The Ha'Penny Place (Ivy Rose Series Book 3)

by Gemma Jackson

  “Why are you taking Nanny Grace an empty tea chest?”

  “It’s for the old woman’s personal bits and bobs.” Ivy put her elbows on the table and buried her head in her hands for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep, deep breath to settle her nerves before sitting back in her chair. “I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as that man Armstrong.”

  “I thought he was a bit of a force of nature.” Jem’s curiosity had tempted him into leading the work crew sent into the Merrion Square house to clear the nursery floor of all rubbish. “He was standing over the painting and decorating crew shouting instructions while we were still clearing those rooms out.”

  “He and Nanny Grace got on like a house on fire when they met.” Ivy finished the tea in her cup. “I think Armstrong’s genuine appreciation of everything Nanny Grace had treasured and protected for years was what did the trick. He spent ages listening to her telling him stories about her years in service.” Ivy had a feeling the man was filing away the stories to be brought out later when he wanted to impress someone. “He is sending Nanny for a two-week stay in a hotel he owns on the seafront in Bray. He wants the old woman to be petted and pampered to restore her health.”

  “Go ’way!” Jem stood to refill Ivy’s empty cup from the teapot sitting on top of his cast-iron fireplace.

  “I thought Nanny Grace would faint when he suggested the holiday.” Ivy accepted the refilled cup and saucer from Jem’s hand and grinned. “She isn’t used to being treated so well. I’ve a feeling the old woman would lie down and let Armstrong wipe his feet in her ribs now.”

  “Still and all, Ivy, it’s good of him.” Jem shrugged.

  “Truthfully,” she leaned forward to whisper, “I think he’s going to bribe the old couple looking after the house, the Cusacks, to let him have free run of the place.” She sat back, pleased with the look on Jem’s face.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it . . .”

  “Hey up! Trouble.”

  “Oh you, Jem Ryan,” Ivy said, grinning. “I think Armstrong wants to wander around that house and get a feel for how the ‘real’ quality live. I saw how he looked around the place. Then too, if Nanny Grace is out of the nursery he can familiarise himself with the stuff in those rooms. He won’t be caught on the hop when the stuff is unpacked in his place. That’s what I’d do anyway.” She sipped her tea.

  “Ivy,” Jem put his empty mug on the table, pushed his chair back with his knees and stood, “there are times when you take my breath away. You sit there and finish that pot of tea. I’ll hitch up Rosie and we’ll take the tea chest over to Nanny’s place together.”

  “Are you going to keep that automobile of yours locked up and throw sugar at it?” Ivy asked before he could leave.

  “I’m going to leave it at Ann Marie’s place for the minute,” Jem said with his hand on the doorknob. “I won’t be long.” He walked out into the loft space of the livery.

  He didn’t want to take the automobile out and about until he had finished making a mental note of the roads and lanes around and about. He’d been driving the streets of Dublin for years but that was in a horse and carriage – the automobile was a different kettle of fish altogether and he was not willing to damage it through ignorance.

  Chapter 23

  “I’m all aflutter.” Nanny Grace, for all her years in Ireland, had never lost her English accent. She was directing Ivy in the packing away of her own personal knick-knacks. It was a paltry enough amount for her years of life. “Mr Armstrong suggested I ask you about hiring a vehicle to take me to Bray, Ivy. I’ve never been to County Wicklow – is it a great distance?”

  “It’s a good piece of road.” Jem came back into the main room just as Nanny was asking the question. He had been checking out the area, doing a mental inventory of the nursery contents which he’d been hired to cart over to the Merrion Square house when the rooms there were ready. “But it might suit you better to take the train.” It was going to take more than a few trips to move all of this stuff. “There’s a locked room near the staircase, Nanny Grace.” The woman had asked him to address her as ‘Nanny Grace’ but it felt strange on his lips. “Does that need to be cleared as well?”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake!” Nanny Grace slapped her own forehead. “The box room. I didn’t mean to lock it – habit, I suppose. I’ve been in and out of that room, dragging empty trunks,” she waved her hands around the room, indicating the packed leather trunks sitting in the middle of the floor, “in here so I could pack the smaller items away.”

