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

by Gemma Jackson

  “You can’t just walk out of my life.” Burton walked along beside Ivy, his racket under his arm. He attempted to take her elbow but Ivy sidestepped his touch adroitly. She didn’t allow strange men to touch her. The icy glare she sent Burton told him to keep his distance.

  “Let me buy you an ice-cream,” Burton persisted, unable to believe this beauty was going to refuse his advances. “We would sit outside in full view of the passing traffic.”

  “Thank you for your assistance.” Ivy did her Ann Marie impression again and bowed her head graciously. “I have matters to attend to.” She needed to get away from this stranger who happened to have the same blood as herself running in his veins.

  “You haven’t told me your name.” Burton knew when to back off. He’d bump into her again – bound to – Dublin wasn’t that big.

  “No,” Ivy agreed. “I haven’t.” She walked away without a backward glance.

  Burton Moriarty stood staring after Ivy with an expression of complete bemusement on his face. The woman had given him the cut direct. It was a delightful surprise to Burton. The next time he met that woman he’d be ready. She wouldn’t be able to ignore him, he’d see to that.

  Ivy walked down O’Connell Street heading in the direction of Grafton Street. She couldn’t believe she’d bumped into one of her mother’s relations. She was shaking with delayed shock. She turned into the gates of Trinity College. She needed to sit down. She’d sit on one of the benches she knew were dotted around the grounds of Trinity.

  Ivy tried to remember the man’s features. Had there been a family resemblance? She didn’t know. She’d been so surprised when he offered to work the water pump for her. A first for Ivy – she’d never been the subject of male gallantry before. She’d been willing to enjoy the experience. The shock of hearing the man’s name had frozen all of her senses.

  Her brothers had been boys when they left home for England. Would they be as tall as Burton Moriarty? Bound to be, Ivy told herself – her da had been a very tall man. Her brothers had inherited his looks. They must have inherited his height as well. Ivy was said to resemble her mother uncannily. Was her mother tall? Ivy couldn’t remember.

  “Would you care for a glass of water, Miss?” Ivy opened her eyes to see one of the university guards smiling down at her. “You appear to be affected by the heat.”

  “Thank you. That would be very welcome.” Ivy allowed her head to fall back against the bench. Was this all it took? She’d been working so hard to make something of herself. Every night her head ached from the hours she spent studying the papers Brother Theo set her when she should have been sleeping.

  Ivy had consciously copied Ann Marie Gannon’s way of walking, talking and even sitting. She hadn’t been trying to become a copy of Ann Marie – simply grooming herself, trying to make something of herself, make herself acceptable.

  “Here yeh are, Miss.” The guard passed a glass brimming with cool water to Ivy.

  “Thank you.” Ivy accepted the glass with a cool smile. “This is extremely kind of you.” Then she almost froze in terror. Was she supposed to tip the man?

  “You need to get out of this heat, Miss.” The guard accepted the empty glass and smiled kindly down at Ivy. “Hope you don’t mind me saying, Miss.” The guard walked away, returning to his duties.

  Ivy closed her eyes. The same man, if she’d been wearing her old coat and shawl, would have run her off with curses and even rocks. Was all she needed to be accepted a suit of fashionable clothes? Was that all it took? It didn’t matter who or what she was. It didn’t matter what kind of human being she was. A suit fashioned from a dead woman’s bed-sheets was all she needed to be accepted in polite society.

  Ivy fought to regain her composure. She’d dressed like this today because she’d things she needed to get done. She’d hoped Brother Theo could help with her application for a street trader’s licence. She’d half thought she might have to accompany the friar to the law courts or something and hadn’t wanted to make a holy show of herself.

  Ivy took deep calming breaths and forced herself to think. She’d been denied a street trader’s licence. That was a stumbling block. But she could apply for a market trader’s licence. Jem had offered his name if she needed it. That wasn’t what Ivy wanted. She wanted to be able to walk around the city and offer her goods in areas where she could demand a higher price than from a market stall.

