The Ha'Penny Place (Ivy Rose Series Book 3)

by Gemma Jackson

  “You’re looking at my carvings.” Wilson went to put the kettle on. They could talk money over a cup of tea. “I carved them for my lads.”

  “I didn’t know you had children.” Jem didn’t know what to do with himself. He and Frank Wilson had never exactly held a conversation before. If he was going to be his landlord it would fit him better to get to know the man.

  “Twin boys.” He stood watching the kettle, his back to Jem. His lads had loved running their fingers over those carvings. “They were never right.” He took a deep breath and turned to take mugs from one of his cupboards.

  “I’m sorry.” What could he say?

  “They died long before you ever came to The Lane.” Wilson made the tea. “The consumption took them. The missus died not long after my boys. I’ve been living here with my memories for a very long time.” He looked around the familiar room, the glitter of tears in his eyes. “I suppose I should have changed the doors but I could never bring myself to get rid of them.”

  “They’re beautiful,” Jem said truthfully.

  “I’ve ne’er a biscuit to offer you, I’m afraid.” Wilson didn’t want to talk about his carvings any more.

  Jem watched while the man pulled his cleverly concealed table out from the wall units. The entire room was a work of art in his opinion.

  “So, lad,” Wilson gestured to one of the two stools he’d pulled to the table, “let’s talk money and rules. I have rules for the people who live in my house, you know.”

  “I’d never have guessed.” Jem joined the man at the table. “I want to have a look at the rooms. Ivy talked a lot about them. She thought they were grand.”

  “And so they are.”

  “I’m worried about her business.” Jem didn’t think Wilson would want Ivy dragging her pram through his spotlessly clean house. His Ivy was used to coming and going at her own pace. She wouldn’t want anyone keeping an eye on her or passing comment.

  “If we put our heads together we can come up with something.” He’d be glad to have those rooms rented out. The lack of that rent was a big cut in his money.

  “Can we look now?” Jem stood. “Ivy is asleep – I don’t want her to wake up alone. She’s only just heard the news.”

  The two men stood and Frank Wilson showed Jem around what he was hoping would be the home he could be proud to bring his Ivy to. His heart beat hard in his chest as the rooms and all that came with them were shown to him. His mind spun with ideas of how he could turn this place into a little palace. Yes, the rent was high in comparison to what Ivy paid now but they could afford it.

  “Have you any objection to me and Ivy renting these rooms, Mr Wilson?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Then let’s talk money,” Jem said. “I’ll pay you a month’s rent now.” He knew Ivy wanted the security of renting monthly. He didn’t think Old Man Wilson would ever evict them. Look how the man had treated the Rattigans when they fell on hard times. Nevertheless, he wanted to rent by the month. “If it’s no problem to you we can start moving our stuff in immediately.” That would make the moving easier on everyone.

  “I’ll get you a rent book.”

  “Ivy.” Jem sat on the side of the bed and shook her gently. He was surprised when he returned to find her still asleep. The track of fresh tears on her cheeks broke his heart.

  “Jem, where were you?” She sat up in bed, pushing her hair out of her face. “I woke up and you were gone.”

  “I went to see Old Man Wilson.” He bent forward and pressed a kiss into her forehead. “I told him we would take the back rooms. The ones you liked so much.” He’d also talked the man into helping him install a gas cooker for Ivy. No more lighting the range when the heat outside could peel the skin from your body.

  “The rent on that place must be sky high.” Ivy shook her head, trying to wake herself up completely. “That place has indoor plumbing, a garden, outbuildings and a private toilet. We can’t afford something like that.”

  “We can and we will.” Jem wouldn’t tell her the rent. He knew she’d dig in her heels. “Old Man Wilson has the place shining white. He’s even limed and whitewashed the outhouse.”

  “What about me round?” She moved to sit beside him on the side of the bed. “Old Man Wilson would have a fit if I dragged me pram through his house ninety times a day,” she exaggerated.

  “Wilson has ideas about that as well – I’ll tell you later.” Jem was delighted with the surprises he was going to put in place for his wife. If ever a woman deserved a treat now and again it was his Ivy.

  “I hope old Leary,” she nudged her shoulder against his, “chokes when he finds out he did a favour for all of us.” She’d been thinking about suggesting moving into those rooms ever since the Rattigans left. She’d work harder than ever to make the rent.

  “Do you want to go over and see the place,” Jem wanted to keep the light in her eyes, “now that you know it’s going to be yours?”

  “Ours,” Ivy said, having to remind herself yet again that she was a married woman. It wouldn’t be only her making sure the rent was paid. “I went to sleep in the depths of despair . . .”

  “That sounds like something Emmy would say, Ivy – ‘the depths of despair’ indeed.”

  “Like her, I heard it at story night and liked it. I was waiting for a chance to use it.”

  “Well, come out of the depths, woman, and walk over to the Wilson place with me.”

  “Honest to God, Jem, I won’t know meself with running water and me own private toilet. I’ll be getting too big for me boots.”

  “You deserve to hold your head up, love.” He’d be glad to get out of these two rooms. There was something depressing about living in a basement. The sun never seemed to light the place. “I won’t know what to do with myself when I have a lawn. We wouldn’t want to keep animals so I’ll turn the enclosure into a place to grow a few flowers and veg.”

