“I’m trying to see it in my mind’s eye.” Doug turned his head from side to side, checking the width of the new openings. “Can you remember what this place looked like before?”
“It’s been twenty years since I ran from here,” Johnjo snapped. “You’ve only been gone for four years. With the way you talked about this place I thought it was engraved in your bloody memory.” He’d been forced to listen to a homesick lad talking constantly about his home and the sister he missed so much.
“There were tall walls here.” Doug waved his hand at the tunnel. “Remember, almost like a box? We used to pick the blackberries off the brambles.” He almost licked his lips remembering the blackberry juice Ivy had poured over the stale ends of bread.
“Ooooh Mister, aren’t you pretty?” A high-pitched voice shattered the men’s contemplation.
“It doesn’t matter what age the female, Doug,” Johnjo stared down at the two little girls staring up openmouthed at his friend, “they all fall for your pretty face.”
“Where did you two ladies come from?” Doug bent his knees and dropped down to smile into the little faces.
“I’m Emmy Ryan,” a little girl that reminded Doug of his sister stated without a blush. “And this is my friend Biddy.”
“How do you do, ladies?” Doug raised his cap to the two wide-eyed children. Her accent certainly isn’t from around here, he thought.
The two girls giggled delightfully.
“Where are you off to this bitter cold day?” Doug asked.
“We’re going to play ball in the tunnel.” Emmy Ryan held up two hands to show her brightly coloured rubber balls – rare shop-bought balls.
“I haven’t played ball in years,” Doug grinned, straightening. “May I borrow your balls, Miss Ryan?” He held out his hands and the little girl willingly dropped the two orbs into his hands. “Watch the case, Johnjo. I won’t be long.”
Doug strode into the tunnel, the two little girls hurrying after him.
Johnjo picked up the case and followed along. He wasn’t willing to stand around like a statue. That would invite the women standing in their doorways watching the goings-on to come over and speak to him.
Doug juggled the balls against the wall with a speed and skill that had the little girls gasping. As he passed the balls through his slightly bent legs, slamming them against the wall before catching each ball on the return, he chanted:
Janey Mack, me shirt is black
What’ll I do for Sunday?
Get into bed and cover your head
And don’t get up till Monday!
“Oooh, Mister, you’re more than just a pretty face!” Emmy Ryan breathed – awestruck.
Doug dropped the balls he was laughing so hard. He ran after the bright rubber balls before they could roll into the road.
“Here you go, ladies!” He returned the balls to the little girls, a huge grin on his face. He bent his knees and lowered his body until he was once again face to face with them. “I think this tunnel is a bit dangerous for you two to be playing ball in.” Doug stared hard at the girls. “The ball could roll into the road and under a passing carriage. Are you both being careful?”
“We know.” Emmy Ryan sighed deeply. Did this pretty man think they were babies?
“Fair enough.” Doug stood.
“And you call me a nag.” Johnjo Smith shook his head. “We survived this place. They will too.” He turned to walk away. “I’m off. Don’t forget to keep an eye on the time.” His command echoed around the tunnel.
“Yes, sir!” Doug chirped and picked up the discarded suitcase. “Ladies,” he again raised his hat to the little girls, delighting them, “please be careful.” He began to walk in the direction of his old home.
“Do yeh want tae folla him?” Biddie whispered to her bestest friend.
“No.” Emmy wanted to play ball.
“Okay.” Biddy shrugged and looked over her shoulder at the man walking away from them. He was nice.
Doug walked through his old home place with ghosts for company.
Chapter 37
“In the name of Jesus, are me eyes deceiving me?” Maisie Reynolds stood in her open doorway, staring down at Doug. “Is that you, Shay Murphy? About feckin’ time one of you lads thought to come visit your sister. It’s not right a woman living on her own like that. It isn’t decent.”
“Hiya, Missus Reynolds,” Doug grinned up at his old neighbour. The woman had always been good to Ivy. “How’s it going? How’s the family?”
