Through Streets Broad and Narrow (Ivy Rose Series Book 1)

by Gemma Jackson

  “Anyway, I heard Liam telling his da. Really, I heard him screaming at his da.” Maisie was trying to be honest. “It seems Liam had taken to visiting a farmer and his family. The man delivers milk or something to the seminary.” Maisie shrugged. That wasn’t an important part of the story as far as she was concerned. She waited to see if Ivy wanted to question her about the farmer.

  “So, what happened?” Ivy prompted.

  “The farmer wanted to get rid of this bitch.” Maisie waited while Ivy refilled their cups. “It seems the dog likes people more than cattle or sheep or whatever.” Maisie waved her hand around to dismiss all interest in livestock. “So Liam took her. But of course he couldn’t keep her in the seminary.”

  Ivy stared at Maisie. “Are you telling me Liam Connelly gave up his chance at the priesthood for a dog?”

  “Yes, that’s what he said. He told his da he’s going to train the dog’s pups when she has them. Liam claims this dog is the smartest animal in the world.”

  “The dog is about to whelp?” Ivy laughed. “This just keeps getting better and better. How long has Liam been away from here anyway?”

  “It must be five years or more since Liam went to the seminary.” Maisie tried to remember the exact time Liam had gone away. Time was marked by the passage of events of importance. “Wasn’t it about the same time as your Eamo left?” Maisie named Ivy’s eldest brother.

  “It must be all of that,” Ivy agreed. “Liam was only eleven.” Ivy kept her opinion of the tradition of sending boys of eleven away to be priests to herself. “That would make him sixteen now.”

  “Something like that although he’s a well set-up lad.”

  “He’d have been well fed at the seminary.”

  “Well fed and well educated. You should have heard his da going on about the education the lad had and now he wants to be a clown on the stage. I can tell you Alf Connelly had a lot to say.”

  “How does Liam plan to feed the poor dog and her pups when they come?” Ivy wondered aloud. The thought of all the education Liam had received fascinated Ivy.

  “Oh, Liam told his father the Lord would provide!” Maisie buried her face in her hands and giggled until tears poured between her fingers. “Honest to God, Ivy, it was better than the fillums!”

  “Father Leary won’t just let Liam leave the seminary.” Ivy hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

  “That’s what Alf Connelly said.” Maisie used her skirt to wipe away her tears. “Alf said he wasn’t going to have Father Leary knocking on his door morning, noon and night.”

  “So what’s Liam going to do? Do you know?”

  “I heard him tell his da that he’d sleep on the stairs.” Maisie was delighted to be able to supply all the information Ivy needed.

  “He’s going to sleep alongside the homeless men?” Ivy couldn’t imagine the proud Liam Connelly doing any such thing.

  The women of the tenements allowed homeless men to sleep on the four extra-wide, extra-long steps that graced the foyer of the tenement houses. The stairs formed the base of the staircase that led to every floor of the tenement building. The men slept wrapped in newspapers. Most of the unfortunates wrapped newspaper under their clothes and in their shoes. The newspaper acted as insulation against the bitter cold. Old newspapers served a great many purposes other than reading material.

  The homeless men knew they had to leave the stairs clean or they wouldn’t be allowed back. There could be no drink spilled and no bodily fluids left behind. The women of each house took turns scrubbing the stairs down every morning. A spotlessly clean entryway was a matter of community pride.

  “That’s what Liam said. I heard him. Loud as you please he told his da he’d sleep in the entryway.” Maisie shook her head. “I heard Lily Connelly cry out at that but Alf is not going to let Liam stop under his roof.”

  “Well, it’s between themselves.” Ivy shrugged. “There’s not much we can do about the situation.”

  “That’s the God’s honest truth.” Maisie had said everything she came to say and now she wanted to get back and see if there had been any new developments while she’d been out and about. “Thanks for the tea.” She stood up. “Your hair really does suit you, you know. You look a picture. You better get this place cleaned up.” Maisie waved a hand at the tea chests all over the floor. “You know yer da will pitch a fit if he sees the place like this.”

