Danny Boy (16 page)

Danny, always a moderate drinker, was as drunk as she had ever seen anybody and stumbling about the kitchen. She didn’t know what that meant at all, but now wasn’t the time to discuss it. She had to get him into the bedroom and his bed before he roused the house. ‘Come away in, Danny,’ she pleaded, catching his arm. ‘Come on, the morning will be on top of us before we know it.’

Danny gazed at Rosie, bleary-eyed. This was his wife, the woman he had promised to love above all others, whom he did love above all others. He had no wish to be separated from her again, not for any reason.

He allowed himself to be led into the room, and sat on the bed. ‘I told them, Rosie, I wanted no part of it.’

‘Hush,’ Rosie cautioned as she bent to unfasten Danny’s boots, ‘the wean’s sleeping.’

‘Aye,’ Danny said, ‘the wean. I told them she was terrified of me. They wouldn’t listen. They don’t care.’

Rosie barely heard Danny’s words. He continued to mutter as she fought to remove as many of his clothes as she could. Suddenly he said, ‘They’re mad, the lot of them.’

He began to cry then, the great gulping sobs of the maudlin drunk, and Rosie pushed him down onto the bed and put her arms around him. Anxious only to keep him quiet, she soothed him, ‘Hush, Danny pet, hush.’

Danny felt a stirring inside himself with the nearness of his wife that he had worried he’d lost forever. The old Danny
would have taken time to arouse her too, but this Danny hadn’t time for such niceties and so when he entered her she was far from ready and bit her lip to prevent a cry of pain escaping. Danny, however, was well-satisfied and quickly, and as he lay spent on top of her he said softly, ‘Rosie, my lovely Rosie.’

It was the first gentle thing he’d said, Rosie thought, but he had needed to get drunk to say it. Suddenly compassion for this confused and unhappy man rose in her and as she eased herself away from him with difficulty as he was now a dead weight, she said softly, ‘Hush now, and go to sleep.’ But she was talking to herself for Danny was already dead to the world.

The next morning Danny was slow to rise, and Rosie left him in bed, thinking a cup of tea might help him wake up. She was sluggish with lack of sleep herself, for she’d lain awake long after Danny had fallen into his stupor. She had been wondering if this was to be the pattern of her life now, and hoped to God it wasn’t.

She’d just wet the tea when Danny entered the kitchen and at the look in his red-rimmed eyes, she felt sympathy for him. Not so Matt, who crashed in through the cottage door minutes later and surveyed his son across the kitchen, an angry scowl on his face. ‘So, you’re up at last.’

Danny took the cup of tea Rosie handed him and had a scalding gulp of it before he answered his father. ‘Aye, I’m up.’

‘Well, let me tell you,’ Matt said scathingly. ‘Your free time is your own, while it stays your free time. When it eats into your work time, it begins to be my business. I suggest you sluice your thick head under the pump and get away to the byre where your brother has been working alone this last hour.’

Matt waited for no reply, but went out through the door
again. Rosie didn’t know how to break the uneasy silence. The only sounds in the room were the ticking clock, the peat settling in the hearth and the gulps of tea that must have been scalding the mouth off Danny.

When he eventually left, Rosie sighed in relief. ‘We know the state he was in last night,’ Connie said, having entered the kitchen. ‘We heard him and we heard you trying to quieten him. I’ve never seen Danny that way. Did he give you any reason for it?’

Rosie thought there was no point in worrying Connie by repeating the ramblings of Danny the previous night. ‘What drunk man says anything sensible at all?’ she said. ‘He said a lot of blathering nonsense that I paid no heed to.’

‘I’m heart sore for you, girl.’ Connie said. ‘And I hope this isn’t going to be the way of it from now on. His father will never stand for it.’

Nor I, Rosie thought, but she knew she’d have to stand it, for she was married to Danny and had promised to obey him for better or worse, in sickness and in health.

Rosie hoped Danny would talk to her about where he’d gone the previous night and what had caused him to drink so much, but he’d said nothing, so later that night in bed she asked tentatively, ‘Where did you go last night?’

Danny, having no memory of his ramblings the night before, thought briefly about not telling her. Why worry her? But maybe it would be best if she knew. ‘O’Connor’s,’ he said briefly. ‘We had a back room there.’

‘We?’

‘It’s what’s left of the Brotherhood that Phelan got mixed up in. Most of them I shared the jail with. Red McCullough runs the whole show. He was a good friend of Michael Collins.’