“Much you care.” Maisie grinned down at a lad she’d always been very fond of. “Where have you been?”
“All kinds of places, Missus Reynolds.” Doug quickly opened the gate that led to the entrance steps leading down to the front door of his old home. If Maisie Reynolds managed to trap him he’d never get away from her. The woman did love to talk. “See you later!” he shouted over his shoulder as he practically ran down the steps.
He was surprised to find the front door locked. Ivy had always left the door unlocked so he and his brothers could run in and out of the place. He dropped the suitcase at his feet and used the side of his fist to beat on the entrance door.
“I don’t know who yeh are but I’ll scratch yeh baldheaded for banging on me door like that!” Ivy’s voice carried through the locked door.
Doug grinned and waited for her to open up. He could practically feel Mrs Reynold’s eyes drilling into his back. The woman would be all around The Lane in minutes, letting everyone know he was back.
“What do you mean –” Ivy’s mouth dropped open when she saw who was standing on her front doorstep. Her eyes travelled over her brother’s tall figure and landed on the case sitting at his feet. “Are yeh thinking of moving back home then, Shay?” Ivy held the doorframe in her fist, the other hand on her hip. “I’m afraid we can’t offer you the kind of accommodation you’ve become accustomed to. This is no Shelbourne Hotel.”
“Let me in before Mrs Reynolds has half the place told I’m here.” Doug picked up his suitcase and pushed his sister gently out of his way. He walked into the front room and stopped in shock. “You haven’t even the fire lit.” Doug stared at the empty grate. She’d assured him she was doing well for herself.
“Move!” Ivy shoved at her brother’s broad back. He was blocking her entry into the room. “This is me work room now.” She passed behind his frozen figure and made her way into the back room.
“Jesus,” Doug took a deep breath and followed, “I half expect the old man to appear and beat the tar out of us for daring to step into his bloody room.”
“Sit yourself down.” Ivy waved at one of the two stuffed chairs in front of the brightly burning range. “Do you fancy a cup of tea?”
“Give us a minute, Ivy.” Doug took off his cap and stood staring around him. “This is a shock to my system.”
He dropped the suitcase and his cap on top of the big brass bed and slowly examined the room he vaguely remembered.
“I’d forgotten that range was there,” he contented himself in saying. He wanted to swear at the old man’s selfishness. He kept his thoughts firmly behind his teeth. Ivy wouldn’t allow him to say a bad word against their da.
“Where did this cupboard come from?” He stood examining the paltry few dishes proudly displayed on the old dresser. In his mind he compared it to the gleaming glass, silver and china-stocked cabinets in his mother’s London dining room.
“Old Granny gave it to me before she died.” Ivy put the kettle on.
Doug walked over and sat in the chair in front of the range. He kicked off his shoes then bent and put the shoes in the range surround – out of the way. “I have a matinée this afternoon so I can’t stay too long.”
It was difficult for her to see her brother in the self-assured man about town, Doug Joyce. She’d been spending quick snatches of time with that familiar stranger. This man with his sock-covered feet held out to the fire – that was a much more familiar image to her. She felt comfortab
le with this man.
A rap at the back door had her reaching into the pocket of her black skirt. She had a penny ready for young PJ.
“Open the top of that range, Shay,” Ivy ordered as she hurried over to open the door.
“Which one?” Doug jumped up to stare down at the multiple circles cut into the top of the range.
“The water holder.” Ivy pulled open the back door. “Come, take these buckets, Shay – pour one into the reservoir and keep the other. Don’t spill any of the water. I need it for tea and things.”
“Certainly, madam.” Doug grinned.
“Don’t be cheeky, Shay Murphy, or I’ll box your ears for you.” Ivy laughed down at the bewildered PJ. “Here yeh go, PJ.” She held out the large brown penny. “One penny as agreed.”
