“Jem!”
“If you need me,” he walked back to say softly, “give us a shout, okay?”
“Right, I better get myself organised for His Majesty.” She lifted her hand to touch his face but stopped when she saw the state of her fingers. “Get you about your business, Mr Ryan.” She hurried away.
“This is a nice place,” It would be easy for him to visit her here, he thought, with not a house between her and the Stephen’s Lane entry tunnel and only the blind side of the livery on the other. He’d pulled his cap down low and the collar of his donkey jacket up around his face when he’d seen the gang of people picking blackberries of all things. He wouldn’t have thought anything could grow in this place.
“Glad you like it,” Ivy answered sarcastically.
The man sitting at her brightly coloured oilcloth-covered kitchen table was Billy Flint. He was dressed like the rest of the men who toiled down the docks. There was no sign of William Armstrong about this man.
“Do you have an ashtray?” He pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. “You better put the kettle on.” She turned away, probably to find a chipped saucer or something he could use. “I hear you’re a devil for the tea.” He bit the end off his cigar.
“Don’t dare spit that on my clean floor.” She passed him the heavy glass ashtray she kept to hand. She wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been given the thing at this man’s back door. Wouldn’t that be a joke?
She wondered if the man could have any idea of the thrill she got every single time she filled the kettle from her very own inside tap. She turned from the tap to put the kettle on her lovely new gas cooker. A surprise gift from her husband. She had to pinch herself sometimes – she couldn’t believe how easy Jem had made her life.
“You even have a bit of a garden.” Billy stood and walked over to open the back door and blow puffs of smoke out into the well-tended little garden. He’d used the back gate to enter this property. It was a good solid little place. Jem Ryan was doing well by his niece – although he didn’t like to think of them renting.
“You didn’t come here to discuss me garden.”
“I’ll wait until you have your tea and are sitting down.” He watched as she set the table with a yellow flowered milk jug and sugar bowl. She set out matching cups, plates and saucers. His eyes narrowed when she bent to the oven and removed a Victorian sponge. He supposed it was as good a place to keep a cake as any. She put the cake on its fancy plate in the middle of the table.
“Sit down and tell me what’s brought you here.” She carried her teapot to the table. She covered the pot with a knitted tea cosy.
“You asked me to find out about your brothers.”
She’d telephoned his house and asked him to see what he could discover. It was the first time she’d ever asked him for anything. He wished he had better news to give her. She didn’t say anything.
“I’m finding this amazingly difficult to say.” He wanted to punch something. “Your brothers are no longer Eamonn and Peter Murphy but I believe you knew or suspected that.”
“Shay told me.”
“Well, your mother has remarried.” Billy almost bit the end of his cigar. “She has married my father’s legitimate son. He claims the boys as his. They are now Richard and George. They plan to remain in Ireland, supposedly because of my father’s illness. I’ve been bumping into them everywhere I go.”
“My brothers are Armstrongs now?”
“Armstrong is my mother’s name. We’re the bastard branch of the family. Your mother and brothers now go by the name Williams.”
“She married me da’s brother.” Ivy didn’t comment on his own name.
“The woman’s nobody’s fool. She has married the legal heir and in one stroke made your two brothers my old man’s legitimate grandsons. He’ll accept them – they are his blood after all.”
“Well,” she held up her cup, waiting until he mirrored the gesture, “you have to admit we come from a delightful family.” She toasted and tapped her cup against his. “Here, have a slice of me cake before the cream goes off.” She got a knife from the drawer in the kitchen table. She was glad to be able to put her hand on it. She was having a hard time finding things since she moved. She didn’t know where the lads put half her things.
“I thought you’d be more upset.” He was bloody furious. That that weak-chinned little shite should claim everything that belonged to Eamonn – he looked at the young woman sitting across the table from him – well, almost everything.
