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

by Gemma Jackson

  “What?”

  “Just tell me.”

  Ivy wished Jem was here. She should talk to him about this first but he was away with Edward O’Connor and wouldn’t be back for three more days. She didn’t want to wait. She’d chicken out if she gave too much thought to this.

  Frank Wilson named a figure that had Ivy gasping. She fell into the chair across the range from him.

  “Mr Wilson, I have money in the bank.” The thought of handing all of that money over made her sick. She wanted to put her head between her knees, but this needed saying. “You and I are going to go to the bank and I am going to give you the money to repay your loan. It would give me great pleasure to see you hit the bank manager around the chops with that money.” There was a lot more to her idea but she needed advice.

  “My God girl, you’re away with the fairies!” Frank Wilson gasped.

  “I’m not really, Mr Wilson.” Ivy said. “I’ve been pushed to my limits I will admit. We would have to consult experts to keep everything legal and above board but we have a bit of time on our hands.”

  “You can’t do something like this without talking to your husband.” Frank Wilson stared at her as if she were a candidate for Bedlam.

  Chapter 53

  “Mr Wilson,” Ann Marie addressed the man seated at one end of Ivy’s kitchen table, “what I want to speak to you about could be considered extremely personal and indeed nosy and I ask your pardon in advance.”

  Edward O’Connor looked at his wife with a small smile. His life was certainly interesting since he’d married Ann Marie Gannon. If someone had told him he’d be holding a serious business meeting seated at an oilcloth-covered kitchen table he’d have laughed in their face yet here he sat being served seemingly endless cups of tea while they talked of ‘real’ money. His daughter was running around outside playing ball and shouting. He could hear her voice echo into the room from time to time.

  “I consider the people here my friends.” Ann Marie pushed her gold-rimmed glasses up her nose. She had an open folder of papers on the table. “However, if you so desire we can have this conversation in your own room.” She held her hand up before the man could say anything. “I feel it only fair to tell you however that I will inform the people here present of whatever we discuss.”

  “In the name of God, Ann Marie,” Ivy dropped into a chair beside Jem. “You sound like you swallowed a plum.”

  “Go on.” Frank Wilson wondered if he’d have stepped forward to help Ivy Murphy if he’d known it would lead to the disruption of his life like this.

  “Ivy wishes to advance you a large sum of money,” Ann Marie had to get this matter sorted before she and Edward left for America.

  “I’ll pay it back.”

  “No one seated around this table doubts that for a moment,” Jem put in quickly.

  “Please,” Ann Marie leaned forward to stare into the man’s furious eyes, “bear with me. I truly think I have come up with a plan that suits everyone involved. To know if my plan will work I must ask rude questions. I’m sorry but there is no other way.”

  “Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” Frank said.

  “Steady.” Edward would not allow anyone to insult his wife. She’d worked long and hard on this plan.

  “I think a lot of Ivy.”

  “I’d never take advantage.”

  “Please, Mr Wilson.”

  “If you’re going to be rude and nosy you may as well call me Frank.”

  The other three at the table looked back and forth between the two as if they were seated at a boxing match.

  “Thank you – Frank.” Ann Marie pushed her glasses up her nose – took firm control of her nerves and jumped in. “I believe you own this house.”

  “I do.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  “The money Ivy loans you will pay off the last of your mortgage, is that correct?” When Frank simply nodded she asked softly, “What do you plan to do with this house when you die?” He wasn’t a young man; he must have thought of this.

  “You think I should leave a house worth,” he named a sum she knew to be fair, “to your friend Ivy, do you?”

  “No, that is not what I’m thinking,” Ann Marie said. “I have heard of the loss of your family, sir, and I am heartily sorry for the pain you suffered. However, what I need to know from you is if you have close family ties that you believe would dispute what you might do with this house.”

  “If that’s your way of asking if I have anyone to leave the house to when I die then the answer is no.”

  “Good.” She waved her hands in the air, silently apologising for the way that sounded. They hadn’t time to tiptoe around hurt feelings. “What I am suggesting is that you offer to sell this house to Ivy at a reduced rate.”

  “I’m not selling me home and living in the streets for no-one,” Frank snapped.

  “Please listen.” Ann Marie had consulted a lawyer about this matter. It would work if this man was agreeable. “I think you know that if you needed care or assistance you couldn’t have a better pair of friends than Ivy and Jem Ryan.” She looked towards the pair silently watching. “I’m suggesting that we have papers drawn up selling this house to Ivy for a reduced rate. It will be written into the documents that your rooms are yours for as long as you live. Should you become feeble and need care, Jem and Ivy will be on hand to take care of you.”

  “Ivy’s a married woman. The papers should be drawn up in her husband’s name.” Frank had worried about what might happen to him in his old age.

  “I have business plans coming up,” Jem said. They were only talking about their big plans for the moment. He’d know more when Edward and Armstrong returned from America. He wanted the roof over Ivy’s head to be secure. He wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardise that. “I don’t want to endanger Ivy’s savings.”

  “Can you really do all you say you can?” Frank had never heard of the like.

