“What the hell is going on out here?” Maisie Reynolds stood in the open doorway at the top of the tenement steps, glaring down at the approaching crowd.
“You’d better go inside, Maisie,” Ivy shouted.
“I will in me eye!” Maisie Reynolds stepped out of the doorway. “I’d like me job letting the likes of Tim Johnson get the better of me!”
“Ivy, I’m that sorry.” Lily Connelly stood on the steps of her tenement building with her children around her.
“Woman, get back inside!” Alf Connelly shouted from the crowd. “Don’t you talk to this harlot!”
“You’re wrong, Alf!” Lily Connelly shouted.
“See what you started, Ivy Murphy!” Tim Johnson was enjoying seeing the uppity bitch get hers. “You are a troublemaker, a harlot! We don’t want your kind here. This is a decent place. We’ll have none of your type around our families.” He grabbed Greg Norton and pushed him to the front of the crowd. The man stumbled and almost fell. “Do your job!”
“That’s right!” Alf Connelly shouted, red in the face with fury. “She led my lad astray and everyone knows it! He was going to be a priest, my Liam. That bitch took him away from God!”
“You’re a rotten liar, Alf Connelly!” Maisie Reynolds shoved up her sleeves and yelled. She had been joined by her husband and two adult sons. “Liam left the priesthood for a bitch all right. Everyone knows that, but the bitch had four legs!” The crowd tittered at that.
“This could get very ugly,” Jem said over his shoulder to Ann Marie.
“Keep them talking, Ivy,” Ann Marie whispered. She’d seen a lad standing by the tunnel give a signal and was praying it meant the police were nearby.
“Mr Norton, what are you doing here?” Ivy asked the man she paid her rent to every Monday morning.
“He’s here to give you notice to quit, Ivy Murphy!” Tim Johnson shouted.
“I am here against my wishes, Miss Murphy,” Greg Norton felt brave enough to say.
“Where’s Billie Powell?” Tim Johnson shouted. “Send him up. Billie Powell is the man for the job, not this limp wrist!”
The crowd shifted and pushed a reluctant man towards the front.
“Well, well,” Ivy tapped the foot of her hockey stick against her hand. “Billie Powell, it’s long and many a day since you were brave enough to face me. Did he ever tell you where he got that scar, Mr Norton?” Ivy pointed the stick at Billie Powell’s forehead.
“She’s lying.” Billie Powell was sweating.
“She hasn’t said anything yet, Powell.” Greg Norton had never liked the rent collector.
“I gave him that scar when I was eleven years old.” Ivy was fed up keeping secrets. “He tried to put his hands all over me. Offered to give me something off the rent if I’d let him touch me.” Ivy smiled coldly at the shaking man. “You and Tim Johnson are two of a kind if you only knew it, Billie Powell. Tim Johnson tried to force himself on me and all. I didn’t get the chance to scar him but me da sure did, didn’t he, Tim? You’re feeling real brave with a crowd at your back now you know me da’s dead, aren’t yeh, Tim?”
“Don’t they say the dead can haunt yeh?” Maisie Reynolds shouted with glee.
“What the hell is going on here?”
The police had arrived. Four big men in police uniform stood glaring at the crowd. The men at the back tried to disappear but, without them noticing, they’d been surrounded by a crowd of women. The women wouldn’t budge.
“Officer,” Greg Norton pointed at Tim Johnson, “I want you to arrest that man for kidnapping!”
“What?” Tim Johnson tried to disappear into the crowd he’d brought to give him courage.
“Is that a fact?” Officer Barney Collins was thrilled. He’d wanted a reason to lock that one away for years. He gave the nod to his men and they grabbed a struggling Tim. “I’ll need details.” He was trying not to grin as he removed his notebook from his pocket. “Do we have witnesses?” He looked at the men trying to disappear into the cobblestones.
“I was locking up my office when these men broke in. They forcibly removed me from my business premises.” Greg Norton looked at the crowd of men with disgust. “There were many witnesses to that event, Officer. I’m sure they’d be happy to speak with you. My office clerk will be happy to supply you with a list of names.”
