Читать книгу Danny Boy - Anne Bennett - Страница 6

The next day, Rosie awakened to a silent house. The morning was a dark one but the clock said it was half past seven and she knew her father would have been up a few hours or more, milking the cows. Guiltily, she pulled herself away from the warmth of her sisters curled up together, and began to dress.

Her mother turned from the fire before which she was sitting as Rosie came in. ‘That was good timing,’ she said. ‘I was just about to call you.’ The plate she laid before Rosie almost took her breath away – there were rashers, an egg, fried tomatoes, potato cakes, white pudding and fried bread.

Rosie couldn’t remember the last time her mother had cooked her breakfast, never mind a feast like this. ‘Mammy, this is marvellous.’

‘All brides should have a good breakfast on their wedding day,’ Minnie said. ‘Sets you up for the day and Lord knows when you’ll ever have one so good again.’

‘It’s like giving a condemned man one last request, the way you put it,’ Rosie complained, but with a smile. However, when her eyes met those of her mother’s and she saw her tight-lipped, an icy thread of apprehension trailed down her spine.

It vanished at the church when she saw Danny waiting for her at the altar beside Shay Ferguson, his best man. She walked slowly down the familiar church on her father’s arm, her four bridesmaids coming behind, when really she wanted to fly into the arms of her beloved.

The church was full of neighbours and friends of the young couple and Rosie heard feet shuffling in the pews and a few coughs or sniffs as women sat dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs. She wanted to say, ‘Don’t cry, I’m happy, I’ve never been so happy.’

But, of course, she said nothing. She reached the altar at last and gave her bouquet to Chrissie, slipping her arm from her father’s to stand beside Danny. He turned to look at her, and she felt her heart nearly stop and gave a short gasp at how handsome he looked. As for Danny, he thought he’d never seen a girl so beautiful. He knew in Rosie he’d met his soul mate who he would love till the end of his days, and at that moment vowed never to do anything that would hurt her.

Rosie came out of the church later, blinking in the rays of the October sun, on the arm of her husband and as she smiled at the crowds milling around them cheering the young couple Rosie felt warmed by their good wishes.

The wedding breakfast was laid out in the farmhouse. Trestle tables with benches had been borrowed from the church hall to seat people. Rosie sat at the end table with Danny, their parents either side of them, and looked at the spread put on and knew Connie and her daughters must have worked for days and days to provide for so many. Though her parents had paid for the food, Rosie knew her mother had not done a hand’s turn to prepare it.

The two-tier wedding cake had been a present from the baker in the village. ‘You keep the top tier for the christening,’ he’d said, with a nudge to Rosie’s ribs and then laughed uproariously as her face flamed with embarrassment.

It was fortunate that the day was dry and warm enough for the dancing to take place outside, and this gave Connie and her daughters time and space to clear away the dirty things. Rosie’s offer to help was waved away. ‘Not on your wedding day, bonny girl,’ Connie said. ‘Away and dance with your man.’

And Rosie did dance with him. She was seldom off her feet as the accordion, fiddle and banjo played the familiar reels and jigs and polkas while the bodhran beat out the steady rhythm.

It was a wondrous, tremendous day, and when the revellers eventually made their way home – and not all of them terribly steady, either – Danny and Rosie stayed outside while the velvety darkness closed about them. Danny had his arm around Rosie and she leaned against him in absolute contentment.

‘Are you happy, Mrs Walsh?’ Danny asked her.

‘Deliriously so, Mr Walsh,’ Rosie replied with a smile.

‘Shall we go in?’

Rosie, remembering her mother’s words, couldn’t stop the slight shiver that ran through her. Danny guessed immediately what she was nervous of. ‘Don’t be scared,’ he told her. ‘Not of me. I’ll not hurt you. Trust me.’

And she did trust him, of course she did, this was Danny, her Danny, who she’d lay down her life for. ‘I do trust you, Danny,’ she said. ‘It was the night air causing me to feel chilly, that’s all. Let’s go in.’

Danny knew it was no night air but he kissed Rosie on the cheek, took her arm and led her indoors, where he found everyone had prudently taken themselves to bed.

Rosie knew that they would be living with Danny’s family for a while, maybe for years, until a house of their own could be built near to the farmhouse. Connie guessed Rosie might find this strange and could well understand it. She had put her arm around Rosie’s shoulder one evening a few days before the wedding and said, ‘I don’t want you to feel that this is someone else’s house you are living in when you come here. From now on, this will be your home.’

