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

by Gemma Jackson

  “You’re very wise, Ivy,” Ann Marie was saying just as the footman opened the door to allow Foster to enter. He was followed by another footman carrying an enormous silver salver laden with the accoutrements of a formal tea and coffee service.

  “If you’d place the tray on the table, please,” Ann Marie said over her shoulder, “we will tend to ourselves.”

  “Yes, Miss Gannon.” Foster’s spine was in danger of snapping.

  “Thank you, Foster,” Ivy said just to get up the old goat’s nose.

  Foster and the footman withdrew.

  “I can’t help noticing,” Ann Marie had seen Foster’s reaction to Ivy’s daring and wanted to laugh – this was turning out to be a lot of fun, “that your accent is a great deal less broad this morning.”

  “My mother insisted on her children learning to speak clearly and distinctly.” Ivy shrugged. “My mother claimed there was no need for us to sound like little savages. After she left, my brothers and I continued to practise speaking posh, but only when my father was absent.” She giggled, delighted with herself.

  “That should make things a great deal simpler for you on our travels today.” Ann Marie was astonished. It was as if Ivy had two different personas and could switch from one to the other at will.

  Ann Marie longed to ask Ivy where the dress she wore had come from. The lacework on the white high-necked, long-sleeved top was exquisite. The black drop-waist skirt of the dress was beautifully cut and the fabric superior. Where had this woman come by a dress that was fashionably up to the minute and so obviously expensive?

  Ivy would have gladly told Ann Marie that the lace top was her own handiwork. Granny Grunt was an acknowledged master lace-maker. The woman had taught Ivy everything she knew. The black skirt Ivy had attached to the top in a drop-waist style had come out of Ivy’s tea chests, compliments of the Morgan twins. Ivy was thrilled with how the dress she’d laboured over all night had come out.

  “I’m still having a hard time believing someone will pay good money for the hair on my head.” Ivy felt she had to say something. She’d been taking in the furnishings of the large room. The high ceilings with beautiful plaster fascia of fruit and vines, the heavy dark wood panelling covering the walls. The marble fireplace alone must have cost a fortune. God alone knew how much the coal for heating just this room cost. It really was a different world.

  “I’ll be with you all the way. If you’ll allow me I’ll bargain with Mr Iverson for the most amount of money we can squeeze out of the man.” Ann Marie watched Ivy’s eyes roam around the room. She wondered about Ivy’s reaction to her uncle’s home. She’d love to demand that Ivy should tell her her every thought. “We’ll travel down town in my automobile.”

  “In your what?” Ivy couldn’t believe all of this was happening to her. She, Ivy Murphy, was going to travel in an automobile. What was the world coming to?

  “Yes, if you don’t mind.” Ann Marie grinned. “I prefer to drive myself around the city.”

  “I’d be delighted to accompany you, Miss Gannon.” Ivy grinned like a bandit.

  “Okay, hurry up and eat your food.” Ann Marie stood to serve the tea and coffee – she found it difficult to lift the heavily embossed silver coffee pot from a seated position.

  The meal became a party. Ivy tasted coffee for the first time. She didn’t really care for it, preferring her cup of tea. She’d be able to say she’d tasted it anyway.

  The two women laughed and chatted in such a familiar fashion that Brian Sarsfield, standing outside, wanted to open the door and have a look. How could Ivy Murphy have so much to say to her betters?

  “We should really be getting about our business, Ivy,” Ann Marie said eventually. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d enjoyed herself so much. “I think we need to find only shoes, stockings, gloves and a hat and coat for you to borrow.”

  Mrs Reilly had suggested they make use of the taller, slimmer Clementine’s clothing. Ann Marie wasn’t concerned about her cousin’s reaction to the disappearance of her outer wear. Clementine shopped incessantly. She’d never notice items missing from her wardrobe.

  Ivy couldn’t imagine the luxury of being all decked out. Why was this woman doing this for her?

  “Does your foundation garment have attached stocking-holders?” Ann Marie couldn’t understand why Ivy started to choke on her tea at the question. It wasn’t that embarrassing.

