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

by Gemma Jackson

  “Call the Garda,” Edward ordered. They could figure out the ins and outs later. His little girl was missing and he wanted her found.

  “Howayeh, Emmy,” one of the young lads that hung around The Lane shouted as he ran to retrieve his paper-and-twine ball. “Haven’t seen yeh in ages.”

  “Hello, Eric,” Emmy replied. “I’m going to see my Uncle Jem.”

  “He’s gone home.” Eric gave a gap-toothed grin. “Saw him meself.”

  “Thank you.” Emmy turned her pram in the direction of her Aunty Ivy’s. She left the pram at the top of the steps as she’d seen Aunty Ivy do. She’d need help getting the heavy pram down the steel steps. She knocked on the familiar front door and waited, almost dancing in her excitement.

  The door opened.

  “Who are you?” Emmy demanded of the stranger who stood in the open door. “Where is my Aunty Ivy?” She was shocked at finding someone she didn’t know in her aunt’s home.

  “She moved.” The door slammed. Eve Grant, Patty’s eldest daughter, had enough to put up with without answering questions from rude little girls.

  Emmy stood stunned for a moment. She didn’t know what to do. Her Aunty Ivy had moved away and now she didn’t know where she was. She went up the steel steps like an old woman. It was all too much for her. She sat on the steps leading up to the tenement house and sobbed as if her heart was breaking.

  “Emmy!” Maisie Reynolds ran down the steps and dropped down beside the little girl. She put her arm around the child’s shaking figure and pulled her in close to her side. “Emmy, love, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I can’t find my Aunty Ivy,” Emmy wailed, tears running down her face, her entire body shaking with sobs. “I don’t know where she’s gone. My Aunty Ivy is gone.”

  “Silly little girl!” Maisie used her apron to wipe the little girl’s face. “She’s only across the way.” She stood up, shouting for her husband. As soon as he appeared in the open door of the house, she said, “I’m going to take this little one across to Ivy and Jem.” She gave him a look that said she didn’t know what was going on but she was going to find out. She picked the child up off the steps and put her on her hip.

  “My pram!” Emmy reached down to grab at the handle of her doll’s pram still sitting at the gate leading down to the two basement rooms. “I can’t leave my pram. I have presents for my Aunty Ivy.”

  “Give the child to me.” Peter Reynolds came down the steps to take the child. “You get the pram, love.” The pair set out together to take Emmy home.

  “This is Old Man Wilson’s house,” Emmy whispered when she saw where they had stopped. “He doesn’t like to be bothered by little girls.” She’d been warned to stay away from this door.

  “I think he changed his mind,” Peter said simply. He rapped on the door and waited.

  “Peter Reynolds,” Frank Wilson opened his front door and stared at the people in front of him, “what brings you to my door?”

  “I want my Uncle Jem and my Aunty Ivy, please, sir,” Emmy pushed her head away from the big man’s shoulder to say.

  “Name of Jesus,” Frank Wilson gaped, “what’s going on?”

  “That’s what we’d like to know,” Maisie Reynolds said with a frown.

  “Jem,” Frank shouted down the hall. “Ivy, get out here! Jem Ryan! Ivy!”

  The pair almost exploded from the door leading to the back rooms.

  They stopped suddenly, staring at the sight in front of them.

  “Emmy!” they screamed as one, charging down the long hallway.

  Jem pulled the little girl into his arms, his green eyes wild.

  “Uncle Jem!” Emmy wrapped her arms around Jem’s neck and almost choked the life out of him. She never wanted to let go ever again. “I couldn’t find you.”

  “Oh, love!” Ivy petted the child’s back and stared at the other adults. No one knew what to say or do. Ivy did what she always did in an emergency. “Come along in, everyone,” she said. “I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll find out what’s going on.” She knew her neighbours wouldn’t budge until they’d heard the whole story.