“Right, what else is going on here?” Officer Barney Collins looked around. “Miss Murphy, I’m sorry for the trouble being brought to your door. I’d appreciate it if you’d come down to the station and file a complaint.”
“You’ve been very helpful to me in the past, Officer Collins – I appreciate it.” Ivy smiled. She took a deep breath, aware she was about to step ‘out of her station’. “I’d be happy to file a complaint against Tim Johnson.” Ivy was aware of the shock running around the crowd but she’d had enough of being meek and mild. The people of The Lane didn’t hold with talking to the police. She knew that. “If you give me a time, Officer Collins, I’ll be there.”
“What are the rest of you men doing here?” Barney Collins was enjoying the sight of a still-struggling Tim Johnson being forced through the tunnel opening. The man was making a show of himself with his weeping and begging.
Ivy was ashamed of the delight she felt hearing Tim Johnson’s cries of shock. The man was a bully and a coward. Seeing Tim Johnson being marched off made her day. She could rest easy in her own home now. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder whenever she went down the yard. For the moment, anyway, she was safe from his attentions.
“We want that woman gone from here!” Alf Connelly wasn’t willing to let the matter drop. “This man –” he pointed to Greg Norton, “is the landlord’s agent. We want him to evict Ivy Murphy, throw the bitch out in the street where she belongs!”
“Miss Ivy Murphy pays her rent every week,” Greg Norton protested. “I have no reason to remove a valuable tenant.”
“You are?” Officer Collins licked his pencil and stared at Alf Connelly. He’d get the names right. There were a lot in this crowd he’d be happy to see bound over to keep the peace. Then they’d only have to step out of line once and he’d have them.
“An auld eejit!” Lily Connelly stepped forward and belted her husband around the head. “Two pints and he doesn’t know his own name.” Lily pushed the sputtering Alf towards his own home.
“Mr Norton, I’ll ask you to come down to the station and fill out a complaint.” Officer Collins directed the men with him to take names. It amused him to note that the women at the back of the crowd were making sure the men gave the right name. The men were drunks and not from The Lane so the women were shouting out corrections with glee.
“I’ll come down to the station with pleasure,” Greg Norton said. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Murphy.” Greg went to tip his hat before remembering the men hadn’t allowed him to grab his overcoat and hat.
“I suppose you want a cup of tea now,” Jem said softly in Ivy’s ear. He was grinning openly. Tim Johnson was under arrest. Ivy was safe from the man.
“Jem,” Ivy watched the women, shouting and waving bunched fists in the air, herd the crowd of men from the lane. She sagged against Jem’s body, the strength going from her legs. “I want a pot of the bloody stuff.”
Chapter 25
“Uncle Charles, a moment of your time, please.” Ann Marie wanted to press her hands to her stomach to suppress the sickness that roiled there. She took a deep breath. She had to do this. This meeting was long overdue.
“Ann Marie, I want a brandy before I change for dinner.” Charles Gannon allowed Foster to assist with the removal of his overcoat. He’d already passed his hat, gloves and walking cane to the butler to be passed along to the footman.
“I’ll join you.” Ann Marie had agonised over the words she needed to say to her relative, without success. She’d have to play it by ear.
Without a word being spoken the footman opened the study door. Foster stood back to allow Ann Marie and her uncle
to enter the private room. Foster followed and immediately began to assemble the needed drink. Ann Marie sighed. They were perfectly capable of pouring a drink themselves.
“Sherry, Ann Marie?” Charles Gannon liked his niece, enjoyed her company, but he resented her presence in his study. This was the only room in the house he could call his own.
“I’ll have a brandy, Foster.” Ann Marie signalled her uncle with her eyes. She wanted Foster to leave.
“That will be all, Foster.” Charles Gannon relaxed into the comfortable chair behind his desk. He accepted the balloon glass of the finest cognac from the silver salver his butler held in his white-gloved hand. The butler made no attempt to serve cognac to a lady. It simply wasn’t done. “We’ll ring if we need you.”