  “Me da isn’t coming home, Maisie.” Ivy took a deep breath. This was it. “Me da is dead. He drowned on New Year’s Day.”

  “Sweet Divine Jesus!” Maisie blessed herself frantically. She fell back down into her seat, staring in shock at Ivy. “You let me sit here and blather on about bloody Liam Connelly when your da is dead and no-one knows? In the name of Jesus, Ivy, what were yeh thinking of?”

  “I told Father Leary me da was dead,” Ivy whispered. “I had Father Massey note it down to have it read from the altar.” She shrugged. “I thought everyone knew me da was gone.” Ivy was lying but she wasn’t willing to tell Maisie about her problems with the parish priest.

  “Jesus,” Maisie counted the days on her fingers, “that’s more than a month now, Ivy. What about a funeral?”

  “Me da drowned, Maisie,” Ivy repeated. “There was no body for a funeral.”

  “In the name of Divine Jesus,” Maisie prayed as she blessed herself again. “What about yer ma, yer brothers, do they know?” She was shaking at the shock of the thing. Éamonn Murphy hale and hearty one minute and gone the next. She didn’t like to ask Ivy whether it was in the canal or the Liffey her da drowned. It was likely the canal while he was stumbling drunk – that’s how she’d tell it anyway. “What will yeh do now, Ivy? Yeh can’t stay here all on yer own. Where will yeh go?”

  “I don’t know how to get in touch with me ma and brothers, Maisie,” Ivy hated to admit that. “I don’t know where they are.”

  “Sweet merciful heavens!” Maisie touched Ivy gently on the arm. “Do you mean to tell me, after all yeh did for those three brothers of yours, they took themselves off and never looked back? That can’t be right, Ivy.”

  “I don’t know if me brothers kept in touch with anyone here, Maisie.” Ivy didn’t want to admit her brothers knew she couldn’t read any letters they might want to send her. “I only know me ma and brothers took the mail boat to England and disappeared. I don’t know where they are to tell them about me da’s death.”

  “One of them needs to come home and look after yeh, Ivy,” Maisie stated with conviction.

  “I can look after meself, Maisie.” Ivy smiled sadly. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

  “Of course yeh have, pet.” Maisie patted Ivy’s arm. “Still, a woman on her own, it’s not right, not decent.”

  “It’s the way it is, Maisie.” Ivy said.

  “It’s your da’s fault. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, Ivy, but yeh should have been allowed to walk out with a young man like any girl of yer age. Yeh’d have been married with yer own childer by now but yer da wanted to keep yeh tied to him. He was always that fond of his little girl.” Maisie was putting a good face on the fact that Éamonn Murphy didn’t want to give up his cushy way of life. A way of life that Ivy’s trading paid for.

  “I need to be getting on, Maisie.” Ivy stood. Maisie was free to spread the news of her da’s death now. Then they’d see what they’d see. “I have to go and take care of Granny.”

  “Does that old woman know about yer da?” Maisie wanted to spit feathers at the thought of Granny Grunt keeping this news from her.

  “Granny knows, Maisie,” Ivy said tiredly, having a good idea what Maisie was thinking. “Who would Granny tell? She only sees old Biddy when the two women go to Mass. Otherwise Granny spends the day all on her own.” Conn didn’t matter. Granny would never discuss anything of importance with a young man.

  “Well, I suppose.” Maisie wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, already thinking about who should be the first person she’d tell this bit of shocking new
s. “I’ll check in with yeh again later, Ivy, but I need to get home and get the dinner started for me men coming in from work.” She was lucky enough to have three men employed. A minor miracle in that day and age.

  “I’ll see yeh later, Maisie.” Ivy stood in her open doorway, watching while Maisie practically ran up the steps. She sighed, closing the door, dreading what would happen now.

  Chapter 17

  “Granny,” Ivy pushed through Granny’s door after a short sharp rap on the door. “the news is out about me da.”

  “About time.” Granny was sitting knitting, her feet held out towards the grate. The delicate lace knitting was something she could still do.

  “I’m going to put those crubeens I’ve had soaking on to cook.” Ivy hurried to suit word to action. “You’ll have to have them with a chunk of bread this once.”