  “Jem!” Conn Connelly almost exploded out of the livery. He shouted when he saw the door to the very house he wanted was about to close. “Jem Ryan, don’t close that door! Jem!” He ran forward and slammed his hand on the door. “Emmy is missing!” he shouted through the gap in the door. “Ann Marie is on the telephone in an awful state. The Garda have been called. Did you hear me, man? Emmy is missing!”

  “I’m not missing, silly,” Emmy giggled as soon as Jem pulled the front door open. “I’m right here.”

  “I’m either too old or too young for this.” Conn stared at the grinning girl in disbelief. His heart had almost stopped when he’d been told she was missing. Now look at her – happy as a lark.

  “I’ll go.” Ivy pushed Jem out of her way. “You put the kettle on, Jem, and find out from Emmy what’s going on. In the meantime I’ll tell Ann Marie that Emmy is with us.” She didn’t even take the time to remove her apron but ran back across to the livery with Conn at her side.

  “Ivy . . .” John Lawless was ashen-faced. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if one of his children went missing.

  “It’s all right, John,” Ivy put her hand on his shoulder and picked up the telephone he indicated. “Emmy is safe across the way with Jem.”

  “Ivy, did I hear you say Emmy is with you?” Ann Marie’s voice shouted down the telephone. “Did Jem come and pick her up? What is going on?”

  “Ann Marie,” Ivy said, “I haven’t a clue what’s going on. We opened our door to find Emmy on the doorstep. Conn was only seconds behind the child telling us you were on the telephone and Emmy was missing. She’s safe and sound at the moment with Jem.”

  “Dear Lord, Ivy!” There was a pause and then Ivy heard her say, “Emerald is with Jem and Ivy, Edward.”

  “Ivy?” Edward was on the line.

  “Edward, Emmy is here with us. She has only this minute arrived. I don’t know any more than that, I’m afraid. She seemed to be fine from the little I saw. If you’ll give me a little time I’ll find out what happened and telephone you. Is that alright?”

  “Thank you, Ivy.” The man’s voice was laden with relief. “We will wait to hear from you.”

  “Jesus, Ivy,” John said as soon as Ivy put the telephone down, “what’s going on?”

  “I haven’t a clue, John.” Ivy turned to return to her own home and get to the bottom of this. “You heard me tell them – Emmy turned up at our door. We haven’t a notion how she got there. She’s with Jem – he’ll get the full story.” She patted Conn’s shoulder as she passed him. “Thanks, Conn.”

  She ran across to her own place and through the open front door. She closed the door at her back, ran down the hall and almost fell into her own kitchen. The visitors were sitting at the table while Jem sat in one of her old easy chairs with Emmy on his lap.

  “Have you the ingredients for a bit of goody on hand, Ivy?” Maisie said as soon as Ivy came through the door. She had watched with envy while Jem filled a familiar black kettle from a water tap right in their very own room – and a sink! “The wonder of it,” she gasped, when Jem set the kettle to boil on a brand spanking-new gas stove that was tucked into the alcove on one side of the big gleaming black range. She’d have plenty to tell the neighbours about Ivy Murphy and her new rooms. Evicted indeed – the girl was coming up in the world as far as she could see. “I could run across to my place and fetch the stuff if you haven’t it on hand.” Maisie couldn’t wait to tell all she’d seen.

  “I’ve everything at hand,” Ivy said. “Give us a minute to gather me thoughts.” A bowl of goody might be the very thing for Emmy just now. The child looked pale and clammy to her. The rich goody, bread soaked in warm milk with a knob of butter and sugar, might settle well in the little one’s stomach.

  “Mr Wilson!” Jem rubbed the little girl’s back constantly. He’d made and served the tea.
That was all he was capable of doing. He knew he should be up and helping Ivy but he couldn’t bear to turn loose the shivering child in his arms. “Mr Wilson,” he called again, “would you mind opening the window over the sink and perhaps the back door as well? We need a bit more air in here.”

