“Cry a little,” Ivy suggested. “If we’re going to dump your one on the death wagon then you could let the porter think she’s someone belonging to you.”
“How am I going to cry?” Jem thought he was getting past the point where he could be surprised by anything Ivy suggested. The woman was just full of ideas.
“Have yeh an onion?”
“Yes.”
“Get it.” Ivy watched as Jem went to search in the bottom of a nearby cupboard. “Jem, not to be too delicate about the thing, but what do the people in the death wagon usually wear?”
“What?” Jem roared. The speed at which he turned around to stare at Ivy knocked him off his feet and onto his arse.
“Well, I don’t know, do I?” Ivy glared at Jem who remained sitting where he fell. “For funerals people are dressed in their best but I don’t suppose anyone gets dressed up to go in the death wagon, do they?”
“Ivy Murphy, you’ve a mind that beggars belief.” Jem pushed himself up from the floor. “I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”
“Well, then, while you’re figuring that out answer me question.”
“Mostly the people are naked.” Jem closed his eyes at the horrific memories his words stirred up. “Now and again people are wrapped in an old sheet.”
“It’s a hell of a way to go right enough.” Ivy shrugged. “We need to get ourselves organised, Jem.”
“I know,” Jem stood with the onion in his hand, feeling like a right fool. “What do I do with this?”
“Give it here.” Ivy stood. “You don’t want the smell of it on your hands. That’s a dead giveaway.” She cut the onion in half, skin and all. Hollis Street Hospital was only a short walk away. Jem’s eyes should still be red and watering when he reached the porter’s desk. “Here, take a deep sniff. You can take a couple more sniffs and then take yourself over to Hollis Street.” Ivy watched the tears flow down Jem’s face into his beard. “You can walk over and see what the porter says. I’ll wait here for yeh.”
Jem shook his head and without a word took his hat and coat off the peg before hurrying away to obey his orders.
“I can’t sit here doing nothing,” Ivy said into the silence. “I’ll go see if your one packed anything for the child.” She jumped to her feet, stepped close to the bed and listened to the deep breathing. “I’ll leave the top half of the door open again and I’ll hear if you call out,” she whispered to the child.
She took a large oil lamp from its place on a nearby shelf. She knew to be extra careful – the things were deadly but she needed the light. She took the box of matches that sat beside the lamp and carefully climbed down to the stable floor.
She set the lamp down carefully but didn’t light it yet. For the moment she could see well enough by the light coming in from the streetlamps. The carriage was still standing just inside the doorway. Thankfully there was plenty of room in the wide main aisle of the building. Ivy climbed inside and kneeling on top of the trunk, began throwing the cases out into the main aisle of the stables. Soon there was a pile of luggage alongside the clothes she’d removed from the dead woman.
Ivy jumped from the carriage and with a lot of effort and groaning she pulled the giant trunk out onto the floor. Everything was locked. Ivy lit the wick of the oil lamp. In its glow she saw a hook attached to a nearby support beam that was obviously made to hold a lantern. She secured the lamp and turned it up as high as it would go.
Ivy began to search the floor around her feet. She remembered unbuckling a leather holder from around the woman’s middle. She hadn’t really thought about it then but she kept her own money tied up in socks and secured around her own ribs. Maybe this woman did the same thing.
“Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus!” Ivy stared at the wad of white five-pound notes in her hand. There were no keys in the money belt but there was more money than most people she knew would ever see in their lives. Ivy was only able to identify the note itself because she’d received one for her hair. She’d never seen a five-pound note before that day.
“In the name of all that’s good and holy!”
Ivy spilled a rainbow of precious stones and gold filigree out of one of the small leather pouchs the women had stashed away in the holder with her cash. She might not know what every stone was called but she knew they spelt money, lots of money.
“If you were carrying all this on your person,” Ivy said in the direction of the stall that hid the dead woman’s body, “what in the name of God do you have under lock and key in all these boxes?”
Ivy began to search through the goods scattered all around her. She was searching for the woman’s boots. The boots that were much too big for the dead woman’s feet. She wouldn’t be the first one to hide things in her boots.
Ivy found the boots. Each toe was stuffed with little purses that would have protected the woman’s feet from the cold steel of the keys that were stuffed inside each purse.
Ivy began opening locks. The sheer extravagance of the contents of the cases took her breath away. The wealth of rich fabrics used to construct the woman’s clothing tempted her to linger – but she couldn’t. The woman had been carrying a fortune about her person and her luggage was stuffed to the gills with silverware. Ivy’s heart was in her mouth. She stared at a small mountain of individual, handstitched, blue felt bags. She was almost afraid to touch them.
Taking a deep breath she picked up one of the royal-blue bags. She jerked gently on the drawstring and emptied the contents into her open palm. Ivy saw an exquisite silver snuffbox. If pushed she could probably even put a price to the article. In horrified fascination she opened each small bag to reveal a mouthwatering collection of gold, enamelled, jewelled and silver snuffboxes.
