Through Streets Broad and Narrow (Ivy Rose Series Book 1) Read online

  “He’s a nice man, your new uncle,” Ivy remarked, completing her chores.

  “Shh!” Ivy turned to see Emmy with her finger to her lips. “I’m not supposed to say he’s my new uncle,” she whispered, big green eyes wide in her pale face.

  “I’m sorry, petal.” Ivy joined the child, sitting carefully on the arm of the chair. “I know better. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Emmy nodded and whispered, “I like my new life. I love my new uncle. I love my new auntie. I love Rosie the horse. I love the dog and I like Conn and the sad boy.”

  “You love lots, don’t you, petal?” Ivy had never heard anyone express love aloud like that before.

  “My papa says love makes the world go around. I miss my papa.” Suddenly there were tears in the big green eyes.

  “Do you know where your papa is?” Ivy whispered.

  “Papa went to sea to mend his broken heart.” Emmy sighed. “I heard them talk. His heart is broken because Mama broke when the new baby was coming. Papa is going all the way to China to see if he can mend his heart.” Emmy offered this information with a big innocent smile.

  Ivy almost fell off the chair.

  “That’s my uncle!” Emmy screamed with delight at the sound of fingers rapping against the front door, all sadness gone. “I have to answer the door. That’s my uncle!” Emmy charged through the rooms, eager to keep her promise to open the door.

  “Here you go, Ivy.” Jem placed the straw-filled orange box on the cleared table top.

  “A box of straw.” Ivy smiled. “How will I ever be able to thank you!”

  “I’m surrounded by smart alecs.” Jem shook his head sadly. He couldn’t wait to see Ivy’s face when she saw what he’d brought over. “I have a tall smart alec and a small smart alec. What is a man supposed to do?”

  Emmy threw herself at Jem, grabbing him around his knees. He pulled her up into his arms and buried his chin in her little neck. Emmy screamed with delight.

  “Well, go on, have a look.” Jem settled Emmy on his hip and stood watching Ivy. He pointed his chin towards the box. “Go on, see what’s in there. It won’t bite.”

  Ivy had never in her life received a gift. She didn’t know what to do. The curiosity was killing her though. She had to know what was in the box. She poked at the straw, prolonging the moment.

  Ivy dipped a finger into the straw and froze. She gaped at Jem. She moved more straw around. She stood staring into the orange box, her hands pressed to her mouth.

  “I thought you’d like something pretty to put on your new shelves.”

  “Let me see!” Emmy threw herself towards the floor. “Let me see!” Jem lowered the child to the bare floor.

  “Careful.” Ivy held Emmy away from her gift. She removed a delicate china cup and saw a matching saucer sticking out of the straw. “I thought this was one of the most beautiful cups I’d ever seen when you served me a cup of tea in it,” she whispered as she held aloft her prize. She held the cup and saucer down to Emmy’s level for her to examine.

  “What’s that?” Emmy pointed. “I know that’s lavender.”

  “That’s dragonflies flitting through a field of wild lavender,” Ivy told the child without removing her eyes from Jem’s face. “It’s the most beautiful cup and saucer I’ve ever seen.” Ivy smiled with such delight and gratitude at Jem he felt twenty feet tall.

  “Take out the rest,” he said.

  “There’s more!” Ivy screamed like a girl and began to throw the straw all around her clean room.

  “Looks like we need a brush and shovel again, petal.” Jem grinned down at Emmy. The little girl ignored him. She was too busy watching Ivy uncover her treasure. “I guess I’ll have to take care of it myself.” Jem shook his head. The two females were ignoring him completely.

  “Look at this!” Ivy held up a matching china teapot. “Just look at all these wonderful things.” Ivy uncovered a milk jug, a sugar bowl with two handles and a lid, something she’d never seen before. “Jem, you couldn’t have given me something which would give me more pleasure if you searched the length and breadth of Ireland!”

  “Want to put it on one of your shelves.” Jem grinned, delighted with his surprise. The tea set had sat at the back of his cupboard for years gathering dust.