  “Take Emmy into the garden for a minute, Jem,” Ivy suggested. They needed to know how Emmy had arrived here. The child didn’t look well. She knew the little girl would tell Jem everything when they were alone. He could decide what he wanted to share with the people in this room. She’d find out the whole story for herself later.

  “You served the tea in enamel mugs, Jem,” she said, looking at the table in horror.

  “Sorry, love.” Jem stepped through the back door with Emmy in his arms. He’d more important things to be thinking about than setting a pretty table.

  “You won’t know yerself in this place, Ivy.” Maisie and her husband were seated with Mr Wilson at the kitchen table. She looked around, trying to take everything in. The tall dresser Ivy had inherited was pushed against the wall that stretched from one of the range alcoves to the hall door that opened to the front of the house. Maisie wanted to get up and touch everything. She’d never seen anything like the lovely big cupboards under the wide long window that looked out over a garden. She recognised the two old chairs sitting in front of the cold range. The kitchen table and chairs sat out, not quite in the middle of the room. The tall cupboard bed Jem had built for Emmy sat proudly in an area of wall between the door that led out of the kitchen into the back garden and towards the second of their rooms.

  “I’m still finding me way around.” Ivy looked at her old kitchen table covered in its floral-design oilcloth. It looked very festive to her eyes. Mr Wilson had fixed the six matching kitchen chairs. Her two old kitchen chairs were only fit for the fire. The new gas stove was a sheer delight. Mr Wilson and Jem had plumbed it in as a surprise for her. She wanted to show off her new place. She was only human after all. She’d take the time to invite some of the neighbours when she was settled but right now her mind was filled with little Emmy. She sighed over the sight of the enamel mugs on her lovely table. Still, she had biscuits she’d picked up from Jacob’s factory and a Victoria sponge she’d made, she thought with pleasure.

  She’d take care of this lot while Jem was outside sorting out poor little Emmy.

  “I don’t feel so good, Uncle Jem.” Emmy hadn’t raised her head to look around the garden.

  “Here, love.” Jem pulled open the door of the outside toilet. He stood the little girl on the ground in front of the toilet bowl and squatted down beside her. He rubbed her little back in gentle circles. “I’m here, love, if you need to throw up. You go right ahead.” He practically felt his heart crack as the little girl dry-heaved. She had nothing in her stomach to throw up. He wanted to punch someone. What had they done to the child?

  “Jem.” Ivy had seen some of what was going on from the kitchen window. She’d guessed the rest. She stood in the open back door, torn between the needs of the child and her guests. “I’ve a warm washcloth here.”

  “Don’t leave me.” Emmy grabbed onto Jem’s hand.

  “Bring it here, love,” Jem shouted to Ivy out the open door of the toilet.

  “Are you alright, Emmy?” Ivy passed Jem the cloth. She stared into his eyes, a silent question in her raised eyebrows.

  He took the cloth from her hand with a headshake. He was none the wiser.

  “Okay,” Ivy turned to go back inside, “the food will be ready whenever you are.” She wanted to kick something.

  “I’m still hungry, Aunty Ivy – but don’t say ‘Duck under the table!’” Emmy giggled, looking around her.

  “Let the food settle in your stomach for a minute, love. If you’re still hungry I’ll make you something else, okay?”

  “Okay. Where is my pram?” With the resilience of youth she was sitting at the kitchen table, an empty plate in front of her. “I brought you a present, Aunty Ivy.”

  “Did you, love?” Ivy wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Emmy had delighted in telling the people sitting around the table the story of her journey from Dalkey to Dublin. She’d had the best of audiences, everyone hanging on her every word. She didn’t seem to be aware of the horrified glances being exchanged over her head. The clenched fists of the men on the table went unnoticed by her.

  “I put the pram in the front hall.” Frank Wilson felt strange sitting here like a member of a family. He’d forgotten that sensation – it was nice.

  Jem held out his hand to Emmy. “Come on, love, I’ll show you where your pram is.” He didn’t want to let Emmy out of his sight.