What on earth was the dead woman doing with all of this stuff? What had she been planning? Where in the world had she been going with all of this portable wealth? The woman even had two down-filled pillows and the finest linen sheets Ivy had ever seen, in the big trunk. There was not one single thing that could possibly belong to a child.
A sound at the door frightened Ivy. She jumped to her feet. She doused the lamp and stood staring at the people-portal section of the stall doors. The handle turning almost caused Ivy’s heart to stop beating. What was she going to say about the fortune lying around her feet?
“Jem!” Ivy stood with her hand pressed to her chest. “You frightened the life out of me.”
“Who else would it be?” Jem stepped through the door with a quick check over his shoulder. The coast was clear. He quickly locked the door at his back.
“Wait until you see what I’ve found.” Ivy lit the oil lamp again and stood waiting. Jem stared open-mouthed at the fortune in jewels, silver, gold and cash lying around his stable floor.
“It looks like the end of the rainbow.” Jem couldn’t believe his eyes.
“I’m having a hard time believing this meself. Your one even had her own down-filled pillows and bed linens in that great big trunk.” Ivy turned to survey the bounty lying around her feet. She jerked her chin in the direction of the trunk sitting open on the floor, a trail of fabric pouring over its edge. “If we clear that out we can shove all the valuables into it and lock it. There’s a load of papers as well. We can lock those away too.”
“Ivy,” Jem was slumped against the door, “what the hell have I got the two of us mixed up in?”
“I don’t know, Jem.” Ivy shrugged. “All I know is that the stuff here,” she pointed her toe at the goods that littered the ground, “this stuff is all that child’s inheritance.” She pointed towards the loft. “We can’t make any decisions about it. It belongs to Emerald as far as I’m concerned.”
“You’re right.” Jem agreed completely with Ivy. He had wanted to rescue the child but he was no thief. “We can’t even think about that now anyway.” He bent and began to remove the bed linen from the trunk, passing it to Ivy.
She stood looking around for a place to put the armload of material. She didn’t want to p
ut it on the floor. She finally decided to dump the stuff back onto the seats of the nearby carriage.
With impatient hands Ivy and Jem dumped the scattered valuables and papers into the now empty large trunk.
“I have a key for this thing,” Ivy said, holding up the key.
“Let’s lock it all away.” Jem suggested. “It’s too much for me to think about right now.”
“How did you get on over at the hospital?” Ivy asked.
“The death wagon is calling in there tonight.” Jem shrugged. “We’re in luck.”
“If it’s agreeable to you . . .” Ivy had been thinking about the bed linen the woman carried. They couldn’t use the sheets to wrap her in. The quality of the linen would make the men on the wagon suspicious. If anyone ever asked any questions the men would remember those sheets. “Only if you’re willing, mind . . .” Ivy didn’t know how to make the suggestion.
“Ivy, I’m tired. I’m confused and more uncertain then I have ever been in my life.” He stared at Ivy. “Whatever it is, just spit it out.”
“Well, the woman was carrying her own bed linen.” Ivy couldn’t meet Jem’s eyes. “I wondered what you’d think about me taking them sheets and bringing an old sheet I have on hand over to use instead?”
“That’s fine with me.” Jem didn’t care about sheets right now. He’d more to worry about. “What am I going to do with all these women’s things?” He pointed at the women’s clothing and effects peeking out of his carriage and several of the smaller cases.
“I’ll take them over to my place wrapped up in one of the sheets.” Ivy had been giving the matter a lot of thought. “There is nothing here for the child, Jem. The woman didn’t even put in a change of underwear for the little one.”
“She was going to dump Emerald in Goldenbridge, Ivy.” Jem shook his head. “I suppose she thought the nuns didn’t need any high-quality clothes.”
“I think the woman has been planning to do this for a long time, Jem,” Ivy said slowly. “The clothes I took off Emerald belong to a much smaller child – perhaps Emerald herself when she was younger. The boots and everything else were much too small for her.”
“We’ll never know,” Jem sighed.
“Give me a hand packing all this stuff into one of these sheets. I’ll carry them across the way and bring back the old sheet to wrap the body in.”
“Right, let’s do that.” Jem began to shake out one of the linen sheets.
“Jem, I’ve been thinking.”
“I’ve noticed you think a great deal, Ivy.” Jem grinned down at the woman kneeling, folding clothes, at his feet.
“I think you should push the body over to Hollis Street Hospital on your wheelbarrow.” Ivy watched the white cloud of sheet drift up then float down to the floor. She wanted to cry. It would get so dirty but time was moving on and they needed to get sorted out.
“I thought I’d take Rosie and the small two-seater cab.” Jem began to pick up items and hand them to Ivy.
“If you could afford your own cab you could afford a fancy funeral.” Ivy took the items and stacked them neatly.
“I suppose,” Jem agreed.
“You should push her over in the wheelbarrow. The onion is upstairs. A few sniffs of that and you’ll be crying again. Then you can tell the men driving the death wagon that the dead woman is your wife. Say something about her eating herself to death. God knows she weighs enough.”
