“Yer a great big fibber, Maisie Reynolds,” Ivy grinned. “You’d be the very one telling me off if I did the likes of that. The smell of stale water would be fierce.” Ivy washed the iron steps down twice a week. She did it on her hands and knees with a damp cloth in one hand and a wad of newspaper to dry them off in the other.
“True enough, I suppose,” Maisie admitted. “One thing I will say, though, you drink your sweat scrubbing these blessed steps. Ah well, I suppose on a day like this that can’t be a bad thing. Here, Ivy, what’s going on across the way? I’ve never seen such comings and goings in all me born days. Honest to God, if it’s not new horses coming into The Lane, it’s strange men. What’s that Jem Ryan up to?” Maisie dipped her rag in the bucket of water on the step beside her. She didn’t know why she was wasting her breath. Ivy Murphy would never tell Jem Ryan’s business.
“Haven’t a clue but if I find out anything I’ll let you know.” Ivy stepped out to cross the courtyard. “Keep your chin up and your chest out, Maisie.”
“Yer a cheeky article, Ivy Murphy.” Maisie stared across at the livery. There was more going on over there than met the eye. She’d be checking it out as soon as she finished with these blessed steps. Someone should tell that girl she needed to get the finger out if she was going to catch a man like Jem Ryan. She was a bit long in the tooth to be only starting to court. That da of hers had a lot to answer for, keeping a young girl tied to his side like that. Still, it was none of her business.
“I’ll see yeh later, Maisie.”
Ivy stepped out smartly, her boots ringing on the cobbles. She hurried across the cobbled courtyard. She had a handsome man and a cup of tea waiting for her. What more could she want?
Chapter 13
“Ann Marie, will yeh for God’s sake hurry up!” Ivy took Ann Marie’s elbow and pulled her along the dark Dublin street. “I’ve a lot to get done today.” She had so much stuff in her pram that it was difficult to push the ruddy thing along at the speed she needed. Waiting around for Ann Marie had delayed her.
“I don’t know what has you in a bad mood this morning, Ivy Murphy.” Ann Marie had insisted on being allowed to accompany Ivy to the market this morning. It might be Ivy’s last visit for a while. “I didn’t delay you that much – Sadie wouldn’t let me.” She almost gasped while trying to keep up with Ivy’s speed. “It seems such a long time since we visited the markets together, Ivy.” Her life had become so busy since meeting Ivy and her motley crew that sometimes Ann Marie felt she was spinning in place. She intended to make time now, for the things she found important. Her house was almost as she wanted it and she had people on hand to take care of the day-to-day work.
“You better hurry up or I’m not letting you come with me again.” Ivy yanked on Ann Marie’s elbow again to hurry her feet. “I’m trying to shift as much of my stuff as I can before the pantomime season starts. I don’t think I’ll be able to visit the markets twice a week when I’m freezing me parts off outside the Gaiety.”
“You spend a lot of time thinking and planning out your work day, Ivy,” Ann Marie said. “I think you forget you have to work at friendship too.”
“What do you mean?” Ivy almost stopped in place. She was learning about friendship this year. She’d never had friends when her da was alive.
“I appreciate you’re busy,” Ann Marie said softly. “We all are but you’ve been neglecting your friends and I think you know it.”
“I have not.”
“Yes, Ivy, you have,” Ann Marie insisted. “You’ve made no effort to walk across the Canal and visit me, have you? No,” she didn’t wait for a response, “I’ve invited you to spend the night, have a bath you don’t have to haul water for, but you’ve never taken me up on the offer. That’s hurtful, Ivy.”
“I don’t know how to be a friend.” Ivy stared into the darkness, moisture flooding her eyes. She hunched her shoulders and continued to push her pram through the familiar dark streets.
“You need to learn.” Ann Marie was glad she was wearing her steel-toed boys’ boots – the rain had left puddles in every dip in the road. “You can’t go around acting like Lady Bountiful –”
“What?” Ivy snorted. “Are yeh out of yer mind, Ann Marie? Lady Bountiful, I ask yeh! That’s for the rich.”
