Ha'Penny Chance (Ivy Rose Series Book 2)

by Gemma Jackson

  “I notice yeh gave me a cheap muggin – but yer woman gets a fancy china cup,” Ginie snapped. “Getting above yer station, aren’t yeh, Ivy Murphy?”

  “You can be a contrary bugger, Ginie.” Ivy shrugged. “These china cups were a gift – they mean a lot to me. I wouldn’t put it past yeh to get in a strop and break them just to upset me. Do you blame me, Ginie?”

  “No.” Ginie shook her head sadly, sometimes she just had to hurt the people around her, share the feckin’ pain.

  “Ginie,” Ivy persisted, “could yeh not afford a room for the two of yez?”

  “Who’s going to rent a room to me and me son?” Ginie snapped bitterly. Did the woman think she hadn’t tried to get Seán out from under the rule of her family? It was all she could do some days to put one foot in front of the other.

  “Yeh could say Seán was yer brother,” Ivy suggested.

  “Seán might have been born a bastard but I’ll not deny him, Ivy Murphy,” Ginie snapped with an indignant glare. Seán was the only child she’d ever have. Those men she’d been sold to in the Monto brothel had damaged something inside her. The wise woman had told her so. Ginie shoved the rest of the grub into her mouth, thinking of running out of the place. She didn’t need these two uppity bitches telling her how to live her life.

  “I worry for yeh, Ginie.” Ivy had been there when the women of The Lane mounted an attack into the heart of the Monto. They’d gone in armed with rolling pins and iron pots, and they’d managed to find Ginie and drag her out of a nightmare. Unfortunately, by the time the women had learned of Ginie’s fate it had been too late to save her body from injury. They had rescued Ginie from the brothel in Monto, but the damage had already been done. It was a day she’d never forget. She sighed sadly now, knowing there was nothing she could do to change things. Ginie had to make the move herself.

  “It’s well for yeh, Ivy Murphy.” Ginie gulped her tea. “Sitting here, having all this space to yerself. What do yeh know about the rest of us? Pallin’ around with this fancy piece – is she the one givin’ yeh ideas above yer station?” She waved a still grubby hand in Ann Marie’s direction. “Keep yer feckin’ worry to yerself – me and Seán are doing all right. We don’t need you sticking yer nose into our business.”

  Then Ginie jumped in fright when a sharp knock sounded on the back door.

  Ivy jumped to her feet and crossed to the window overlooking the door. Pulling the lace curtain aside she looked out. “It’s Mrs Wiggins,” she said, looking back over her shoulder at the other women. “I wonder what she wants.”

  She pulled the bolt open and unlocked the door.

  “Good.” Marcella Wiggins didn’t give Ivy a chance to speak. “You’re locking your door, keep it that way.” The big woman pushed the door open so she could see into the back room. “There yeh are, Ginie – I was looking for yeh an’ you’re here, that’s good.” She turned and made a wide gesture of her arm to somebody outside. Ivy stuck her head through the doorway and saw Seán McDonald exploding out of the dark and running towards Marcella.

  Ivy stood with her mouth open, wondering what was going on.

  “I’ve not got time to stop.” Marcella gently pushed Seán into Ivy’s back room. “Ivy, if you’ve a curtain, you need to pull it over that window. Anyone could look in on yeh.” Without pausing for breath she continued: “Jem will be knocking on yer front door in a minute. He’s leaving young Emmy with yeh. Be ready.” Without waiting for a reply the woman turned away. “Don’t any of yez step foot out of them rooms until we tell yez to,” she shouted back over her shoulder.

  Ivy forced her mouth closed and in a daze moved to pull the thick tablecloth she’d turned into a curtain over the back window, as ordered.

  “Ma, is yeh okay?” Seán ran towards his mother. “I was so scared, Ma.”

  “I’m okay, son.” Ginie grabbed Seán into her body, holding the little boy tight and rocking her body in relief.