“You’re behaving very strangely, Ann Marie.” Charles watched his niece pour a healthy measure of brandy for herself.
“I feel feckin’ weird, as my new friends would say.” Ann Marie threw herself into a leather-backed chair facing her uncle’s desk.
“Ah yes, your new-found friends and your participation in their little lives appears to be doing you a world of good.” Charles stared into the amber liquid he swirled in his hand. “In fact, my dear, your looks and health have improved enormously. It’s done my heart good to see it.” He smiled across the desk.
“I have been having a truly marvellous time,” Ann Marie admitted. “I feel as if my life has a purpose. That’s something that has been lacking for a long time. I’ve also come to a greater appreciation of my own privileged lifestyle. However, Uncle . . .” Ann Marie paused.
“Ah, we come to the reason for the barely suppressed fury.” Charles Gannon wondered what had put the fire in his niece’s cheeks and the steel in her spine.
“Uncle Charles, where is that obscenely expensive fur coat you bought Aunt Beatrice?” Ann Marie felt sick to her stomach but she had to do this.
“Charles Junior took it to Graham’s the furriers. He expressed some concern about the care the coat was receiving. You know furs must be stored in a climate-controlled environment.” Charles sat back, wondering what that blasted fur had to do with anything.
“Would it interest you to know I purchased that very fur for the princely sum of three guineas?” Ann Marie didn’t know how she had contained the horror she’d felt when she’d seen that darn coat in the grotty room in the Warren.
“I beg your pardon.” Charles choked on his brandy. “That’s impossible. The wretched thing cost a king’s ransom and well you know it. My ears are still ringing from the lecture you delivered to me on the subject.”
“Oh, Uncle Charles, I really don’t know what to do.” She swigged the brandy. She needed the warmth. “What should I do for the best?” She stared at her uncle as if he had the answers she needed.
“My dear, I don’t like to see you like this.” Charles Gannon had never seen his niece in such a state. “Can’t you tell me what the matter is?”
“Uncle Charles, brace yourself.” Ann Marie finished the brandy in her glass and barely prevented herself from slamming the delicate crystal balloon glass down onto her uncle’s desk. “Uncle Charles, I recently discovered, much to my horror that you are about to become a grandfather.” Ann Marie giggled hysterically, her breath hitching in and out as she fought for control.
“My dear, I’m afraid the brandy has affected your senses.” Charles Gannon stared. Neither of his children had married – indeed to his knowledge they showed no inclination to enter into any romantic liaisons.
“Uncle Charles, I met a young, a very young girl, in possession of my aunt’s fur coat.”
“Ann Marie, my dear, you need to calm down.” Charles Gannon stared. “I’ve already explained that the coat in question has been placed in the vault of the furrier. I fear that you are very mistaken.”
“Uncle, that coat is one of a kind. I’ve seen it, touched it when my aunt wore the thing. I could not be mistaken in the matter. I bought that coat, Uncle, from a young woman in desperate straits. I was horrified, Uncle, shocked that a member of my family could act in the manner the woman described. To my shame at first I thought you were the man who had impregnated the girl then deserted her.”
“For heavens sake, Ann Marie, what are you talking about?” Charles Gannon did not believe this was the kind of conversation one held with one’s spinster niece. “Who are you accusing?”
“Charles Junior, your son and heir, gifted the coat to a dancer he was seducing. The girl calls herself Desiree. To hear the girl tell her story she and Charles Junior had a romance to defy the stars. I believe they were quite the glamorous couple around town for a while.” Ann Marie buried her face in her hands. Listening to that painfully thin, obviously unhealthy young woman telling her tale of romance had saddened her to her very soul.
“Ann Marie, I can’t approve of you mixing with that class of person.” Charles didn’t know what to do, what to say. This was a matter to be handled among gentlemen. His son should have brought the matter directly to his father.
“When Desiree told Charles Junior of her condition, he threw a pound note at her feet and demanded the return of the coat. When Desiree refused he hit her in the face with enough force to blacken both eyes. This is not the action of a gentleman, Uncle Charles.” Ann Marie wanted to take a switch to her cousin.