  Ivy pushed herself to her feet. She examined her outfit, checking for stains. White was a bloody impractical colour. Ivy normally avoided Grafton Street on her way home, moving through the city using the backstreets and alleys. Ivy knew her kind were not welcome in the richer areas of town – that’s just how things were done. Not today. Today she could stroll along, confident she looked as if she belonged.

  Ivy stood before a Grafton Street toy store and examined the goods in the window. She smiled at the abundance of toys available to the wealthy. Did rich kids get the same pleasure from their toys as poor kids got from their home-made toys? Must do, Ivy told herself.

  Ivy took a deep breath and prepared to do something she’d never done in her life before. She was going to open the shop door and walk in as if she belonged in a place like that. She could do anything today.

  “Can I help you, madam?” the plum-in-the mouth female assistant enquired.

  “I’m looking for a train set for my nephew,” Ivy answered in her best posh voice. She felt faint. She’d done it and the sky hadn’t fallen in.

  “What age group, madam?” The assistant prepared to offer every help.

  “Adam is two,” Ivy invented without a hitch. Did it matter what age you were to play with a toy train? She’d never known that.

  “This way, madam.” The assistant prepared to point out the available stock. Then the bell over the door jangled and a man entered. “The train sets suitable for your nephew’s age group are here.” She waved her hand at a wall practically crumbling under the weight of train sets. “Please excuse me. Let me know if I can assist you further.” She hurried away before Ivy needed to say anything else.

  Ivy stood admiring the train sets. She’d always wanted one. The shop was stocked with so many toys Ivy had never seen before. She could spend hours here looking around the place.

  Without being aware of it Ivy was listening to the man and the sales assistant. He was trying to sell her something as far as Ivy could make out. There was a great deal of flirting going on but underneath it all they were talking business.

  Ivy had to stiffen her knees when she heard the amount of money being mentioned. They were talking about toys, for God’s sake! Who would pay that kind of price for a toy? Ivy hadn’t been paying attention to the price of the items she was admiring. She looked now. Mother of Jaysus! Ivy almost passed out. They cost a bloody fortune.

  Ivy strolled casually in the direction of the two people, who were enjoying themselves too much to notice her. The man was a salesman and obviously well known to the woman. Ivy had assumed the smiling woman was a sales assistant. It began to appear that the woman was either the owner of the shop or the manager. She was talking as if the decision to buy goods was hers to make.

  Ivy picked up a porcelain doll and absently examined the clothes the doll was wearing. She’d picked up the doll on impulse, trying to blend in, but the price tag on the doll was truly shocking to Ivy. Did people have this kind of money to spend on toys from a fancy shop?

  “Thank you for your help,” Ivy smiled sweetly at the flirting couple as she passed them on her way to the door. “I’ll be back.” She pulled open the door and escaped into the bustling crowds that strolled along Grafton Street.

  “Carry your bags, Missus?”

  Ivy jumped at the cheerful voice almost in her ear. She turned to glare only to break into a wide grin.

  “What bags, you silly sod?” Ivy smiled into Conn Connelly’s grinning face. The lad began wheeling his bike around Ivy laughing in sheer delight.

  “It was worth a try.” Conn grinned
. “Jaysus, Ivy, you don’t half look a swank in that rig-out. I almost didn’t recognise yeh.”

  “If I wasn’t dressed in all me finery, Conn, I’d beg a jaunt on your crossbar.”

  “I could throw me shirt across,” Conn suggested.

  “We’d be arrested.” Ivy laughed at the mental image of the two of them riding around Stephen’s Green.

  “Where are yeh going all dressed up like a dog’s dinner anyway?” Conn was sitting on the bike’s saddle, his feet on either side of the bicycle pedals, walking along at Ivy’s side.

  “I’m heading for home.”

  “You should stop off at Stephen’s Green,” Conn mentioned the leafy green park at the head of Grafton Street. “Take time out to enjoy the day. You work all the hours God sends, Ivy.”

  “I have a lot of thinking to do, Conn.” Ivy was still reeling from everything that had happened to her that day. It had been a day out of time for her.