“Thanks, missus.” PJ grinned. “Any time yeh need a helpin’ hand just give us a shout.” He couldn’t wait to take his first ever wage home to his ma. He’d be able to sit close to the fire tonight. He’d earned his place.
“You’re paying to have water delivered now, Ivy Murphy?” Doug grinned. “You never paid me!”
“That’s the first time.” She closed the back door. “It won’t be the last. I went to first Mass this morning and by the time I got back the line for the tap seemed a mile long. I haven’t the time to stand gossiping.”
“I’ll give you a hand seeing as I’m here.”
“Do you remember how to dust?”
“Some things, Ivy, you never forget.” Dough removed his tweed jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair. He pushed the sleeves of his blue jumper up. He removed his gold cufflinks and watch, pushing them into the deep pockets of his trousers. “I turned skating across the floor to clean it into a spot I performed on stage for years. It was a big success.” He’d thought of her every time he’d stood taking a bow.
“Really?” Ivy frantically rearranged her morning in her head. “Tell me about you and that Johnjo – if that man’s not a Johnson he’s a dead ringer for the family.” She grabbed a broom and walked into her front room.
“Johnjo saved my life.” Doug raised his voice to carry to where Ivy was sweeping out the front room. “I’d had the stuffin’ knocked out of me when he found me. He took me in hand. He’d managed to survive on his own. He had street smarts, something I certainly didn’t have. He helped me get started on the stage.”
“What did he want?” Ivy walked back to stand in the open doorway. She stood with the broom in one hand, staring at her brother’s bent head as he dusted around the bed.
“He wanted a chance.” Doug stood and stared at Ivy. “When I met him he was a sometimes pickpocket and from time to time he’d fence stolen goods.”
“Be hard to be an upstanding citizen coming from the Johnsons’ warren.” Ivy returned to her sweeping.
“We learned the ropes together.” Doug refused to admit or deny his friend’s identity. “Johnjo asked around. Without being vain I knew I had the looks and the talent needed to make a success on the stage. He had the connections. Johnjo studied the business end of things while I worked on putting an act together. We’re a team, Ivy.”
“You made something of yourself, Shay.” Ivy picked up the dust on a piece of old cardboard, emptied it into an old biscuit tin and carried it into the back room. “I’m proud of you, Shay.” She’d give the floor a quick lick and a promise after he left. “What’s in the suitcase?”
“It took you a whole lot longer to ask that than I’d figured!” Doug grinned.
“Don’t be so cheeky.” Ivy put her cleaning stuff away – the dust was going nowhere. “You’re not too big to have your ears boxed, you know.”
“The suitcase is full of presents for you.” Doug looked around for a damp cloth – he knew Ivy always had one to hand. “I’ll show you.” He found a rag hanging from a hook over the range and wiped his hands.
“Hurry up.”
“Are your hands clean?” Doug grinned.
“Of course.” Ivy was so focused on Shay and his actions she didn’t recognise he was using the words she’d used a thousand times around her brothers. Her nerves were shattered. It was such a rare thing for her to receive presents.
“Here, try this on.” He’d kept his back to her while opening the case. He turned and brandished a beige cashmere coat between his spread hands.
“Oh God,” Ivy sobbed. A coat . . . a wonderful, beautiful coat . . . how had he known? She’d been saving so hard and checking out all of the markets for a decent coat. She couldn’t bring herself to spend the kind of money a new coat cost on her own back. “Is that for me?”
“Well, it’s not for me.” Doug smiled gently. He knew what a new coat would mean to Ivy. “Here,” he shook the coat, “try it on.”
“Oh Shay!” Ivy walked slowly over to slide her arms into the first new garment she’d ever possessed. “It fits!” she squealed. “Look, it fits!” She danced over to the tall mirror standing against the wall.
