“The people at the Haymarket had a whip around for me fella.” Sadie referred to the habit of asking people to contribute whatever they could afford to help someone out. “It was good of them of course but none of them are exactly loaded.”
“Doesn’t answer me question, Sadie,” Ivy shifted on her seat. “I’ve a reason for asking, Sadie. How are yeh fixed?”
“I’m sick with fear, Ivy Murphy, if yeh must know the truth!” Sadie put a cup of pale weak tea in front of Ivy. “I don’t know which way to turn.”
“Did the hospital give yeh any idea how long John would be in there?” Ivy had come to Sadie’s with a plan in mind but this changed everything.
“Yeh know what they’re like, Ivy,” Sadie sighed. “They talk as if they have a plum in their mouth and you are so far beneath their notice it offends them to look at yeh. They haven’t told me nothing.”
“I’m sorry, Sadie.” Ivy touched the other woman’s hand gently. She took a small sip of tea, managing not to grimace.
“What did yeh want to talk to me about, Ivy?” Sadie gave a ghost of her usual smile. “Before I dumped the woes of the world on your shoulders, that is.
“I’ve seen the knitted stuff you’ve done for Maggie Wilson, Sadie.” Ivy had thought long and hard about this but now she was unsure of herself. “Are yeh still doing it?”
“Naw, I couldn’t make it pay.” Sadie shook her head. “By the time I’d bought the wool and such there was no money in it for me.”
“That’s a shame, Sadie – it was lovely stuff.” Ivy had an idea that Maggie Wilson had taken advantage of Sadie’s soft nature. The knitted garments she’d seen under the stall were top quality.
“What are yeh going to do now, Sadie?” Ivy didn’t know how to talk about what she wanted. Not with things so changed in Sadie’s life.
“Oh Ivy!” Sadie held her tea cup in two hands staring down at the table. “Me girls are going to have to go into service. I never wanted that for them.” She hiccupped “It’s the only way I can be sure of a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.”
“What about yourself, Sadie?” Ivy asked softly.
“Me brother said I could move over the hall and live with them.” Sadie groaned.
“You and Patsy!” Ivy gasped.
“It’s not what I want, Ivy, but ‘needs must when the devil drives’,” Sadie said pathetically.
“Sadie, can your girls knit? As good as you, I mean?”
“They can – my John and all. He’d kill me for telling yeh but it was my John who taught me to do all the fancy stitches.” Sadie felt her spirits lift at the memory. “Ivy, will yeh just spit out whatever yeh want to say for Christ’s sake?”
“How much do yeh need to live on a week, Sadie?” Ivy knew she was stepping over the line but she needed to know.
“Ivy Murphy, that’s none of your bee’s wax,” Sadie snapped, using the Dublin expression to tell someone to mind their own business.
“I have a job in mind for you and the two girls, Sadie, but I need to know how much money it will take to keep yeh going every week.”
Ivy couldn’t support Sadie and her kids. She didn’t know if the amount she was thinking of would be enough to at least keep the roof over their heads. That was the most important thing at the moment.
“What kind of job?” Sadie stared at Ivy.
“I have a small mountain of old jumpers and things I need taken to pieces.” Ivy didn’t want to spend her time doing the painstaking work. “I want the wool washed, brushed soft and ready to be reused.”
“I’ll be honest with yeh, Ivy. I’ll take anything I can get and glad of it but picking jumpers apart won’t take long and it won’t keep us going for weeks,” Sadie sighed.
“There’s more to me idea than that, Sadie, but if you’d be willing to pick the jumpers apart and wash,stretch and brush the wool, that would be a start.” Ivy needed to know what the situation was with John Lawless. If John’s injuries were so bad that Sadie was forced to break up her family and move into Patsy’s overcrowded rooms, Ivy’s idea would never work. Patsy would turn Sadie into her personal slave.
“Look, I came down here for two reasons.” Ivy didn’t want to give Sadie false hope and she needed to move – she was freezing into place. “I wanted to talk to you about those jumpers and I need to go see a man called Pa Landers. Do you know where his place is? I want to look through what he has on hand. I’ve heard that the old man’s stuff is of the best quality.”