  “I know a leafy glade inside the park that has a view of the water but is well concealed.” Conn didn’t think Ivy would be left alone by the passing gents if she just sat on the grass in the park. The men who strolled the city streets looking for diversion would think all their birthdays had come together.

  “That sounds heavenly.” Ivy sighed. “What are you doing around here anyway?”

  “I was checking out the Tivoli Billboard for Vera and Liam.” Conn shrugged. “That dancer that’s helping them put their act together says there’s a fella playing at the Tivoli they need to see.”

  “What kind of fella?” Ivy didn’t want Desiree, or Molly as she was now called, leading Vera astray.

  “The fella has a dog act that’s attracting a great deal of attention.” Conn said. “Your one told Vera she heard on the grapevine that this fella won’t be in Dublin long. She heard the big guys in London and even Paris have been checking out the act.” Conn didn’t understand the world his brother and sister wanted to enter but he’d give them all the help he could.

  “We really need to see a dog act, Conn,” said Ivy. Some people from The Lane were regular theatre-goers. Her ma and da had spent a lot of time at the theatre. Ivy loved her infrequent visits to the cinema but she’d never been to a theatre.

  “Have you seen the price of tickets?” Conn shrugged.

  “No,” Ivy admitted. “I have no idea how much a seat in a theatre costs.”

  “We could all afford, just about, to sit in the gods as the seats high up on a kind of balcony are called but we wouldn’t be able to see much.” Conn had talked to a man he’d met sweeping the theatre entry way. The old guy had taken Conn inside and showed him around the place. It was amazing what you could find out from someone most people ignored.

  “Let’s go home, Conn! The sun’s shining, God’s in his heaven, what more do yeh want?” Ivy skipped like a child.

  “You seem full of beans today, Miss Ivy Murphy.” Conn grinned.

  “Give us a jaunt, Mister.” Ivy didn’t care who was looking. She grinned down at her outfit. White was washable.

  “You want to get on me crossbar?” Conn laughed aloud. “Hop up, Missus.” Conn leaned back to allow Ivy to perch her glamorously attired body on the crossbar of his bike. Then whooping and grinning like a bandit Conn pedalled for home.

  Chapter 28

  “Ivy Murphy, you don’t usually lurk down this aisle.” Harry Green hurried down one of the toy aisles of his giant barn which was stuffed to the rafters with every imaginable item.

  “Morning, Harry, how are yeh?” Ivy didn’t want to share her thoughts with this man. Harry was a lovely human being but he was a shark in business, sharp as a tack.

  “Can’t complain,” Harry grinned. “Well, I could, but who’d listen?” He shrugged his shoulders. His plump body lifted with the movement. “You thinking of branching out?” He nodded at the naked baby doll Ivy was examining with great interest. The doll was bald with a rag body, porcelain arms, legs and head, and its eyes opened and shut. Harry found the thing creepy but he’d thought he’d be able to shift them. He’d put a few of them in his shop in Capel Street but they weren’t moving. He’d have to put them on special offer. He hated doing that, his prices were rock bottom and depended on quantity of sales. Any further reductions he made would mean a loss for him. Harry Green didn’t like to lose.

  “I wasn’t really.” Ivy hoped she sounded disinterested. “I’ve an adopted niece, though.”

  “The little one who came in here with you a few times?” Harry missed no detail of his customers’ lives. Ivy Murphy had been buying sewing supplies and trimmings from him for years. Ivy had been looking a picture lately and Harry was man enough to notice. It looked like the girl was finally coming out of her shell. Not before time.

  “Hmm, I was thinking Emmy might enjoy a toy.” Ivy let the doll dangle from her fingers. She cast an eye over the rest of the dolls stacked in boxes that reached to the roof. Her heart was beating so hard it was a wonder it didn’t show. “What are those things for?” She pointed at several dust-covered boxes jammed into place by the boxes overhead. A thin rubber blonde doll was taped to the outside of each box. The doll looked a miserable specimen with nothing to recommend it, covered in dust with dings in the skinny rubber body – though the ones in the boxes would presumably be in better condition than the samples on view. Ivy wanted those dolls desperately.