  “In the name of Jesus, Ivy, can yeh credit it?” Maisie said when the door into the hallway was closed behind Jem and the child. “Do you think they really left that little love on her own in that great big house? It doesn’t sound right to me.”

  “I know nothing.” Ivy stood to replenish the teapot. She had the kettle simmering on the gas stove. She was going to have to look for a bigger pot down the market if she was going to entertain guests. Her little teapot wasn’t up to the job.

  “They must have been worried sick.” Peter Reynolds, the father of two strong sons, couldn’t imagine losing either one of them.

  “That little girl is smart as sixpence.” Frank Wilson thought of his dead sons and wondered at any parent who could neglect their young.

  “Did you see how she laughed when she told us about the charabanc conductor telling her the fare was only half price for her since she was half-sized?” Maisie shook her head.

  “I have it.” Emmy pushed her pram before her into the room. “I saw Biddy – can I go out and play? Where’s my rubber balls?” The little girl seemed back to her old self. “May I have a jamjar of tea, Aunty Ivy?” Emmy grinned to see Ivy serve more tea. She had missed her Aunty Ivy’s tea. Mrs Skelly didn’t know how to make it.

  “You had better empty your pram first,” Frank Wilson suggested. He’d thought the thing was darn heavy when he pushed it inside. He was expecting the child to unload a lot of pretty pebbles from the seaside. They’d be wet and if they sat much longer in the pram the toy would be ruined.

  “Here!” Under the adults’ amused eyes Emmy passed an exquisitely gowned porcelain doll to Ivy without a second glance.

  She removed the doll’s blankets and revealed the bowels of the pram. The room exploded with laughter when the ham and cheese were revealed in all their glory.

  “I couldn’t carry it all.” Emmy didn’t understand the laughter.

  “You’ve someone to follow in your footsteps there, Ivy Murphy,” Peter Reynolds grinned.

  “I ask your sacred pardon!” Ivy gasped at the size of the ham and cheese. She’d never seen anything that big outside a shop. “Where did this stuff come from?”

  “It was in the cupboard.” Emmy shrugged. “I knew you’d like it. May I give some to Biddy?”

  “Of course you can, love,” Ivy answered absentmindedly. “Jem, take that stuff out of there, although where we’ll store it I’ve no idea.” She looked around at the adults who were trying to hide their broad grins. “Here!” She tried to pass the doll back to Emmy.

  “I don’t want that one, Aunty Ivy.” Emmy refused to take the doll. “Where’s my rag doll?” She looked around the room as if expecting the doll to be in plain view. “I want my own doll.”

  “Jem, show her.” Ivy put the doll back in the pram, all the while staring at the food on her kitchen table.

  “Your dolls and your balls and anything else you can think of are in the drawer under your bed.” Jem pointed to her cupboard. The words were hardly out of his mouth before Emmy was dropping to her knees to pull the big double drawer out of the cupboard that hid her bed.

  “I don’t know where me big knife is.” Ivy had her hands to her face. She was accustomed to keeping all of her cutlery in the drawers of her kitchen table. With the oilcloth covering the table she had decided to change their location.


  “The lads most likely put them in the drawers beside the sink.” Jem had had the lads help them move into these rooms. They were still searching out their belongings in this much bigger space. “What do you need a knife for?”

  “I want to cut some of that ham and cheese. I’ll pass some to Biddy to take home and I’m sure the Reynolds would enjoy a bite,” Ivy said. “They can have it for their tea.”

  “Much obliged.” Maisie felt her mouth watering at the thought of the treat.

  “We should be getting along, love,” Peter Reynolds said. “We didn’t tell the lads where we were going.” That wasn’t a problem since everyone in The Lane would be aware of what was going on. But it was time for them to shift. This little family had things to do.

  “Do I need to change out of my good sailor dress?” Emmy stood staring at the adults, two colourful rubber balls in her hands. “I want to go out and play with my friends.”

  “Leave that on.” Ivy looked at the white dress that needed to be bleached and starched. It wouldn’t do the thing any more harm to play outside in it.