“I could take you down to the Franciscan friars. You could have them say a Mass for your father.”
“Don’t you think we have enough problems on our hands right now?” Ivy turned away from the horse and nudged Jem gently. She was touched by his offer but she knew her da would want any mention of him to be made at his own church. Éamonn Murphy would want to make sure his cronies heard the news. “Anyway, I’m going to walk into the pub and make an announcement one of these days. He was in the pub more often than he was ever in a church.”
“All right – we’ll leave it at that. Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be happy to take you down to see the friars.”
“We’d better check on the child, Jem.”
“Right – and while we’re about it we’d better try and come up with a story. We need something to explain a strange child’s sudden appearance in The Lane.” Jem let the matter of Éamonn Murphy drop. He hadn’t been a great admirer of the man when he’d been alive. He wasn’t going to turn him into a saint now the man was dead.
Ivy and Jem sat at the small table trying to invent a life history for Emerald. The little girl snored softly several paces away from where they sat. They wanted to keep the story simple. The little girl would have to be told what lies she needed to tell. Neither of them felt comfortable encouraging a young person to lie.
The idea of turning the child in to Goldenbridge made the lie seem the lesser of two evils. Eventually it was decided that they would simply say the child was a relation of Jem’s come to live with him because her upper-class family had fallen on hard times. That should be enough. The gossip mongers could make up the rest themselves.
“Do you want to lie down beside the child?” Jem said when Ivy’s yawns were so wide they were almost cracking her jaw.
“I’ll wait and give you a hand getting the body out of here.” Ivy felt she could sleep on broken bottles. “It won’t take you long to get across the road to Hollis Street Hospital.”
“That would be good, thanks, Ivy.” Jem touched Ivy’s hand which rested on the table between them. “I appreciate more than I can ever tell you all the help you’ve given me this evening.”
“Well, Jem Ryan, you’ve certainly added a bit of excitement to my life.” Ivy grinned sleepily.
“It’s almost time.” Jem took a deep breath and prepared to do something he considered a sin. To protect an innocent child, he was willing to sin and sin again, if that’s what it took to keep Emerald safe.
After all the soul-searching, worrying and sick apprehension the deed was done without a hitch. The colour of Jem’s money along with the very obviously crackling-fresh death certificate he flashed around made the disposal of the body pass without incident.
Long after Ivy had returned to her own home Jem lay in his bed listening to Emerald’s gentle breathing, thinking about the events of his day. The most miraculous of all happenings, it seemed to him, had been his inexplicable inclination to turn to Ivy Murphy and ask her for help. He’d no idea what had possessed him to run to Ivy. Thank God he had. The woman had been a tower of strength. Ivy had taken every problem at hand and dealt with it. Jem sighed. She’d had a lot of practice taking hard knocks. Ivy Murphy had learnt at a young age to roll with the punches life handed out.
Jem thought about everything Ivy had done for him that evening. Her ability to lend him a death certificate had been unexpected to say the least. In front of his astonished eyes she’d taken it from somewhere under the heavy jumper she wore. She’d simply fumbled a little, then whipped the thing out. Jem felt as if he were watching a magician produce a rabbit from a hat.
Emerald whimpered in her sleep and almost crawled onto his chest. “Shh,” Jem whispered. The poor little mite. What was she going to make of the new world she’d come to? Jem knew he was going to need every bit of Ivy Murphy’s help and advice to deal with the situation he found himself in. A big grin split Jem’s whisker-laden cheeks. He’d be seeing a lot more of Ivy Murphy. That wasn’t such a bad thing as far as he was concerned.
With the down pillow in her hand Ivy fell onto the bare mattress of her da’s big brass bed. She was exhausted but knew she’d never sleep. There was so much to think about, so many changes in her life. So much she wanted to do to improve her circumstances. The range she’d banked for the night gave off a soft light. The warmth of the room was an unaccustomed luxury. The feel of a soft pillow under her head thrilled her. Ivy gave a soft sigh, turned once and passed out.