“Lady Bountiful is a term for someone who gives without expecting anything in return.” Ann Marie wasn’t going to let the matter drop. Ivy Murphy was cutting a path for herself in life. It was as well she should learn her mistakes from the start and she was just the woman to teach her. “That’s how you act, Ivy.” Ann Marie fought to find the breath to continue speaking. Ivy had increased her walking speed and Ann Marie with her shorter legs was almost running to keep up with her. “You give to everyone. Look at the situation in The Lane the other night – you’d have given Ginie and her son a bed for the night –”
“They didn’t stay with me, did they?”
“That is not the point.” Ann Marie almost sighed with relief when the lights of the market appeared in the distance. She needed to sit down.
“Look,” Ivy stopped in her tracks, “I want to be a good friend, I really do, but do you think you could hold off on the lecture until I get me business done? I can’t be thinking about me failings when I’m trying to get the best price for me goods.”
“Fair enough, but we are not finished with this talk.” Ann Marie’s glasses slipped down her nose she gave such an emphatic nod of her head.
“Right.” Ivy started walking again. “Come on, I’ll buy yeh a sausage sambo and a mug of tea.” She’d be glad of something to eat herself and Ann Marie could have a sit-down – the woman was huffing like a bellows.
The two women walked towards the lights of the market, each lost in her own thoughts. The market holders shouted greetings across the space as they worked frantically to set up their stalls. It took many hands to set them up – entire families worked to stretch canvas over their precious stock. When each stall was set up to everyone’s satisfaction, most of the people gathered here now would return to their homes, leaving the stallholder in charge.
“Yer usual, twice over this morning, Ivy.” Hopalong gave his welcoming gummy grin. “How’s yerself, Ann Marie?” Behind his stall Hopalong filled two enamel mugs with tea. He put the two mugs on the wood stretched between two wooden supports that made up his stall. There was a tall enamel jug of fresh milk on the stall top to allow people to add their own milk. Hopalong kept a close eye on that milk jug but he knew Ivy wasn’t one to filch milk for a mug she kept hidden under her shawl like some women. He got busy making two thick sausage sandwiches.
“Morning, Hopalong.” Ann Marie was perched on one of the hay bales set up to serve as seats for the stall. She sighed contentedly when Ivy passed her a mug of tea. She’d sit here while Ivy started the first stage of her day’s work, exchanging insults and promises with the stallholders who came to this stall for their own cups of tea and something to eat. She accepted a paper-wrapped sandwich from Ivy with a nod of thanks. She hid a smile behind one half of what Ivy called a doorstep sambo, two thick rough-cut slices of white bread well filled with sausages sliced thinly lengthwise. She truly loved these mornings.
“Ivy, this stuff is wonderful.” Ann Marie fingered the bits of lace spread over the latest stall Ivy had stopped at to do business. She never could believe the weird and wonderful items on offer at the many stalls.
“Ann Marie, will you get the lead out and come along!” Ivy pulled on Ann Marie’s elbow, very conscious of the stallholder’s glare. It was a hard enough life standing out in all weathers without having a sightseer blocking potential customers’ paths to the stall. “I have things to do. See yeh, Sally.” She rolled her eyes in the stallholder’s direction.
“Not if I see yeh first, Ivy Murphy.” Sally grinned.
Ivy had sold her a load of really good fabric. The starched white lace and ribbons Ivy offered had almost made Sally giddy. She’d make a pretty penny from some of the p
ieces this very day. She planned to take the ripped linen sheet and some of the lace she’d bought from Ivy home with her. She’d have her daughters turn the thick linen sheet into handstitched collars and cuffs. Her customers could cover the frayed edges of their tired old dresses with the pristine white collars and cuffs. She’d be able to charge more if they made some trimmed in lace. The best part of dealing with Ivy was that the stuff she sold was clean and in good nick.
Sally’s stall was set out in sections. She had dividers down the long piece of wood that was her stall. The dividers separated items with clearly marked prices. She kept a close eye on her stall: woe betide anyone who tried to shift stuff from one section to another trying to get a better price. She knew her stock, she had to. Her regulars knew she kept the best of the stuff under her counter. Some of the stuff she’d bought off Ivy could go into the most expensive section of her counter right now. She’d be able to lay the stuff straight out on her stall. That is, as soon as Ivy and her nosy friend left. She didn’t want Ivy to see the mark-up on the pieces she’d just bought. No point in giving your supplier an advantage.