“He’s not too far from here.” Sadie stood and began picking up the teacups. “I’ll just grab me shawl and show yeh. The walk will do me good.” Sadie needed something to heat her up. The room was freezing. Sadie knew if she didn’t knock in for Patsy she’d have hell to pay from her sister-in-law later. She couldn’t care less. Let that one sit in her own home and stew in her own bitterness. She wasn’t going to knock on her door and tell that woman her business.
“Sadie, do ye have a pram, something to haul stuff around in?” Ivy said just before Sadie opened her front door.
“No,” Sadie said sadly. She’d been told she’d never have more children after the birth of her youngest, Dora. It had fair to broken her heart but the way things were perhaps it was for the best. Her sister-in-law Patsy across the hall seemed to get pregnant at the drop of a hat.
“That’s a shame.” Ivy shrugged. “I don’t suppose yeh could borrow one from Patsy?”
“Patsy’s pram is always in use,” Sadie said softly.
The two women, with a gang of youngsters following in their footsteps, made their way to Pa Landers. The old man ran his business from the front room of his house. A table with cheap offerings was guarded by a youngster out front of the house. Pa Landers greeted them himself with charm and manners. Ivy explained her needs with a great deal of imaginative lying. Within minutes the two women were examining a black suit, skirt and jacket that were worn but obviously of good quality.
“Perfect!” Ivy declared after she’d used the tape measure she’d borrowed from around Pa Landers neck. “The skirt is a little long but that can be altered.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t bother,” Sadie offered. Ivy had told her a little about her friend Ann Marie on the walk over. “The extra length might come in useful.”
“You’re probably right – we’ll see.” Ivy tried to imagine Ann Marie wearing the suit and had to bite back a grin.
“Shoes?” Pa Landers asked.
“Better to be sure than sorry,” said Sadie. “You’ll need a shawl as well.”
“Certainly, ladies.” Pa Landers hunted through his supplies. He didn’t often sell so much at one time. He’d have to give Sadie Lawless a little something for bringing this customer to his door.
“Will that be all, ladies?” Pa Landers, looking at the selected items on the table he used as a shop counter was almost rubbing his hand in glee.
“How much?” Ivy grinned, getting ready to bargain. You never paid the asking price.
“Let me see.” Pa Landers rubbed his bristled chin, preparing to enjoy himself.
Sadie stepped to one side. She watched and listened with delight as the two people entered into a round of abuse and complaint. Both of them shouted and shook their fists, all the while with huge grins on their faces.
“Right, I’ll just pay this auld robber off,” Ivy said at last. She was delighted with the deal she’d struck.
“Don’t come around any more with this one, Sadie!” Pa Landers took the money Ivy held out. “She’ll have me in the poorhouse.” He wrapped the suit, shoes and shawl in brown paper. An unusual courtesy – newspaper was the more usual wrapping but the woman had spent quite a bit of money with him. He could afford a bit of brown paper and perhaps the woman would come again.
“Before we leave, I just want to have a look around.” Ivy wanted to have a look through the old man’s stock for something for Emmy. The clothes on offer were of good quality, clean and in most cases flawless.
“Right.
” Pa Landers was delighted and stood to one side.
Ivy pulled a selection of young girls’ winter wear from a pile.
“I’m looking for a fancy coat for meself, Mr Landers,” Ivy remarked as she pounced on a child’s wool dress that looked like it had never been worn The rich red colour would suit Emmy a treat. “I don’t see any coats I like right now but if you’d let Sadie know if you get more coats in I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll do that.” Pa Landers ran a mental checklist through his contacts, wondering who could supply him with an upmarket coat.
“I’m going to call me girls.” Sadie stood in the open doorway and yelled. “Clare, Dora, I want yiz!” The cry went up, repeated over and over again as the children playing in the street outside passed the message along. Sadie waited, sure the message would eventually reach her two girls, where ever they were playing. It was an efficient message system used by every mother around the place.