  “I don’t suppose yeh could have asked Alf Connelly for the vegetables under the circumstances. I’ve heard about the Connelly lad from Conn.” Granny continued to knit. “It’s a right old state of affairs.”

  “I’ll be back later to check on yeh, Granny.” Ivy was ready to run again. “I’m going over to the livery.”

  Ivy ran back to her own rooms. She’d rearranged the parcel of clothing for Emerald, including the underwear she’d picked up from Guineys bargain basement on her way home. With her fingers crossed and holding her breath, Ivy prepared to leave her home by the front door. Aware of the many eyes digging into her back she prayed she could get across the cobbled courtyard without anyone stopping her.

  Jem Ryan was standing in his livery doorway, the small door open at his back. He watched Ivy almost fly across the cobbles. He’d heard the wave of shocked whispers about Éamonn Murphy and guessed Ivy wouldn’t want to stay in her own home.

  “Come on in, Ivy,” Jem said with a smile. He stepped back and as she flew in he closed the door behind them.

  “I’ve clothes and things for the little one.” Ivy shook the package she held in her hand.

  “Come on up!” Jem led the way. “Miss Emmy Ryan has been sitting around for most of the day doing nothing.”

  “I heard that, Uncle,” a little voice echoed through the stables.

  “You were meant to, Nosy! Come meet the lady you were asking about.” Jem laughed. “Ivy, I want you to meet Miss Emerald O’Connor as she tells me, now Emmy Ryan.” The little girl had been telling Jem about herself and asking what seemed to Jem to be a million questions about everything.

  “If you’d let me up, Jem,” Ivy called from below him on the ladder. “You can get lost while we ladies see to things.”

  Ivy was soon standing in Jem’s room. A smiling little girl, still wearing Jem’s vest, greeted her. Ivy saw no sign of the anxiety she’d been expecting. It seemed the newly named Miss Emmy Ryan was taking her new circumstances well in hand.

  “I’ll need a bowl of hot water and a washcloth, Jem.” Ivy threw the package on the bed.

  Emmy was washed and dressed in no time at all. Ivy had chosen Maggie Wilson’s stall because the woman was known for washing and ironing all of the clothes before she put them on her stall. Maggie loudly proclaimed this increased the value of her goods. The clothes were nowhere near the quality of Emmy’s old outfit but they fit.

  “Uncle Jem!” The little girl flew across the room and out the door to stand shouting down into the stable. “Come look, Uncle Jem! Look at my new clothes!” Emmy did a twirl, holding out the skirt of her Kelly-green dress. The little handknitted emerald-green cardigan was almost the colour of the child’s eyes. With her freshly brushed hair falling down her back and tied back by a white ribbon, Miss Emmy Ryan was a vision.

  “Well, begod, you’re a little beauty, Miss Emmy Ryan!” Jem was standing in the aisle, a pitchfork of soiled hay in his hand, grinning up at the little girl. “I’ll be up in a sec. Tell yer Auntie Ivy to put the kettle on, there’s a good girl.” Jem could hear the commotion out in The Lane. Ivy wouldn’t be able to hide out here for very much longer. Someone would come knocking, demanding explanations.

  “Aunty Ivy bought me a new brush and comb as well as lots of clothes, Uncle Jem,” Emmy giggled. “I won’t have to use Rosie’s brush any more.”

  “I’ll tell Rosie, she’ll be that pleased.” Jem grinned behind his beard.

  “Well, ladybird,” Ivy grinned down at the child when she dashed back to her side, “what did your uncle think?”

  “I’m not ladybird!” Emmy grinned. She didn’t know where her Aunt Mary Rose had gone and she didn’t care. She’d enjoyed today with this new uncle. She hadn’t been pinched or slapped once. Emerald, now called Emmy, sighed. It felt so good to be able to run and laugh again. “My Uncle Jem calls me ‘petal’. I’m petal.”

  “Very smart of you, petal!” Ivy laughed. “A ladybird sits on a petal though.”

  “Ladybirds eat petals!” Emmy giggled.

