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

by Gemma Jackson

  Ivy cringed as the sound of her own laughter echoed through the church.

  “I’m worried about Granny, Da.” Ivy sighed. “I don’t think the old woman has long for this life. She’s ready to go, yeh can tell it from her.”

  Ivy bowed her head. She said a prayer for the woman who’d taken her in hand as a little girl. The Murphy family owed that woman a debt of gratitude.

  “Me two rooms are looking a treat, Da.” Ivy didn’t want to think about Granny right now or she’d cry. The old woman hadn’t been able to get out of bed to go to her morning Mass lately. A young priest, Father Coyle, came by every morning to give her the sacraments. “Granny gave me her big dresser for me rooms.” Granny decided that, since Ivy was doing all the cooking for both of them, she needed the huge cabinet to store her foodstuffs and utensils. Conn and Jem had moved it into Ivy’s back room.

  “I’m learning to read, Da.” Ivy’s grin could have lit up the dark church. The wonder of being able to make out words in the newspaper would never fail to delight her. “I do me homework every day with Emmy. I know yeh won’t be happy with me decision to send Emmy to the school Ann Marie recommended, Da, it not being Catholic and all – I had to fight Jem on that one. I have to tell yeh, Da, everything Ann Marie tells me about the Quakers makes a lot more sense to me than the laws of the Catholic Church.” Ivy hunched her shoulders, half expecting the roof to fall in on top of her. “I never knew that the Jacob’s biscuit factory and Bewley’s cafe was run by Quakers, did you, Da?”

  Ivy, wearing her new suit, had been to take morning coffee at Bewley’s café on Grafton Street. She’d felt a proper swell. What with wearing her fancy new suit with the hand-knit purple lace sweater that Granny had made for her, Ivy felt like the bee’s knees. She’d been waited on by a woman wearing a black dress and white apron, for heaven’s sake! All of it had been a wonder to her. The price they’d paid for two cups of coffee and a couple of scones had nearly made her faint but the experience had been priceless.

  “Anyway, Da, the education that child is getting at the Quaker school the Jacob’s factory runs, is second to none.” Ivy grinned proudly. “She’s helping me with me learning. Da, I’m really smart. Did ye know that, Da?” Ivy had been astonished by the ease and speed of her learning. The world was opening up to her and she was hungry for knowledge. “Anyway, Da, Liam says me mental arithmetic is a wonder to behold.” Ivy smiled. Liam had her perform like a trained pet for the enjoyment of Jem and Conn. “I won’t go on about it, Da – yeh’ll say I’m being vain but it’s a wonder to me that I have a brain.”

  Ivy again hunched her shoulders.

  “I did something I’m not sure about, Da. I went down to the Franciscan friars. I did it for Liam.” Ivy knew her father wouldn’t approve of her going outside Westland Row for help. “The lad is failing, Da. He’s skin and bone and his skin is grey. It doesn’t have anything to do with hunger, Da. It’s in his head. He needs help. I had to do something. Anyway, nothing has come of it but I thought I’d better let yeh know.”

  Ivy pushed herself to her feet.

  “I have to get on. I have things I need to get done today.” The candles were still burning brightly. She stepped out of the pew and genuflected in the aisle. “I enjoyed our little visit, Da. I’ll come again.”

  Ivy pushed her well-laden pram through the streets Dubliners called The Warren. The streets were narrow, the houses built so close together they seemed to lean towards each other. No sunlight would dare to shine on the dark narrow lanes and alleys. It was ironic that the streets carried names like Queen Street and such. The area was called The Warren because of the hundreds of bare-arsed children who ran wild around the place.

  Ivy had business to conduct down these dark alleys. Dotted around these streets men and women ran second-hand shops from the front room of their two-up, two-down houses. Ivy was happy to think she’d had no need of the backstreet pawnshops in years. Her pram was heavy with items she was sure she could shift at a handsome profit.