  “I did what yeh said, Ma.” Seán patted Ginie’s bruised cheek with one little hand, a hand calloused by years of hard work. He was still wearing the cut-down jacket tied with string but his skin and hair looked as if they’d been well washed recently. “I was so scared. Yeh were asleep and yer head was bleedin’ but yeh told me, Ma, didn’t yeh always tell me to run away from trouble?”

  “I did, son, and I’m that proud of yeh!” Ginie pressed a kiss into his soft cheek, an embarrassed blush staining her painted one. She was being soppy in public but she’d been so worried. “Did yeh get something to eat?” She felt guilty for the food she’d gobbled up without a thought to what Seán might be getting.

  “I had me cracklin’ in me pocket and I ate some of that. Then, Mrs Wiggins took me into her place and scrubbed me within an inch of me life, Ma.” Seán shrugged. “She gave me a big chunk of bread and drippin’, but she said she’d no time to feed me proper, she had things to do. I had to run around the place doing messages for her, Ma.” He didn’t mention the police and priest he talked to – he’d tell his ma later. Seán wriggled to be free of his mother’s arms. He glanced around the room, taking careful note of the exits. It was best to be prepared to run – his ma had taught him that.

  “Yer among friends, Seán,” Ivy said gently. “Sit yourself down by your ma and I’ll get yeh a plate of food.” She pushed her own orange crate close to Ginie’s chair for him. She knew what the young boy was thinking and it saddened her that one so young should have to be so aware of his surroundings.

  “I’m okay, I said, didn’t I? I had a bit of chuck and some of the cracklin’ yer one next door showed me how to make.” He was pulling open the jacket that was all he owned. His little chest was exposed, bruises shining on the white flesh. “She sewed me a pocket, Ivy,” he beamed. “A hidden pocket. Can yeh credit that?”

  “That was nice of her.” Ivy grinned down at the boy. “You keep hold of your cracklin’ – I’ve a pot of rabbit stew on the go. You sit down and I’ll give you some.”

  “Look!” Seán pulled long strips of burned pig fat from his hidden pocket. “This is it. Yeh have to boil the stuff like we always do. Then,” he took a deep delighted breath, “then yeh put the fat on top of the stove to sizzle and burn. Yer one says if you don’t have a stove yeh can hang it over the fire. Do yeh want a taste?” Seán generously offered his prize.

  “Give yer ma a taste.” Ivy smiled gently. “I’m only after me dinner.” She turned back to the stove.

  Ginie had already seen, tasted and heard all about the wonder of cracklin’ but she wouldn’t hurt his feelings for the world. She bit a small amount off the long strip of seared fat Seán held in his fist. Her teeth biting into the hardened fat made a loud crunching noise.

  “Merciful goodness!” she said, causing Seán to giggle with delight. “That’s something, that is, and now yeh know how to do this we’ll be laughin’,” she said, not for the first time. She pushed the little hand away from her mouth.

  “Would yeh like a mug of milk, Seán?” Ivy put an enamel plate of stew on the table in front of the child. She put a spoon into the stew and stepped back.

  “I’m going to have a feed and a mug of milk. Isn’t that the business, Ma?” Seán examined his mother’s face with worried eyes. He could see the bruises where his uncle had hit and kicked her.

  “It’s a livin’ wonder, son.” Ginie smiled gently down into the worried face, her heart breaking.

  “Eat your food, Seán,” Ivy said softly. She suddenly remembered the packet of biscuits sitting in her cupboard. “When you’ve eaten it all up, would yeh like a biscuit and another mug of milk?”

  “A biscuit!” Seán’s eyes opened like saucers. “Did yeh hear that, Ma? I’m going to get milk and a biscuit after I eat all me food up. Isn’t this the best day ever, Ma, isn’t it?” Seán was happy as a sandboy. His ma was sitting here with other women smiling at her and he was going to have milk and a biscuit. It just didn’t get better than that in his world.

  Ann Marie was watching the sc
ene around the table with what felt like a block of ice in her chest. The people of The Lane touched her in a way that nothing else ever had in her life. ‘I haven’t a penny’ wasn’t an expression to these people. It was a way of life. She had so much and watching these people made her appreciate her own advantages more than ever. She wondered what new crisis had brought these people to Ivy’s door but she could wait to ask until an obviously starving child had a meal.