Chapter 14
Ivy felt as if she’d just shut her eyes when the alarm chime sounded from the front room. She sat up on the bed trying to get her bearings. She’d slept in the brass bed for the first time. The events of the previous evening came back to her and she groaned aloud. She’d slept in her da’s trousers and the old jumper.
Ivy was glad of the light from the burning embers in the range. She’d forgotten to bring her candle into this room. So early of a winter’s morning it was pitch black outside. Ivy was tempted to fall back into bed and allow Granny to miss morning Mass, just this once.
“I need the po and a cup of tea before I’m human.”
Ivy felt her way into the front room and lit one of the gas lamps. The glitter from the hairpins and rings she’d dropped on the mantelpiece when she’d returned home last night frightened the life out of her. She jumped before her brain processed what she was seeing. Shaking her head at her own silliness, she silenced the chimes of the clock on the mantelpiece, found the fancy porcelain po she’d scored on one of her rounds and sat to relieve her aching bladder.
Business taken care of, Ivy hurried to make a pot of tea. The hot water from the range cistern made making tea a much quicker chore this morning. Ivy gulped two cups standing up, trying to organise her thoughts for the day ahead. With a shrug she covered her da’s trousers with her long black skirt. The wraparound rag she used to hold up the too wide skirt would keep her da’s trousers up as well. Ivy tucked the trouser legs into the top of her hand-knit wool socks. The wide trousers gave the long skirt a fullness it had never had before. It almost looked as if Ivy was wearing petticoats.
“The chance of me being able to afford petticoats would be a fine thing.” She laughed aloud. “Still, what the eye doesn’t see the heart will never grieve over.” Ivy grinned. She’d be warm as toast today without a draft up her skirt.
“Granny, are yeh up?” Ivy rapped on Granny’s door. She waited till she heard the old woman stirring before she left to return to her own rooms.
She checked the black range carefully – wondering what she needed to do to keep the fire burning steadily throughout the day. She filled her big black cast-iron kettle with cold water from the bucket and put it on the range top before hurrying in to help Granny Grunt get ready for the first Mass of the day.
“Granny, are ye decent?” Ivy didn’t want to walk in on the old woman on the po.
“I’ve been up and around for hours, girl,” Granny grunted. “Get yerself in here. The tea’s made.”
“I brought yeh something.” Ivy had a huge pair of flannel drawers stuffed under her jumper. She’d noticed the things among the dead aunt’s belongings last night and pulled them out. The knickers would keep Granny warm on these cold winter mornings. Ivy fell into one of the chairs pulled up to the table placed under Granny’s only window. “Are yeh not going to look at what I’ve brought for yeh?” Ivy waved the drawers in the air.
“I don’t know who raised yeh!” Granny glared from the chair across the table. She dropped her cup into its saucer and grabbed the thick flannel drawers out of Ivy’s hand. “Did yeh get these in yer travels yesterday?”
“I did.” Ivy was glad she could answer truthfully. “I thought they’d be grand for keeping your kidneys warm on these bitter cold mornings.”
“They’ll come to smell, Ivy.” Granny hung her head in shame. She tried to keep herself clean. She was getting old. Her body had smells that mortified her.
“They can be washed,” Ivy said
gently. “Besides, I have more than one pair. I’ll sort the others out.”
“How much are ye asking for ’em?” Granny filled her saucer with tea, not looking at Ivy.
“When have I ever charged you for anything, Granny?” Ivy knew the old woman was embarrassed.
“Still.”
“Listen, Granny, today’s me day for the market.”
“I’m not doddering, girl!” Granny snapped. “I know that.”
“Right – anyway, I won’t be around all day. I’m going to ask Conn Connelly to look in on yeh.” She waited for the argument.
“Going to lunch with your fancy new friend, are yeh?” Granny had never met Ann Marie Gannon. She didn’t approve of Ivy mixing with her betters. Who knew what might come of it?
“Yes, I am. Ann Marie is working out her notice at the hospital. She’s training her replacement, as you know.” Since her da’s death Ivy met with Ann Marie on market days.