  She’d been spending her evenings delving into her tea chests. She was clearing out years of accumulated items she’d had stashed away. Ivy had found little treasures, like the silk underwear she’d put aside until she had the time to mend it. A selection of old-fashioned long skirts had been at the bottom of one chest. Ivy had pulled these apart and refashioned them. The sheer amount of knitwear she’d kept had astonished her. The freedom to empty the chests out completely and leave the items out until she’d made a decision about their disposal was increasing Ivy’s business. Her new-found ability to make notes and write signs never failed to delight her.

  Ivy wasn’t quite sure of her direction today. She was looking for someone. With the increased income from her round, plus the time to stop and think, she had been making plans. She’d come to the conclusion she needed more hands. She couldn’t do everything she wanted to get done herself. Just the thought of paying someone to do work for her had Ivy sick to her stomach. At the same time she was that proud of herself she could strut. Her world was certainly changing.

  Chapter 20

  “Mrs Reilly, thank you for joining me.”

  Brian Sarsfield nearly dropped the silver salver he was placing on the dining-room sideboard. That was a turn-up for the books. The gentry thanking a housekeeper, what was the world coming to?

  Brian had been deputised to serve Miss Gannon whenever she met with the housekeeper. Foster considered the serving of a housekeeper beneath his dignity. That didn’t stop the man from demanding Brian repeat everything he heard.

  “Not at all, Miss Gannon.” Agnes Reilly bowed her head elegantly and waited for the footman to pull out her chair. She intended to get every bit of pleasure out of these occasions. Iris Jones, the cook, would be hanging on her every word when she told her about this.

  “If you don’t mind, Mrs Reilly, we’ll serve ourselves.” Ann Marie wanted to scream. Was there no way to simply hold a conversation in this house? Why had she never noticed the servants before?

  “Shall I place the salver on the table, Miss Gannon?” Brian Sarsfield wasn’t going to pretend he was deaf.

  “That would be ideal . . .” Ann Marie raised her eyebrows at Mrs Reilly, hoping she’d remind her of the man’s name.

  “Brian,” Mrs Reilly offered in a whisper, “Brian Sarsfield.”

  “Thank you, Mr Sarsfield,” Ann Marie said as the tray was moved from the sideboard to the end of the long highly polished table nearest to the two women.

  Brian Sarsfield almost fainted. She’d called him ‘Mr Sarsfield’ as if he was important. He’d be telling everyone about that. “If you need anything else, Miss Gannon?”

  “That will be all.” Ann Marie glanced at the tray. They could hold out for a week on the amount of food on it. Ann Marie stood to serve the housekeeper herself as Brian withdrew. “I hope you don’t mind, Mrs Reilly.” The family were out for the day on one of their many social visits. Ann Marie had the run of the house. This was the first time the two women had actually met in the dining room. Ann Marie had been having meetings with the housekeeper in her own suite of rooms. “I want to talk to you privately.”

  “Not at all, Miss Gannon.” Agnes Reilly prepared to be served.

  “I want to thank you for all of your help over the last weeks.” Ann Marie placed the china plates covered in lace doilies, with attractively arranged finger sandwiches, on the table between them. “I can’t thank you enough for all the times you acted as go-between for Miss Murphy and myself.”

  Agnes waited, knowing by now Miss Gannon would get to the point when she was ready.

  “Just a little cream in your coffee, isn’t it, Mrs Reilly?” Ann Marie asked, holding aloft the ornate silver coffee pot.

  “Yes, thank you.” Agnes Reilly imagined herself quite the lady of the house. It was a delightful little fantasy.

  “Miss Murphy has asked a favour of me,” Ann Marie said as she sat down with her own coffee.

  “Indeed, Miss Gannon.” Agnes
Reilly didn’t know what else to say. The thought of little Ivy Murphy asking the gentry to help her out should have shocked Agnes Reilly rigid but Agnes was proud of her ability to handle the new way of doing things she was learning with Miss Gannon.