  “I’ll put these here for later, Seán.” Ivy pulled the untouched plate of biscuits from where it sat on the table in front of Ann Marie and set it in hand’s reach of the boy. “If yeh can’t eat all of them put some in your ‘secret’ pocket. I won’t mind.”

  “It’s the business.” Seán picked up the mug of milk by his plate carefully. He didn’t want to spill any of this special treat. He’d never had a full mug of milk to himself before and now there was the promise of another mug of milk and a plate of biscuits. He was really getting treated like the bee’s knees today. “Isn’t it, Ma, isn’t it the business?” He didn’t wait for his mother to reply.

  “What’s going on, Ivy?” Ann Marie ventured to say.

  “I’ve no idea.” Ivy marvelled at the speed the food on Seán’s plate disappeared. She was about to offer him more stew when he raised his eyes to stare around the table.

  “Mrs Wiggins had the men carry out the tin bins and light fires.” He offered that bit of news then took one of the biscuits sitting so temptingly before him and with a smile that blessed the world bit into the first shop-bought biscuit he’d ever tasted.

  The tall tin bins with holes punched out of their sides were filled with coal nuggets and scraps of wood and used to warm the courtyard when The Lane had one of its parties.

  “What’s going on, Ginie?” Ivy had noticed the worried frown on Ginie’s face before she lowered her head to stare at her son.

  “I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.” Ginie held up her enamel mug. “Any more of that tea?”

  Ann Marie had opened her mouth to question the situation again when a sharp rap sounded from the front room.

  “That’ll be Jem with Emmy.” Ivy shared a look with Ann Marie and shrugged. “I’ll let them in.” She walked towards the door that separated the two rooms. Jem would be able to tell her what the heck was going on around here. She closed the dividing door at her back, wanting to keep the heat in the back room. That left the front room cloaked in gloomy shadow.

  She pulled open the front door with a smile on her face and a determined tilt to her chin. She wanted answers.

  “Auntie Ivy,” Emmy Ryan, her blue-black hair bouncing on her back, threw herself forward to clasp her arms around Ivy’s waist in a tight hug, “they’re lighting the party fires.” Her green eyes glistened with excitement as she stared up at one of her favourite people. “Did you know?”

  “I know nothing.” She glared at Jem who simply grinned and shrugged.

  “I can’t stop.” Jem looked over Ivy’s shoulder towards the cold grate in the front room. “If I were you I’d light that fire.” He nodded towards the grate. “I’ve a feeling you’ll be spending a lot of time in that room tonight.” He escaped Ivy’s grasping hands with a wriggle of his shoulders. He pressed a kiss on her mouth, dropped a quick kiss on Emmy’s head and turned to run back up the outside steps. “I’ll fill you in later!” he shouted over his shoulder as he left the two females staring after him.

  “Well!” Ivy stood with her hands on her hips, staring up at Jem locking the gate at the top of the iron steps leading down to her door.

  “Get indoors, woman!” Jem shouted down at her. “I want you and Emmy behind locked doors. Use the bolt – go on now, get inside.” He turned around and left, not waiting for Ivy to take it into her head to follow him.

  “It seems we have our orders.” Ivy took Emmy’s little shoulder and pulled the child with her deeper into the hallway. She locked and bolted the door before walking with Emmy at her side into the front room. “Ann Marie and some people are in the back room,” she added, hoping to distract Emmy with the promise of company. She could see the questions on the little girl’s face and she simply didn’t have any answers . . . not yet.

  Emmy ran towards the closed door; she never doubted her reception in any situation.

  “Ann Marie!” she screamed, throwing herself against the seated woman. “The party fires are being lit!” She stared at the little boy sitting at her Auntie Ivy’s table. She knew who he was of course – everyone in The Lane knew everyone else.

  “Ivy?” Ann Marie asked as soon as Ivy appeared in the open doorway.

  “I’m none the wiser, Ann Marie.” Ivy shook her head. “Jem dropped Emmy off and disappeared, almost in a puff of smoke – he was that quick, here and gone.”