“You didn’t see the way Eamo looked at me before he jumped into his fancy car,” Ivy said. “I don’t want to know anyone who would look at someone else like that. Our Shay tried to tell me but I suppose seeing is believing.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” He bit into the cake. “This is good.” He grunted in surprise.
“Of course it is – made with me own lily-white hands.”
“Betty sent my wife a load of fancy creams. She said in her letter that she’d sent you a package.”
“She did that.” When she had finally got around to opening the package from America it had contained fancy glass jars of cream. “I was delighted to see she had used some of Granny’s recipes.” The women of The Lane had been impressed that Granny Grunt’s familiar ‘cures’ were coming from America in fancy packaging.
“Betty has asked me to invest in her company,” Billy was surprised to hear himself say. He didn’t normally discuss business sitting in someone’s kitchen eating cake. He found he wanted to hear what this young woman thought. She’d driven a hard bargain with the sale of Nanny Grace and her goods. She’d done him a good turn there – old Granny was worth her weight in gold.
“I’d do it if I were you,” Ivy said. “If the business brings in even a portion of what that woman talks about, you’d be a fool not to jump on the bandwagon.”
“I’m heading towards New York myself soon.” He didn’t feel it was his place to tell her that he was going in the company of O’Connor and her friend Miss Gannon. “I’ll be able to check everything out for myself.”
“More power to you.”
The house almost shook and a dreadful bang rattled the door that led from the rooms to the main house.
“What in the name of God is that?”
“I don’t know,” Ivy jumped to her feet, “but I’ll find out.” She pulled open the door that led into the long main hallway.
“That fuckin’ Leary has a long reach!” Frank Wilson practically screamed. He was red in the face, standing inside the door he’d slammed, his tools scattered around the floor at his feet. “I’ve been sacked. After fifty-five years they handed me me cards!”
Billy Flint slipped out the back door. He’d enjoyed this visit with his niece more than he had thought possible. He’d come again but right now he needed to disappear.
Chapter 49
“I’ll be away now, Miss Emerald.” April Stevenson didn’t look at the child sitting in the window seat. She was busy arranging her new hat over her dark hair. “I’ll not be back this evening.” Sunday was her afternoon and evening off. She was leaving a bit early but no one would ever know. She wanted to spend time with her young man and her family. The job of nanny to Miss Emerald O’Connor was only for a short time. She was glad to get the work and the little girl was no bother. The child seemed happy as a lark sitting quietly playing with her dolls or reading. No trouble at all really.
“You be good now, Miss Emerald.” April spun on her heel, anxious to get out and enjoy herself. It was hard to stay closed up in these rooms all the time, no matter how luxurious they were. Without another word the young woman almost skipped out of the nursery.
“I’m not Emerald.” The almost silent whisper echoed around the cavernous space, a silent space tucked away at the top of the house. The rooms seemed to be occupied by the ghosts of children long gone. “I’m Emmy,” silent tears rolled down the sad little face, “and I’m hungry.”
When no one came to fe
ed her Emmy decided she’d have to take things into her own hands. She’d been good. She’d waited patiently. Her papa had promised if she was a good girl for one month they would move close to her Uncle Jem and Aunty Ivy. The month was up. She’d been keeping count. She’d kept her promise but papa had broken his. That was wrong.
She jumped off the window seat, the stiff material of the dress and petticoats she was wearing ripping at her delicate skin. She pulled at the neckline scratching her skin raw. She hated these clothes. The clothes Aunty Ivy made for her had never itched and scratched. She made her way out of the nursery and down the long servant’s staircase to the kitchen. She needed something to eat. Her tummy was grumbling.
She pushed open the door to the kitchen. Mrs Skelly was nice. She always greeted Emmy with a smile. She never had time to talk with her though. She had a very important job keeping Papa and Ann Marie fed, that’s what she’d told Emmy.
There was no one in the kitchen but there were lovely smells that made her tummy rumble even more. She stood looking around. Everything was set so high up. She pulled one of the wooden chairs out from under the work table and stood on it to see what she could find to eat. She didn’t go looking for someone to feed her. She knew her papa and Ann Marie had gone to Ann Marie’s church. She’d seen them go out in the car from her window.