  “Ivy wants me to visit The Lane.” Ann Marie was delighted, at this final sign of acceptance. She couldn’t wait to see where Ivy and Jem lived. After all the stories Ivy had told her Ann Marie couldn’t wait to see the place for herself. She felt as if she’d been invited to visit another planet not simply a nearby area. “Are you all right, Mrs Reilly?” Ann Marie jumped up to pat Mrs Reilly on the back.

  The woman had choked on the sip of coffee she’d been about to swallow.

  “Miss Gannon,” Mrs Reilly signalled she was okay, “Ivy Murphy asked you to visit her in The Lane?” She stared at the woman taking her chair again across the wide table. “Is she out of her mind?” The words escaped before she could censor them.

  “I’m really looking forward to the experience.” Ann Marie grinned widely with delight.

  “Rather you than me.” Agnes Reilly had said it before and she’d say it again: the quality were funny in the head.

  “Ivy is to purchase an outfit for me to wear.” Ann Marie looked at the polished satin skirt of her day dress. “She informs me that I can’t walk into The Lane wearing my normal attire.”

  “I should think not.” Agnes Reilly said simply. She’d been serving as go-between, passing on messages and intriguing parcels at the back door of Number 8. Agnes Reilly was enjoying the change in routine but sometimes in her private heart she wondered what planet the rich lived on.

  “I wanted to have an outfit made for me but Ivy vetoed that idea.” Ann Marie didn’t see the problem. “I don’t know why – after all, I will wear it more than once.”

  “How would you make the thing look old and worn?” Agnes Reilly wanted to sigh. “The material will need to have the shine that only much wear brings to a garment.”

  “I see.” Ann Marie shrugged. “Well, I don’t really, but Ivy has already told me I’m blind as a bat to the world around me.” Ann Marie didn’t know Agnes Reilly almost needed the smelling salts at this point.

  “A visit to The Lane.” Mrs Reilly said. This woman in the Lane, it didn’t bear thinking about. She’d be lucky to get out with all her skin intact.

  “Ivy is deeply concerned about a neighbour of hers.” Ann Marie refilled the housekeeper’s coffee cup, unaware of the havoc she was causing in the smooth running of Foster’s household. “An old woman who is very feeble.”

  “What does she think you can do?” Agnes Reilly had heard it all now. They were never going to believe this below stairs.

  “I won’t know until I’ve seen the woman.” Ann Marie knew Ivy was hoping she would use her connections at Kevin’s Hospital to get the old woman a bed. Ivy had told Ann Marie so much about Granny Grunt she almost felt she knew the woman.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve got something to look forward to.” Agnes Reilly didn’t know what else to say. The world was going to hell in a hand-basket as far as she was concerned. She settled back to see what else would come up in this conversation. No-one could say Agnes Reilly wasn’t ready to move with the times.

  The two women settled into a gossip session with Ann Marie picking Mrs Reilly’s brain for ideas on how she should behave on her very first visit to The Lane.

  “I won’t come in, Patsy, thanks.”

  Ivy stood in the tenement hallway staring at the woman in front of her. She wanted to swear. She knew Patsy O’Malley and would never have willingly knocked on the woman’s door. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. She’d asked directions around the Daisy Market and was sure she was at the right address.

  Ivy knew Patsy O’Malley wasn’t much older than her own age of twenty-one but the woman in front of her looked old and tired. Her body was swollen with what Patsy sourly told her was the sixth O’Malley “babby”.

  “What do ye want with our Sadie, Ivy Murphy? What did she do?” Patsy O’Malley was a woman who always looked for the worst to happen. Her sour attitude to life was carved into her face. Her life wasn’t that different to the lives of everyone else around her. The difference was Patsy’s attitude.

  “I just want to chat a while with Sadie – pass the time of day.”

  Ivy thought she’d walked every street in Dublin but following the directions she’d received from one of the women selling fruit from her pram had led her through a world even more downtrodden than anything she’d seen before. The walls seemed to lean in towards each other, making sure bright light wouldn’t dare to enter the miserable streets.

  The houses were packed so tightly together women living across the street from each other held conversations without stepping away from their own front door. The wet laundry strung on ropes between the buildings cast an unpleasant haze over everything.

