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

by Gemma Jackson

“Jesus!” Jem slammed on the brakes, afraid the little one was going to run out in front of the car. He jumped out and caught the racing child up into his arms. “Emmy, you should be more careful around moving vehicles.” He hugged her tight.

  “I missed you,” Emmy leaned back to say. “Did you miss me?”

  “Ivy!” Ann Marie walked at a clipped pace from the open doors of her Dalkey home. Her feet seemed to fly over the grass. “I feel I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “That’s because you haven’t,” Ivy said. She thought there was a light in her friend’s eyes she’d never seen before. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “Jem!” Ann Marie smiled when she reached the couple. “Edward is reading the Sunday papers in the lounge if you would care to join him.”

  “I’ll take this little one for a walk along the strand first, if that’s okay with you,” Jem replied.

  “Don’t I get a hello?” Ivy held out her hands and took a giggling Emmy from Jem.

  “I missed you, Aunty Ivy,” Emmy whispered into Ivy’s neck.

  “Let me look at you.” Ivy stood the child on the grass.

  Emmy was dressed in a white lace dress that was starched and stood out from her body due to the many petticoats. She wore long blindingly white stockings and little black patent-leather shoes. The outfit was beautiful but it didn’t look like the kind of clothes for running around in the nearby sand. The sea water would ruin those shoes in no time. She pulled her own cotton dress out of the way before dropping to her knees on the grass. It was easier to ask pardon than permission, she thought.

  “Jem, put your own shoes and socks in the back of the automobile,” she ordered. The driveway was so wide the automobile could sit there and not cause an obstruction.

  Ann Marie said nothing but watched her friends and the child. They seemed so natural together. A family group – she and Edward were so stiff with the little girl, struggling to find a way of communicating. She hated that she couldn’t behave as naturally with Emerald as these two.

  “You won’t let your Uncle Jem go in the water, will you?” Ivy was removing Emmy’s shoes and socks. She reached under the stiff dress and removed layers of petticoats. “He gets all silly when he goes to the seaside.” She smiled before pressing a kiss onto Emmy’s nose. “Away with the pair of you! Ann Marie and me want a bit of peace and quiet.” She stood, the cast-off clothing in her hands.

  “I asked Edward to give us some time alone together, Ivy,” Ann Marie said as the two women stood watching Jem and a skipping chattering Emmy make their way towards the sea and sand nearby. “I’ve missed you, Ivy.”

  She put her arm through Ivy’s and they began slowly walking towards a nearby gazebo. They would be able to watch Jem and Emmy from the open-sided building.

  “How’s married life treating you?” Ann Marie asked when they stepped up into the gazebo.

  “It’s strange.” Ivy dropped the clothes onto a padded bench that ran around the inside of the gazebo. She watched Ann Marie remove the top from a well-stocked silver ice bucket that was sitting on an iron table. Without asking, her friend began to fill two of the nearby tall glasses with ice and what looked like freshly squeezed lemon juice. It seemed to be Ivy’s week for drinking out of doors. “Nobody ever mentions how strange it is to learn to live with someone else.” She looked around before adding, “I forget sometimes that I’m married.”

  Ann Marie passed Ivy the chilled glass with a smile. She walked over to sit on the padded bench, ignoring the chairs pulled up to the table.

  “What’s wrong?” Ivy joined Ann Marie on the bench. Her friend didn’t seem like her usual self to her. Something wasn’t right. She could sense it. She looked out to sea. It was beautiful here. The sound of Emmy’s delighted laughter and Jem’s deeper laugh floated up to them.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Ann Marie stared into Ivy’s concerned eyes. She had missed this woman more than she could have imagined.

  Ivy waited without speaking. Ann Marie stood, stepped away and practically banged her glass onto the table-top. She whirled around and put her knee on the bench beside Ivy. She stared out to sea.

  “What’s wrong?” Ivy repeated.

  “I don’t know.” Ann Marie didn’t look around. “I like Edward. I like him very much.” She thought she had found the man she could share her life with. Edward too seemed to be seeking a life change. He had invited her to join him in Galway. They had spent every spare moment together, investigating and finalising the matter of Mary Rose Donnelly. She had been invigorated by the visit. “I don’t like the woman I’m becoming,” she almost shouted to the sea. “I’m stiff and formal when I want to be relaxed and amusing. I second-think everything I say or do.” She turned to look down at her friend. “Ivy, I’m driving myself mad.”

  “Perhaps it is this house.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look!” Ivy stood and turned slowly around. “This place is magnificent. I can see that. I can’t imagine living somewhere like this.”

  “And?” Ann Marie knew there was more.

  “You are very much the lady of the manor living here.” Ivy waved a hand between them. “You lived here with your parents. From what you’ve told me you were instructed in your duty to this house and your heritage when you were growing up.” She’d been fascinated by the stories Ann Marie shared with her. Their lives had been so very different. “Look at us. I knew I was coming here to this estate. It never entered my head to dress formally. I was coming to see my friend Ann Marie. You have to be dying of the heat in that get-up.” She pointed at Ann Marie’s beige silk three-piece suit and her own lightweight cotton drop-waist dress. “You are wearing strings of pearls, for goodness’ sake. You look beautiful, there’s no two ways about that – but stiff and formal. It’s just like Emmy’s clothes, not practical for running barefoot along the sand. And where is your camera?”

