Danny Boy (4 page)

‘I agree with you,’ Connie said. ‘Phelan was a bit like that when he was younger and now look at him.’ Phelan had sprouted that year and was continuing to grow, and while Danny was six foot in his stocking feet, she thought Phelan might even exceed that eventually. ‘No,’ Connie concluded. ‘There’s not a lot wrong with that wee boy – I’d just call him wiry.’

‘Call him wiry, delicate, or whatever you like,’ Danny said. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, I’m almighty glad Rosie is out of that unnatural atmosphere.’

Connie agreed with Danny, and yet she encouraged Rosie to visit her old home once a week. After all, it was no distance at all over the fields, even if they were too muddy to cross and she had to use the roads, it was only just over two miles away, not that far at all.

Rosie was glad to go, for kind though Connie was, she missed her sisters and young Dermot too, for all he was a wee tyrant. But as the days shortened she seldom saw her brother for she always left the house before he came in from school so she could be back home before the dark set in. As the weather got colder, she often thought if it wasn’t for Connie urging her to go and the genuine welcome she received from Chrissie and Geraldine, she’d often not bother to leave the Walshes cosy farmhouse to fight with the elements to reach her old home. Her mother didn’t seem to care whether she was there or not; she never showed any interest in her new life, her marriage, the Walshes and how she was treated, and though Rosie had expected little else, she was still hurt.

Chrissie and Geraldine, on the other hand, were interested in everything, and Chrissie was particularly interested in sex
and what it was like. Remembering her own ignorance over periods, and how it had caused her such distress and made her think she was dying, Rosie told her sisters about what would happen well before it should. Chrissie had been grateful to Rosie when she began her periods the previous year, but in talking about it, Rosie had set a precedent for talk of intimate things.

So on Rosie’s first visit home, Chrissie, on the pretext of leaving her down at the farm gate, had asked her as soon as they were away from the house, ‘Have you and Danny done it yet?’

Rosie turned to face her sister and replied sharply, ‘That’s none of your business.’

‘Oh, please, Rosie,’ Chrissie pleaded. ‘You’re the only one I can ask.’

‘Why should you want to know?’

‘Well, just because I’ll probably do it eventually myself, won’t I?’ Chrissie said. ‘I mean, most women do and I’d be scared, if I didn’t know what to expect.’

‘It’s natural to be a bit scared,’ Rosie said. ‘I was.’

‘I just can’t imagine letting any man do that to you,’ Chrissie said. ‘It seems such an odd thing.’

Rosie hid a secret smile as she remembered the longing and passion that had almost taken over her reason when she’d been courting Danny. Chrissie had not yet had those feelings, but she was bound to have them one day and maybe it would do no harm to tell her a wee bit in advance. ‘The other girls talk about it,’ Chrissie went on. ‘Josie Clancy said her sister bled like a stuck pig the first time and it hurt like hell then and got no better. It’s just something you have to let men do. Is that the way it was for you?’

‘Far from it,’ Rosie said.

‘Do you bleed?’

‘Aye,’ Rosie said, ‘the first time. It shows that you’re a virgin.’

‘And does it hurt?’

‘Aye,’ Rosie said. ‘Again, just the first time, but you don’t notice it.’

‘I’d notice it, if someone hurt me.’

Rosie laughed. ‘Look, Chrissie, I’m not going into details, but there are things a man can do to a woman that means you’re as willing as he is. You have to let your husband make love to you, however you feel about it – it’s what you promise on your marriage, but if he is kind and patient and loving it can be that you will want it and enjoy it as much as he does.’

Chrissie still looked doubtful and so Rosie went on. ‘One day there will be someone who’ll make you feel just the way I’ve described and you’ll want to do things you know are wrong and he may promise you the moon if you’ll let him do as he pleases. When that happens, Chrissie, remember what I’ve told you and wait for the ring on your finger.’

‘Don’t fret yourself,’ Chrissie replied with meaning. ‘No man will get within a yard’s length of me I’m telling you. It seems a lot of fuss for little return and I want no part of it.’