  “I have to properly prepare the shelf for the honour it’s about to receive.” Ivy giggled. “Something this beautiful can’t be put on a plain shelf. I have to think about the proper placement.”

  “Well, excuse me!” Jem grinned.

  “I’ve the tea made.” Ivy turned suddenly and almost walked into Jem. “We’re not drinking out of these cups though. Not until I can serve a tea the likes of which this tea service deserves.”

  Ivy picked Emmy up from the floor and spun around with the laughing child in her arms until they were both dizzy. Ivy stopped her spin in front of Jem and, standing on her toes, pressed a kiss against his jaw.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Jem Ryan. I’m over the moon with my gift.” Ivy kissed his other cheek. “You and Miss Emmy here will be my first guests for high tea served with my new, beautiful, exquisite tea set.”

  “We’ll take you up on that offer.” Jem was thrilled he’d thought of it. It was so little and had given Ivy so much pleasure. “But please,” he made a big production of looking miserable, “can I have a spot of tea now. I’ll take it in a jamjar. I don’t mind. Just, please, something wet!”

  “Oh sit down, you daft man!” Ivy shoved Jem into one of the chairs by the table. “I’ll serve you a big mug of tea. A man’s mug.”

  “I’ve never had tea in a jamjar,” a little voice interrupted the tender moment.

  “Haven’t you, Emmy?” Ivy picked the little girl up and put her on Jem’s knee. They only had two chairs and she wasn’t sitting on an orange box. “You’ve been deprived. I’ll correct that oversight straight away.”

  “Ivy, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jem didn’t want to break the mood of the moment but he was curious.

  “After giving me that fabulous tea service you can ask me anything.” Ivy smiled across the table at the man and child. They looked so natural together.

  “I heard what you said to Liam.” Jem shrugged. “How do you know so much if you’ve never been to school?”

  “The school of life, Jem. Besides I’ve been listening to stories and tall tales all of my life. The storytellers love to hear the sound of their own voice. They don’t make concessions for children. There is always someone to explain what you don’t understand. On top of that I imagine the people of the tenement know more about the world around them than most people. We live right by a sea port, for goodness sake, Jem.”

  “Still and all, Ivy Murphy, you don’t half say a mouthful sometimes.”

  “I suppose it helped that my mother had a dictionary.” Ivy’s eyes lit at the memory. “I thought it was the most wonderful thing ever. I longed to be able to read it.” She sighed. “At night when I was busy sewing or knitting the lads would read to me and sometimes we played a game.” Ivy grinned at the memory. “I’d stick a finger between the pages of the dictionary and the boys would read out the words on that page. Did you know a dictionary actually tells you how to pronounce the words as well as what they mean? I thought it was magical.” Ivy grinned.

  Éamonn Murphy had put an end to his children’s enjoyment. He delighted in using the pages he tore from the dictionary to wipe his arse. As far as Éamonn was concerned he’d lost his wife because of the education she’d received. He wasn’t about to lose his children to the same thing.

  “I want to talk to you about Emerald O’Connor.” Ivy didn’t want Jem questioning her further about the dictionary. She deliberately used Emerald’s full name. She repeated what Emerald had told her about her papa.

  “The poor man!” Jem looked down at the child listening to every word they said. “Do you think she got it right?”

  “I think children know and understand a great deal more than we credit the
m with.” Ivy stood up. “Now, Mr Ryan, I’m going to throw you and yours out of my place. I have a great deal yet to do before I can go to story time. I’ll see you both there . . .”

  “Did yeh enjoy your meal, Granny?” Ivy filled the enamel basin as she asked.

  “I did that,” Granny smacked her lips. “Yeh can’t beat a rabbit stew and your dumplings, girl, were a credit to me.”

  The two women laughed and set about the business of getting Granny ready for bed. Ivy had asked the old woman to accompany her to story time but Granny couldn’t be bothered. The old woman would sit up and knit for a while.

  “I want to have you come for an official visit when I get me rooms ready, Granny.” Ivy grinned.

  “I’d be delighted.” Granny was thrilled to see Ivy act like a happy young woman. The girl had carried too much on her shoulders for too long. “Get yerself away, go listen to that Willie McConnell’s tall tales,” Granny grunted. “I’m fine.”