  “Edward and his lawyers assure me that I can,” Ann Marie said while Edward nodded. “I don’t think you will find anything to disagree with, Frank. Ivy and Jem would have looked after you no matter what. I think you know that. However, if you agree to this you would have a large sum of cash in the bank for your own use. You would be free to work or not as you pleased.”

  “I like to work,” Frank said. “I’m good with me hands.”

  “You would be free to do only the work you wanted. No more jumping to for a boss.”

  “No more walking out in the cold and dark.” Frank had been looking for steady work ever since he was laid off. He didn’t enjoy taking orders but a man had to do what a man had to do. He needed to pay his way.

  “The money and the worry of the tenants would of course pass to Ivy.” Ann Marie could see the man wanted to agree. She felt like jumping up and dancing. It was ideal. Ivy would be a homeowner. She need never again fear eviction.

  “I’ll need to talk more about this but, from what you’ve said here, it looks like I’ll have to agree.” Frank looked at the men to see what they thought of the situation.

  “I think it might be the best thing you have ever done, Frank,” Jem said. “I don’t see anything in this that would bring harm to you.”

  “It is an excellent solution for all concerned,” Edward said. “I’ve sat in on the talks my wife had with the lawyers. I believe this is a brilliant solution to a variety of problems. Truthfully, I can see no injury to your good person at all. I do however advise you to consult your own lawyer if you know such a man.”

  “I promise not to be as grumpy a landlord as you’ve been, Mr Wilson,” Ivy said.

  “Ivy Ryan,” Frank looked at her and shook his head in wonder at the changes she was bringing to his life, “it’s all up here for thinking,” he pointed at his head, “and down there for dancing,” he pointed at his feet, “with you.” He was seeing a rosy old age for himself. He looked at the people gathered around the table and said, “The woman wants me to build a shed to the
side of this house and start repairing furniture for resale. She even has the name of me first apprentice on her lips.”

  “Would that be something you would enjoy?” Jem knew that if his Ivy wanted a work shed then she’d have one.

  “It’s worth thinking about,” Frank had a great deal to think about. Things just might be looking up for him.

  “We need to set up an appointment to visit the lawyers and sign papers.” Edward knew his wife was determined this matter be settled before they left the country.

  “I’ll sort out me best suit,” Frank Wilson said simply.

  Chapter 54

  “Ivy,” Frank Wilson put his head around the hall door after rapping his knuckles on the wood, “is Emmy around?”

  “No, she’s out playing.” Ivy sat back in her chair, glad of the break from her ever-increasing bookwork. “Jem is out and about with Edward.” Since the O’Connors’ return from America the two men had become thick as thieves. She put the top back on the bottle of ink she’d been using. “Jem spends more time dressed up in his fancy suits than his work clothes these days,” she remarked absently.

  “I wanted to have a word with you about the little one’s Christmas present.” Emmy had decided that, since she didn’t have a grandfather living near, Mr Wilson would become her grandfather. Emmy lived with Jem and Ivy. Her father and Ann Marie shared in her care but more as beloved aunt and uncle than parents. The child didn’t seem to care as she ran between both homes happily.

  “I can’t believe it’s nearly that time of year again.” Ivy stood waving her hand to invite him in. The pantomime this year was Aladdin so she hadn’t made a doll to sell in the street. The Alice dolls were a steady seller and the demand for baby dolls never seemed to diminish. Her doll business was thriving. The Lawless family were kept busy with the demands. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “No,” Frank said, “if you’ll step into my place I’ll put the kettle on. I’ve something I want to show you.”

  “I’ll take you up on that offer.” Ivy pulled off her apron and washed the ink off her hands. She was glad to get out of this room. She’d been working on her accounts all morning and her eyes were ready to cross. She followed Frank to his room.

  “Oh dear God above!” She clapped her hands to her mouth and stared. “That is the most beautiful doll’s house I’ve ever seen in my life.” She walked around the table the doll’s house was standing on. The late Victorian style house had three floors with bay windows at the front – it even had dormer windows under the roof. She looked at Frank for permission to pull the front of the house open so she could see the interior. At his nod she carefully pulled the front of the house away and gasped at the beautifully carved staircase in the centre – at the four rooms, two on each side of the stairs. “You know . . .” she started slowly.

  “Don’t start telling me we could make money off this, Ivy Ryan.” Frank knew that look by now. The woman never stopped thinking of ways to make money. “I made this for the only grandchild I have,” he stared at her, “at least until you and Jem get busy making me some more.”

  “Mind your manners.” She was used to comments about her lack of a baby. She didn’t care. She’d have a baby when she was ready and not before.

  “I need help with the soft furnishings.” Frank had the kettle on and was back watching Ivy stand staring at the doll’s house.

  “Emmy is not touching this until Ann Marie has photographed every inch of it,” Ivy stated firmly. The doll’s house was furnished with the most beautiful hand-carved furniture she had ever seen. She reached out slowly, almost afraid to touch the tiny objects. “You, Mr Frank Wilson, are a true artist.”