  “Is that a fact?” Ivy enjoyed the sound of the child’s delighted laughter.

  Jem arrived in the loft. “Well, would you look at that!” He smiled at the madly grinning child. “My petal has turned into a princess! And she’s forgotten all about her Uncle Jem’s cup of tea.” Jem looked around the room with a sad expression on his face. “No-one’s put the kettle on.”

  “Time enough for your tea, Jem Ryan. A princess needs a prince.” Ivy grinned. “Sit down. I have me sharp scissors with me. I’m going to start on that growth on your face.”

  “Ahh, Ivy!”

  “Don’t you ‘ahh Ivy’ me, Jem Ryan!” Ivy stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the laughing male. She hated that beard and wanted it gone. Jem used it to hide behind. That had to stop. “The beard is going, Jem, and I’m cutting that haystack you laughingly call a head of hair.”

  “I don’t know where me razor is.” Jem tried to delay his shearing. He had his uncle’s open razor stored in the kitchen cupboard with his own towel and soap.

  “That’s not a problem. I’ll run over to my place and get me da’s.” Ivy wasn’t to be put off.

  “I give up!” Jem threw his hands up in the air and collapsed into the chair Ivy held.

  Ivy set to with a vengeance. Using her well-sharpened scissors she cut the beard as close to Jem’s face as she could. She took great pleasure throwing the fiery red bristles onto the floor. She stepped back to look at Jem – even that much made a difference. Ivy attacked the hair on Jem’s head next. She had plenty of experience in cutting men’s hair.

  “Emmy – here, petal, you take this.” Ivy gave the little girl the brush and shovel from the fire set. “You get ready to brush up your uncle’s hair and we’ll throw it into the fire together – all right, petal?”

  “All right, Aunt Ivy!” Emmy’s bright giggle echoed around the room, bringing smiles to the two adults. “I’m ready.”

  “I’m being attacked by two dangerous women!” Jem groaned.

  “Poor, poor you!” Ivy took the rag she’d wrapped around Jem’s shoulders and shook it into the coal bucket.

  Jem, resigned, stood by the basin of hot water Ivy had prepared and with the open razor in hand tried to remember how to shave

  Emmy awkwardly swept the floor. It was obvious the child wasn’t accustomed to domestic chores.

  “I’ll put your kettle on, Jem,” Ivy said after she and Emmy had thrown the hair into the fire.

  Emmy sat at the table watching Jem scrape his face clean.

  “My, my, Mr Ryan!” Ivy said when Jem came to join them around the table. “You are a very handsome man! Who knew?” Ivy might have been speaking lightly for the sake of her audience but Jem Ryan was what her friend Nancy would call a fine figure of a man. The beard had concealed a very handsome face. Jem’s newly naked cheekbones were high, his jaw determined, his nose patrician and his mouth . . . Ivy had to look away and catch her breath. The man was gorgeous.

  “Let me make the tea.” Jem blushed at the attention. He set to, using his everyday dishes to serve the tea. He had plans for the fancy set in the cup
board.

  “Jem,” Ivy had been staring around his room, fascinated by the bright white walls, “would it cost a fortune to buy whitewash for my two rooms?”

  “You want to decorate?” Jem glanced over his shoulder.

  “I want to brighten up my two rooms. I don’t know how much something like that would cost me.” Ivy didn’t want to admit that the rooms had been untouched for twelve years. Her da had refused to spend money on what he called “woman rubbish”.

  “I have all the whitewash you could need downstairs, Ivy.” Jem served tea and to Ivy’s delight again gave her a selection of biscuits to choose from.

  “I couldn’t take your stuff, Jem!” Ivy objected.

  “Ivy,” Jem stared into Ivy’s serious eyes, “I like to keep the place downstairs nice and white. I always have whitewash on hand. The whitewash comes in a big bag – it’s powder. I’ll use your water to mix it if you insist.”

  “I thought I’d ask the Connelly boys, Conn and Liam, to do the work.” Ivy had an ulterior motive. She wanted to see Liam Connelly, see the kind of man he’d become.