Rosie remembered when she had felt the same about the vulgarities of sex. Any thoughts she had about boys had been romantic and very chaste – the position Chrissie was in now. But she said nothing else, and hoped when the time came, Chrissie might remember her sister’s words and that they might prove helpful to her.

She kissed Chrissie at the gate and made her way home, going over the conversation in her head. ‘I’m a fine one to talk about my words helping Chrissie,’ she told herself. ‘There are not words written that would have helped me with Danny. I just thank God he was good enough to make me wait.’

The Walsh family walked together to Mass early on Christmas morning. The milking was done but there had been no breakfast cooked for no one was allowed to eat or drink before taking Communion. Rosie was glad to hang on to Danny:
she felt light-headed and her empty stomach growled in protest.

It was better in the lovely church, everything white and gold and shining and she listened to the Latin words and let the familiarity soothe her. The sermon was short, the priest taking pity on his hungry parishioners, some who’d come far greater distances than the Walshes.

Afterwards, around the churchyard, Rosie glimpsed her own family and Dermot, catching sight of her before anyone else, came hurtling across and threw himself at his sister, nearly tipping her over. Rosie felt sorry for the boy – though she’d visited her home every week, she’d always had to leave before Dermot arrived home from school and so she hadn’t seen him in ages. She also knew Dermot hadn’t been told that Rosie had visited on these occasions because her parents were well aware of the fine rage the child could work himself into if ever he was thwarted in anything. To Dermot it must have seemed as though Rosie had abandoned the whole family.

They’d never even met at Mass, for Rosie and Connie attended the one at half past seven, with Danny too if he was through milking in time. Occasionally, she’d glimpsed her father in the congregation and have a brief word, but she knew her mother, sisters and Dermot would attend the children’s Mass at nine o’clock.

So now, when Dermot pulled himself away from his sister’s embrace and said accusingly, ‘Why haven’t you been to see us?’ she knew he had a point.

However, before she was able to reply, Dermot continued, his voice high with excitement, ‘Santa’s been to our house, and I got an orange and pencils, a tin whistle and a bar of chocolate in my stocking.’

‘Well, aren’t you the lucky boy?’

‘Aye, and that’s not all,’ Dermot continued, almost breathless with the thrill of it all. ‘I’ve got a train set too – it’s all set out on the floor in the kitchen.’

Rosie’s mouth dropped open with astonishment. Her questioning
eyes met those of her two sisters who’d followed Dermot to speak to Rosie and it was Chrissie who nodded and added wryly, ‘Aye, he does – a big one. It’s clockwork.’

‘You wind it up,’ Dermot boasted. ‘And I’ve got two big engines and lots of carriages and goods wagons and two tracks that wind together and a bridge and a tunnel and a station.’ He hopped around with exhilaration. ‘Come and see,’ he urged. ‘You can play with me.’

‘Not now, Dermot,’ Rosie replied. ‘I must go home and help cook breakfast and then Christmas dinner for us all. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.’

‘Promise?’

‘Aye, I promise,’ Rosie assured him.

Back home at the Walshes’ house, after they’d eaten, there were presents for everyone. Rosie’s were small for she hadn’t much money of her own, but she had bought lace hankies for Sarah and Elizabeth, a bottle of perfume for Connie, socks for Matt and Phelan and a new shirt for Danny.

She was overwhelmed by their gifts to her: a hat, scarf and glove set in dark red from Matt and Connie, and a blouse from the girls which they’d made in their free time at work. It was peach and the material had a shine to it, and the girls had embroidered flowers in pale blue and white on the collar. Rosie was able to declare truthfully that it was the prettiest thing she’d ever owned.

And then Danny gave her his presents. The first was a thick woollen coat in navy blue, the cut of it the height of fashion and the hem falling just to the top of her boots. She put it on and spun around in the kitchen in absolute delight and said she felt like a queen, and all the family had laughed at her fondly. Then Danny presented her with a little box. Inside it, set in tissue paper, was a brooch with an amber stone, surrounded by a filigree of blue and white that he’d chosen especially to go with the blouse his sisters had told him about.