  Ivy ran back into her own place. She’d wash her face and comb her hair before joining her neighbours for a night of great entertainment.

  Ivy leaned against her closed door with a contented sigh. What a great evening, people had asked questions about her da at first but they’d soon lost interest in death, having come prepared to be entertained. Willie McConnell had been in fine voice. The never-empty pint glass of stout at the side of his chair guaranteed a fund of stories and music. Ivy knew she’d never sleep now, her blood was fizzing. She was going to do something she’d been longing to do. She carried a brace of candles over to place it on the top of the broad plank covering her tea chests.

  She’d drawn the curtains tight in the front room and left the door between the two rooms open. Holding her breath she pulled the sheet-wrapped goods out from their hiding place. She put the orange box holding her tools onto the plank.

  “Do yeh see this, Da?” she whispered while she opened up the aunt’s coat. “The woman must have been toasty warm in this. Imagine having a coat with a cloak attached!” Ivy spread the garment out. “Did yeh ever see such beautiful material in your life, Da? What do you think this is called? Is it a special tweed, do you think?” Ivy wasn’t expecting an answer. “Yeh know, it’s funny, Da. All them years of sitting here on me own. First when the boys would be asleep in bed and I’d be up working and waiting for you to come home. I never thought of talking to you as if you were here. Now that you’re dead, Da, I’ve got to say –” Ivy giggled, “you’re great company.” The fabric of the coat had fascinated Ivy from the first time she’d seen it. She’d never in her life seen such fine tweed. The mixing of deep heather colours with dark green was truly beautiful to her eyes.

  “I’m going to ask Mr Solomon to make me a suit out of this material, Da.” Ivy wanted to have something she could wear when in company with Ann Marie. She wanted to be able to hold her head up high and go where she pleased. “You always said Mr Solomon is a master tailor, Da. You told me he worked in that fancy gentlemen’s shop on Grafton Street.”

  Ivy started to unpick the seams of the garment. The handwork on the coat was impressive. She’d supply Mr Solomon with loose pieces of fabric and pray the man could make a suit for her out of all the material. Mr Solomon and his family had the entire top floor of one of the tenement buildings in The Lane. All of that space for one family was a constant wonder to the rest of the inhabitants of The Lane.

  “You remember how great the suits he made for the lads turned out. I was so proud of them on their Communion and Confirmation days. Me ma and Mr Solomon certainly knew what they were about.”

  Violet Murphy had been the brains behind turning discarded male suits she collected from the Merrion Houses into Communion and Confirmation attire for young boys. With Mr Solomon’s superior skills and Violet’s determination the scheme had been a great success and Ivy had continued the practice.

  “Merciful Jesus!” Ivy prayed as she unpicked the seams to reveal more large white five-pound notes stitched into the space between the outer layer of material and the lining of the coat. “How much feckin money did yeh think yeh’d need?” Ivy picked the hems of the garment to reveal a silver flow of half-crown coins. “Yeh weren’t going to leave yerself short, were yeh, yeh auld besom!”

  Ivy stared at the money in stunned amazement. She couldn’t keep this amount of money about her person. She’d hand it all over to Jem in the morning. Seeing the money piled up on the table reminded Ivy of her own money concerns. She needed to rethink her way of doing things.

  Ivy continued to carefully unpick the coat. She found ten-bob notes stitched into the sleeve cuffs, easy to get at and a small enough note that no-one would notice it.

  “I need a pot of tea.”

  Ivy stood up. Using a piece of the lining to fashion a small purse for the money, she scooped the coins from the makeshift table and put them into it with the folded notes. Then carefully she sewed it into her skirt pocket. It would be safe enough there till the morning.

  Ivy sat at her table, staring around at her freshly whitewashed back room. The fire in the range burned brightly. The big black kettle had steam puffing out of its spout. The big brass bed was pushed back against the wall separating the two rooms. Ivy had taken the time to make the bed up with the new sheet she’d bought. She planned to put the aunt’s sheets in the tin tub to soak. They were far too fine for bed linen. She planned to buy actual pillowcases and blankets sometime in the near future. In the meantime her brother’s old coat served as a covering.