  “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.” Ivy wondered what Ann Marie would say if she told her that the only ‘foundation garment’ she wore was one of her da’s vests pulled down and pinned between her legs.

  “Well, never mind, we’ll soon sort you out.” Ann Marie was looking forward to the day ahead.

  Chapter 9

  Da, are ye there? Da, it’s me, Ivy.

  Ivy was in a side aisle of the Westland Row church. She’d made her devotions and paid for two candles in her da’s name. She was kneeling in the empty church, staring at the flickering flames from the multitude of burning candles stuck in the iron stand.

  I wouldn’t wonder if you didn’t recognise me, Da.

  Ivy’s thoughts were almost shouting from her head. She’d so much to tell her da. I’ve had me hair all chopped off. I’ve had such a day, Da. You’d never believe it.

  The huge church stood silent around the single figure kneeling in a posture of devoted piety. Ivy wasn’t feeling pious though. She was still reeling from the events of the day and had to tell someone. The safest someone she could think of was her da. Who was he going to tell?

  Your one from the morgue, her name is Ann Marie, Da. Well, you wouldn’t believe the things she had me do today.

  Ivy thought for a moment. She wanted to be sure to mention all the wonders of the day.

  First and foremost, she had me come into her house. By the front door no less. Da, can you believe it? Me! Auld Foster almost had a heart attack – you should have seen his face! Well, I didn’t care – I put me nose in the air and made like it was nothing unusual for me to be going in the front door of one of those mansions.

  Ivy was glad of the heat from the candles. The church was cold she could see her breath in front of her face.

  Then your one had Foster serve me breakfast.

  Ivy imagined her da, wherever he was, roaring with laughter, his handsome blue eyes sparkling as he beat his hands against his knees. That was a good one. Honest to God, Da. Foster and that Brian Sarsfield that serves as footman. You know him, Da. The two of yeh drink in the same pub.

  Anyway, Da, after breakfast Ann Marie took me upstairs to her bedroom. Mrs Reilly was there and between the pair of them they soon had me decked out. Honest to God, Da. I was the cat’s meow.

  The two women had shown Ivy her image in a long mirror but Ivy didn’t like to mention that here. Her da would think she was being vain.

  So, there I was, Da. Dressed to the nines and looking like someone else. Then, didn’t your one take me out to her automobile. I ask your sacred pardon, Da. I mean, me, I climbed into that automobile like I was the queen of the land and Ann Marie drove us into the town centre. I wish you could have seen me, Da!

  It was a different Dublin to the one you and me know, Da. I was dumbstruck. I know you always told me we were as good as the next man but really, Da, this was different. I understand now why you insisted on having your good suit to hand. Remember that time you almost killed me for pawning your Sunday suit? We hadn’t a bite to eat in the house but you leathered me good for that. I understand now, Da.

  I was treated like Lady Muck. Honest to God, Da. You should have seen it. These fancy fellas falling over their feet to open the vehicle door. That’s what the posh call their automobiles – vehicles. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Da. Anyway Da, the best part – your man Iverson, he almost fainted when he seen me hair.

  Ivy looked into the flames of the candle, wondering if there was any possibility her da was really looking over her from heaven. If he really was looking down on her he’d have seen al
l the wonders of the day that she was trying so hard to tell him about.

  Your man Iverson was a bit of a limp wrist, Da, but you can’t hold that against the man. Anyway, Da, he gave me more money than I’ve ever seen in me life for me hair. Honest, he tried to pay me by cheque – imagine me taking a piece of paper instead of real money! I almost said something to put a flea in his ear but Ann Marie handled it like the real lady she is.

  Anyway, Da, I hope you’re sitting on a white fluffy cloud because you’ll faint when I tell yeh. Da, I got a big white paper fiver, more than a year’s rent money, for me hair. I know that’s paper as well, Da, but it’s real money as everyone knows. Ivy nodded her head frantically to underline the gravity of her words.

