As Poppy and her friends were dining and dancing nine decks above them, Miriam and Esther Yazierska, known as Mimi and Estie, were finishing off their meal of mince, dumplings, and carrots. The sisters were seated at the end of a long wooden bench that could accommodate twelve people, running alongside a trestle table, with another bench on the opposite side. There were six tables in the dining hall, with no damask table cloths or silver candlesticks, although the wood was scrubbed clean. The steerage passengers, most of whom had sold everything they owned to purchase a ticket, were housed in simple but decent accommodation. There were no rats ’n’ rags here. Nevertheless, it was a world away from the luxurious lifestyle of the rich and famous on the top deck of the liner.
As Mimi carried her and her sister’s tin plates and cutlery back to the serving hatch, she knew that upstairs servants would be clearing up after the guests, who would not give them a second thought. She knew, because she once had been one of those servants. Not on a grand ship like this, but in a grand house, where people came on holiday when Yalta was a vacation resort for the rich and famous, and not just a collection point for refugees fleeing the Russian Civil War.
Although the war had officially ended six months earlier, the fallout from it had not. Millions of people who had fled the fighting or been driven out of their homes for being on the wrong side of the White/Red divide were struggling to find their place in the new Russia. Some hoped to return to their homes eventually; others, like Mimi and Estie, had no home to return to.
Mimi’s parents, Jewish tailors who lived in Kiev, had been murdered in one of the many pogroms that swept Eastern Europe. Tsar Alexander II and later his son, the last tsar, Nicholas II – Mimi spat at the thought of his name – hated the Jews, blaming them for every woe that befell the Russian Empire. Mimi, then fourteen, had fortunately been out of the house with her ten-year-old sister when the hussars swept through the Jewish schtetlech settlements, burning everything in their path.
When the ash cooled there was nothing left of the family home and business, and no adults to look after them. Eventually, after wandering from town to town and village to village in search of the next Jewish settlement that might take them in, Mimi was told there might be work in Yalta, at the homes of the Russian aristocrats who spent their summers on the Black Sea. The rumour proved correct and, after a few false starts, Mimi eventually secured employment as a chambermaid – even though she had a good education and her parents thought she might become a teacher. Her sister was too feebleminded to work, so Mimi paid most of her earnings for the girl to board with a Jewish family in the town.
Life with the Pushtov family – who came and went every summer for the next four years – was not too onerous. Yes, Mimi was no longer able to go to school and finish her education, but the aristocratic family was not unkind, and the work was stable. Most of the household travelled back with the family to St Petersburg at the end of the season, but Mimi was one of the skeleton staff who remained each year to keep the house running. Work during that time was light and Mimi was able to spend more time with Estie.
Meanwhile, Mimi continued her studies in the hope of one day going to teacher training college. She sneaked into the Pushtov library in the evenings and borrowed books on everything from science to mathematics to world geography. She even started to teach herself a little English and French. It was in that library that two things happened that would change Mimi’s life forever. The first was she found a book about America and the wonderful opportunities the New World offered. It was written in English and she needed a Russian/English dictionary to help her through it; but the pictures alone – of buildings as high as mountains, streets that were lit day and night, and people from all walks of life, rubbing shoulders in a place called Times Square – cheering in the New Year – wooed her. It didn’t take her long to start dreaming of America.
The second thing that was to change Mimi’s life happened early in September 1917. The day after the family had packed up and left, Mimi finished her work airing the bedrooms and slipped into the library during her lunch break. She normally didn’t go into the library during the day, as the senior servants did not approve of chambermaids “taking liberties”, but on that day the butler had a business meeting with the estate manager, and the housekeeper was down with a cold.
Mimi closed the door behind her, checked that the gardener was not working outside any of the three windows that aired the ground-floor room, then reached for the familiar book on America. As was becoming her ritual, she held it to her nose and smelled the leather, imbibing a deep sense of satisfaction; then she kissed it and pressed it to her heart, hoping that one day she too would be transported to a new world.
But as she went to sit in her favourite leather winged armchair she dropped the book in shock. There, sporting an amused look and a riding coat, was a young gentleman. One leg, in silken breeches, was draped over an arm of the chair and the other was resting – sans stocking – on a pouffe.
“Can you get me some ice, girl?” he asked.
Mimi jumped from foot to foot as if she needed the lavatory, did a funny little bow, mumbled “yes sir”, and scampered out of the room.