Rosie had heard of Michael Collins from the
Dublin Express.
‘Was he there too?’

‘No, he’s still in jail,’ Danny said. ‘He wasn’t in Kilmainham
Jail. He was sent Richmond Barracks and then to some place in Wales and is still there apparently.’

‘Danny, I don’t want you mixed up in anything like this again,’ Rosie said.

‘Nor I. I told them that.’

‘And what did they say?’

Danny sighed. ‘They reminded me I signed the allegiance and that it’s for life. I can’t get out of it.’

‘But you must be able to,’ Rosie cried, alarmed. ‘If you want to have nothing more to do with them, surely to God you can say so?’

‘I tried saying so,’ Danny said. ‘I tried till I was blue in the face.’

‘So what does it mean? What stupid thing are they planning now?’

‘I couldn’t tell you even if I knew,’ Danny said. ‘It wouldn’t be safe for you to know. But last night was just a pep talk – nothing was decided.’

But something had been decided, Danny knew, and it was that he realised he had no idea how he was going to get out of this organization before he was dragged into it again. That was the reason he’d drunk himself stupid.

All through the remaining weeks of February and into March, Danny went to meetings every week, sometimes twice, and always returned the worse for wear. He could tell Rosie little of what went on, and so she ceased to ask, but worry ate at her every time.

Connie and Matt had a good idea what Danny was up to and Connie urged Rosie to give him a talking to, but Rosie knew Danny was haunted himself by the whole thing and said nothing.

Danny didn’t need to tell her how interest had been rekindled in the Brotherhood since the executions in Kilmainham Jail. She knew the rebels had become martyrs and the Catholic Church itself had had an upswing because of the monks’
descriptions of the pious way each man had met his death. This had swung the Church’s sympathy a little to the fight for Home Rule, so now the numbers attending the meetings had risen dramatically in that little room behind O’Connor’s pub, and Red McCullough began talking of guerrilla warfare, just as Danny remembered Michael Collins had. ‘First we need weapons,’ he said at a meeting in early April, and none could argue with that. The few weapons they’d once had had been seized.

Danny’s was the one voice which spoke of the political solution and putting their trust, initially at least, in the convention planned for later that year when delegates from Dublin, Belfast and London were to meet to discuss the ‘Irish Problem’.

‘Oh God, will you listen to the man,’ one shouted as Danny voiced his proposal. ‘Whenever have the English played fair with us? Aren’t Irish bodies littering France and Belgium now? And have we achieved anything through their sacrifice?’

‘Maybe this will be different.’

‘And maybe pigs might fly if they had a mind,’ another said.

‘We need weapons. We can’t do anything without weapons,’ Red said again. ‘Are you with us, Walsh, or against us?’

‘You know my views.’

At the same meeting, two raids were planned, one on the arsenals at Kilbride Camp on Thursday evening, just two days away, and another at Richmond Barracks the following Saturday. Volunteers were asked for. It was noted that Danny put himself forward for neither of these. ‘What about you, Walsh?’

‘What about me?’

‘What will you do?’

‘Nothing,’ Danny said. Shay was beside him as he spoke and Danny heard his sharp intake of breath.

‘You’re in this the same as all of us and don’t forget it.’

‘No, I’m in this because you forced me to be,’ Danny said.

‘I think you’re a rotten coward,’ a man shouted from the back. ‘An English arse-licker.’

‘I’m neither,’ Danny said firmly, though his fists were balled by his side and he longed to send the man’s teeth down his throat. ‘I’m just an Irishman trying to get on as best I can and one who feels we should wait for the results of the Convention before we make any sort of move.’

He was shouted down and booed at, and later, outside, with the meeting over, Shay said quietly, ‘Christ, man, will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?’

‘How can I?’

‘You best learn, for there are some amongst these men who would shut it for you and permanently,’ Shay warned.

Rosie knew there was something serious afoot. She couldn’t say how, she just knew, and the tension in Danny on Thursday evening was almost tangible. ‘Can you tell me?’ she said that night as they lay in bed.

‘You know I can’t.’

‘Right. I will ask just one thing. Are you involved?’

‘No.’ Danny could at least say that definitely. ‘It’s nothing whatsoever to do with me.’