“It is not the kind of story a lady of quality should be told either.” Charles Gannon stared at his niece.
“It was completely by chance that I heard the story, Uncle. The young girl lost her job. There is not much call for pregnant dancers. She lost her home, unable to pay her rent. She’s been living hand to mouth and I worry that both she and the baby will die in childbirth.” Ann Marie intended to do everything she could to secure the life of the unborn child.
“How did this dancer,” Charles almost spat the word dancer, “contrive to contact you, Ann Marie?”
“She didn’t. It was pure happenstance, Uncle.” Ann Marie didn’t want to go into the details of the situation she’d found herself in.
“I wonder,” Charles Gannon said.
“I was in the company of two women who were worried about the girl, a complete stranger to them. These two women, Uncle, have so little it’s unbelievable that they manage to survive from one day to the next. They have so little, Uncle, yet give so much. We have so much and give so little.” Ann Marie was close to tears.
“My dear,” Charles Gannon was at a loss, “are you sure of your facts?”
“I have Aunt Beatrice’s coat upstairs in my room.” Ann Marie said. “Still in the original box, a box with your name embossed on the lid.”
“What do you expect of me, Ann Marie?” Charles Gannon stood and refreshed their drinks. “I admit to being at a complete loss.”
“Uncle, the child will be your grandchild,” Ann Marie insisted.
“A bastard child!” Charles snapped.
“That is not the child’s fault!” Ann Marie almost shouted. “The innocent in all of this, Uncle, is the unborn child. A child, Uncle, who will have your blood flowing in its veins!”
“The child’s misfortune is the fault of its parents, both of them.” Charles gulped his brandy. “You hardly expect me to demand my son marry a dancer.”
“No, not at all, I’m not that foolish, Uncle, or indeed that innocent.” Ann Marie sighed. “Not because I think Charles too good to marry the girl but because I wouldn’t wish your son on any woman, Uncle. I’m sorry to speak ill of my cousin but Charles is spoilt to the point of uselessness. He stole that coat. If it had been one of the servants you would have called the police. It is not a small matter, Uncle.”
“I agree, Ann Marie.” Charles wasn’t proud of his son but he’d never been ashamed of him before.
“Uncle, it is not my place –” Ann Marie held up her hand when her uncle started to speak. “I know I’m speaking out of turn. Please believe me when I tell you I’m sorry for speaking to you like this but it is out of genuine concern for my family, my blood
family.” Ann Marie had taken the responsibility for the unborn child into her own hands but her cousin could not be allowed to escape the consequences of his actions.
“I suspect I need to hear what you’re going to say.” Charles Gannon felt tired. He’d worked at the hospital and his practice today. He’d wanted to come home to a peaceful meal and a restful evening. Was that too much to expect?
“Charles Junior needs to grow up, Uncle. He is no longer a young boy in leading reins. It is time and past it that my cousin became a man.”
“I have been remiss in my duties.”
“No, Uncle.” Ann Marie hated to bring this sadness to her uncle but someone had to be responsible for kicking Charles Junior. Ann Marie knew Charles Junior would smile and ignore anything the females of the house might say to him. “I know the work you do. I know you give so much of yourself to your patients, the people who need you but, Uncle, your children need your attention too.” Ann Marie had sense enough not to share her complete disgust for her cousin, indeed for both of her cousins, with their parent.
“Not everyone can have your social conscience, my dear.” Charles Gannon was very much aware of his children’s lack of purpose in life. His brother’s wife had been raised in the Quaker faith. She’d insisted Ann Marie too would be raised Quaker. Charles was beginning to think there might be something in the tenets of “the Friends” as his sister-in-law had referred to them.
“We can’t all be alike, Uncle, I appreciate that, but I worry about my cousins. The life they lead can surely not be a fulfilled one.” Ann Marie shrugged. “Perhaps I am completely mistaken.”
Through Streets Broad and Narrow (Ivy Rose Series Book 1) Page 30