She found a loaf of bread sitting under a damp tea towel. She pulled it towards her and started stuffing the dry bread into her mouth. She remembered her Uncle Jem giving her bread with fat on it. Maybe there was something in the big oven. She jumped off the chair and with great difficulty pulled open the oven door. There was a dish of meat cooking in fat, sitting on a shelf in the oven. She dipped the piece of bread she held in her hand into the fat, careful not to burn her fingers. She blew on the bread before she popped the fat-soaked piece into her hungry mouth. It wasn’t as good as Uncle Jem’s but it was better than dry bread. She returned to get the loaf, pulling it off the work surface.
She decided to look around see what else she could find to eat. She found the cold cupboard. There were eggs, a great big ham and a wheel of cheese as well as milk and cream sitting in the cupboard. She stared at the food for a long time, tears running down her face. A sharp nod of her head signalled she’d reached a decision. She closed the cupboard door and rubbed her greasy hands on the beautiful dress she hated.
“I don’t like it here,” the little girl stated aloud. “Everyone has gone out and forgotten all about me.” She knew the Skellys were in their cottage – she could go there – there were men working in the orchard, but she wanted her Uncle Jem. “Well, I’m going out too, so there.” She stuck her tongue out at the empty room.
Emmy ran through the house. She’d take the main staircase this time. She ran up the stairs and into her papa’s bedroom. She knew her papa emptied his pockets every night. She began to search the room for coins. She found what she needed spread over the dressing table. She pulled the skirt of the dress out and with her arm emptied all of the coins from the top of the dresser into her skirt. She carefully clutched the bundle to her and left the room.
When she was back in the nursery Emmy tried to remove the stiff dress but without a servant to help her she couldn’t reach the buttons at the back of her neck. She stamped her little feet in frustration before crossing to her desk and getting a pair of scissors. She cut the neck of the dress open and tore the annoying thing from her. She gave the stiff fabric a kick when she finally got it off. She fell to her knees in front of the wardrobe, searching for the white sailor dress Ivy had made for her. She’d been wearing it when they brought her to this house. She knew it had to be here somewhere.
Emmy was at the back door of the house, her hand on the doorknob, when she remembered the cheese and ham. Ivy would like those. She had the coins tied up in one of the handkerchiefs Ivy had made for her. She’d tried to restore order to her hair but she didn’t care if it was messy.
She went back to get the cheese and ham. She pulled the items from the cold cupboard with difficulty. She struggled over to a nearby table and dropped each item down on it. She was breathless. Those things were heavy. She’d never be able to carry them. She smiled suddenly and ran to a cupboard hidden under the stairs. She pulled out the big doll’s pram stored there for her use. With a happy laugh she pushed the pram, almost an exact copy of Ivy’s, over to where she’d left the ham and cheese. With a grunt she upended both items into the bed of the pram. She ran back up the servant’s stairs to fetch one of the porcelain dolls that you could look at but not play with. She didn’t want the doll. She had her rag dolls waiting for her in The Lane. But Ivy, she thought, should be able to get money down the market for the doll. She put it in the pram and covered it and her other treasures with the doll’s blankets. She opened the back door and pushed her pram out into the yard.
She pushed her well-filled pram along the driveway. There was no one to stop the little girl. Everyone was tending to his or her own business. Emmy knew where the charabanc stop was in the village. She hoped she had enough money to pay the fare.
The area set aside for the charabanc was busy. No one took any notice of the child. If anyone did think about the pretty little girl, each person thought she was with someone else. A kind gentleman helped Emmy get her pram up onto the step of the charabanc. The man grinned down at her when he felt the weight. He asked if she was smuggling rocks home from the seaside. She gave him a wide smile and sat down to enjoy the journey, the first she’d ever taken on a charabanc.
