Ha'Penny Chance (Ivy Rose Series Book 2) Read online

  “I’ll do me ironing in the back room.” She examined the three sheets she’d been lucky enough to get on her round. There were a lot of bald places and tears but there was enough good quality material left intact. She’d drunk her sweat hauling water for this lot, not to mention walking on them in her tin bathtub. The money she’d make would make all the work of getting them bleached white worth her while. The bits of lace and fancy fabric she’d pulled off well-worn clothes, washed and stretched would fetch a few coppers.

  “I’m going to push the Singer sewing machine Granny left me into the back room,” she decided as she stood planning. “I’ll not waste me coal lighting the fire in this room. The range will serve to heat the irons.” She grabbed the damp, cold sheets from her line and, with them folded carefully over her arm to protect them from the floor, she hurried into the back room.

  The heat that welcomed her when she opened the door dividing her two rooms almost made her purr. She stepped in quickly, closing the door firmly at her back. She stood for a moment, enjoying the heat, trying to warm herself before removing her outdoor clothing.

  She dropped her armload of sheets onto the kitchen table she’d scrubbed clean earlier in the day. She removed her shawl and heavy coat and threw both on the foot of her bed. The smell of the rabbit stew she’d put on the back of the range to simmer almost brought her to her knees. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was.

  “Right.” She stood by the bed and stared around her room. “I need to get organised. I want to turn those sheets into handkerchiefs this evening.”

  She intended to cut the sheets into three different sizes. She’d use the Singer sewing machine to hem around the edges. Handkerchiefs were a popular Christmas gift. The women of Dublin would buy plain white handkerchiefs at this time of year and those that had the skill would embroider some for their men and add a bit of lace or a few fancy buttons to smaller squares for their daughters.

  The nuns and priests checked every child’s hands and nails when they arrived for school in the morning. Woe betide any child who didn’t have a clean handkerchief to show. She knew these handkerchiefs were more ornamentation than anything else – most childer used the threadbare cuffs of their jumpers or jackets to swipe their runny noses.

  “I’ll keep a few of the handkerchiefs back for Jem and Emmy.” She was on her knees, rooting under the bed for her two black flat irons. She’d put those to heat on the range top while she had some of the rabbit stew. “I’ll do white-on-white embroidery for Jem and add a bit of colour and lace to the ones I’ll make for Emmy. She’ll be thrilled.” She backed out from underneath the bed, dragging her two heavy black irons along with her.

  She put the irons on the back of the range where they would heat slowly. Her mind was spinning, thinking of everything she needed to get done. She had a sugar solution to prepare, she reminded herself, but that could wait until she had the handkerchiefs made up. She’d use the sugar solution to starch and stiffen the handkerchiefs when she gave them a final belt of the iron. If she’d any strips of good material left over she’d hem it. She had a woman at the market who would buy all she had to make into collars and cuffs.

  “It gets dark so early these evenings,” she muttered, looking out of her window into the back yard. “I need more water, but that will have to wait until I have the time.” She poured a small quantity of hot water from the brass tap of the reservoir into an enamel bowl. She’d give her face and hands a quick wash. She loved her fire but the dust and ash got everywhere. She felt filthy from crawling around the place.

  “Brother Theo!” Garda Barney Collins stared at the familiar brown-robed figure strolling along Stephen’s Green. The man was an answer to a prayer. “Are you on your way to The Lane to visit Ivy Murphy?”

  “Good afternoon, Garda Collins.” Theo’s hands were pushed inside the wide sleeves of his habit. “There’s a fair old bite to the day.” He stopped walking. “To answer your question, yes, I thought I’d stop in and visit Ivy. This being Thursday I know she’ll be at home.” Theo enjoyed visiting Ivy. The Lane was a microcosm of a life he was unfamiliar with; he was learning a great deal about the human condition from his frequent visits.