“Nobody is very chatty on the death wagon, Ivy.” Jem remembered his trips with his uncle only too well. Something else he knew but wouldn’t mention to Ivy: this woman’s body would be sold to a teaching hospital. The men would get a good price for an unusual body like this. Jem didn’t care. He just wanted the aunt gone from his life.
“I bet you don’t normally pick up such heavy bodies though, do you?” Ivy had never seen a body as fat as the aunt’s.
“That’s true.” Jem agreed. “Most people are skin and bone.”
“Right, give me a hand knotting this up.” Ivy stood and stared around the space. “I think I got everything. Be sure to make a check in the morning. The light will be better. If I’ve missed anything bring it across. I’m going to use this stuff to make clothes for the child. She’ll need something to put on her back.”
“Are you coming back?” Jem didn’t want Ivy to leave.
“I’ll have to.” Ivy put her shoulder under the weight of the package. It wasn’t really that heavy but it was awkward. “Someone has to stay here with Emerald while you take the body across to Hollis Street.”
“Right. Good.” Jem opened the door and helped Ivy pass through. “I’ll stand here and watch you cross.”
“Fair enough.”
Ivy wasn’t going to take the time to go around the tenement block. Not with this weight slung over her shoulder. Someone was bound to notice the strange goings on and ask questions. She couldn’t think about that right now. She’d deal with whatever problems were raised – when she had to. She crossed the cobbled courtyard that separated the area between her tenement block and the livery in minutes and was soon hurrying down her own steps. She unlocked her entry door and without pause opened the inner door to her room and slung the bundle inside.
Then she hurried into the back room. She put more coal on the range. Without stopping to think she stripped the sheet from the big brass bed. In moments she stepped quickly back out of her own home. She locked the door and then was on her way back across to the stables, praying no-one had seen her.
“That was quick!” Jem held the people door open wide and Ivy stepped through into the main livery. He tried desperately to ignore Ivy’s men’s clothing but it was difficult.
“How long do we have to wait before you leave with the body?” Ivy asked over her shoulder. She was throwing the well-worn, frequently darned sheet on the floor by the locked stable stall that hid the body of the dead woman.
“It will be the wee small hours of the morning.”
“Right, we’ll have some more tea then.”
Ivy led a bewildered Jem up to his own room.
“I know nothing about tending the dead,” Ivy admitted as Jem filled the teapot from the kettle of fresh water. “I don’t know how long it takes for a body to empty itself.” Ivy ignored her own blushes. They needed to talk about this.
“It varies,” Jem mumbled, with his back firmly turned to Ivy. He couldn’t believe the woman was taking all of this so calmly. He was a nervous wreck.
“Right,” Ivy said when Jem put a cup of fresh tea on the small table. She’d been standing looking down at the sleeping child. “I think we should wash the body.” She walked over to sit at the table. “It doesn’t sit right with me throwing the woman away like a piece of garbage.”
“Me neither, though I don’t believe we have to have weeping and wailing in the streets at our passing.” Jem joined Ivy at the table, his own mug of tea in hand. “The men who drive those wagons have to learn to harden their hearts. I never could.”
“I wouldn’t wonder, Jem Ryan – you’re not a hard man. Well, this won’t get the baby a bonnet.” Ivy slapped the table then turned to glance in the direction of the bed. The sudden noise had disturbed the sleeping child who mumbled and turned in her sleep. “We’ll do the thing as decently as we know how.”
“I’d like that.” Jem reached behind him for the teapot. He re-filled Ivy’s cup. “It would help me sleep easier at night. If she should ever ask I’ll be able to tell Emerald that we did all we could for her aunt.”
“You’re going to keep the child then?” Ivy asked.
“What else can I do, Ivy?” He stared at her, almost waiting to see if she could come up with a solution.
“I think giving Emerald a loving home is important. That’s a lot more than her own aunt planned to do. You said the woman was the child’s mother’s sister?”
“That’s what the woman said when she was moaning and complaining in me cab earlier.”
“I shouldn’t find it so hard to belie
ve.” Ivy of all people should know that not all families took care of their own. Ivy had grandparents, aunts and uncles locally. They did not recognise the children of Violet Burton, their blood relative.
“There is another problem.”
“What’s that?” Ivy wondered. “I thought we’d taken care of everything.”
“No, not quite.” Jem stared into his tea, waiting for divine intervention. “I wish we had some kind of death certificate, Ivy. I’d only need to flash it around. It’s the colour of your money that matters. But a death certificate, that would stop them wondering and maybe asking questions.”
“Do you know the men who’ll be driving the wagon?” Ivy thought there was a good chance that Jem would know the drivers.
“I should know them – it’s a money-making job and I doubt the men I passed the work off to have let it go . . .” Jem had been afraid to ask the porter what he knew about the men who’d be picking up the bodies from the hospital that night.
“Will they recognise you?”
“I doubt it.” Jem touched his flame-red beard. “They’ve never seen me with this.”
“You are going to have to shave that thing off when you get back.” Ivy had been giving the matter a great deal of thought. “That beard is too noticeable. You could use a haircut as well.”
Through Streets Broad and Narrow (Ivy Rose Series Book 1) Page 14