When she returned, she noticed that the gentleman had reached down and retrieved the book on America. Her heart skipped a beat. Oh no; she was in trouble now.
She stood holding the ice bucket, not knowing what to do.
The gentleman peered over the leather cover and nodded to his foot, resting on the pouffe. “I’ve sprained it. Riding over. Be a good girl and ice it for me.”
Mimi looked around for a napkin or cloth to use. Nothing was available. The gentleman reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief. He passed it to her. She opened it and noticed the initials “AP” – Anatoly Pushtov – embroidered in the corner; then packed it with ice.
Anatoly Pushtov was a cousin of the family who summered in the villa. In the three years since she’d been there she’d seen him no more than a couple of times. He was a handsome man in his early twenties, with wavy brown hair that flopped charmingly over his forehead. She had no idea what he did for a living – if indeed he did anything. She only knew that he was somehow related to her masters and had a right to stay in the house when he chose.
She knelt down, her hands shaking, and applied the cold compress to the visibly swollen ankle.
“Ahhhhh,” said Anatoly. Then he added, “Thinking of going to America?”
She dropped the compress to the floor, bumping his ankle as she tried to catch it.
“Careful!”
“S-sorry, sir.”
He lowered the book and took in the dark-haired young woman kneeling on the library floor.
“Sorry for hurting me, or sorry for stealing a book?”
Mimi smarted but tried to contain her tone. “I did not steal it, sir. I was just borrowing it. The family left yesterday –”
“Yesterday? By the deuce I thought it was next week! I was wondering why it was so quiet. Thought they were all out on the hunt.”
Mimi reapplied the ice compress. Anatoly sighed again.
“What is your name, girl?”
Mimi swallowed slowly before answering. “Miriam Yazierska, sir, but people call me Mimi.”
“Mi-mi,” he replied, caressing each syllable with his lips. “Well, Mimi, are you telling me you can read this?” He held the book open before her. “In English?”
Mimi swallowed again. “Y-yes, sir. A little.”
Anatoly smiled and his whole face lit up. “What a lovely surprise!”
Mimi flushed, but did not look up. She felt his brown eyes resting on her. Her chest rose and fell with the ticking of the library clock. How long was he going to keep her like this?
“Well, Mimi,” said Anatoly eventually. “Leave that resting on my ankle and then pull up a chair.”
Mimi looked up, uncertain what to do.
“Go on,” he nodded, smiling at her kindly, “get yourself seated. I want to hear you read.”
Mimi smiled to herself as she remembered that first day. Her English, it turned out, was not as good as she thought it was. But the young gentleman had been kind and helped her with her pronunciation. And then, of course, he offered to tutor her the next day, and the next… and while the rest of the staff wondered when he was going to leave, he sent a telegram to the family in St Petersburg, telling them he’d decided to stay on a few more weeks.
Soon the lessons in the library turned into walks in the garden – Anatoly leaning on a cane as his ankle healed – and, as that got better, walks further afield and down to the beach. It was an Indian summer and the sun shone on the backs of the two young people as he told her about all the wonderful places he’d visited, and she told him of her dreams of visiting the same places too. Top of both of their lists was America.
Towards the end of September they became lovers. She had been surprised at how long it had taken him to kiss her. But when he did, she was ready. She did not care about the disapproving looks from the rest of the servants; all she cared about was Anatoly, her prince, who would take her – and of course Estie – away to the New World, where chambermaids and aristocrats and Jews and Gentiles could marry. And then, as the clock would strike midnight, together they would watch the silver ball drop in Times Square.
However, as the shadows of September shortened, news arrived at the villa that Anatoly had been summoned to return to St Petersburg. The Bolsheviks were fomenting revolts all over the empire and the White Russians were gathering their forces to quench them.
Anatoly and Mimi sat together on the private beach on the Pushtov estate while the waves of the Black Sea caressed the shore. Their clothes lay scattered on the rocks and, as the evening turned chill, Anatoly pulled a picnic blanket over their bare bodies.
“Mimi, my love, I have to leave you for a while.”
Mimi did not ask why. She already knew. She pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. She could hear his heart pounding against her ear. Then she felt him take her hand and slip something onto her finger.
She opened her eyes and saw a single pearl on a gold band. She gasped in delight.
“Is this…is this…?”
He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled the scent of her hair.
“It is a promise that I will return for you. When all of this Bolshevik nonsense is over. Will you wait for me, Mimi?”
“I will,” she said. “And then we will go to America?”
“He laughed. Yes, and then we will go to America.”