  I won’t have to worry about the roof over me head for a full year. Da, do you have any idea what that means? I don’t mean to be cheeky or anything, Da, but you never had to worry where the rent was coming from, did yeh? First me ma and then me, we took care of that.

  I was floating by the time we left Iverson’s. It wasn’t only that me head felt like an elephant had just been cut away from it but, Da, I was rich. I couldn’t sit still. Ann Marie, she seemed to understand. So me in all me glory and her, we strolled around the fancy shops.

  She’d felt such a toff in her finery. It was her dress – well, it was the blouse she’d made attached to a skirt belonging to one of the Morgan twins but that didn’t matter, it was still her dress – everything else belonged to Ann Marie or her cousin.

  Ivy had been dizzy with the different sights that opened up to her. The shops Ann Marie showed her were places of wonder and amazement, everything was so bright and clean. Ivy might have lived in Dublin all of her life but she lived in the back lanes. The fancy shops and wide clean streets of the city were for the quality.

  The Dublin Ann Marie knew was very different from the dark alleys – the poor people and places Ivy knew. In Ivy’s world, when you went shopping, you’d be lucky to get a botched-together table leaning against some buildings with things thrown any old how on the table top. The stall holder would sit in his or her open front door and keep an eye on the goods.

  And then, Da, I got the shock of me life.

  Ivy closed her eyes, desperate to tell someone about the horrendous shock she’d got today. She hadn’t been able to tell Ann Marie. The woman was kind but she hadn’t a clue about real life. She buried her head in her hands, remembering. Her fingers ploughed through the feathery soft curls that covered her head like a skullcap.

  Ivy had been amazed and embarrassed to see a selection of the lace knickers and camisoles she and Granny Grunt made sitting proudly in the window of one shop. She couldn’t believe her eyes, right out in the window for God and everyone to see. Well, the quality were funny, that’s all she’d say.

  Da, I asked Ann Marie how much was written on the ticket that sat in front of one set of frillys. I nearly passed out, Da. They were priced in guineas, Da – guineas. Me and Granny get pennies for the backbreaking hours we spend making those things. I asked Ann Marie the name of the shop and I know the old biddy who owns it well. Anyway, Da, the old bat is charging guineas for stuff she pays us pennies to make. It’s not right, Da. There is a whole lot not right with our world, Da. I never noticed that before. What do you think of that then, Da?

  Ivy wasn’t aware of the people coming into the church to say a quick prayer. She was lost in another world having the kind of conversation with her da she’d never been able to have with him when he was alive. He wouldn’t have sat still for it. Was having a dead da to listen to her going to be better than having a live one?

  When we went back to the big house I gave back the stuff I’d borrowed. It mostly all belonged to Miss Clementine, the daughter of the house. So I’m back in Eamo’s old green army coat, me broken-down old shoes and me shawl but I’ve seen something different now, Da.

  Ann Marie wanted me to keep everything but I wouldn’t. I have me pride. I did keep the shoes because they fit me a treat . She even said I should keep the lisle stockings and the thing that holds the stockings up. They belonged to Ann Marie anyway. They’re all in the pocket of me coat, even the shoes. I was thinking of washing the stockings and selling them at the market. You should see the state of the shoes, Da. I’d get a pretty penny for them. I’ve had second thoughts though. I think I’ll keep the shoes and stuff handy. Just the way you kept your Sunday suit, Da. You never know when you might need something decent to wear.

  Da, do you know what I’ve done with your body?

  Ivy almost cringed in the pew. She raised her head from her hands and stared at the statue of Our Lady, her with the snake and what seemed like hundreds of candles burning at her feet.

  Ann Marie had taken Ivy by the morgue to sign the papers.

  I had to do it, Da. I’m really sorry but there is no way I can give you the kind of send-off you’d like. Da, I need the money. Life is for the living and I’m still here, still breathing. I’d begrudge every penny I’d have to put out to entertain your drunken friends. I bought their drinks for years, Da. I’m not doing it any more.