  “Do you have the key?” Jem needed to see everything that was to be shifted. He’d have a better idea then of the number of wagons and crew needed for the job.

  “The key is over the lintel of the door.”

  “Thank you.” Jem turned on his heel and left the room.

  “Ivy.” Nanny Grace put her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. Ivy was kneeling on the floor, carefully wrapping a Dresden shepherdess in newspaper. She seemed peculiarly frozen to Nanny Grace but she continued, “I’d like you to come with me. There is something I wish to show you.” She’d rediscovered an outfit she thought would fit the adorable Emmy. The navy velvet coat and matching hat, along with the white fur muff and collar, were in excellent condition. The outfit was old but of a classic design that would not date. The little black button boots she’d unearthed would finish the outfit off and should suit young Emmy down to the ground. It was the only way she had of showing her gratitude to this young couple who had been so helpful to her.

  “Certainly.” Ivy used her body to hide what her fingers were doing. She had brought a load of newspapers with her to wrap delicate items. She quickly checked the date on the top of the paper – it was only a few days old. She tore a section of paper away from the body of the newspaper and surreptitiously stuffed it into the pocket of her skirt. She stood and, hiding her shock to the best of her ability, followed the older woman out into the corridor.

  Jem was standing in the open door of the box room. He turned with a smile when he heard them coming. “Ivy, I think you’ll want to see this.”

  “What?” Ivy hurried to join him and simply stood with her mouth open, staring into a room that was stacked to the rafters. What held her fascinated gaze was the two prams parked side by side right inside the doorway. “Talk about an answer to prayer,” she whispered.

  Chapter 24

  “Have yeh any lemons, Tony?” Ivy was thrilled with how her day had gone so far. She’d sold everything she’d brought to the market with her this morning. The new pram was a pleasure to push. She didn’t know herself with the easy way this new pram ran over the ground.

  “I’d be a right kind of greengrocer if I didn’t have lemons for the pancakes on Pancake Tuesday, Ivy Murphy.”

  “How much are they?” Ivy wasn’t sure how many lemons she’d need for the pancakes she planned to make as soon as she returned to The Lane. She wanted to be able to bring a load of pancakes to the street party being organised for The Lane tonight. She ordered a dozen lemons and hoped for the best. She wouldn’t be the only one bringing out pancakes for the crowd.

  “Tony, will yeh let Ann Marie take your photograph?” She’d asked that question so many times today she’d be saying it in her sleep. “Me friend has promised a free copy of the photograph for everyone who agrees to have their picture took. You could put the photograph out on your stall. Let your customers have a look.”

  “What about me?” a nearby stallholder shouted. “Yez got them boots the pair of yez are wearing from my stall.”

  “I’m sure you’ll not be missed out on, Bobby!” Ivy shouted back. “Just wait your turn.”

  “I’m in me dirt, Ivy.” Tony looked over to the lace stall where Ann Marie could be seen taking photographs of the stallholder, a crowd of curious people gathered around watching the excitement.

  “Ann Marie’s wantin’ to take photographs of everyone in their natural environment.” Ivy laughed at the
look on Tony’s face. She knew how he felt but she was becoming accustomed to her friend dogging her heels with her camera in hand.

  “Like them reels they show at the Pally?” Tony and his family were regular cinemagoers. “I never thought of meself as a lion or a tiger, Ivy.”

  “You could come out here and stand by your blackboard.” Ivy, from watching Ann Marie work, was learning to set up a picture ahead of time. If it didn’t suit her friend she could change it. Tony had a tall blackboard in front of his stall with his prices clearly written in white chalk.

  “I’ve customers waiting.” Tony passed Ivy’s goods over his counter. He took the coins from her hand, checking the amount before dropping the money into the money-belt he wore at his waist over his apron. He began brushing down his leather apron even as he made his objections.