That should have made Rosie feel better, but it didn’t and she slept badly. Later, she was roused by a rapping at the window and she awoke with a jerk. Danny too was awake instantly, and he jumped out of bed and ran to the window. ‘Shay?’

‘Let me in, Danny, for Christ’s sake,’ Shay said, and Danny opened the window wide. Rosie sat up in the bed, pulling a shawl around her as Danny lit a lamp. ‘What is it?’ he said; even in his agitation he spoke in a low voice lest he woke his sleeping child and indeed rouse the whole house.

‘They were waiting for them at the Kilbride Camp,’ Shay said. ‘Three were shot dead, two captured and the rest of us got away.’

‘Ah Christ!’

‘That’s not all,’ Shay said. ‘They’re blaming you, Danny.’

‘Me?’

‘They think you tipped the soldiers the wink.’

‘Jesus Christ, I’d never do such a thing. Speak against my own countrymen?’

‘I know you wouldn’t, Danny,’ Shay said. ‘That’s why I’m here and I’m risking my life to do it. You must leave here this night and go into hiding, they’ll be coming for you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The Brotherhood. They think you’ve betrayed them.’

‘Well, I’ll put them right.’

‘D’you think you’ll be believed?’

‘God, Shay, this is Ireland, not New York or Chicago.’

‘Aye, it may be Ireland, but I’ll tell you it’s just as dangerous. They hold you responsible for the reception committee awaiting them at the camp.’

‘What will they do?’ Rosie asked, frightened.

Shay didn’t answer but his eyes said it all and Rosie knew they would kill Danny if he stayed. Danny knew it too, but he refused to accept it. ‘Come on, Shay, I’m not afraid of them.’

‘Then you’re a fool,’ Shay said. ‘You must leave, Danny, and quickly.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Danny said. ‘Where would I run to?’

‘The safest place would be England,’ Shay said. ‘There are cells of resistance like this all over Ireland.’

‘I have no intention of fleeing my native land for anyone.’

Shay shrugged and said angrily, ‘I’ve risked my life to try and save yours and fine thanks I’ve got for it. I thought you might have given a thought to your parents, or Rosie and your little daughter, but there, I’ve done my best. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Shay had turned away towards the window and Rosie, after a beseeching look at Danny, called him back. ‘Wait, Shay, for God’s sake.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Shay said, ‘Jesus, how can I make you see sense? Do you think I would be here in the middle of the night if it was some sort of joke? I’m a dead man if they ever hear of this.’

Rosie shook her head, confused. ‘I understand what you say, Shay. But why are they blaming Danny?’

‘Because he wouldn’t take part and spoke against them on more than one occasion. He knew all about the raids, the times, the arrangements, everything. You can see why they think that way. But every minute you delay is more dangerous and not only for yourselves alone.’

‘It’s madness, Rosie, you must see it,’ Danny said. ‘I know no-one in England.’

But what Rosie saw was her husband before her, and the thought of him dying, blasted through the head or heart, caused her physical pain. ‘You must go away, Danny,’ she urged him. ‘It may only be for a short time.’

‘Where, for Christ’s sake?’

Rosie desperately thought for a moment and remembered where she went once before for help and advice when she’d been in dire straits. ‘The Sisters of Mercy, they’ll help you, I’m sure. You know, where your mother’s aunt was?’

‘She’s in Dublin now, not England.’

‘Aye, but there’s another convent in Handsworth in Birmingham. Maybe you could go there for a little while?’

‘I hate this whole idea.’

‘It might only be for a time,’ Rosie said. ‘Think of it that way.’

‘I’ll think of it this way,’ Danny said. ‘I go nowhere without you.’

‘Danny, talk sense.’

‘If Shay’s right and I’m in danger, then so are you,’ Danny said. ‘If I’m not to be found, maybe they’ll start on you.’

‘Surely to God they’ll not hurt women or weans.’

‘Who knows what they’ll do,’ Danny continued. But I’d
never have a minute’s peace away from you, I know that. If you won’t come for yourself alone, come for Bernadette’s sake. Could you live with yourself if anything happened to her?’

Rosie went cold at the very thought. She’d once thought she’d follow Danny to Siberia if he asked her and she knew that was now being put to the test. She shivered in apprehension although her voice stayed firm enough. ‘If you think it is that serious, then of course we must go.’

Danny went up to wake his parents and tell them of events. ‘My father knows of this,’ Shay said, as Rosie began. ‘He’ll drive you to Dublin tonight.’