The gifts, selected with such care, brought tears to Rosie’s
eyes and she suddenly thought of her parents’ house, where a wee boy had a train set and numerous other presents and his sisters would barely be wished a ‘Happy Christmas’. But she wouldn’t let the unhappiness she was feeling for her sisters spoil her own magical day.

After a wonderful dinner, neither Rosie nor Danny was let near the sink. Sarah would wash, Elizabeth would dry, and a reluctant Phelan would put away. ‘Don’t even try complaining about it,’ Elizabeth told her scowling young brother. ‘It’s Christmas Day and it’s a mortal sin to argue on Christmas Day.’

‘It is not.’

‘It is so,’ Elizabeth told him emphatically. ‘And on Christmas Day, all big sisters have the right to beat the head off younger brothers who won’t do as they’re told.’

They all laughed so heartily that even Phelan had to smile, and Danny ruffled his brother’s hair as he passed. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Give in gracefully.’

‘And what will you do?’ Connie asked Danny. ‘Will you come up to the fire?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Danny, with a glance over at Rosie. ‘I have a mind to go for a walk with my pretty young wife.’

‘The wind would cut you in two out there,’ Matt told him.

‘Och aye, for old bones maybe,’ Danny said.

‘It’s not you I’m thinking of, it’s Rosie,’ Matt said.

‘With her warm coat on and her new hat and gloves covering her head and hands, her scarf tucked around her neck and my arms about her, what chance has the wind to even blow on her,’ Danny said to his father. ‘What d’you say, Rosie?’

She would say she’d follow this man to the wilds of Siberia and so she hurried from the room to dress for her walk.

They took the path down towards Blessington Lake, where they’d spent so many hours of their courtship. The cold was intense and the wind fierce, the sky leaden grey and yet Rosie was content to be by Danny’s side.

Blissfully happy at spending their first Christmas together as husband and wife, she nearly told him about the baby she might be carrying, but she couldn’t be sure until the New Year so decided to told her tongue. She knew what Danny would do if she was to give him a hint of it – he would run home and broadcast it to his family, friends and anyone else who’d listen.

She was even more glad she’d kept her news quiet when they arrived home to find that friends and neighbours had popped in with things to eat and drink and with a fiddle and an accordion player too. The rugs were lifted and the furniture shifted to make more room for dancing.

‘Your mother said nothing of a party,’ Rosie said to Danny, as she took off her things in the bedroom.

‘Everyone knows it’s open house here on Christmas evening,’ Danny replied. ‘Put on your new blouse, then let’s go out there and see the envious eyes of every man in the place.’

‘Oh Danny,’ Rosie admonished him, but she put the blouse on, to please Danny’s sisters as much as Danny himself.

Most of the people were known to her and many had been to the wedding and were delighted to see Danny and Rosie already so settled and happy together. Rosie had her hand shaken by many a man there and was hugged by the women. She felt surrounded by the love and best wishes exuded by the crowd and nearly danced her feet off.

During the evening, other people called in and the eating, drinking and jollification went on so late Danny said it was hardly worth seeking his bed at all that night for he’d be up in a few hours for the milking and that maybe it was a good thing Christmas Day came just once a year.

For all that, they did eventually snuggle up together as the house grew quieter. Rosie leaned against Danny and felt his big muscular arms enfold her, and wondered if it were possible to die from happiness.

On Boxing Day, Rosie and Danny were greeted grudgingly by Minnie and Seamus and received only a scant thank you for the slippers Rosie had bought her father and the shawl she’d chosen for her mother.

Chrissie and Geraldine, though, were delighted by the jumpers Rosie gave them. She’d spent many hours in the evenings knitting each jumper, one in blue and the other in lemon. She’d used the softest, fluffiest wool she could find and both girls were almost speechless with pleasure.

But it wasn’t the presents that mattered. Many people would have had no presents that Christmas, for there’d be no money for them, but for all that there’d be love and laughter and enough to eat for the couple of days at least. It was hard to see her wee brother surrounded by such a wide array of toys while her sisters had obviously received nothing.