  “I’m sure they won’t mind waiting.” Ivy looked over the gathered crowd and received a mumble of good-natured agreement.

  “I don’t want me picture took with an aul’ rag on me head.” Tony allowed himself to be persuaded. He came around his vegetable stall to stand beside Ivy. He removed the sacking from his head, displaying a fine head of brown hair. He took a comb from the back pocket of his trousers and applied himself to restoring order to his locks.

  Ivy checked her pram and its contents against a list she took from her pocket. She had everything she needed. “I’m going to have a cup of tea and a sit-down at Hop-a-long’s stall,” she told Ann Marie when her friend reached her side. “Do you need anything from me pram?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.” Ann Marie used Ivy’s pram to store heavy items while they walked through the Dublin streets.

  “Right, I’m away.” Ivy grabbed the handles of her pram. “Don’t forget to smile, Tony,” she shouted over her shoulder, hurrying away in the direction of the food stall. Ann Marie could be at this for hours, she knew. The woman forgot everything when she had that camera in her hands.

  Ivy sat on a straw bale with a metal mug of tea in her hand, glad of the chance to sit. She was normally in such a rush to get everything done that she never took time to simply sit and enjoy herself when she came to the market. It amused her to note the crowd that gathered around Ann Marie. In a few minutes mothers were going to start pushing their childer forward to get their pictures took.

  She spent time admiring her new pram. She was sorely tempted to keep the second pram for her own children. It was a Rolls Royce of a pram bought for the five-year-old twin boys that had been Nanny Grace’s last charges. She’d thought long and hard about keeping that pram for her own use. She’d finally accepted the fact that it was too fancy for the likes of her. She planned to sell that pram to your man Armstrong for a small fortune and split the money with Nanny Grace. The pram Ivy was using was a much older model but in great condition.

  “Ann Marie, I’m not going to sit here all day!” Ivy shouted as a crowd pulled in around her friend. She stood to return the empty mug to the stallholder. The winter sunshine was a delight to sit in but she’d things to do and shouting at Ann Marie would shift the crowd along.

  “Coming!” Ann Marie yelled back. She pushed her way through the crowd, apologising as she went. She couldn’t wait to get back to her darkroom and develop the photographs she’d taken today. She was paying Milo Norton, a neighbour of Ivy’s, for photography lessons. The man was a mine of useful information about the use of the camera.

  Ivy stood waiting while Ann Marie removed her packing cases from the pram – her friend took excellent care of her equipment.

  “I’m ready,” Ann Marie said when she had everything packed away to her satisfaction.

  “Not before time.” Ivy grinned as she said it, showing there were no hard feelings.

  The two women shouted a loud general goodbye to the people in the market, waved and with a spring in their step set out to make the return walk to The Lane.

  “Are you coming to the street party tonight?”

  “Yes,” Ann Marie almost skipped along, “we will all be there. Sadie is bringing pancakes and we have put together a basket of food to bring along.”

  The women walked along the busy streets, each lost in her own thoughts.

  “Ivy,” Ann Marie broke the comfortable silence, “do you think anyone would mind . . .”

  “If I took some photographs,” the two women finished the sentence together and laughed aloud.

  Chapter 25

  “Aunty Ivy,” Emmy ran up to throw herself on a bale of hay – one of many Jem and his lads had pulled out onto the cobbled courtyard, “am I going to do my party piece?” Her big green eyes were gleaming. She was having a lovely time running wild with her friends. She’d eaten so many thin pancakes sprinkled with lots of sugar and fresh lemon juice she felt almost ill.

  The street party was well under way with tables and chairs dragged out of homes and parked on the cobbled courtyard. The big party fires were burning brightly in their tin bins, adding to the glow of the gas street lamps. The people of The Lane were standing about laughing, talking, eating and drinking. Everyone was determined to enjoy this last day of gaiety before the greyness of the season of Lent. The Catholic Church frowned upon people enjoying themselves in the days leading up to Easter. Pancake Tuesday was always a knees-up, bang-out party.