  “There’s the problem.” Barney Collins clenched his huge fists in frustration. “Right there, in a nutshell.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Everyone knows the woman’s movements.” Barney Collins waited to see if the holy man understood his meaning. When he found himself simply waiting, he continued, “There’s trouble in the air. I can smell it.” He didn’t know how to explain the situation any better than that. “Look, it’s too cold to stand here talking.” He reached out to take the other man’s elbow and stopped, almost blushing. He’d nearly laid hands on a friar. “I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind.” He’d been walking his beat. It didn’t make any difference if he turned around and went back over the ground he’d just covered.

  “Glad of the company.”

  The two men stepped out together, heading in the direction of the Grand Canal. Theo waited patiently. He could practically feel the frustration pouring off the other man. They strolled along the busy street, passing shawl-cloaked women pushing prams and pulling youngsters along with them. Uniformed nannies too, with their charges well in hand, strolled along. The women bowed their heads and muttered greetings as they passed. The men raised their hats or cloth caps in greeting but no one stopped to chat with the pair.

  “What is the problem?” Theo broke the uneasy silence. The Lane was steps away – if this Garda officer had something he needed to speak of, now was the time.

  “I wish I knew,” Barney Collins blew a frustrated sigh through his nostrils, sounding for all the world like a horse. “I can feel something, something wrong, but I can’t put my hand on whatever it is.”

  Barney stopped walking when they reached the final crossroads before The Lane. He took his uniform hat from his head and ran the fingers of one hand through his cropped grey-streaked hair before replacing it. “Something just isn’t right about The Lane.” He paused to stare into Theo’s eyes. “I can’t put a name or a finger on whatever it is that is wrong but there are too many strangers around The Lane. Too many conversations break off whenever I stroll by the public house – something is going on in there and, if I can’t get a hold of it, it may blow up in our faces.”

  “You believe this trouble has something to do with Ivy?” Theo didn’t know what this man thought he could do about the mystery situation. He liked to believe he was a man of God but he had no mystical abilities.

  “It might, then again it might not.” Barney stared at the other man. It seemed he was going to have to explain some of the facts of life to the man. “Ivy is a well-known local character. It worries me that everyone seems to be aware of her movements. Look at yourself,” he waved a hand at Theo, “you know she’ll be at home today, probably alone. How many other people know that?”

  “I fail to understand the problem.”

  “That woman walks around this town on her own. According to her late and unlamented father Éamonn Murphy, she makes money left and right. He loudly boasted to his drinking cronies about the soft life he lived thanks to his daughter’s takings. There’s many a man would like to be kept in style by Ivy Murphy. The fact that the woman is not hard on the eyes is beside the point to these fly boys. It’s drinking money and a soft life they’re after.”

  “You believe Ivy to be in danger?”

  “She strolls around the place with a target on her back.” Barney sighed. “I try to keep an eye on her but there is something else going on, a bad smell in the air. I need to get a handle on it and I thought, since you’re a welcome visitor to The Lane, you might be able to see something I’ve missed.”

  “I’ll certainly keep my eyes open.” Theo started walking again. It was too cold to stand here with the icy wind blowing up under his habit and freezing his winter woollen bloomers. He noticed a ragged urchin peeping out of the tunnel that le
d into The Lane but thought nothing of it. There were always runny-nosed children somewhere around the place, although this one at a glance seemed clean at least.

  Seán McDonald was shivering, his bones rattling. It wasn’t only the cold – he was scared. Mrs Wiggins had ordered him to run and find the Garda that walked up and down these streets. His family didn’t have anything to do with the Garda but when Mrs Wiggins ordered you to do something you jumped to obey. I’m petrified, he thought with a sharp nod of his head. He liked that expression – he’d heard it in a story. His body hurt from the blows his Uncle Declan had given him for not bringing home the goose he’d ordered him to steal. He wouldn’t steal from the Widder Purcell. His ma was missing too. She’d tried to stop Declan punching him, but the so-an-so had turned his fists on her. Seán sobbed softly – he didn’t know where his ma was.