Rosie had bought Dermot a monkey on a ladder that could be made to go up and down and do various other antics, as Dermot soon realised, by pressing the button on each side of the ladder’s base and despite all his other toys, he was enchanted with the one Rosie had chosen.

It had begun snowing as Rosie and Danny had set out for the McMullen’s, but it had been fine, just a dusting on the
ground and they had still cut across the fields. ‘The ground is rock hard,’ Danny had said, ‘and it will take some time for the snow to be thick enough to take hold.’

He was right, it had been easy to walk the fields, even pleasant, Rosie thought, cuddled against Danny and dressed in her warm clothes with the snowflakes drifting down on them.

However, by the time the meal was eaten, the snow lay over everything like a white blanket, gilding the trees’ stark winter branches and icing the tops of hedges. When the dishes had been washed, dried and put away, Danny suggested a snowball fight.

There were cries of agreement from Dermot, but Chrissie and Geraldine looked first towards their parents for permission. ‘You’re both too old for such nonsense,’ Minnie said irritably, but Danny cried.

‘Not today. No-one’s too old for anything at Christmas.’

Minnie was unable to find a suitable response and so the girls went to get ready.

Like the children they still were, Chrissie and Geraldine leaped outside and into the snow without further ado, dressed in their shabby top coats and bonnets. Neither had gloves, Rosie noted, and she was determined to remedy that as soon as she could. She was a grand one with the knitting needles now.

The snow was thick underfoot and a watery sun, peeping from the clouds, spread the last of its scarlet rays upon them as they pounded each other with the soft snow.

At last, they stopped for a break, gasping and laughing. Danny suggested making a snowman, the biggest and best snowman in the whole country, and Dermot could barely contain his excitement. The snowman eventually stood tall and proud, with pieces of turf for his eyes, a carroty nose and an old cap of Seamus’s on his head. Dermot leaped like a young colt in front of him before running into the house
and dragging his parents to the door of the cottage to see their creation.

Later, walking home in the pale moonlight which shone on the snowy fields and road and lit their way home, Danny said, ‘I feel sorry for your wee brother, Rosie, because for all the toys he has, he’s never really played with anyone before today.’

Rosie agreed with Danny. On one hand her young brother had everything and yet in another way she sensed a loneliness in him, for no young ones lived nearby and he seemed to spend a lot of time on his own. But there was nothing to be gained by talking about it for she couldn’t change the situation and so she snuggled against Danny and his arm tightened around her as they ploughed through the snow together.

Connie already knew Rosie was pregnant before she told her. She often looked quite pale and strained in the morning, though she’d recover her spirits as the day went on. But she decided to say nothing and let Rosie tell her in her own time.

When Rosie did eventually say, Connie showed little surprise and so Rosie asked her, ‘Did you know?’

‘I didn’t for sure,’ Connie said. ‘But I guessed.’

‘How?’

‘Well, for one thing, you’ve not used any of the cotton pads from the press.’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s not only that, though,’ Connie said. ‘It’s a certain something about you – a look. Oh, I don’t know how to explain it, but you’re different in some way.’

‘I suppose you’ve heard me being sick too.’

‘Aye,’ Connie said. ‘But though it came as a shock to me, I’m still delighted. What did Danny say?’

‘He doesn’t know yet.’

‘Och, girl, he should have been told first,’ Connie chided gently. ‘When d’you intend to tell him?’

‘Today,’ Rosie said. ‘I wanted to be absolutely sure first. None of my family know either – the weather has been too bad for me to make it to their house since Christmas.’

‘Well, lose no time in telling Danny.’

Rosie nodded. ‘I will, as soon as he comes in.’

Danny, Phelan and Matt had gone up to the hills with the two farm dogs, Meg and Cap, to collect and bring the sheep down to the lower pastures where it was easier to feed them the bales of hay which they relied on for the winter. Nearer to the house it was also easier to keep an eye on the pregnant ewes too, for some of them were due to give birth within the month. They’d been gone a couple of hours already, for it was a tidy tramp, and Danny told her the odd sheep often got into difficulties which they needed to sort out.