“Strange place to be having lunch if yeh ask me! The morgue. I’d be scared stiff.” Granny had been shocked to hear Ivy speak so casually about meeting your one from the morgue. Still, it was none of her business.
“The people in there can’t do yeh any harm, Granny.” Ivy shrugged. “Anyway, is it all right with you if I ask Conn Connelly to look in on yeh?” Ivy worried about Granny when she had to spend the entire day out and about.
“That young man has better things to be doing with his time than visiting an old woman,”
“No, he doesn’t, Granny,” Ivy sighed. They had the same discussion every time. “Conn is out of work, you know that. He’s glad of anything that earns him a few coppers. If yeh give him your tin can he’ll fetch the two of ye a meal from the Penny Dinners.”
“Waste of good money, that.” Granny enjoyed a meal someone else prepared but she had to have a moan. It kept her juices flowing.
“Granny!” Ivy shook her head and gave up. The old woman would do whatever she pleased. “Let’s get yeh ready for Mass.”
Ivy jumped to her feet. She took a white enamel bowl from a nearby shelf. She filled the bowl with boiling water from the kettle, cooling it with cold water from the bucket before fetching Granny’s hand rag and soap.
“Can yeh manage?” Ivy asked the same thing every time. They both knew Granny needed help.
“I’ll wash me own private bits.” Granny held out her hand for the freshly soaped rag Ivy held. Granny washed her armpits and ran the cloth over her private parts before pulling the flannel drawers over her naked flanks, sighing at the warmth.
“You get about your business now.” Granny sat in her soft chair by the fire. “I’ll bide here a while. It’s a bit early yet to leave for Mass. Biddy Moore will knock for me when she’s ready.”
“I’ll have Conn check on yeh.” Ivy tidied the room quickly. “I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”
“Fine, fine, get along with yeh. I want a few minutes to meself to say me prayers.” The old woman rested her head back against the chair.
Ivy almost ran from the room. She had so much to do today. She wanted to try and get an outfit for little Emerald to wear. Later she’d make the child some clothes out of the aunt’s clothing. It didn’t really matter if the child stayed inside today. She’d be better off resting inside Jem’s cosy room. Time enough to let her meet the neighbours when she’d recovered from yesterday’s happenings.
Ivy grabbed the handle of her pram which was sitting outside her back door. She pulled the empty pram through the back door, grinning at the luxury, and wheeled it into the front room. She’d make a pot of tea and bring it in here to drink while she worked. The freedom to leisurely pick and choose the stock she’d take to market delighted her.
Ivy prepared her tea, lit the two gas lamps in the front room and, teacup in hand, made her selection.
She took everything worn by Emerald. Ivy planned to trade them in to a dealer she knew. Maggie Wilson carried superior children’s clothing on her stall. Ivy was hoping she could dress Emerald from Maggie’s stall from the skin out. If she was really lucky Bill Burn would have shoes that would fit the child.
Ivy looked at the two porcelain dolls with a sigh. She’d planned to repair them but they’d have to wait until she had the time.
She began to fill her pram. She checked the items she planned to trade to the dealers in the Haymarket this morning. She had a small pile of ribbons and bows that had been passed to her. It would be so much easier if she could just write down who gave her what. Having to remember every little detail sometimes gave her a terrible headache.
Ivy looked at the articles spilling out of the aunt’s linen sheet. She’d pulled the flannel drawers out earlier and left a terrible mess behind her. She didn’t have time to sort it now. She knotted the sheet back up. She pushed two tea chests apart and with her foot forced the bulky package into the hole she’d made. That would have to do until she returned home.
She remembered to put the good lisle stockings Ann Marie had given to her into the bottom of the pram. The good shoes were added. Ivy would change into them before meeting Ann Marie at the hospital. She’d have to keep an eye out for a decent second-hand coat.