“I never knew yeh were one of those that would rob the eye out of a person’s head and come back for the lashes,” said Sally. “Yeh’ve robbed me blind this day, Ivy Murphy!” She waved her hands, shooing them away.
Ann Marie loved the give and take of the market, the insults running thick and fast. It was a fascinating world and she felt privileged to be allowed be a small part of it.
“Good luck, Sally.” Ivy grinned, knowing the drill.
“I’ll need more than luck to deal with the likes of you, Ivy Murphy.” Sally gave a gummy grin. “I’ll see yeh next week if God spares me.”
“Yeh’ll be here for a long time, Sally.” Ivy knew she might not be at the market the following week but it would involve too much explanation to mention it now, so she grinned over her shoulder, shouting, “God doesn’t need the likes of you up there telling him how to run the world!”
It didn’t matter if the day was grey, wet and cloudy. The market stallholders were always up for a laugh.
Ann Marie wished she had the confidence to exchange banter with the stallholders but she was afraid to open her mouth and perhaps offend someone.
“Me old man says the same about me, Ivy.” Sally’s big stomach shook with the force of her laughter. “I’m a misunderstood woman.”
“I’ve often thought that about yeh meself!” Tony Burke shouted from his stall along the line.
“Mind I don’t come over there and tell yeh what’s what, Tony Burke,” Sally cackled. “You be careful with that one, Ivy Murphy. He’s a cute whore.”
“Yeh need to be careful what yeh say, Tony.” Ivy, with Ann Marie a fascinated onlooker, stopped in front of Tony’s fruit and vegetable stall. “Sally could flatten yeh with just a look.”
“What can I get yeh this fine winter’s day, Ivy?” Tony was cold. The old sacking he wore around his head and shoulders was almost useless. It was soaking wet already but, sure, a laugh was good for what ailed yeh. “Morning, Ann Marie, have yeh learned to cook yet?” Ivy’s posh friend was a familiar figure around the markets.
“I’m afraid I still can’t boil an egg, Mr Burke.” She didn’t feel comfortable calling the stallholders by their first names – it seemed overly familiar to her. Her voice with its cut-glass accent seemed out of place in this world.
“She still can’t make a decent cup of tea, Tony, which as you know is a sin against God and man.” Ivy pulled the flour sack she’d doubled over and converted into a shopping bag from the interior of her pram. She passed the sack to Tony. “I want some of yer best potatoes, Tony.” She couldn’t believe the amount of goods she’d shifted today. Her pram was almost empty. “I’ll have some of those Spanish onions too.” Ivy examined the goods on offer.
Tony, his wife and sons grew the vegetables on a derelict patch of land that ran along the back of their tenement block. Tony chalked the price of his goods on a freestanding blackboard. Ivy’s heart thrilled that she was now one of the people able to read the big white letters on the board.
“Did yeh want carrots, Ivy?” Tony held up a bright orange bunch by their green heads. “They came in lovely this year. This is the last of me own. I’ll be buying them in soon and that will put the price up.”
“Yeah, gi’s a few.” Ivy could clean them up and eat them raw. The greens too could be nibbled on while she was on her round. “I’ll have some of your curly kale as well, Tony.”
Ann Marie had walked off to examine the goods on sale. She hadn’t a clue what most of the items were but she found it fascinating to see the raw ingredients for many of the meals she enjoyed laid out before her. Perhaps she should learn to cook?
“No cabbage today, Ivy.” The stallholder didn’t bother to keep his eye on the posh woman examining his goods. He knew she wouldn’t pinch anything. He’d a paying customer in front of him. Cabbage was Tony’s best seller. His daughters, good girls who’d married lads with land, grew fields of the stuff and Tony sold everything they could harvest.
“Not today thanks, Tony.” Ivy was rooting through her pockets for the smallest-value coins she could find. She knew the value of the money she carried by touch. It would be a foolish person who pulled out money and stood examining it to make change. Some fly boy would have it out of your hand before you could blink.