Rosie didn’t envy them: the cold was intense. It was almost too cold to snow, though there had been a sprinkling in the night and this had since frozen solid and lay sparkling on the yard. Rosie rubbed her hands against the misty kitchen window and looked out. The world seemed hushed and still, the empty fields dressed with a covering of snow, and icicles hung like silver spears from the window’s edge.

She turned with a shiver and Connie said, ‘Aye, it’s bonechilling cold, all right. They’ll all be glad of the stew I’ll have ready for them when they come in. Put new heart into them.’

‘Aye,’ Rosie said, rousing herself. ‘I’ll get some water in to wash the potatoes. They might be back soon.’

‘Are you all right, girl?’ Connie asked. ‘I can get it.’

‘Don’t fuss now!’ Rosie admonished. ‘I’ll not have you treat me like an invalid because I’m expecting.’

‘No danger of that,’ Connie said with a laugh. ‘You fetch in the water then, and I’ll make us a drink.’

Rosie picked up the galvanised bucket from beside the door and went out into the wintry afternoon. The skies were heavy,
grey and snow-laden, and the bitter chill caught in her throat and made her teeth ache. She wished she’d thought to lift her coat from the peg. As soon as Rosie stepped out onto the slippery cobblestones her feet began to slither. Gingerly, she made her way forward, but didn’t notice the sheet of ice that had formed around the pump where some of the water had dribbled out and frozen solid. As she stepped onto it she felt one leg slide from beneath her.

In a panic, she fought to try and regain her balance, but as she did the other foot skimmed across the icy cobbles and she lost her footing completely. She fell awkwardly and clumsily, the bucket clattering beside her as her head slammed heavily against the ground.

Connie was beside her in seconds. ‘Oh dear God!’ she cried. ‘Are you all right?’

It was obvious Rosie was far from so. The very breath had been knocked from her body and she lay on the frozen yard and felt as if every bone had been shaken loose.

Dear God, Connie thought, if Rosie was to lose this child before Danny even knew he was about to become a father! That would be dreadful altogether. But then, she chided herself, there was no need to look on the black side of things: the girl had had a fright, that was bad enough, and anyone would be in pain after falling in the yard. A hot drink and bed, that was best.

She helped Rosie indoors, supporting much of her weight. The kettle had already begun to sing over the glowing turf and she sat her before the hearth.

‘You need tea with plenty of sugar to steady you after a shock like that,’ Connie said, pressing Rosie down gently in the armchair. ‘And then it’s bed for you.’

She filled the teapot and while it brewed she lifted two air bricks from the back of the fire with tongs and wrapped them in flannels. ‘I’ll put these in the bed to warm it for you,’ she told Rosie as she hurried from the room.

Rosie didn’t answer. She was feeling light-headed and muzzy, but her overriding fear was for the child she carried. She put her arm protectively on her stomach and groaned.

Connie heard her as she came back in and her heart contracted in pity, but one of them at least had to stay positive. ‘Come on,’ she said, handing Rosie a cup of tea, which she’d also laced with a drop of whisky. ‘Drink this while it’s hot.’

Rosie obediently took the drink, glad of its warmth for she felt chilled to the marrow, and Connie, aware of her trembling, gave the fire a poke to release some of the warmth. She wished Danny was there to fetch the doctor, for the whitefaced girl in front of her worried her half to death.

Rosie was too weary and sore to undress herself, so Connie gently removed the clothes from her as if she were a child and then slipped a white cambric nightgown over her head before helping her between the warmed sheets and tucking the blankets snugly around her.

Rosie gave a sigh of thankfulness to be lying in the semidark in a soft warm bed and Connie sat beside the bed, waiting until Rosie’s closed eyes and even breathing told her she was asleep before she left her.

The men came in, stamping their boots on the mat and bringing the cold of the fields in with them. ‘By, that smells good,’ Matt said. ‘You need something to stick to the ribs today.’