  “Not yet.” Ivy had taught Emmy the old nursery rhyme ‘Who Killed Cock Robin?’.

  Emmy didn’t have much of a singing voice but she’d learned the words and actions to go with the rhyme and couldn’t wait to stand up on one of the tables and perform.

  “Where’s my Uncle Jem?” Emmy looked around. “I hope he isn’t inside listening to his radio.”

  “No, it’s too early yet for the radio,” Ivy assured the little girl. “Jem is around somewhere.” He’d been with her a few minutes ago.

  “Ivy!” two voices called out at once.

  She turned to see who was calling her. Ann Marie and Mrs Wiggins were making their separate ways in her direction.

  She sent Emmy off to play, promising to call her as soon as it was time for her to do her party piece. “Give yourself time before you eat any more pancakes!” she yelled at the little girl as she ran away to join her friends.

  “Ivy!” Marcella Wiggins hurried over, wanting to reach Ivy before her friend. Marcella worked as washerwoman three days a week at Ann Marie Gannon’s house but that didn’t make her feel in any way inferior to the other woman. Ann Marie could wait a minute. Marcella had things to get done.

  “Mrs Wiggins.” Ivy smiled at her neighbour as Ann Marie stepped to her side. She gave her friend a smile and waited to find out what Mrs Wiggins wanted her to do. The woman couldn’t bear to see anyone standing around idle.

  “It’s about the Johnson lads,” Marcella leaned in to say. She searched in the deep pockets of her skirt for her notes. “I heard that if we can find homes to take them they’ll be allowed out of the Artane Boys’ Home for the Easter holiday.” The Johnson family had been removed from their home in The Lane and separated.

  “I couldn’t put up one of those lads,” Ivy said quickly. It wasn’t that she wasn’t willing to help out an old neighbour but she was a single woman and couldn’t have a pimply-faced youth staying with her.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to take one of the lads, Ivy.” Marcella consulted her notes importantly. She shook the pages. “I have homes set up for all seven of them but,” she shrugged and gave Ivy a stern glare, “there will be the question of money. Lord knows young lads take feedin’.”

  “I’ll gladly put in a few pence a week to help out,” Ivy offered.

  “I’d like to help too, Mrs Wiggins,” Ann Marie said softly. The generosity of these people who had so little never failed to astonish her. “I’ll add a florin a week to the costs if that is acceptable.”

  “A florin.” Marcella tried to hide how impressed she was with the amount offered. With careful handling the lads could eat like kings on that amount a week. “That would be very kind of yeh, Ann Marie, and
gratefully accepted.” She took the stub of a pencil from behind her ear and made a note on one of her pages. “I’ll be about me business now. I’ll get back to yeh about the money, Ivy, Ann Marie.” The woman bustled away to accost more of the people gathered around. She knew who could and couldn’t afford to help out the less fortunate.

  “That woman is a marvel,” Ann Marie said softly.

  “She is something special all right,” Ivy agreed. “What were you shouting about earlier?”

  “When?” Ann Marie had forgotten for a moment why she’d come over to Ivy’s side. “Oh yes, I’ve been talking to Milo Norton and he has informed me that my next photography lesson will be in studio work.” She gave a little hop of joy. She loved learning new ways of using her camera. Milo Norton rented two rooms from Mr Wilson – he used one room to develop the photographs he took of the passing crowd on O’Connell Bridge. That was his day job. Ann Marie was paying him to teach her everything he knew about photography. The man had an amazing amount of knowledge he was willing to pass along – at a price. What had started as a hobby for her was quickly becoming an obsession. “I’m going to set up a studio in one of the rooms over the carriage house. Mr Norton is going to instruct me in setting up the space.”

  “What has that to do with me and the price of eggs?” Ivy asked.

  “I wondered if you thought Jem would object to me making Emmy my first subject.” Ann Marie held her breath. There was something different about the little girl who called Ivy and Jem aunt and uncle.