  “Dear Lord . . .” Ann Marie stared, Ivy’s words echoing in her head.

  “I’m not the one you should be having this conversation with,” Ivy said. “You need to sit Edward down and ask him what he wants. He seemed to like the Ann Marie he met who always had a camera in her hand and a thousand questions on her lips.” Ann Marie was ten years older than her. Shouldn’t that mean she had much more experience of life? “If you promise not to hit me I’ll tell you straight out. You look like your aunt and her cronies.”

  “Oh, the unkindest cut of all!” Ann Marie clasped her hands dramatically to her chest. “Seriously, thank you, Ivy. I’ve been trying to be someone I’m not. Someone I don’t even like.”

  “I think,” Ivy had been giving a great deal of thought to this very subject, “it is having a man in your life. A man you admire and respect. Suddenly you question everything about yourself. You second-guess things, wondering if the man will like this or that. It can drive you crazy.”

  “The very thing.” Ann Marie stared out to sea, not seeing anything but her own actions of the last weeks. “I’ve been trying to form myself into the perfect female for Edward without ever asking him his opinion.” She wanted to kick herself.

  “From what you’ve told me you had a better example of a good marriage than I did. My parents were all fire and flash. Your parents respected each other. But do you really want a marriage like your parents or your uncle? Times are changing. It seems to me that Edward O’Connor with his flying machine and adventuring wouldn’t want to be tied down with a woman that looks like she sucks lemons and talks about her charity work every evening.”

  “I’ll be right back!” Ann Marie ran out of the gazebo, shouting over her shoulder. “Don’t move!”

  “I’m going nowhere.” Ivy looked down the slight incline to where Jem and Emmy were building sandcastles. “Well, maybe just a short distance to join in the fun.” She kicked off her shoes and stockings and with a rebel yell ran down the sand dunes to join her man and the child they both loved.

  “What did Ann Marie say when you told her we were
moving?” Jem drove slowly along the roads packed with families returning from a day out at the seaside.

  “I forgot.” Ivy slapped her hand to her mouth.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised.” Jem kept his eyes on the road. “I didn’t really enjoy the visit.” He didn’t want to criticise their friend but the day had been strange. It seemed to him that O’Connor and Ann Marie were very wrapped up in listening to each other speak. They were distracted. He was worried about Emmy. The little girl didn’t seem to enjoy living out in the middle of nowhere – even if it was in the lap of luxury.

  “That might have been my fault,” Ivy said.

  Ann Marie had joined them on the beach, dragging a confused Edward after her. She’d changed into a cotton dress and seemed to be acting like someone with a fever. Ivy got the impression that they were in the way. The other couple seemed to have a lot they wanted to say to each other but couldn’t because she and Jem were there. It was a very odd visit, to say the least.

  They drove along, lost in their own thoughts.

  Chapter 47

  “Are yeh off?”

  “Go back to sleep.” Jem eased his body out of the big bed. “It’s early yet.”

  “I’ll make a pot of tea.”

  “I’ll get some across the way.”

  “I’ll never get back to sleep.” Ivy stretched, her naked flesh still feeling strange to her. “I’ve a lot to get done today.”

  “Are you going to go around the Tuesday markets?”

  “No, I’ve too much to do.”

  She pulled on the dress she’d left over the end of the bed, not bothering with underwear. She almost skipped out of the bedroom and outside to the toilet. She would never get accustomed to having a private toilet and running water inside. She rinsed her hands, admiring the water running from her very own tap. She put the kettle on the Primus stove. She’d plenty of bread and cracked eggs on hand. She’d make a pot of scrambled eggs for breakfast. It was her duty to feed her man before he left for work.

  When they were both washed, dressed and fed, Jem crossed the short space between their new home and his work. Ivy hurried around the tenement block. She had so much to do.

  “How do other people do this?” She stared around at the mess surrounding her. She’d paid her last week’s rent on these rooms yesterday. The contents of the front room would be easier to shift through the empty back room and out the door. Since she used tea chests and orange boxes for storage she’d a great deal of the packing done already. The stacks of wool and rolls of fabric would need to be covered back up.

  Someone knocked on her front door. She wasn’t surprised, thinking it was Mr Wilson coming to check out how much stuff she had to move. He’d said he’d be by this morning. He was only getting three days work down the docks at the moment. Ivy wanted to talk to him about building special shelves and cupboards for the shed she’d use for storage. She could make note of everything she had as she packed it into the shed.

  “Patty Grant, what are you doing at my front door?” Ivy didn’t have time for this visitor.

  “I know you went by the rent office yesterday.” The woman didn’t look at Ivy but was busy checking out everything she could see over her shoulder. “I heard all about you moving to a fancier place but I know you’ve been ordered to shift. Father Leary promised me he’d get you out and he’s not a man to give his word lightly. I thought you should know that me and mine are moving in here. I want to measure up, see what needs doing.” She sniffed, still refusing to look at Ivy. “You might have a few things I’d be willing to buy.” She put her hand in her skirt pocket and, in a manner that set Ivy’s teeth on edge, rattled the coins she’d put in there before leaving her own room. “I want to examine everything.”