  “What would our Sadie have to say to the likes of you?” The cheek of this one coming around here, coming to visit if yeh didn’t mind, as if she was someone!

  “Everything all right, Patsy?” The door directly opposite opened and a short, blonde woman stood in the opening.

  “Sadie, have yeh got a minute?” Ivy grinned with relief.

  “Will you step in?” Sadie Lawless opened her door wider and stepped back. “Yeh can bring yer pram in. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “Thanks, Sadie,” Ivy hadn’t planned to bring her pram into Sadie’s room but she didn’t trust Patsy as far as she could throw her.

  “Oh, yeh keep yer place lovely!”

  The room Ivy stepped into was spotless. Everything, including the two girls playing on the mat in front of the empty fire grate, was ruthlessly organised.

  “Howaye, girls?” Ivy smiled at Sadie’s daughters.

  “Sit yerself down Ivy. I’ll make a pot of tea and you can tell me what’s brought you down here.” Sadie turned to put water to boil on a small Primus stove.

  Ivy searched her pockets and found two brown pennies. She held a penny in each hand towards the girls. “Girls, why don’t ye go to the shop while I talk to yer ma?” Ivy had been surprised to see the two girls at home.

  “Don’t let your Aunty Patsy see that money, girls,” Sadie warned, knowing Patsy could almost smell coppers.

  “Thank you.” The tallest girl held the coin out on her palm, her eyes wide in astonishment.

  “Go out for a while, girls.” Sadie hated knowing her girls wouldn’t spend the money. They knew she needed every brown penny right now.

  “Sit down for goodness sake Ivy you’re making the place look untidy.” Sadie pulled a chair out from the big table pushed under the window overlooking the street. “You’ve never come to my door before, Ivy Murphy.”

  “Sadie, yeh can tell me to sod off if yeh want but something isn’t right.” Ivy kept her eyes firmly away from the empty grate. It was freezing in this room. “Yeh’re not yer usual smiling self.”

  “Then yeh haven’t heard.” Sadie turned to check the water. “I thought maybe yeh had and that’s why you’d come.”

  “What’s going on, Sadie?” Ivy watched Sadie make a pot of tea.

  “It’s me fella.” Sadie’s breath hitched. “He had an accident at work.” Tears began to flow down Sadie’s face. “Twenty years he’s worked every day God sends at the Haymarket and in minutes it’s all taken away from him. A bale of fecking hay broke his back. Hay, the like of which he threw over his head morning, noon and half the feckin’ night.”

  “What!” Ivy was shocked. This was desperate news. Without a man’s income coming in Sadie and her girls would be in dire straits. No wonder there was no fire in the grate. It was miracle Sadie had been able to offer Ivy a cup of tea. Ivy thought of Sadie’s big laughing husband with sadness.

  “My John’s in Kevin’s Hospital. He’s been there the last two weeks. The doctors don’t know if he’ll be able to walk again.” Sadie buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Ivy sat silently
and waited. Sometimes you needed a good cry.

  “Sadie, I’m that sorry for your troubles.” Ivy didn’t know where to go from here.

  “If yeh knew nothing about my John, why on earth have yeh come visiting, Ivy Murphy?” Sadie had known Ivy from a distance for years. However, they’d never been friends, just exchanged a casual greeting from time to time.

  “I had things I wanted to talk to you about, Sadie.” Ivy had thought long and hard about the people she knew before deciding to approach Sadie Lawless.

  “What kind of things, Ivy?” Sadie stood to fetch the tea. She hoped Ivy liked weak tea because her supply of tea leaves was running low. She looked over her shoulder at the woman who was carefully looking down at the table. Sadie appreciated the fact that Ivy wasn’t gawping at everything. “I don’t mean to be awkward but I’ve enough on me plate at the minute.”

  “Sadie, I know we’ve never been what yeh could call close,” Ivy stared into Sadie’s eyes wanting the woman to see her sincerity, “but I have to ask yeh – how are yeh for money?”