Connie scarcely heard her husband. Her eyes were only for her son. When she’d left Rosie’s side she’d rehearsed over and over how to tell Danny that his beloved wife had hurt herself and maybe the unborn child he knew nothing of yet would be lost because of it. ‘Where’s Rosie?’ Danny demanded, seeing the anxious look on his mother’s face.

‘She…she’s had a bit of an accident,’ Connie said. ‘She slipped in the yard. I’ve put her to bed. I thought it was best. She was asleep when I left her.’

Danny was across the room in three strides, but his mother’s hand was on his elbow before he opened the bedroom door. ‘Danny, wait!’ she said. ‘It’s best you know it all. Rosie is expecting a baby.’

The grim-set expression on Danny’s face changed to one of incredulity. ‘A baby?’ he repeated.

‘Aye,’ Connie said, and then, because she knew her son would rightly think he should have been told first, she went on. ‘She didn’t tell me until after she’d had the fall. She intended telling you today.’ That made Danny feel better and, when all was said and done, however he was told, his wife was expecting their first child. ‘Go easy now,’ Connie cautioned him. ‘Let her sleep while she’s able.’

Danny gave a mute nod and opened the door as quietly as he could and stood transfixed in the doorway. Rosie’s hair, released from its fastenings, was spread out on the pillow, her pinched face as white as the sheets she had tucked around her and her breathing so shallow that her chest barely moved. Danny turned an anguished face to his mother. ‘Oh, Ma. She looks…’

‘She looks as if she’s sleeping, which she is,’ Connie said firmly, giving her son’s arm a shake. ‘She needs a doctor, Danny. You’ll have go to the village and fetch out Doctor Casey.’

‘Aye, aye,’ Danny said, glad to be doing something practical at least.

Matt was beside his wife and son and looked in on the girl. ‘Do you want me along with you, son?’

‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Danny said. ‘I’ll ride in on Copper. He can go like the wind when he has a mind and is not pulling a cart behind him.’

As the door closed behind Danny, Connie gave a sigh. ‘There goes a worried man.’

‘Aye, and little wonder,’ Matt said. ‘For the sun rises and sets for Danny with that young lassie. Dear God, I hope no harm has come to her, or that child she’s carrying.’

Connie crossed to the pot simmering above the burning turf and said, ‘Will I get you a bowl of stew?’

Matt shook his head. ‘It would choke me,’ he told Connie. ‘Though my old bones would welcome a drop of tea.’

Even Phelan shook his head. ‘None for me either, Mammy,’ he said, for he was worried about Rosie and the stillness of her that he’d glimpsed as Danny stood in the doorway. He liked her a great deal, she always made time to talk to him and he thought she had more patience than his own two sisters.

Dr Casey, in his pony and trap, followed Danny on horseback to the farm, and barely had they reached the yard before Danny flung himself from the horse leaving his waiting brother to help the doctor from his carriage. He gave no greeting to his mother who was bent over the fire, but went straight to the bedroom. Rosie lay as still as she’d done when he’d left her and he felt flutters of alarm beat against his heart as he approached the bed and kneeled beside it.

His relief when Rosie opened her eyes slowly and painfully, as if they weighed a ton, was immense. ‘Hallo, Rosie.’

Rosie didn’t reply but Danny didn’t care. She was alive and that was all that mattered to him. He took her hand gently and kissed it. ‘You’ll be grand now, Rosie,’ he said, wondering why people always said such inane things in times of crisis. ‘The doctor is here to see you and he’ll get you better in no time.’

The doctor had followed him into the room and Danny turned to him now. ‘Will she be all right?’

‘How can I possibly answer that till I’ve examined the patient?’ the doctor said impatiently. ‘Out of my way. In fact, out of the room altogether. Let me get on with my job and you get on with yours.’

Usually, Danny would never have let a man speak to him like that, but he knew they had need of the doctor’s skills
and so he said nothing. ‘I’ll be back,’ he promised Rosie. ‘I’ll be just outside.’

Danny didn’t need to tell Rosie where he’d be, for she heard him giving out to his mother as the doctor’s gentle hands probed first the gash on her head and then her stomach.