  “How do people pack up their home and move?” She looked around the space that suddenly seemed to echo with so many memories of her life. How did you walk out and leave all that behind you? Still, she’d be glad to leave the ghosts of Eamo and Petey here. The pain of their betrayal stung. “I’ve never moved in me life. You have.” She nudged his shoulder again. “How’s the thing done?”

  “Not the same thing, love.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close to his body. “I arrived in Dublin from Sligo with the clothes I stood up in. There was nothing to bring but me big ugly self. It was the same when I moved in here with you. I carried the stuff we wanted over when the mood struck me.”

  “How can they expect people to pack up and move in a week?” She collapsed into his body, glad of the support.

  “We’ll do it, love, because we have to.”

  “I’ll be the talk of The Lane.” Ivy stood suddenly. She couldn’t collapse. She didn’t have that luxury. “The rent man will be telling everyone about my eviction on Monday. The place will be buzzing with that tasty bit of gossip.”

  “Put your shoes on, love.” Jem stood and took her by the shoulders. “Wash your face, put your head in the air and come on over to Wilson’s.” He shook her gently. “I want to walk around those rooms with you and plan our future.”

  “The rooms look much bigger without the furniture.” She was determined to make the most of this forced move. She might never have had the nerve to leave her basement rooms if she wasn’t pushed. “It’s lovely and bright in here.” She walked around the kitchen space. “We’ll need more than them two kitchen chairs now, Jem.” She could see it in her mind’s eye.

  “I can fix up six of those old wooden chairs I’ve seen you throw out onto the courtyard, Jem Ryan.” Frank Wilson was following along behind his new tenants. Jem had paid the rent. The rooms and back garden were now theirs. “If you can find six that match all the better.”

  Ivy almost danced around the space. She could see it all. She’d put her kitchen table in the back yard of the tenement and scrub i
t within an inch of its life before bringing it over here. Her two old easy chairs would fit in front of the range in here. “Where am I going to put all that stuff from my front room, Jem?” She didn’t want to have that mess in their new home. She needed somewhere for a work room. Perhaps she should think about using that room of Jem’s over the livery? She walked around, the two men at her heels.

  “This could be our bedroom.” Two windows stood open to catch the little wind that stirred. She wanted to cry but they were tears of joy. She’d kill herself to earn the rent on this place. The air that came in the windows smelled different from the hot human smell of her old rooms.

  “Why don’t you move your bed over now?” Frank Wilson suggested. “This heat is bringing people out in prickly rash.” Dublin had been suffering through the worst lightning storms the capital had ever known, according to his crystal radio. “I’ll leave you to show your wife around, Jem.” He backed out of the room. He’d go into his own place and make a pot of tea. He’d carry it out into the back garden. There was a first time for everything.

  “There is another room here.” Jem took her hand and led her away from her fascination with the two open windows. “It’s a bit dark. Maybe we should use it as our bedroom and the light airy room could be your work space. You’d have the light and fresh air while you worked. Then in the winter you could light the fire in there.”

  “All of this space, what will we do with it?” She didn’t expect an answer but kept walking about, shifting things around in her mind. “I don’t want to fill these rooms with me bits and bobs, Jem.”

  “Then step outside, Missus.” He took her hand and pulled her out into the back garden. “You know the Rattigans kept animals out here.” He waved around at the stone sheds lining one of the walls that closed in the garden. “Wilson sold them for the back rent the Rattigans owed him. The man has limed and whitewashed all the sheds. Look!” He pulled open wooden doors to reveal stone walls and floors sparkling white in the light. “I thought you could use one of these sheds for storage. The doors are sturdy enough. We can buy locks from the locksmith.”

  Ivy wasn’t capable of speaking. She was sure her heart was somewhere in her mouth. Was she still lying on her bed dreaming?

  “Look.” He took her hand, pulling her along at his side, delighted with her reaction. He’d rendered his Ivy speechless. “There’s a back lane here that runs along these houses. This door opens onto that lane.” He pulled open the heavy door set into a stone wall. “You’ll be able to pull your pram along that area of scrub.” He stood staring at the area the people of The Lane used to pick blackberries and rosehips. “I’ll widen the path that Mrs Rattigan used. You won’t know yourself, love.”

  “Pinch me, Jem.” Ivy stared around, her violet eyes hurting they were open so wide. “I want to know if I’m dreaming – ouch!” She yelped when he took her literally.

  “You’ll be able to walk around the outside of the house and into this yard.” Jem shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, a big smile on his face. “The rear door has a good heavy lock on it.” He pointed it out to her. “You can wheel your pram into one of the sheds and park it. We have to figure out a way of lighting the sheds but it’s doable, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t ask me to think right now, love – it’s beyond me.”

  “Lend a hand here, Jem!” Frank yelled out the open back door. He had a tray with mugs, milk and sugar in his hands. He’d even managed to put his hand on a packet of biscuits. “I have to go back and get the teapot. I’ve never served tea in a garden before.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” Jem didn’t think Ivy even noticed him leaving. She was standing staring around her with sparkling eyes. That was good enough for him. With light steps he walked over the grass to give Old Man Wilson a hand serving his Ivy her first cup of tea in her new home.