“I’ll wrap these items.” Pa Landers grinned as he took the young girls’ clothes from Ivy’s hands.
Sadie’s two girls arrived panting and flushed with healthy colour. She took them by the hands and, with Ivy pushing her pram and leading the way, they set off to walk through Dublin. Sadie didn’t want to go back to that freezing cold room just yet.
The women walked along, chatting away, until they reached O’Connell Street and there they stopped. Sadie didn’t want to go any further. They still had the walk back home.
“Thanks for your help, Sadie.” Ivy pressed a silver half crown into Sadie’s hand.
“I’m not taking charity from yeh, Ivy Murphy!” Sadie tried to return the coin. “I might have agreed to do a bit of work for yeh but I haven’t started yet.” They’d agreed that Sadie and her girls would be home tomorrow, Saturday, when Ivy would deliver the old jumpers.
“It’s not charity, Sadie,” Ivy said and pressed the money, more than most men earned in a week, into Sadie’s hand. “Besides, it’s not my money.”
“All right then.” Sadie couldn’t afford pride. “We’ll see yeh tomorrow bright and early.”
“See yiz!” Ivy grabbed the handle of her pram and headed for home.
Chapter 21
“Is that yerself, Ivy?”
Ivy pushed open the heavy wooden door set in the granite wall of the alley running behind the houses of Merrion Square. She pushed her pram in first, heartily glad her day outdoors was almost over. It had been a busy Monday so far and it wasn’t over yet.
“Lovely weather for ducks!” ten-year-old Davy O’Malley, the bootblack at Number 8, grinned from his position crouched in the stone portico that framed the back door.
“How’s it going then, Davy?” Ivy shouted pushing her heavy pram across the wet cobbles leading to the back door of Number 8. “What are yeh doing out here?”
“Keeping an eye out for yeh and cleaning the muck off his Lordship’s boots.” Davy held up the befouled soft leather boot he held. “Better let them know yeh’re here.” Davy stood, opened the door at his back and in his bare feet hurried down the long dark hallway to let the staff in the kitchen know that Ivy had arrived. He didn’t linger, that would get him either a thick ear or another job to do.
“Do yeh ever feel like telling them they’re big enough and bold enough to clean their own boots?” Ivy stood under the protection of the stone portico now and called out to the skinny lad hurrying down the hallway towards her.
“I never see them to tell them anything Ivy.” Davy, his dishwater blond hair standing up all over his head, grinned. “The likes of me only gets to see their dirt.”
“Well,” Ivy wanted to kick herself. It wasn’t for her to make the lad unhappy with his lot in life, “is Miss Ann Marie ready for her outing, do you know?”
Davy O’Malley, eldest son of the sour-faced Patsy, was happy as a clam at Number 8. He slept in the inglenook and was first up every morning to blacklead the grate and build the fire in the range back up ready for Iris Jones the cook. He hauled buckets of coal from the shed at the end of the garden for the maids and carried away the ash. Any and all dirty work was left for Davy the bootblack.
“I don’t know nothing about the goin’s-on upstairs.” Davy took up his crouched position again, reaching for the boot he’d dropped. “I saw me da yesterday when he come to collect me wages.”
“Did you?” Ivy didn’t know what else to say. She stood with Davy at the back door while the rain pelted down, enclosing them in a little bubble of greyness.
“Me da said yeh’d been down to see me Auntie Sadie,” Davy used the back of the shoe brush he held in one hand to knock the mud off the boot he held in the other.
“So I was.” Ivy knew Davy wanted something and was working up to it slowly. She leaned against the wall and waited.
“Them’s a grand pair of boots you’ve got on today, Ivy.” Davy looked longingly at the boys steel-capped work boots Ivy was wearing.
“I got them down the market.” Ivy pushed out one foot to admire the boots. She’d been lucky, Bill Burn told her – boots like these were usually passed down through the family. The pair Ivy had bought off him had practically no wear on them. Ann Marie had balked at wearing someone else’s shoes so on Saturday Ivy had stopped at Bill Burn’s stall to buy a pair of new boots for Ann Marie. When Bill held up a pair of practically new boots Ivy had dived on them for her own use.
