Ha'Penny Chance (Ivy Rose Series Book 2)

by Gemma Jackson

  “Shay, you’ll get married some day. A new wife wouldn’t want an old maid sister under her feet.”

  “I’m not thinking about getting married any time soon.”

  “Nevertheless . . . I have to think of my future.” She hated to see the sadness in his eyes but he needed to understand. “I’m making something of myself here. I have big plans for my own future. Maybe not as fancy as being a big noise in the fillums but a life I think would suit me better. Ireland is changing, Shay. I want to be part of those changes. But I thank you from the bottom of my heart for wanting me with you.” Ivy discovered her cup was empty. She was glad of the chance to step away from the sorrow in her brother’s eyes. This was for the best. He’d understand that some day.

  “We’ll be able to keep in touch anyway.” She put her cup on the table and took Shay’s cup to refill. “You can write to me of all the wonders you’ll no doubt see. If you’re in the money we can even talk on the telephone. There will be no stoppin’ us, Shay.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Tell me a bit more about the lads.” They hadn’t been able to discuss the subject very much up to now. Their meetings so far had been in public, surrounded by other people.

  “You wouldn’t know them, Ivy.” Doug shook his head sadly. “I don’t know if you’d want to know them.”

  “Shay!”

  “Seriously, they are nothing like the lads we used to know,” Doug looked around the bare room with a sigh. “I know I’ve said it before but I don’t know if you fully understand how much they’ve changed. They’ve become the kind of toff who looks down his nose at everyone and everything.”

  “Far from it they were raised.”

  “I don’t like them very much, Ivy.”

  “That’s a shame.” Ivy didn’t know what to say. “Still, they’re grown men now, Shay. What they decide to do with their lives is their business. I did the best I could for all of you. I won’t say I wash my hands of them but I won’t be losing any sleep over them either.”

  “That’s probably for the best. They have their own row to hoe. All we can do is wait and see what happens.” Doug didn’t want to talk about his brothers. He was heartily ashamed of them. “I’ll have to be leaving soon, Ivy.” He rolled down his sleeves and put his cufflinks back on. “Old Misery Guts Johnjo will get himself into a right strop if I turn up late to the theatre.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing your turn tonight,” Ivy admitted shyly as she strolled slowly towards her front door with him. She hated to see Shay leave but he’d things to do and so had she.

  Chapter 38

  While Ivy and Doug relived old memories, another brother and sister were catching up on the passing years.

  “Well, Queenie, I have to say – you look damn good for a dead woman.” Billy Flint, tall, strong and handsome, stood framed by the light coming from the electric lamp on his desk. He was beautifully suited in dark grey, with a white shirt and red tie. He walked from behind his mahogany desk and simply stood with his arms open and waited.

  “Your bloody butler almost refused to let me in.”

  Betty Armstrong walked into her brother’s arms. The two stood locked in a tight embrace for a few moments.

  “I can’t believe you bought a house on Merrion Square.” She pushed away, using her gloves to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Trying to rub their noses in it?” She walked to one of the two green leather chairs pulled up to a blazing fire and sat down. She removed her gloves, dropped them into the hat she’d taken from her head and let it fall to the floor at the side of her chair.

  “Brandy?” It might be a bit early for some but he needed a drink. He held a cut-glass decanter over two balloon crystal glasses while his blue eyes took in every detail of her appearance. She looked prosperous.

  “Shouldn’t your butler be doing that?” She gave a sharp nod of her head. She needed a drink.

  “No need for sarcasm yet – sister dear.” He poured brandy into two glasses and, cradling a glass in each hand, walked over to join her before the fire. He passed her one of the glasses before taking the chair opposite, “It’s good to see you, but I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something.”

  “You knew I was back in Dublin before I telephoned you.” Betty sipped at the brandy, glad of the warmth that flowed through her. “There’s very little goes on in this town that you don’t know about.”

  “You thought I should stroll into that stinking tunnel and pay a visit,” he bit out before taking a sip from his glass. “What the fuck are you doing living in The Lane of all places, Queenie?”

  “I go by Betty now.”

  “William.”

  “The story of our lives: we don’t even know what to call each other.” Betty sighed.

  “You’re not here to beat your breast and chant ‘poor little me’, are you?” William Flint Armstrong said through clenched teeth.

  “No,” Betty stared into the fire. “I like to think I’ve grown up – finally.”

  “What’s going on, Qu– Betty? Why did you come back? You let us believe you were dead all of these years, lost when the Titanic went down. We grieved for you and suddenly you telephone looking for my help with no word of explanation. A bit hard.” William was fighting to control his own feelings. He’d thought her dead for so long. Looking at her now sitting across the fire from him was . . . difficult.

  “I need to make some important decisions about my life,” Betty said slowly. It was difficult to put her thoughts and feelings into words. “I came back to Dublin with the intention of either staying, starting a life here or if that didn’t work out, saying goodbye – properly – to the old life.” She didn’t know how to explain it better than that. She’d been foolish to believe she could walk back into his life demanding help for Ginie and Seán, then walk back out again. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t thought, she’d reacted, just as she had before. She had thought she’d grown out of that.