“So it does.” Doug didn’t mention that the coat was a shrug. It had no buttons just wide lapels that crossed over in front. It wasn’t exactly a fitted garment. “Here, try the matching hat.” Doug slipped a beige cloche hat onto Ivy’s gleaming hair. “That’s a flapper’s hat. It’s the latest thing in London. I haven’t noticed a lot of them around town. You’ll stop the traffic in that outfit, Ivy.”
“I love it, Shay.” Ivy fought the tears that filled her eyes.
“You can wear it tonight when you come to see me perform.” He walked over to his jacket and pulled an envelope out of the inside pocket. “Two box tickets for tonight’s preview show.” He held the envelope up with a grin. “I know it’s a little late to be asking but I didn’t think you’d mind. I want you to come see me on stage before the pantomime season proper starts.” He didn’t mention that thanks to him tickets were impossible to get. He’d asked the ticket office to keep an eye open for a cancellation that he could avail of.
He walked back over to the open suitcase sitting on the bed.
“I wasn’t sure of your shoe size but anything that doesn’t fit should fetch you a few bob down the market. You should be able to find something to wear to the theatre tonight among this lot.”
“I’ll wear me tweed suit.”
“Everyone will be dressed to the nines, Ivy. Those theatre boxes are full of toffs showing off to one another.”
“I don’t have fancy clothes.”
“Let’s see what’s in here.” Doug started pulling a rainbow of silk, satin and feathers from the case. “Something here is sure to do you for your first public appearance.”
“Public appearance? What are you talking about? I’m going to the Gaiety not the Queen’s palace.”
“I was hoping you’d join me for a late drink and a meal after the theatre. You and Jem both.” He wanted to see his sister with her beau.
“Not a chance.” Ivy gulped. “Every time you take a deep breath someone seems to be there to take a picture.” Ivy had already established a scrapbook of all the pictures of her brother that appeared in the papers.
“Please, Ivy.” Doug stood staring down at the silk stockings he’d packed into a soft drawstring bag. Did Ivy even know how to put on silk stockings? He’d helped many a woman out of them. He wasn’t about to show his sister how to wear them.
“We’ll see.” Ivy wasn’t ready to promise anything. She’d see what she looked like when she was all dolled up. “I’m going to make that pot of tea now. Do you fancy a cup and a rasher sambo? It’s nearly eleven and I’m rawmin’.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you with some of this?” Doug waved towards the articles falling from the case. He had his fingers crossed she’d refuse. He’d be blushing like a lad if he had to show some of this stuff to his sister.
“I think I can figure it out for meself.” Ivy got busy making the tea and sandwiches. She’d ask your one next door to give her a hand. Ivy had been sweeping her outside steps when the woman was leaving The Lane a shor
t time ago. She’d looked like a fillum star.
“I’d love tea and a sambo.” He pulled his watch from his pocket, checking the time before he put it back on his wrist. He should be safe enough – he wasn’t due on stage for hours.
“They call this a bacon sandwich in England,” Doug said when Ivy put a plate with two thick slices of buttered bread stuffed with rashers of bacon on the table in front of him. He accepted the cup of tea with a smile. She’d bought herself a fancy tea set at least.
“Yeh can call it what you like,” Ivy said, putting her tea and a matching sandwich on the table for herself. “It tastes great no matter what you call it.” She joined her brother at the table. There was silence while they both tucked into the food.
“Are you really serious about staying here, Ivy?” Doug asked when he’d half his sandwich eaten. He sipped the tea and waited.
“You’re me brother and I love you, Shay.” Ivy put the sandwich slowly down onto her plate. She picked up her teacup and tried to think how to explain her feelings. “I’d love to see this place, this Hollywood, but I don’t want to live there. This is my home.” She glanced around. She never got tired of the feeling of accomplishment she got every time she sat in here.
“Think about what I’m offering, Ivy. They say California is the land of sunshine. If I make it big in the fillums we’d be on the pig’s back.”
Ha'Penny Chance (Ivy Rose Series Book 2) Page 31