With her pram packed and every item and its position noted in her mental file, Ivy prepared to meet the day. She’d push the pram down to the Haymarket. Ivy checked her pockets, making sure she had a few coppers tucked away. Conn Connelly would be hanging around the streets hoping for a few odd jobs. Ivy would grab him before anyone else did. Conn was a good honest worker and he liked Granny. The two got on like a house on fire.
Ivy looked around the rooms, checking to make sure she’d forgotten nothing. She’d banked the range and sat the kettle in the wide grate. She hadn’t anything to leave on the burner. She’d take care of stocking up today. Ivy pulled the back door closed behind her. She turned the key in the lock and with her head held high pushed the big pram through the yard.
Ivy pushed her pram through the back streets of Dublin, her mind in a constant whirl. She had a great deal to get done before she met Ann Marie for lunch today. She was vaguely aware of her own hunger. She hoped Hopalong had set up his tea stall in the market. She could do with a cup of tea and one of his sausage sandwiches.
“Morning, Ivy!” Big Polly, still wiping the sleep out of her eyes, joined Ivy at Hopalong’s fire. “Anything for me today?”
“Let her have a cup of tea first, Missus, for God’s sake!” Hopalong grinned, showing pink toothless gums.
“I’ll be over to see yeh later, Big Polly,” Ivy promised. “I want to see Maggie Wilson first.”
“What? Yeh’re doing business in childer’s clothes?” Big Polly almost choked on her tea. Ivy was a well-known character around the marketplaces of Dublin. Big Polly had never seen her with children’s clothes.
“I’ve just a few things I want to trade.” Ivy put her tin mug on the makeshift table Hopalong kept by his fire. She didn’t usually have children’s clothing to trade. The nanny in each house took the best of that stuff. “I’ll see yeh later.” She pushed her pram away before she could be asked any more questions. It didn’t do to tell everyone your business.
With a firm grip on her pram, Ivy set out to begin a day of dealing. She loved haggling, and the laughs and insults flying around the market entertained everyone. What was life if you couldn’t have a laugh.
Chapter 15
“Ivy, thanks be to Jaysus!” Maggie Wilson was dancing in place while setting up her stall. “Stand here and keep an eye on me stuff, will ye? I’m dying for a widdle.” Without waiting for a reply Maggie waddled away, almost cross-legged.
Ivy pushed her pram behind the homemade stall. The long sturdy board supported by old table legs was covered in children’s clothing. Ivy began to eye up the merchandise on open display, trying to find something that might fit Emerald.
She saw that there were parcels wrapped in white paper on a shelf under the stall. The shelf was formed of a board and attached to the table legs. Ivy was curious – th
e shelf was hidden from passing traffic. She opened the parcels to reveal gorgeous, delicate baby wear – not something she was interested in but she could admire the workmanship. She fingered the handknit garments in admiration. It was very fine work.
“I know some of the other women widdle where they stand.” Maggie Wilson returned from the side lane she’d used to relieve herself. “But I couldn’t bear to stand in me own piddle all day.” Maggie shrugged. “Not having a baby, are ye, Ivy?” Maggie’s eyes tried to check out Ivy’s figure under all her layers of clothing.
“I’d have to be the next Virgin Mary in that case, Maggie.” Ivy grinned. She knew the women of the market gossiped constantly. “If the Angel Gabriel comes to visit I’ll be sure to let yeh know.”
“You do that, flower!” Maggie laughed. “It’ll give us something to talk about.” She wrapped a leather apron she used for change around her bulky coat. “What can I do yeh for, this fine brisk day?”
“I’m going to have a look through your stuff as yeh put it out, Maggie.” Ivy was hoping to find enough to keep Emerald going for a while. She wanted to get an idea of how much Maggie charged for her stuff before entering into negotiations. It never did to jump into a deal without all the information you needed.
“Yeh planning to dress every kid yeh know, Ivy?” Maggie commented half an hour later. She was surprised at how much time Ivy was willing to spend at her stall and had been amazed to see her laying claim to the best of her stock.
Through Streets Broad and Narrow (Ivy Rose Series Book 1) Page 16