  “Pity about yeh.” Ivy longed to slam the door in the woman’s face. “I’m afraid I’m too busy for you to visit right now.” She closed the door quickly.

  “I want to measure up, Ivy Murphy!” Patty Grant roared through the letterbox cut into the door.

  “Want may be your master,” Ivy yelled back, “and that’s Mrs Ryan to you!”

  There was a knock on the back door.

  “What now?” Ivy hurried to answer. Patty Grant was still shouting and banging at her front door. Well, she could knock to her heart’s content. “Mr Wilson, come in quick.” She practically pulled the man over her backdoor step.

  “What’s all that banging?”

  “Ignore it.” Ivy wouldn’t give Patty Grant breath. “I wanted to show you my front room. It’s in a terrible mess. I need to discuss special cupboards and whatnot with you. I thought you would have more of an idea of what I’ll need. I’ll pay you of course for the work.”

  “There will be no talk of paying me for my work.” Frank was glad of having something to occupy his time. “You just buy the wood.”

  “Nonsense, Mr Wilson. Me da always said ‘a labourer is worthy of his hire’, which was a bit of a cheek since he never laboured a day in his life to my knowledge. Still, the sentiment’s right.” She grinned.

  “You weren’t joking when you said the place was a mess.” Frank hoped to God she wouldn’t keep his back rooms in this state. “Show me what you have to put away and if you explain to me a little bit about what you plan to do with . . .” he turned in a circle, “all this stuff, it will give me a better idea of what’s needed.”

  “Are yeh looking, Da?” Ivy stood in her empty rooms, the place echoing around her. “Granny Grunt, are you up there on a cloud passing comment on all of these goings-on? I know you’d be glad for me.” She’d asked Jem and the lads to give her a chance to say goodbye to the place. She had the front and back doors open, allowing the air to circulate and remove the smell of the whitewash the lads had used. “I remembered so many things when I was packing up this place.” She walked between the two rooms, checking that everything was spic and span. The big black range was polished and gleaming, the shine from the copper fittings almost blinding.

  “You in there, Ivy?” Marcella Wiggins shouted from the back door.

  “Just saying goodbye to the old place.” Ivy walked from the front into the back room.

  “You won’t know yourself with the luxury of Frank Wilson’s place.” Marcella stepped into the back room. “You’ve left the place lovely for Patty Grant and her family I must say.”

  Marcella started to say more but Patty Grant shouted from the front door. The woman refused to come around to the back door. She’d let it be known that she’d be using her own front door now.

  “Can I do me measuring now, Ivy Murphy, or are yeh going to slam the door in me face again?”

  Marcella raised her eyes to heaven and, with a finger to her lips for silence, slipped out the back door.

  “Come on in, Mrs Grant,” Ivy called sweetly, walking forward. There was no sense of making an enemy of the woman. Not if she had the ear of Father Leary. “I was just giving the place a final polish.” She would put the keys to the place through the letterbox when she left. The changeover of tenants would be handled by the rent man. She’d hoped for time alone to say goodbye but it didn’t look like she was going to get it. Perhaps that was for the best. It was better to look forward after all.

  Chapter 48

  “Ivy,” Jem shouted. “Ivy, are you about?”

  “Over here,” a voice answered.

  “In the name of God, Ivy, what are you up to now?” Jem walked around to the bramble patch that infested the area between the back walls of the houses on Stephen’s Lane and Old Man Wilson’s place.

  “I’m picking the last of the blackberries.”

  She wasn’t the only one – a whole bunch of women and children were busily picking.

  “Well, come out of there, Missus.” Jem shook his head. His Ivy was never still. He waited and watched while his wife pulled away from the brambles that stuck to her long black skirt. Her face and hands were covered in blackberry juice. She’d been eating as many as she put in the bucket in her hand.

>   “What’s up?” Ivy used the toe of her boys’ boots to hold down the nettles.

  “You are about to have a visitor.” Jem took her elbow and almost pulled her away from the other curious blackberry-pickers.

  “What!”

  “Billy Flint telephoned the livery.” Jem walked Ivy along the path he’d cut in the brambles to make a walkway around the side of Wilson’s house, along the outside wall of their yard. The path was almost bald now, Ivy used it so much.

  “In the name of God,” Ivy stopped walking to stare at Jem, “what does he want?”

  “He’s coming here to see you.” Jem started her walking again. She’d be mortified if she had to greet the man in her old clothes and covered in blackberry juice.

  “When?”

  “I told him to wait an hour.”

  “That should give you time to roll out the red carpet.”

  “It won’t, no,” Jem teased, “but it’ll give you time to wash your face and change your clothes.”

  “He can take me as he finds me. I didn’t invite him.”

  “Well, I’ve passed the message along.” He turned to leave. “I’ll get back to my work.”

  “What, you’re going to leave me here alone to meet him?” she shouted at his back.

  “He’s your uncle,” he answered over his shoulder. “Nothing to do with me.”