  “Those ruddy things!” Harry made mistakes, everyone did, but those mangy dolls had been holding up his stock for years. “I’ve a thousand of them.” Harry shook his head in disgust at his own error. He could speak freely with Ivy – she didn’t touch toys.

  “Tell me about these things?” Ivy held the baby doll she’d every intention of buying by the ankle. “What’s the story with this?”

  “I bought a load of those too.” Harry shook his head. “They take up more space than they’re worth to me at the minute.” He gave another of his body-shaking shrugs. “May into June – no-one buys dolls. Come December and I won’t be able to keep them on the shelves.”

  “Let’s talk turkey.” Ivy had bought two of these dolls from one of Harry’s shops. Sadie was dressing them for Ivy. She wanted all the baby dolls he had.

  “You really thinking of branching out?” Harry liked to see his customers make a few shillings. It helped everyone’s business when money was made. Ivy had been a favourite of Harry’s from the first moment she came through his doors.

  “I want to try something.” Ivy smiled shyly. “But I don’t want to lose too much hard-earned cash, Harry, so everything depends on how much you’re asking for these things.” Ivy swung the baby doll up. “How many have yeh got anyway?”

  “I’ve quite a few, Ivy.” Harry stared at the young woman, wondering if she had the money to buy his stock of baby dolls. He didn’t want to waste his time – time was money. Ivy Murphy might be looking better these days but that didn’t mean she’d come into money. Course he’d heard her da was dead. Éamonn Murphy would have been an expensive man to keep and word on the street was that this girl had been keeping her da since the time she could walk.

  “Right, let’s get down to it, Harry.” Ivy hoped her sick dread didn’t show on her face. “I need to know what I’m talking about money-wise.”

  “How’re yeh going to get the dolls back to your place, Ivy?” Harry didn’t see her pram with her. “I don’t do deliveries any more. I’ve been let down by jarveys too many times. When the jarveys let me down I have to let me customers down. That’s bad for business.”

  “I thought you kept your own horse and driver?” Ivy didn’t want to appear too eager to seal the deal. Working with Harry over the years, she’d learned a great deal from watching him run his business. Harry might not look it but the man wasn’t hurting for a few pennies.

  “Too expensive.” Harry shrugged. “That feckin’ horse was eating me profits.”

  “Have yeh a telephone, Harry?” Ivy knew darn well he did. Harry had been the talk of the market when he had the telephone line put
in.

  “Yeh want to use me telephone?” Harry stared. Ivy Murphy was becoming one to watch.

  “I want to call a delivery firm I know.” Ivy grinned. “They’re very reliable. I have the information in me bag.” Ivy pulled out Jem’s business card.

  “Right yeh are, Missus.” Harry grinned. He’d stopped to talk to her simply to pass the time of day. Ivy didn’t usually buy enough to interest him personally. “Let’s get down to business. I’ll have one of me lads count these baby dolls, while we talk money.”

  Ivy and Harry entered into a very enjoyable argument. While they waited for the lad to count the baby dolls Ivy fought tooth and nail to get the lowest price she could. She needed to keep back the cash she’d need to buy the skinny rubber dolls, all of them.

  “Ivy Murphy, you’ve robbed me.” Harry shook hands on the deal.

  “I’ll telephone for a jarvey now, Harry.” Ivy had got the baby dolls for a lot less than she’d expected to pay. Now for the big gamble.

  She made the call and then turned to Harry.

  “Harry, while I’m waiting . . . what do you know about getting a street trader’s licence?” Ivy wanted Harry to think she was going to sell dolls from a moving stall.

  “Is that what you’re thinking of getting into now?” Harry was surprised. Ivy had a good little business going. Still it made sense to branch out.

  “I’m investigating possibilities.”

  “Street sellers make up a great deal of me business as you know, Ivy.” Harry took a sharper look at the woman standing before him. She was up to something but that was okay with him. There was room for all. As long as Ivy didn’t cut into his business it was no skin off his nose.