“Me da lets me keep a penny from me week’s wages,” Davy said shyly.
“Does he?”
“How long do you reckon it would take for me to save enough for a pair of boots like those?” Davy’s dirty, cold blue toes clenched.
“How much have yeh got?” Ivy knew what it was like to long for something warm and dry to cover your feet.
“I had a shilling,” Davy said proudly. Twelve pence was a lot of money. “But I had to lend it to me da.”
“I’ll keep me eye open for yeh and let yeh know,” Ivy promised.
While Ivy and Davy waited in the cold and rain Ann Marie Gannon was dancing in front of her bedroom mirror. She was delighted with the way her second-hand suit changed her into someone she didn’t recognise. She held up the long skirt to admire her workmen’s boots. Ann Marie spun in place, delighted with the world in general.
“Come in,” she called when someone knocked on her bedroom door.
“Ivy Murphy is downstairs waiting for you, Miss Ann Marie,” Mary Coates said, coming into the room. She began to pick up the garments scattered around the room. She picked up the pale-peach silk gown Ann Marie had dropped carelessly to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Ann Marie dance around, admiring her image with more delight than she’d ever shown for the expensive designer clothes Mary so admired.
“Where’s my shawl, Mary? What did you do with it?” Ann Marie stood away from the mirror and looked around the room as if expecting the shawl to rise up at her words.
“It’s here, Miss,” Mary went to the free-standing dresser of drawers and, kneeling, removed the black knit shawl from the bottom drawer. She stood, closing the drawer with the side of her foot.
“You will need something to hold the shawl in place, Miss.” Mary turned to the hat pin stand on top of the dresser, searching for the plainest hat pin she could find.
“Thank you, Mary.” Ann Marie stood waiting. “Whatever would I do without you?”
“Yes, Miss.” Mary offered the standard servant response to all comments. She draped the shawl over Ann Marie’s head, pulling the long ends of it over her back and shoulders. When the shawl was settled to her satisfaction Mary shoved three solid-silver hat pins with enamel heads into the shawl and through Ann Marie’s hair. “That should hold, Miss.” Mary stood back to admire her work. The pins were well hidden.
“Oh Mary!” Ann Marie hurried back to the mirror. She stood gazing at her own image a delighted grin almost splitting her face. “My own mother wouldn’t recognise me.” Ann Marie almost giggled.
“Yes, Miss.”
“Is Ivy ha
ving a cup of tea in the kitchen?” Ann Marie continued to admire the stranger in the glass.
“Not as far as I know, Miss,” Mary offered.
‘But it’s raining so hard,” Ann Marie looked over her shoulder with a frown. “Surely Ivy isn’t standing out in the rain?” Ann Marie turned and stood with her hands out in front of her – waiting for Mary to pass her gloves. When nothing happened she frowned. “My gloves, Mary.”
“You have no gloves suitable for that outfit, Miss,” Mary said.
“I should go out with bare hands?” Ann Marie asked.
“Yes, Miss.”
“Oh, very well.” Ann Marie wanted to get on her way. She couldn’t wait to see this Lane she’d heard so much about. “I mustn’t keep Miss Murphy waiting.” Delighted with the world at large she turned to hurry from the room.
Ann Marie stopped before actually opening the door and turned to Mary standing at her back. “Mary, could you please check the way is clear for me?” She didn’t want to bump into any of her relatives and have to explain her strange clothing.
“Yes, Miss.” Mary opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “There is no-one about, Miss.”
“Wonderful!” Ann Marie stepped outside and waited while Mary closed the door. “I’ll use the back stairs, Mary.”
“Yes, Miss.” Mary mentally shook her head and led the way down the servant’s stairway to the kitchen. If there were any servants lingering in the kitchen they were about to get the shock of their lives at one of the family entering their domain.
Through Streets Broad and Narrow (Ivy Rose Series Book 1) Page 23