  He ignored her comment. “It needs carpets and cushions and such like. I can’t make those.”

  “It would be a labour of love and an honour for me to make them, Frank,” Ivy wanted the doll’s house for herself. It was astonishing.

  “Good.” Frank had been hoping she would offer. “I’ve time yet but I want to get it finished to put under the tree.” He got busy serving the tea that seemed to fuel this dynamo of a woman.

  “There’s money to be made from houses like that, Frank.” Ivy could see something similar in the window of Geraldine’s shop in Grafton Street.

  “Don’t start.” He shook his finger in her face. “I want to get this one done first,” he said with a grin. “Then we’ll talk.”

  They sat drinking their tea, admiring the doll’s house and talking about soft furnishings.

  “Ivy!”

  “I’m with Frank, Jem,” she shouted back.

  “It comes to something when a man comes home to find his wife with another man!” Jem’s voice echoed along the hallway.

  “I’m hungry, Aunty Ivy!”

  Emmy’s voice had them both jumping to their feet. The little girl couldn’t see the doll house.

  “When are you not?” Ivy whispered “We’ll talk later” to Frank and hurried to step out into the hallway. She pulled the door closed at her back before the other two could look inside.

  Jem, with Emmy on his back, raised his eyebrows but said nothing when Ivy shook her head.

  “What are we having to eat?” Emmy demanded, not noticing the byplay between the adults.

  “Duck.”

  “Don’t say duck under the table, Aunty Ivy!” Emmy said. “I’m really hungry.”

  “I’ll have to see if I’ve any stale bread.” Ivy led the way back to their rooms. She had a pork roast with carrots and potatoes in the oven of her gas cooker.

  “I met the postman coming in, Ivy,” Jem said.

  “Anything for us?” She opened the door as she asked. There was a large brown-paper-wrapped package sitting on the table beside her account books. That wasn’t what had the breath trapped in her throat however. A familiar white blue-crossed envelope sat on top of the package.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Ivy prayed, falling into one of her kitchen chairs, “what now?”

  “It may not be bad news.” Jem slid Emmy off his back.

  “Where have I heard that before?”

  “What’s wrong?” Emmy looked between the two adults.

  “Wait just a minute, Emmy.” Jem began to remove the books and bottles from the table. He placed everything carefully in the cupboard Ivy kept for her work items. “We won’t know what’s in that until you open it, Ivy.” He sat on the kitchen chair alongside Ivy. When she made no move he opened the table drawer and drew out a knife. Those cursed envelopes were hard to tear. He cut through the fabric-imbued envelope and removed the contents. He scanned the note briefly. “Looks like it’s third time lucky, Ivy. Look.”

  Ivy took the paper from his hands, wondering at the big grin on his face. She glanced down at the two pieces of paper she held, unable to understand what she was seeing.

  “That can’t be right,” she gasped.

  “What is it?” Emmy asked.

  “A cheque.” Jem knew they’d get no peace if he didn’t answer. “A great big fat cheque.”

  “Oh.” Emmy wasn’t interested in cheques – they weren’t exciting. “May I open the package?”

  “Here . . .” Jem pushed the package towards the curious child. He used the knife in his hand to cut the twine off.

  “Jem, are me eyes deceiving me?” Ivy whispered under the noise of Emmy’s excited cries as she emptied the package of bottles of lotions and potions. “Is that dollars? How much is that worth?”

  “It’s not dollars.” He took the paper from her hand. He looked again, having a hard time believing what he was seeing, “See, it says here that Betty lodged the money in her Irish bank account. They’ve cut a banker’s cheque at her request. That’s pounds, shillings and pence, Ivy.”

  “It can’t be.” Ivy couldn’t believe it. “All of that money, Jem. It can’t be right.” Tears began to leak from her eyes. Granny Grunt. That old woman was still looking after her.

  “I’m married to a wealthy woman.” Jem stood and pulled her into his arms. He r
ocked her gently back and forth while watching Emmy unpack the package of goodies from America. He was doubly glad Ann Marie had protected Ivy’s money from him. The O’Connors and Armstrongs had returned from America full of ideas. They had invited him to be part of their business dealings. He had taken out a mortgage on the livery and entered into what many would call a risky business venture. Ann Marie, her husband Edward, Jem and William Armstrong had gone into business together to buy a theatre. They were convinced that talking pictures were the way of the future. Their theatre was the only one in Ireland equipped to play talking pictures. He believed in what they were doing but if they failed – well, his Ivy was protected.

  Chapter 55

  “You look gorgeous, Ivy,” Sadie said. Her daughters and an eagle-eyed Emmy stood at her side. “Honest to God, you look like a fillum star yerself.” The women were gathered in one of the spare bedrooms in Ann Marie’s house. The bed had been removed to allow room for the experts to work.

  “These products you received from America are wonderful,” Carmela, the number one beautician in Dublin, said.

  Ann Marie came to stand at her friend’s shoulder. “We both look wonderful. I want to thank you ladies very much for all your hard work.” She had already passed Carmela a generous cheque.