wife it looks wonderful.”
Charlie beamed before walking away.
“Now where were we?”
“Patrick, I…you…” she mumbled, not being able to think clearly.
“Why don’t we have a toast?” He suggested.
“To your birthday,” she was babbling now, but she couldn't get her mind to think straight.
“To something more important. To us.”
“Us?” she repeated.
“Frieda Klunsberg, don’t you know how I feel about you? I’ve missed you so much.” He clinked his glass to hers.
“We saw each other yesterday.” Why had she said that? Talk about ruining a romantic moment. Her heart beat faster. She moved closer to the table taking a large gulp of wine, almost choking on the unusual taste. She rarely drank and never in public.
“Easy. Have a drink of water. There’s no rush. Take your time, enjoy it.”
With that, he picked up his fork and ate as if he had starved the whole week. Frieda picked at her food, wondering how he could eat. Her stomach churned in protest.
“Frieda, why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like the food?”
“I’m just not hungry. Do you want mine?”
“Sure, I don’t want to upset Charlie. He will definitely take offense if we send back full plates.”
The dinner passed, he didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t speaking much. Charlie came to take the empty plates away. When he left, Patrick smiled at her, making her stomach turn over.
“Frieda, I’ve got some news. I’ve been offered a job in London.”
Her head jerked up so fast, she hurt her neck. “What? You’re leaving?”
“It’s an amazing proposition. The Brompton Hospital has offered me a position. You know how much I want to specialize in heart and lung conditions. This is the best place to study, their research is second to none and I… I have accepted the position.”
Chapter 46
She felt winded as if someone had punched her in the stomach. “You have?” She winced at the sound of her trembling voice. Come on Frieda, you can do better than that. “Patrick, that’s wonderful. Your dreams are coming true.” She held up her glass, hoping he wouldn’t notice her hand shaking. “Congratulations.” Her eyes filled with tears, she couldn’t help it. She sniffed hoping she wouldn’t embarrass herself further.
“Frieda, I know it’s a shock, but I didn’t want to say anything until they said yes. With the fire and everything, it didn’t seem right to be excited about something. I guess I wasn’t sure I would be accepted.”
“Of course you would be. You’re an amazing doctor.”
He reached for her hand. “Thank you. Your support means the world to me.”
She tried her best to smile and wish him well. She wanted to shout at him, and tell him not to leave. To stay in New York. With her. She looked in his face, his eyes lit up like candles on a tree, and saw the excitement he couldn’t contain. This was his dream, his chance to shine away from his father’s shadow.
“Are you happy for me, Frieda?”
“Yes, of course. It’s wonderful news and will be brilliant for your career. The Bromptons are responsible for making a lot of progress in the treatment of respiratory infections. You won’t look back. Your skills as a doctor will be in huge demand.” Frieda couldn’t think of anyt
hing else to say, nor could she look at him. “Patrick, would you mind if we went home? I have a headache and the noise in here is making it worse.”
“Oh, of course. Just let me get the check.” He left to pay Charlie for the meals. Frieda wiped her eyes with her napkin swearing she wouldn’t cry until she got home to her room. She couldn’t ruin his moment even if he was breaking her heart.
She forced a smile for Charlie and his wife, thanking them for the lovely meal, and promising to give Leonie and Maria a hug when she saw them next. Charlie had surprised her by visiting Leonie in hospital. He told her it was because he had a daughter the same age and couldn’t bear the thought of her lying in a hospital bed without visitors.
Patrick held her coat for her. Her shoulders stiffened as his hands ran over them. He looked at her, a wary expression on his face, but he didn’t comment. They walked in silence for a while as there didn’t seem to be any cabs around. Finally, Frieda spotted one and nearly jumped in front of it.
“You don’t have to come with me,” she protested as Patrick got into the cab with her.
“I absolutely do.” He seemed upset. The silence grew repressive despite the short ride. When the cab drew up to the Sanctuary, she was surprised to see Patrick pay the driver off. She thought he would take the cab back to his own house. Why was he prolonging the agony? She couldn’t think of anything to say to lighten the atmosphere between them.
“You must promise to write often.”
“Write?” his expression faltered.
Was he going to be too busy? Or did he want to forget about her and start a new life?
“Frieda, I don’t want to write to you.”
She couldn’t hold the tears back as one rolled down her cheek. He muttered something under his breath and moved closer, his finger tenderly touching her cheek.
“Darling, I want you to come with me.”
Frieda forced her eyes to his, wondering if she had misheard.
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