“To my knowledge there are no baby dolls in production at this moment in time.” Ivy was glad she was sitting. She was getting too good at this lying to suit herself. Was it a big sin? “I’ll discuss the issue with my artists and get back to you.” She’d planned to create a Christmas doll and thought she’d have to work hard to sell it. Now, with this, perhaps she could come up with something they could sell year round.
“Wonderful,” Geraldine beamed.
The two women settled down to discuss business. They would never be friends but they shared the burden of being females trying to make a living in a man’s world, which created an intimacy that both enjoyed.
Chapter 8
Ivy walked along Grafton Street in the direction of Stephen’s Green. A display in the stationary shop she was passing caught her eye. She took it as a sign from above and, without a second thought, stepped into the shop to buy one of the large illustrated editions of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland that were piled high in the shop window.
With the heavy book in hand, she turned down South Ann Street. She regularly passed a large haberdashery on Dawson Street. She’d buy the thread for the sample dolls there. She didn’t have time to go home, change out of her good clothes and head for the market and Harry Green’s warehouse.
She stood staring into the high wide glass windows of the haberdashery. She wanted to run in and buy everything she saw displayed so temptingly before her. The shop window was cleverly arranged with a mouth-watering selection of tools and threads. The shop doorway divided the two large windows and sat back from the pavement.
“Ivy Murphy!” A woman stood in the open doorway, smiling sweetly. “I haven’t seen you admiring my shop window before.”
“Hannah Solomon,” Ivy had forgotten that Mr Solomon’s youngest daughter was married to the owner of the haberdashery, “I haven’t seen you in ages.” They were of an age and had grown up together in The Lane.
“Was there something you needed?” Hannah waved towards the shop window. She wanted Ivy to step inside – her mother-in-law was out and about, leaving Hannah in charge of the shop. They would be able to talk in peace.
“I’m standing here hopin’ me Fairy Godmother will arrive and buy that silver sewing kit for me.” Ivy shrugged. “I may as well dream here as in bed.”
Hannah stepped outside and looked at the kit Ivy was indicating. “We sell some of those pieces loose.” She looked over her shoulder, almost expecting her husband’s domineering mother to appear. The woman did like to pinch. “The implements are not so expensive when you buy them individually.” She held open the heavy wood and glass door. “Step inside and see.”
“I was going to go home first, Hannah.” Ivy wasn’t sure about going inside – the prices on the items in the window had shocked her. “I wanted to make a list of the things I’ll need before I came into your shop.”
“Come in, please.” Hannah refused to take no for an answer. Ivy Murphy didn’t know it but she was an answer to Hannah’s fervent prayers. “Come in and look around. If you tell me what you need perhaps I can help you make a list.”
“Alright.” Ivy stepped forward, surprised at Hannah’s insistence.
She stepped into a wonderland of colour. She stood in the middle of the store, slowly turning on her heel as she tried to take everything in. The selection of coloured embroidery threads and knitting yarns stretched to the ceiling. The long waist-high glass-topped cabinets sitting on the floor held silver needlecraft tools. She wanted one of everything.
“Papa tells me you’re walking out with Jem Ryan.” Hannah was enjoying Ivy’s reaction to the shop. She had been working in this place for what sometimes felt like forever. She didn’t see the beauty surrounding her any more. “Have you set a date yet?”
Ivy bent over one of the cabinets, her hands behind her back, resisting the temptation to lean on the glass top and just stare. “Don’t you start, Hannah Solomon.” She raised her eyes from their examination of the treasure locked in the cabinet. She knew Hannah had married Manny Felman but she would always be Hannah Solomon in her mind. “I feel as if I have the world and his mother asking me to make an honest man out of Jem Ryan. I’ll make me own mind up if you don’t mind.” She smiled to remove the bite from her response.
“Jem Ryan is a good man.” Hannah’s dark eyes lit up with a smile that didn’t reach her lips. “But I’ll say no more on the matter.” She held up delicate, blue-veined hands in defeat. “Come, tell me what it is you need.”
“I need to make an Alice in Wonderland outfit for a doll. I thought to buy the stuff I need in here but, honest to God, Hannah – these prices!”
“Papa told me you were making dolls.” Hannah walked slowly over to a heavily curtained alcove. She divided the curtain to reveal a hidden section of the shop. “I saw you outside the Gaiety.” She hadn’t been able to go over and say hello to her old friend. She’d been with her husband, his mother and four of his sons. They would have fainted if she’d mentioned she knew the doll seller. “My husband bought one of your Cinderella dolls for his granddaughter.” And complained all the way home about the price, she didn’t add.
“Then you have an idea of what I need.”
Ivy was examining Hannah from under her eyelashes. She didn’t want to stare but the other woman looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She seemed a shadow of the laughing girl Ivy remembered. The black dress Hannah wore was old-fashioned and unflattering. There were dark shadows under her big brown eyes and her black hair was dull and lifeless, pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her neck. Mr Solomon boasted a great deal about the wonderful marriage he had arranged for his youngest daughter. Hannah’s husband was a wealthy businessman much older than his wife.