  Ann Marie is going to get me the best price she can for your corpse. I’m that sorry but, Da, truthfully, it will be the first time in your life – or your death – whatever – it’ll be the first time you’ve ever given me anything except a thick ear.

  I’m heartily sorry, Da, but that’s the way it’s going to be. I’ll have to tell the neighbours something. I’ll gladly make sandwiches and a few pots of tea for the women but I am not standing for buying rounds of drinks for your cronies.

  “Ivy Rose Murphy, what are you doing there?” The voice echoed around the church with no respect for the sanctity of the place.

  “I’ve been praying, Father Leary.” Ivy stood slowly. She’d known she’d have to speak to this man.

  “Praying? You have a right cheek, Ivy Rose Murphy!” The obese figure of Father Leary waddled out from the sacristy. The priest’s jowls jiggled while his face settled into its habitual expression of bitter disgust. “I’ve been watching you there, young woman, and you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. How dare you come in here and pray? I never see you at Mass or Confession, do I? Yet you feel at liberty to come in here and pray as if you have a right!”

  “I thought everyone was welcome in God’s house!” Ivy snapped.

  “How dare you talk back to me?” Father Leary rattled the loose money in his pocket. A habit, if he did but know it, that made Ivy want to punch his fat face in. “I am a man of God and as such you will show me respect.”

  “I thought we were all God’s children.” Ivy stepped out of reach. The priest had a knack for catching you by the ear and twisting until you yelled.

  “What would the likes of you know about God? You are a heathen, Ivy Rose Murphy, and everyone knows it.” Father Leary wished he had his walking stick with him. He’d soon rap this cheeky article around the legs with it. “Your blessed father Éamonn can be seen in here every Sunday large as life. I’ve never seen you here with him.”

  “I need to talk to you about my father.” Ivy used her posh voice just to annoy the priest. Father Leary didn’t like the ragged members of his community to get above themselves.

  “Why didn’t your father come to see me himself?” Father Leary snapped. “Your father is a God-fearing Christian and I’m always happy to advise him.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” Ivy bit her tongue. This man’s interference in the private lives of his congregation was nothing short of catastrophic.

  “My father, Éamonn Murphy, can’t come to see you.” Ivy wouldn’t give this priest the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “He’s dead. I planned to see you about adding his name to the altar list of the dead this Sunday.”

  “Impossible,” Father Leary glared. “I would have been called to his side to offer the last sacraments. You will surely go to Hell for lying about something so grevious, Ivy Rose Murphy.”

  “My father is dead.” Ivy swallowed the lump in h
er throat. “He drowned in the early morning hours of New Year’s Day. There were witnesses – there is no body for burial.” Ivy expected the church ceiling to come tumbling down around her head. She was looking into the face of a man of God and lying through her teeth.

  “I would have been contacted by the proper authorities if something so heinous had affected one of my flock!” Father Leary snapped. “I doubt your word, Ivy Rose Murphy. You’ll need to furnish proof of this claim. If indeed there is truth in your words, see Father Massey about paying for a Requiem Mass for the repose of your blessed father’s soul!” Father Leary glared. Really, did this chit think he was a clueless cleric?

  “There will be no Requiem Mass for my father,” Ivy stated, staring boldly into Father Leary’s avaricious eyes.

  “Shame on you, Ivy Rose Murphy! You’re an unnatural daughter. Your sainted father deserves nothing less than a Requiem Mass! A Mass performed by myself, the parish priest.”

  “I have no intention of paying you to get dressed up in a fancy costume and say a few words into thin air.” Ivy wasn’t giving in. “I’ll see Father Massey about adding my father’s name to the altar list of the dead. That is all I’m willing to pay for.”

  “You will go straight to Hell, Ivy Rose Murphy!” Father Leary tried to hit Ivy across the face but she jumped out of the way. The priest lost his balance and was forced to catch onto the back of a pew.

  “I’ll be sure to save you a place, Father.” Ivy was getting out of there. Her da could sort himself out from Heaven. “By the way, thank you for your offer of condolences for my grievous loss. It was very Christian of you.”