  Ivy kicked off her canvas shoes and buried her toes in the grass. She wanted to fall to her knees and cry. She’d wanted something better than her two-room basement. Look at her now! Eat your heart out, Father Leary, she thought, and after a quick glance around to check she was alone she spat into the grass. The bloody man had done her a favour. She’d be sure to thank him.

  Chapter 45

  “Jem said to bring these over.” Conn Connelly pushed a hand trolley along the back yard of the tenement block. Six matching wooden chairs were sitting high on the trolley. “Where do you want them?”

  “Leave them here.” Ivy pointed with the scrubbing brush she held in her hand. She’d dragged her kitchen table out into the back yard. Jem was over at the livery looking for tools to pull their big brass bed apart. She’d scrub every inch of that too as soon as it had been broken down into its parts.

  “In the name of God, Ivy.” Marcella Wiggins hurried over, a gaggle of women following her. They’d been watching the goings-on from their place in line at the outdoor tap. “Have you lost the run of yourself? What is going on?”

  “I’m moving.” Ivy dipped the brush into the soapy water sitting in an enamel bowl at her feet. “I want me things clean before we shift them.”

  “You’re leaving us, Ivy,” Lily Connelly said. “Conn never said a word.” She glared at her son. Imagine leaving her to find out this juicy morsel of gossip like this.

  “My Jem wants his own place.” Ivy kept her head down as she uttered that bit of nonsense. “I only just found out meself.”

  “But where are you going?” came from several women.

  “I’m only moving across the way into Wilson’s place.”

  “Right.” Marcella Wiggins pushed at her arms. She wasn’t wearing a jumper but the move was instinctive now. “Have you another bowl and brush? I’ll carry in the water and come back out and help you.” She knew those rooms the Rattigans had rented. They were a big step up from these two basement rooms – more power to Jem Ryan, she thought.

  “I’d be very grateful.” Ivy stood, pushing the hair out of her eyes with the hand holding the scrubbing brush. “Jem and me are going out to Dalkey tomorrow for Sunday lunch.” She offered that bit of news casually. The news would be around The Lane in minutes. “I’ve been thanking God for the long evenings. I’ll have time to get a lot done before it turns dark.”

  “If we carry your mattress out here,” Marcella pointed at the weedy, cracked, dusty cobbles under their feet, “we can beat it and air it out. Come on, ladies, let’s be havin’ yez! Who has a few minutes to help an old neighbour?” The woman had her work force organised before she left to carry the buckets of water up to her own rooms. Some of the neighbours offered to help out of curiosity, wanting to know what Ivy had, but most genuinely wanted to help.

  “Ivy, there’s a brown-paper packet here from America not even opened.” Lily Connelly held the parcel in her hands. “What do you want me to do with it?” The women working in the back yard stopped moving. The women sweltering in the back basement room stared. A parcel from America and it not even opened yet – imagine that.

  “Conn.” Ivy wanted to sit down and never move again. She didn’t think she’d ever worked so hard in her life. Marcella Wiggins was a slave driver – and they hadn’t even touched the front room – that was for her to do. “Grab a bicycle and get us a block of ice from the ice man.”

  “Won’t be long.” Conn was glad to escape the women. He took off around the tenement block. Jem would give him the money he needed.

  “He didn’t wait for me to get me purse.” Ivy stared after the fleeing lad.

  “You’ve got a husband now, Ivy,” Marcella said. “Let him pay for it.”

  “Right.” She still sometimes forgot she was married. “I haven’t enough mugs but there are jars of barley water in the bottom of me cupboard and a big pot of it on the back of the stove. We’ll have iced barley water like the nobs.” She smiled a little at the women’s reaction. Iced anything was a rare treat. “We’ve been drinking our sweat scrubbing. I’m about ready to collapse.” There was a murmer of
agreement.

  “We could put them sheets on to boil, Ivy.” A woman pointed to the heap of bedding sitting outside. “They wouldn’t take long drying in this weather.”

  “I’m going to make me bed with the sheets Mrs Wiggins gave me for a wedding present,” Ivy decided at that moment. Normally such presents were never opened but instead used as currency in The Lane. The pawn shops paid good money for an unopened package. But Ivy hadn’t needed to go to the pawn for years. She would use the sheets – she meant to start out in her new home as she meant to go on, God willing.

  “You never!” That started a storm of protest and exclamations of astonishment. She didn’t care.

  “Jem said you might be needing a load of mugs.” Jimmy Johnson appeared with a basket filled to the brim with enamel mugs.

  “Right, ladies,” Ivy yelled. “Everyone outside! Conn won’t be long getting back from the ice man.”

  Ivy gave a deep sigh of contentment. Her Jem had turned a nightmare into a dream and there was still that package from America to open. Ivy Murphy’s moving day would be talked about for a long time.

  Chapter 46

  “Uncle Jem, Aunty Ivy!” Emmy ran across the green lawn towards the driveway at breakneck speed.