“We have a selection of doll patterns.” Hannah left the alcove exposed. They could visit that section when she had a clearer idea of Ivy’s needs. “The under-nannies in the surrounding big houses sometimes enjoy dressing the nursery dolls.” She walked to a tall cupboard, opened it, and withdrew a large thick pattern book. She carried the book over to the shop counter and with a wave of her hand invited Ivy over to take a look.
“These are wonderful,” Ivy turned the pages of the large book carefully, “but they’re all for china dolls. I was going to make the pattern myself.” She planned to copy the outfit on the cover of the book she’d bought.
“I thought this book would give you some ideas.” Hannah didn’t want Ivy to leave.
“There are so many different illustrations of Alice.” Ivy stood upright. She’d been bending over the cabinet and this counter too long – her back was kinking. “I’ve seen Alice drawn with a brown dress, a white dress with a red apron and even a red, white and blue outfit.”
“The latest editions of the book seem to have settled on a blue dress with a white apron – look.” Hannah nudged Ivy gently to one side and opened the book at a pattern of a doll’s outfit that claimed to be taken from the drawings of Sir John Tenniel – the original illustrator of the Alice books. “See,” her finger pointed to the printed claim, “that is the look you need for your doll.”
Ivy took a notebook and a pencil from the beige handbag Ann Marie insisted she carry. With a few quick flicks of her pencil she copied the design from the pattern book. The individual pieces of the pattern would give her some ideas for cutting out her own pattern.
“Right.” She put her notebook and pencil back in her handbag. “I need fabric, blue and white. I need thread. I will buy them here this once but, honestly, Hannah, your prices are way too high for me to shop here often.”
“I know,” Hannah smiled sadly, “but, if you will follow me, I think I can show you items that you can afford.” She walked over to the curtained alcove and, with Ivy at her heels, stepped inside. “I have already mentioned the under-nannies – well, the seamstresses and housekeepers of the big houses shop here too. I have set aside this area and sell off the opened packages and returned goods for a fraction of the c
ost of the items in the main shop.”
Ivy stepped into the alcove, looked around and with a deep breath decided not to look at the prices. She needed these articles now. She would determine the price of the doll on how much she spent in this shop. “You have a bit of everything in here. First, I want one of those fine bristle paintbrushes and a pot of black acrylic paint.” Ivy began to amass the items she needed.
There was a small table with two chairs sitting in the middle of the little space. She looked back out at the ornate table and chairs in the main shop and sighed. She always seemed to be in the ha’penny place.
“I really want a pair of silver sharp-nose sewing scissors if you have any on offer in here.” Ivy put a roll of blue and a roll of white fabric on the counter on one side of the alcove opening.
The two women settled down to business. They were like children in a sweetshop, pulling out articles and exclaiming over their beauty. The alcove had a tall cupboard filled with drawers that hid many delights. Hannah pulled these out to show Ivy. In the time they spent together Ivy thought Hannah stood taller and seemed to regain some of her drooping spirits. She was aware Hannah was giving her sideways looks but, if the woman didn’t want to say what she was thinking, well, it was none of her business.
Ivy bought a pair of silver scissors and a silver thimble. It was ridiculous but she had decided to treat herself and to heck with the cost.
“Why has this shop been left unattended?” An imperious voice carried over the frantic ringing of the bell over the front door of the shop. “Hannah, are you in your penny-dreadful department again?”
“My mother-in-law . . . has returned,” Hannah offered, the vitality and joy draining out of her so drastically it was visible. She grabbed Ivy’s elbow and went on her toes to whisper in her ear. “Can I come to your back door one evening?”
“Yes,” Ivy whispered back.
“I’m with a customer, Mother Felman!” Hannah picked up the roll of blue fabric and carried it into the main shop.
“A servant person, no doubt.”
Ivy couldn’t see the speaker but she didn’t like the tone of her voice. She was a customer here and spending good money in the place.
“I realise my son married far beneath himself,” the voice said just loud enough for Ivy to hear, “but after all this time I had hoped some of our polish would have rubbed off on you, Hannah.” There was a world of sorrow in the domineering voice. “I am disappointed – yet again.”
Ivy walked out into the shop. “I do not believe it is quite the done thing to discuss your private affairs in front of a customer.” She had her chin in the air and the bit firmly between her teeth. She’d had just about enough of old goats like this one.
Ivy walked across the shop to stand on the customer side of the long counter. She tried to ignore the tall looming figure dressed from head to toe in black bombazine. The woman was huge. Her black-feathered hat almost filled the shop. She towered over poor Hannah.
“You have been extremely helpful,” Ivy said to Hannah. “I had intended to open an account for future purchases. I have since changed my mind.” She put her bag on the counter beside the cash register, opened it and took out the folded leather chequebook she’d never used. She was going to write her very first cheque. She’d have liked to share her joy with Hannah but not with that old bat looking down her nose at her. “I will write you a cheque for these purchases.”
Hannah returned to the alcove to pick up more of Ivy’s items.
Ivy saw the gleam of avarice in the older woman’s eyes. “If you would be so kind as to telephone that number.” She had taken one of her Ivy Rose Dolls business cards from her handbag and now pushed it across the counter towards Hannah, “and order my carriage to return for me, I would appreciate it.”