  “Do you have money?”

  “It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?” Betty sank back against her chair and stared across at the man facing her. It broke her heart that their conversation was so stilted, almost like strangers. It was her fault – this divide between them –and she knew it. “But to answer your question. Yes, I have money. I’m not in need of rescuing, big brother.”

  “Then why live in The Lane?” He couldn’t imagine willingly living in that place.

  “I wanted to see Ivy,” Betty admitted. “I needed to see how she was doing. I’d wild thoughts of dragging her away from Éamonn and introducing her to the big wild world. Crazy thoughts.”

  “Éamonn – Jesus,” William closed his eyes and sighed, “that was a hell of a shock. I thought at first that he’d been knocked off but it was just as they said – stinking drunk and taking a header into a horse trough – hell of a way to go.” He’d thought he’d lost both of his siblings and it had been hard to deal with. His brother had cut all ties with the family when he’d changed his name and become a man he was ashamed of – a man who allowed his young daughter to support him . . . but he’d still been his brother.

  “Why didn’t you help Ivy?” She knew they were skating around the subjects they needed to discuss but she didn’t talk about her years away – not to anyone. Betty had tried to suppress every memory of arriving in New York. Everything she owned had gone down with the Titanic – she’d been penniless, friendless and wearing the clothes someone had managed to cobble together for her. It was the lowest time in her life.

  “No one thought to contact me. As Éamonn fucking Murphy, our brother, lived and died.” He took a healthy sip of his brandy. “Anyway, the bloody woman handled everything herself.” William raised his glass in the air. “I was bloody proud of her to tell the truth. The girl’s got spine. It would seem you found your spine while you were dead.” He’d had enough polite chit-chat. The woman sitting opposite him was a different creature to the one who’d left Ireland swearing never to return again
.

  “When you’ve lost everything – seen almost everyone around you die – you grow up in a hurry.” Betty remembered the faces of every servant woman who’d refused to board the lifeboats because it “wouldn’t be right for them to go before the gentry”. They had died each and every one of them. “I was alone for the first time in my life. I had no big brothers to ride to the rescue, no parents pulling strings.”

  “You made that choice,” William stated. “It would only have taken one telegram to any of us and you know it.”

  “I’m sorry, Billy.” Betty felt the tears flow down her face and didn’t try to stop them. “Sitting here in front of this fire with you, the past seems another lifetime ago. I was so angry when I left Ireland, so hurt. I think I lost my mind for a while. The Titanic felt like God’s judgement on me.”

  William ignored her tears. “Trust you to make a disaster that took countless lives all about you.”

  “Yes,” she sobbed and laughed, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her hands, “it did sound very dramatic, didn’t it?”

  “Here.” He reached over to pass her the handkerchief he’d taken from his pocket. “You never remember to carry a bloody handkerchief.”

  “I intended to stay with you when I arrived in Ireland, you know.” Betty wiped her cheeks. “I went to your house in Baggot Street . . . there was a woman there.”

  “Yes.” He simply stared.

  “Oh, Billy, do you really intend to repeat history?”

  “There will be no children.” He glared. “We are in a new age. What goes on between me and the women in my life is none of your business but I can guaran-damn-tee that there will be no bastard children. I will never visit that hurt upon a child of mine.”

  “How are they?” She asked after their parents, the elephant in the room.

  “The old man had a seizure when he heard about Éamonn.” William sighed. They’d have to discuss their parents, he supposed. “He had the first seizure when we received news of your fate.” He let that sink in for a minute before continuing. “Éamonn’s death almost finished him off. He’s a cripple.”

  “Do they let her in to see him?” Betty hated the fact that her mother had been her father’s mistress for years. The two had expected both of his families to carry on as if it were nothing out of the ordinary, bringing hurt to everyone they touched.

  “Someone has to wipe his arse.” He shrugged. “They allow her to be his nurse.”

  “Jesus!”

  “Are you not over that shit yet?” he practically shouted. “You’re a fucking grown woman! Get over it!”

  “I haven’t thought about the situation for years.” Betty had almost forgotten that the man she’d loved had allowed his family to cancel their wedding when the word ‘bastard’ had appeared stamped in large letters over her birth certificate. “It’s being back with you that’s raising those old ghosts.”

  “Well, leave them decently buried, for fuck’s sake!”

  “The way you have by buying a house two doors down from Daddy Dearest?” she snapped.

  “Yes, you were right – I like to rub their noses in it.” He stood and with his arms out, glass in hand, gave a slow twirl before sitting back down again. “I love the fact that I’m taller, more handsome, better formed and much, much, richer than his weak-chinned legitimate son and . . . I still have all my own jet-black hair, not a hint of grey.”

  “And so modest and retiring on top of it.”