“Fares, please, fares!” The conductor walked down the aisle of the charabanc taking coins from everyone.
Emmy watched carefully, making careful note of the price of a trip ‘all the way’ that the people around her requested.
“Where to, Miss?” the conductor asked when he reached the place where Emmy sat. The man didn’t think anything of a child paying her own fare. It wasn’t unusual for parents to allow their children to do that. It made them feel grown up and helped them appreciate the value of money.
“Dublin,” Emmy chirped, “city centre, please.” She knew The Lane was in the city centre – Aunty Ivy often remarked that she loved living in the centre of the city.
In this fashion Miss Emerald O’Connor made her break for freedom. She sat on the high seat of the charabanc, a big smile on her face. She didn’t think she was doing anything wrong. Papa was always busy. He and Ann Marie talked and walked and talked some more. In the evening they got all dressed up and went out again. They wouldn’t miss her. She sat watching the scenery go by and listening to the families around her talk about their day out at the seaside.
“Last stop, everybody off, last stop!” The conductor’s voice was almost drowned out by the noise of the bell the driver was clanging. “Last stop!”
Emmy was again assisted with her pram, this time by a youth. He smiled at her before running away. She stood alone in the street for a moment, looking around her. She knew this place. This was where Aunty Ivy did her banking. She wasn’t far from home. With a smile fit to break her face, she took hold of the handle of the pram and pushed it in the direction of The Lane.
Emmy felt as if there were wings on her heels as she almost ran along the busy streets of Dublin. She knew exactly how to get from where she was to where she longed to be.
Chapter 50
“Do you think Emerald will mind that we married without inviting her?” Ann Marie was feeling giddy as a young girl. She glanced over at the handsome man at her side in the car – her husband.
“I don’t think Emerald will give our marriage a moment’s thought when we tell her we are moving back to your house in Dublin.” Edward smiled over at his new bride. They had spent the last weeks talking and making plans for their life together. “You really believe Emerald will be safe running between two households?”
“I haven’t spoken with Jem and Ivy yet.” Ann Marie had fought long and hard to make Edward see the advantage to Emerald that staying with Jem and Ivy would bring. �
�We have talked of travelling. It is not fair to Emerald to leave her with staff all the time. Jem and Ivy love your little girl. They are more natural parents than either you or I. We can learn a lot from them. Times are changing, darling. We both want to change with them.”
“I have a feeling being married to you is going to be one long adventure.” Edward didn’t take his eyes off the road. They were coming up to the entrance to Ann Marie’s Dalkey estate. It would soon be time to close and lock the main gates. The house could go back to sleep for winter. He and his little family were moving into the city. He smiled at the thought.
“Something is wrong.” Ann Marie looked around at the people running around the grounds. Eleanor Skelly, when she saw the car, charged towards them, tears running down her face.
“We can’t find Emerald,” she shouted.
“What do you mean you can’t find Emerald?” Edward jumped out of the car, his heart almost stopping. He couldn’t lose his little girl again. “How can you lose a child? Where is she?”
“Edward . . .” Ann Marie put her hand gently on his arm. It was no good shouting at the help. Poor Mrs Skelly was distraught. “Where is the nursemaid, Mrs Skelly? Where is Nanny April?” Ann Marie had asked the nanny to wait with Emerald until she returned. The woman had agreed to do so. What on earth could have happened?
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. There was no-one here when we arrived at the house.” Eleanor Skelly was sick with nerves. They would lose their jobs over this. “I went up to the nursery first thing to check on Nanny April and the child. There was no sign of them but Emerald’s white dress was torn and thrown on the floor. And there are things missing from the kitchen.” Eleanor didn’t feel it was her place to wonder why Miss Gannon had asked them to change their hours around. They were to take the morning off and work the afternoon. She’d arrived to find her cupboards open and items missing. She’d run up the stairs to confront the nursemaid.
The Ha'Penny Place (Ivy Rose Series Book 3) Page 28