  He darted out of the tunnel, his bare feet slapping the pavement as he ran towards the two men. He knew if anyone told his uncle about him talking to a priest and a police, he would kill him – but he had to do it. Mrs Wiggins said so and she was more scary to Seán than his uncle.

  “They want yeh,” Seán whispered when he reached the two men. He tried to hide his body behind the bulk of the two men, hoping the friar’s habit would conceal him from passersby. “Yeh have to come. They said.”

  “Who said what?” Barney Collins took the young lad by the shoulder. He noticed the wince of pain on the lad’s face and quickly released his grip.

  “The women,” Seán offered with a shrug that threatened to expose his tiny chest. “They’re on the warpath.” That explained everything as far as Seán was concerned. “They want yeh to wait in the livery. They said try not to make a show of them.”

  “It would appear your sense of smell for trouble was not off,” Theo offered, fascinated by this latest occurrence.

  The two men and the young boy, each for their own reasons, aware of the stares they were receiving from the men congregating in front of the nearby pub, hurried towards the tunnel that led into The Lane.

  “Thanks for coming, Garda Collins.” Marcella Wiggins grabbed hold of Seán as soon as the threesome put foot onto the cobbles of The Lane. “It’s good yer here, Father Theo. I beg yer pardon but I haven’t the time to talk to yez right now. If you wouldn’t mind waiting in the livery, please. I’ll be along to explain.” With her hand firmly on the back of Seán’s head Marcella hurried away. She’d things to take care of.

  “It would appear we have our orders.” Theo was accustomed to being addressed by the people of Dublin as ‘Father’. “Let us see if Jem Ryan has the kettle on.”

  “You’ve been around Ivy Murphy too long, Brother Theo.” Barney Collins wondered what was going on but he’d bide his time. He knew Marcella Wiggins and the woman was a force to be reckoned with.

  Chapter 8

  A frantic knocking on her front door stopped Ivy in her tracks. She’d been about to open the back door and fetch fresh water. She put her two buckets to one side and hurried through her two rooms to see who had come calling.

  “Ann Marie!” Ivy shouted at the sight of her posh friend standing outside her front door. “Come in out of the cold, quick.” She stepped back to allow her friend to enter. She closed the door with a snap, turned the key in the lock and for reasons she couldn’t explain pushed the heavy bolt across.

  “What’s going on, Ivy?” Ann Marie Gannon knew her way about Ivy’s two rooms. She stepped into the front room and waited. “Jem almost pushed me down your steps and the man ordered me, there is no other way to describe it, he ordered me not to move again until he came to get me.” Shorter than Ivy by several inches, Ann Marie was wearing the black second-hand suit Ivy had purchased for her to wear whenever she visited The Lane, with a black shawl draped over her head and shoulders. To Ann Marie the outfit she was wearing was a costume, a way to fit in. She loved it. Her pale-blue eyes sparkled behind the gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

  “I haven’t a clue.” Ivy shrugged. “I was out and back to the creamery earlier – everything seemed fine then.”

  “I have another ten Cinderella dolls here from the Lawlesses.”

  The Lawless family lived in the servants’ quarters of Ann Marie’s house, the house she had bought on the banks of the Grand Canal, only minutes away from The Lane. She’d wanted to be within walking distance of her friends and at the same time have a home of her own without servants constantly hovering over her shoulder. She and the Lawless family were learning to live together in an unusual arrangement that they hoped would suit all concerned.

  Ann Marie held an orange crate on her bent arm. “I feel I haven’t seen you in ages.” She walked over to the board- covered tea chests that formed Ivy’s work table, wondering if she should just leave the orange crate on top.