  “Begob, I won’t know meself.”

  Ivy sipped tea from a cup from the china set Jem had given her. She felt tears pour down her face. She didn’t know what she was feeling. So much had happened in such a short space of time. Her da’s death had totally rocked her world on its foundations. She was going to have to work hard to find her feet again.

  “I guess you’d say me ship came in, Da.” Ivy raised her arm and wiped her tears on the sleeves of her blouse. “The thing is, Da, I don’t know what to do with the feckin’ thing.”

  Ivy stood – the smell of fresh paint in the room wasn’t unpleasant. She’d lie in her big bed and think.

  “I’m going to have that bath I promised myself tomorrow,” Ivy grinned. “See if I don’t.”

  Chapter 19

  “Da, it’s me, Ivy.” Ivy knelt before the statue of Saint Francis. The church in what Dubliners called John’s Lane, actually Harry Street, off Grafton Street, was empty this early in the morning, the only candles flaming the three Ivy had lit for her father.

  Ivy stared at the flickering flames trying to gather her thoughts. So much had happened in the three months since his death.

  “You’ve heard all this before, Da, but I’m not sure if talking to you in me rooms is the same as Church so you’ll have to forgive me if I repeat meself. Yeh got yer Requiem Mass. Wherever yeh are, did yeh hear the Mass?” Ivy tried to keep a pious expression on her face but she failed. A huge grin split her features. “Nelly Kelly wouldn’t shut up about it.” Ivy looked around to check she still had the church to herself. At five o’clock in the morning who else would be fool enough to be up and about? Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. “I think she shamed Father Leary into it, if such a thing is possible. Yeh had a great turnout, Da. The place was packed. I was sitting front row centre, did ye see me, Da?”

  Ivy remembered that day with mixed emotions. Jem Ryan and Emmy had been sitting alongside her. They’d been like a little family that day.

  “I wore the suit Mr Solomon made for me, Da. I looked a picture, if I do say so meself.”

  Ivy shivered, remembering the look in Father Leary’s eyes that morning. She’d have dropped dead on the spot if that man had his way.

  “I know yeh always told me ‘self praise is half scandal’, Da, but I wanted yeh to be proud of me.”

  The suit Mr Solomon had fashioned from the remnants Ivy gave him, copying the jacket she’d borrowed from Ann Marie for the purpose, was a work of art. The man was a genius. Th
e look on auld Leary’s face had been a picture no artist could paint.

  “I think Father Leary would have had me thrown out of the church if he could have, Da.”

  Ivy shivered again, remembering the sheer hatred in the glares the parish priest had sent her way.

  “I don’t know what I ever did to make that man hate me, Da. It would make a cat laugh.” Ivy’s smile was bittersweet. “Yer friend Nelly is only a step away from a streetwalker, not that I’m judging the woman. She has to make a living like the rest of us. Still, Father Leary welcomed her into his church.”

  Ivy didn’t understand the priest’s attitude towards her. She tried not to think about it because it hurt to be hated for a reason she couldn’t understand.

  “After the Mass I treated yer cronies and the neighbours to a right bash at the pub. Free drink and sandwiches – it was standing room only, Da.”

  Jem had insisted Ivy use one of the five-pound notes she’d found in the aunt’s coat to give her da a right royal send-off. Ivy had begrudged every penny of it. But afterwards she’d noticed a definite improvement in the way people treated her. She supposed that made everything worth it.

  “I have to tell yeh, Da. I went into a bank.”

  Ivy held her breath. Ann Marie had taken both Jem and Ivy to open accounts at the Bank of Ireland. The thought of entering the beautiful building across from Trinity College had almost crippled Ivy with nerves.“I nearly ran away but I didn’t, Da. You should have seen the state of me. I wore me good suit, held me head high and walked into that place as if I owned the gaff. I opened an account in me own name, Da. I’m going to have me own cheque book. Imagine, giving out bits of paper instead of money! I bet yer sitting up there on your cloud laughing like a drain, Da. Can yeh believe it? Me, I ask yer sacred pardon!”