  “May I please have a jam jar of tea, Auntie Ivy?” Emmy had spotted the plate of biscuits sitting on the table. Emmy loved the milky concoction Ivy poured into a glass jam jar especially for her.

  “I’ll make a fresh pot of tea.” Ivy didn’t know what else to do or say. “I’ll put the kettle on.” She turned to fill the big black kettle.

  “Do you want to play?” Emmy stared at the boy. “We can use my coloured chalk to draw pictures on the floor,” she tempted him. “My Auntie Ivy allows me to do that – do you want to?”

  Seán stared over at his mother. He couldn’t imagine being allowed to make a mess on the floor. Was the girl trying to get him into trouble? Ivy had fed him – she’d even given him milk and biscuits. He didn’t want to upset her.

  “Go on, son.” Ginie gave him a gentle pat. If she had to talk to these women she’d prefer to do it without little ears listening.

  “Come on.” Emmy walked around the table and attempted to pull Seán off his perch on the orange crate. “Take off that ugly old coat and come play with me.”

  With her back to the room Ivy closed her eyes and sighed: leave it to a small child to say what everyone else was thinking.

  “Can’t.” Seán shook off her hands and lowered his head.

  Ivy turned around quickly. “Seán doesn’t want to get chalk all over his coat.” She had already decided that she was going to do something about the state of Seán. Ginie could give her all the evil looks she liked. She held out her hand to the child and smiled. “Come with me, Seán – we’ll soon find something you won’t mind getting dirty.” She had an outfit she’d fixed up the other day after seeing him. The little shirt and jumper were well worn and mended. She’d replaced the seat in the short trousers. The articles were worn enough to prevent the boy’s family from pawning them.

  Ginie opened her mouth to object but the glare Ivy gave her shut her up.

  “Come along, Seán.” Ivy still had her hand held out to the lad. “Come with me.”

  “Go ahead,” Ginie whispered.

  “I’ll be a while.” Ivy pulled the reluctant child along with her towards the front room. “Emmy, get out the box of chalk while I’m away.”

  The back room remained silent while Emmy fell to her knees to root under the big bed for her very own orange crate. Ivy kept Emmy’s supplies in a special box the child was familiar with. She took her rag doll, a twin of the one she had in her own room over the livery, out of the box and shoved it under the bedclothes. She knew little boys sometimes made fun of girls with dolls. She didn’t want her doll hurt. She withdrew the box of coloured chalk and settled quietly to making matchstick figures on the black slate of the floor. She kept glancing over her shoulder. She wanted her Auntie Ivy to come back.

  Chapter 10

  “Where are yez?” The angry masculine shout coming from the back yard caused all three people in Ivy’s back room to jump. “I don’t care who’s hiding the buggers! Yez better send them out here, do yez hear me? I said all of yez get out here right now!” A rattle of metal rang like a loud bell. “Do yez hear me, ye shower of useless little fuckers?” The sound of a heavy fist and what for all the world sounded like steel-toed boots being applied to doors echoed around
the yard. The rattle of metal was added to the din.

  Emmy jumped up from the floor in fright and ran over to huddle against Ann Marie who cuddled the child close although she wasn’t feeling exactly brave herself. With Emmy held close she stared across the table at the young woman who was turning an interesting shade of green. Ginie certainly seemed to have some information as to what was going on around here.

  “Right.” Ivy appeared in the open doorway between the rooms. “That is it, Ginie Johnson. What the heck is going on?” She had to shout to be heard over the noise coming from the back yard. If she hadn’t sussed it already, now she knew there was something unusual planned for The Lane, because no one was shouting at the noisy bugger to shut up!

  Seán, dressed in his new, well-worn outfit, sidled around Ivy’s figure and hurried over to huddle close to his mother.

  “Emmy – Seán,” Ivy walked over to the table, took both little children by the shoulders and pushed them gently towards the abandoned chalk on the floor, “you two play quietly for a while.”

  “But –” both children objected.

  “I’ll make yez jam jars of tea in a minute and yez can have a tea party on the floor,” Ivy promised while staring bullets at Ginie.