  “Thanks.” Ivy took the crate from her friend. “I’ll put these away with the others.” She walked over to the shelves Jem and some of his lads had built into the alcoves at either side of the fireplace. She pulled back one of the curtains that protected the area from the dust generated by the fire and pulled out one of the stack of orange boxes she kept on the shelves. She took off the custom-made cover and carefully placed the newly dressed dolls inside with the others. The box was almost completely full now. Ivy sighed in satisfaction. The Lawless family were really pushing these little dolls out.

  “Come into the other room,” she said when the dolls were stored. “It’s freezing in here.”

  “Ivy, you need to have a telephone installed.” Ann Marie worried about her friend. Ivy was fiercely independent but Ann Marie had been present when Tim Johnson led a crowd of drunken men into The Lane, a crowd of louts intent on harming Ivy. The sight would never leave her. The fear she’d experienced was something she’d no wish to experience again.

  “Would yeh get up the yard, Ann Marie!” Ivy laughed over her shoulder as she led the way into the back room. She decided to light the two gas lamps as it was getting dark. “Jem is already the talk of the town since he had the telephone put in. I’d never be able to face me neighbours. They’d think I was stepping above me station in life.” Not to mention the cost of having a telephone installed and the charge for the line. The woman hadn’t a clue.

  “You can’t continue like this, Ivy.”

  “I’m fine. Listen, you caught me in the middle of something – sit yourself down while I get organised and then I’ll put the kettle on – fancy a cup of tea?”

  “You and your tea, Ivy Murphy!” Ann Marie shook her head. “If you are ever opened up the doctors won’t find blood – they’ll be awash in tea.”

  “Me tea keeps me going.” Ivy scooped the handkerchiefs she’d cut and the loose material into a bundle, with a sigh at the interruption. She carried the armload into the front room and placed everything carefully into one of the tea chests under her work top. The sewing machine she’d pushed into the back room could stay where it was. She took the time to replace the wooden cover over the machine but otherwise left it alone.

  “Go on then,” Ann Marie smiled, wondering what all the bits of white were for, “put the kettle on. I know you want to.” She marvelled at the position she found herself in. Who could have imagined that a chance meeting in the Dublin morgue would lead to this strange friendship? Ivy Murphy had changed Ann Marie’s life in ways she couldn’t even begin to count.

  “Fancy a biscuit with your cup of tea?” Ivy grinned, delighted that she was able to make the offer. To be able to offer someone a shop-bought biscuit was a step up for Ivy.

  “Thank you.” Ann Marie didn’t really want tea and biscuits but she did want Ivy to sit down.

  “How come you’re delivering the dolls?” Ivy put the kettle on. She used a damp cloth to give the kitchen table a quick wipe down. “John Lawless usually drops them off here when he comes to work at the livery.”

  “I wanted the chance to visit with you,” Ann Marie said. “What with moving into the new house, not to mention the work I’ve undertake
n for the livery we haven’t had much of a chance to sit down and visit lately.”

  Ann Marie was serving as financial consultant and business advisor to Jem Ryan. She had a financial stake in the success of Jem’s new business venture. She had faith in Jem and she hoped the money she’d invested would indirectly help the people of The Lane. It gave her a warm glow to observe the improved health of the young lads Jem employed.

  “How are you getting along with the Lawless tribe?” Ivy was curious. She tried to keep her nose out of others’ business but Ann Marie and the Lawless family were special to her.

  “It’s early days yet.” Ann Marie was excited by the new opportunities opening up to her. “We are sure to have some problems but we’ll solve them together.”

  “How’s your uncle and his family dealing with all of this?” Ivy carried two filled cups to the table. She set the delicate china teacups carefully down onto the matching saucers and put a plate of biscuits on the table before almost collapsing into the chair opposite Ann Marie at the table. She’d been working hunched over for a long time and was suddenly tired.

  “I’m worried. My aunt is talking of reducing the number of staff she employs.” Ann Marie hated to think that her move from her uncle’s home was responsible for people losing their livelihoods.