“Certainly,” Hannah hid the gleam in her eyes by staring at the embossed white card on the counter, “Miss Rose.”
“You take care of the telephone call, Hannah,” Ruth Felman barked suddenly. “I will tend to Miss Rose. You haven’t offered Miss Rose any refreshment.” She glanced at the bare table set up for their customer’s convenience. She stripped off the heavy overcoat she wore and passed the garment to Hannah. She removed her black leather gloves and the pins from her oversized hat. She pushed everything in Hannah’s direction, for her to deal with.
“I prefer to continue being served by this lady. I’ve found her knowledge of needlecraft superior to most that I have met in my travels.” Ivy turned her back on the woman. She didn’t dare catch Hannah’s eye or the game would be up. She’d collapse giggling at the feet of the woman, gasping like a landed cod fish.
Hannah went into the small office to make the telephone call while Ruth Felman tried to engage Ivy in conversation. Ivy was chillingly polite. While refusing to offer any information.
“Your carriage will be here momentarily, Miss Rose,” Hannah said, coming back into the shop. She had to bite her lips to keep the bubble of laughter from escaping. Ivy Murphy, the rag woman, had put her overbearing mother-in-law in her place. She wished she had someone to share the joke with.
“Thank you.” Ivy opened the snap that held the cover of her chequebook closed and prepared to do business. She silently thanked Ann Marie for insisting she carry a good fountain pen in her handbag.
Chapter 9
“Well, well, well, Ivy Murphy.” Jem stood in the open door of the livery, his hands on his hips, a big grin on his face as he watched one of his drivers assist Ivy from her carriage. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Less of your lip, sir – pay the man.” Ivy waved her hand towards the driver. She saw the look of surprise on Jem and the carriage driver’s face and lost it. To hell with it, who cared who was watching? She ran into Jem’s suddenly open arms and, with a smile big enough to crack her face, said, “Hello, handsome, buy a girl a cup of tea?” She giggled, thrilled with herself. Everything else could wait – she was going to sit down with her fella and tell him all about her day.
“I think you’ve been drinking something stronger than tea, Miss Murphy.” Jem was delighted to see the joy of living practically written on his Ivy’s lovely face.
“No, but do I have a story for you! Buy us a cup of tea, Mr Ryan.”
“Come on then.” He threw his arm around her. “Conn,” he shouted for one of his lads, “come take these parcels, will you? It looks like Ivy bought the shop out.” They waited while Conn took the brown-paper-covered parcels from the grinning driver.
Jem took the work docket from the driver before releasing the man to return to his business. With the sound of horse hooves hitting the cobbles, Ivy and he turned to go into the livery.
“Leave your parcels with Conn.” Jem didn’t want to have his tea in the area the lads had set up as a tea room. “We’ll have our tea upstairs. I know I won’t get a word of sense out of you until you’ve a cup of tea in your hand. But, I’m warning you, this story better be good.” He stood back and watched Ivy climb the ladder to his room in the loft. He knew they were tempting fate. Their canoodling sessions were getting hotter and heavier. It was getting harder and harder to let Ivy leave his arms.
“We have to stop.” Jem pushed Ivy gently away from him but still held her on his lap.
In spite of his best intentions he’d been unable to resist the temptation created by having his Ivy all to himself. They had sat at the table while Ivy had her tea and chatted about her day. When she’d paused for breath he’d stood and pulled her into his arms. He wanted the right to hold her in his arms all through the night.
“I can’t go on like this, Ivy,” he said now, brushing his lips over her flushed cheeks. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. “We need to name the day. When are you going to marry me?”
“Oh Jem!” Ivy pushed herself off his lap and walked over to sit in one of the two wooden chairs pulled up to the small table. She avoided his eyes by checking the buttons of her blouse – Jem’s hands had been busy.
“I’m only h
uman, Ivy.” Jem remained seated in his one soft chair. He pushed shaking fingers through his hair. “We’re tempting fate kissing and canoodling. One of these days I won’t be able to stop. We need to get churched.”
“I need a little more time.” She looked around Jem’s room. He kept the loft space clean and tidy. She knew there were families living in The Lane that would have been delighted with a large airy room all to themselves. Why did she want something different? Why couldn’t she accept what was on offer? Why did she always seem to want more – what was wrong with her? “Where would we live?”
“Your family lived in those two basement rooms.” Jem had hoped to offer Ivy something better but at least they could start their married life in those two rooms. He hadn’t mentioned Ann Marie’s idea about converting one end of the livery into living accommodation. He was worried about the cost of the alterations. He didn’t want to start his married life deep in debt.
“It seems everyone and his mother has their eye on them two rooms.”
“It would only be to start off, Ivy.” Jem resisted the temptation to pull her back into his arms. He wanted to kiss her worries away. “Your doll business is taking off and I can’t keep up with the demands that are pouring in for carriages and movers. We can start in those two rooms and work towards something better – together.”
The Ha'Penny Place (Ivy Rose Series Book 3) Page 4