“That’s yer lot, Ivy.” Tony passed the heavy sack back over his stall. He took the coins Ivy had ready for him and grinned. Ivy Murphy could work his costs out to the penny before he opened his mouth. Her eyesight must be improving, Tony thought. She’d always made him read his prices aloud but lately she’d been able to read the board clear as day herself. More power to her.
“I’m off,” Ivy shouted loudly. “See yez next week. I’m off to make me fortune.”
“Goodbye, Mr Burke,” Ann Marie offered with a shy smile that, if she did but know it, endeared her to the stallholder.
“Think of us when you’re rich, Ivy!” Ma Clements yelled.
“I won’t be one of them snobs who forget their friends, Ma.” Ivy stepped out smartly with Ann Marie by her side. “I’ll come by and show yez me mink and diamonds.”
“You do that, flower!” Polly Ormiston yelled. “Us lot’ll have it all off yer back and on our stalls before yeh can blink.”
Ann Marie laughed softly while rushing to keep up with her friend. She splashed gaily through the suspect puddles that glimmered along the cobbles. She was getting better at keeping up with Ivy.
“Where are we going now, Ivy?” She didn’t think Ivy could possibly have any remaining articles for sale in her pram. Today had been an exceptionally profitable day for her. Ann Marie had been keeping Ivy company around the Dublin markets long enough to know Ivy’s routine. Today her friend had been selling her goods at a speed that rendered Ann Marie speechless. The mornings they spent at the markets spread throughout Dublin went with a speed that fascinated her. Time was different when she was with Ivy – it never hung heavy on her hands. The markets and Ivy Murphy were better than theatre in her eyes.
“I have a few more things to pick up, Ann Marie. Then I’ll be ready to head for home,” Ivy was having difficulty walking with the weight of the money she was carrying about her person.
“You’ve ruined me, Ivy Murphy.” Ann Marie laughed. “I would kill for a cup of tea.”
The two women looked at each other and collapsed laughing. Still tittering they started to walk around the shops on the perimeter of the market.
The change in Ann Marie’s attitude since her first visit to the markets was marked. She no longer thought of these people as life’s unfortunates. They might be poor, have a tough time making ends meet, but that didn’t stop them smiling and cracking jokes. Ivy called them the salt of the earth and she was right.
“Morning, Ivy, what can I do yeh for this fine morning?” Bob the Baker shouted as soon as Ivy cleared the open door of his little bakery shop. “How’s yerself
, Ann Marie?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Ann Marie didn’t know what to call this man. She’d only ever heard him called Bob the Baker.
“Fine day for ducks, Bob.” Ivy didn’t bother to shake the drops of moisture from her clothes. She’d be going back out in it soon enough. She stood and sniffed the air. She loved the smell of fresh-baked bread and cakes. “I was wondering if yeh had any of yesterday’s bread and rolls, Bob.”
“Ivy,” Ann Marie dropped her voice, “why are you buying day-old bread?” Surely after the morning she’d had Ivy had enough to buy fresh bread.
“Whist!” Ivy glared Ann Marie into silence. Ann Marie would never understand that to some people a bit of old bread was a luxury.
“Milly,” Bob called to his wife and shop assistant, “check what we have in the back, will yeh?”
“Thanks, Bob,” Ivy grinned. “I want a couple of fresh loaves too, please, Bob.” Ivy was almost salivating at the selection of cream cakes displayed on the counter top. Ivy couldn’t resist temptation. “Have yeh anything to pack a few cream cakes in, Bob?”
“A box, Ivy,” Bob shrugged, “but it’ll cost yeh.”
“Don’t tell me how much, Bob,” Ivy grinned. “Me friend here is liable to faint at the price.” She nudged Ann Marie. “I can’t make up me mind what I want, Bob – give us a minute, will yeh?”
“A miserable wet day like this, Ivy, I have nothing but time.” Bob wanted to check his stock in the back anyway but the market brought a lot of extra customers into his shop and he’d hate to leave the counter and miss a sale. Ivy Murphy he knew was trustworthy. She wouldn’t pinch his cakes or lick any of the cream.
Ha'Penny Chance (Ivy Rose Series Book 2) Page 11