  He gave her his devil’s grin and melted her heart. She couldn’t deny his claim: he was a hunk of a man.

  “Are you going to try and see them?”

  “I don’t know.” Betty would give it more thought.

  “Are you planning to disappear from my life again?”

  “No.”

  “Are you ever going to get around to telling me what brought you here to my lair?”

  “Jesus, I can’t believe I nearly forgot!” Betty gasped. She settled in to tell him everything she knew about Ginie and Seán.

  “Getting her away from the Maggies won’t be much of a problem.” William shrugged. “I’ll send my butler and chauffeur in the Rolls Royce down there. The nuns respect money. But what are you going to do with her when she does get out?”

  “They can have the room I’m renting now.” Betty had been giving the matter a great deal of thought while sharing Seán’s care with the Connelly family. “I’ll take care of that. I’ll take care of getting Ginie a job, too. I think I know exactly where and how she can earn a living. I’ll discuss it with her once she’s free.”

  “I don’t like the gleam in your eyes.” William couldn’t take much more of this polite conversation. He needed time alone to process the emotions that seeing his sister had raised. He had to decide if he really wanted to open his heart to her again. “Well, if that’s it?”

  “We haven’t discussed Ivy.”

  “What about her? I keep an eye on her. She’s doing okay, isn’t she?” He grimaced. “I hate to admit how much better she looks since our brother died.”

  “She’s having problems with someone claiming to be under your protection . . . and that’s not all.” She sat back to tell him about Ivy’s fear of being robbed in the street.

  “Declan Johnson, that arse-wipe!” William was furious the man claimed even a passing acquaintance with him. “I’ll have my men find him and bring him to my office for a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting. Then I’ll have to think some on how to let Ivy know she’s safe as houses walking the street. Is that it?”

  “Thank you.” Betty didn’t know how she was feeling about being around this powerful brother of hers. It was obvious to her that he had places to go, people to see. She’d been lucky to get this time with him.

  “Do you have time to meet my wife and sons?” William grinned like a bandit, knowing how much she would disapprove of his lifestyle as she imagined it. He had no intention of being unfaithful to his wife. The woman in the Baggot Street house simply needed somewhere to live . . . but he didn’t intend to tell his sister that – not yet.

  “I think I’ll pass on that for the moment, if you don’t mind.” She’d had all the emotional upheaval she could take for one day.

  The Connelly family had been sharing the care of Seán with her but today she’d left Jimmy Johnson looking after him. She wasn’t worried . . . exactly . . . but she needed to get back. For the first time in her life she had a child she needed to get back to.

  Chapter 39

  “Ivy Murphy asks if you’ll drop in to see her,” Jimmy Johnson said as soon as Betty opened her own door.

  “She was real excited about something,” a pale-faced Seán offered.

  “I just got back.” Betty was torn. “I was going to prepare something for you two to eat.”

  “I’ll look after Seán,” Jimmy offered. “Him and me is pals. Ivy brought us stew from the Penny Dinners and now we’re going to play cards.” He looked at the woman from under his eyebrows, hoping she didn’t mind him offering an opinion, but if Ivy wanted to see her, then Jimmy would help in any way he could.

  “I’ll go see Ivy then.” Betty could plainly see both youngsters wanted her to see what Ivy wanted. “You know where I’ll be if you should need me.”

  Ivy looked around her room, trying not to hyperventilate.

  The bath she’d pulled indoors with Betty sat empty in the middle of her room. The suitcase of clothes Shay had left was open but she’d been afraid to touch it. Some of the stuff inside was top class. What was she going to do with all of that? She’d been running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Where was your one from next door? Jem Ryan was going to wear his new suit to take her to the theatre tonight. She had to look her best. She didn’t want to shame Jem or her brother. She almost shouted aloud when the knock came on her back door.

  “I believe you asked to see me,” Betty said as Ivy opened the door. She thought the glitter in Ivy’s eyes was almost frantic.

  “I need help.” Ivy pulled t
he other woman through the door, slamming it closed behind them. “I have to get all dressed up and I can’t wear my tweed suit.”

  “Relax. And tell me what’s going on.” Betty listened while Ivy explained everything in stops and starts but she got the gist of the problem.

  “I have sometimes earned my living as a lady’s maid. I can help you look as if you belong with the quality. It won’t take much, Ivy. There are just a few things you need to know. I’ve noticed you’re working on improving your appearance. You’ve almost got it.”

  “I thought you needed all kinds of training and references to be a lady’s maid?”

  “Or a quick tongue with a lie.” Betty shrugged.

  “Do you really think I can look like a toff?” Ivy jumped slightly when the other woman took one of her hands.

  “I’d like to trim your hair.” Betty released her hand. “I can do it like a professional. Your hair needs to be styled. It looks like a haystack at the moment. Do you cut it yourself?”

  Ivy nodded, beyond speech.

  “You do a good job of keeping your hands clean and soft, always a good thing, but you need to trim and fashion your nails properly. I can do it for you and show you how to do it yourself.”