‘Thank you, you’re all so kind.’

‘We should be thanking you,’ Connie had said, ‘for making our son such a happy man. In you I really feel I have gained a daughter. We must decide what you are to call me, for I know it has been awkward at times.’

Rosie had blushed. She had not known what to call Connie. Mrs Walsh sounded too formal and Connie too familiar, but she hadn’t been aware that the woman had known of her dilemma. Connie had gone on, ‘It was the same with me and my mother-in-law at the start, yet in a way it was easier for me: my own mother was dead and so I just called her Mammy.’

Rosie had thought of the love she’d experienced in this house in just the few months she’d been coming there, more by far than she’d ever had in her own home. She couldn’t ever remember her mother putting her arm around her the way Connie did with ease. Even Matt would catch hold of her hand or pat her on the shoulder as he passed and she realised these good, kind people were better parents to her than her own would ever be. She had turned to Connie and had said, ‘I would love to call you Mammy.’

‘You would?’ Connie had asked. ‘You don’t think your own mammy will mind it?’

‘I don’t think she will give a tinker’s cuss for anything I do,’ Rosie had replied bitterly. ‘It used to upset me, but now I have Danny, a new home and a new life and to an extent a new family. To call you Mammy will just be part of it.’

Danny was pleased his mother and Rosie got on so well together for he knew if there was any sort of friction between them, living in such close proximity would be untenable and there was nowhere else he and Rosie could live for the present, although he was doing his best to give them a private bedroom at least. As in most farmhouses, the main bedrooms led straight off the kitchen-cum-living room. The first one was the room that Elizabeth and Sarah shared and you went through that to reach the one Danny had previously shared with Phelan, just as it had been in her own home while Connie and Matt had the one room in the loft, up the stairs to the back of the kitchen.

Underneath the stairs was another room that had been used for storage and that was the room Danny had chosen. He and his father had worked hard before the wedding, moving all the junk to the barn and making sure the place was watertight and damp free.

Now Rosie stood at the threshold of the door and looked around in delight as Danny lit the lamp.

Connie and Matt had bought them a new iron-framed bedstead and mattress, and Rosie looked at it made up with the sheets and blankets she’d brought with her, the embroidered pillowcases visible where the sheets were turned down, and one of her nightdresses draped over the coverlet.

She saw Connie had been busy. There were pictures on the walls and bright rag rugs on the stone-flagged floor, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus above their bed. Rosie and Danny had bought a new bedroom suite from a catalogue, but Rosie hadn’t seen it until now because it had been delivered to the Walshes’ farmhouse only a few days before the wedding. Now, Rosie saw someone had hung her clothes in the dark wood wardrobe and her personal things were laid out on the matching dressing table.

‘Oh Danny, it’s beautiful!’ she cried.

‘So are you and I can’t wait much longer,’ Danny said huskily, wrapping his arms around his young wife. ‘Oh God, Rosie, how I’ve longed for this moment. I love you and want you so much.’

The love in his voice melted Rosie’s apprehension and she allowed Danny to strip the wedding dress from her and let it fall in silken folds at her feet, her petticoats, corset and bloomers following as he laid her on the bed and removed her boots and stockings. She lay beneath the sheets, naked as she hadn’t been since she’d been a wee child, for she’d always been taught to dress and undress beneath her nightdress.

Suddenly, Danny, in his haste to divest himself of his clothes, kicked the chamber pot beneath the bed and the ringing sound reverberated throughout the house. Rosie put her hand across her mouth to still the giggles.

‘Shut up,’ Danny hissed, laughing himself. ‘This is no laughing matter, madam. Please conduct yourself with proper decorum.’

‘Aye, Mr Walsh, I will,’ Rosie said, gazing at her husband as she spoke and realising she was seeing a naked man for the very first time in her life. Danny snuffed out the light and slid in beside her.

After her mother’s words she’d imagined herself lying rigid in the bed in her pristine nightdress while Danny did unmentionable things to her that she had to submit to now that she was his wife. She imagined it hurting her so much she’d cry out and everyone would hear.

But it wasn’t a bit like that. Danny held her close and caressed her gently, while his tongue, darting in and out of her mouth, sent sharp shafts of desire flowing through her whole body as she let her hands explore his body too. When she came upon his hardened penis, she gave a gasp. Danny was nuzzling at her breasts and she cried, ‘Oh, Danny, please, please hurry.’

Danny smiled. The passion in both of them could be denied no longer and he carefully entered his young wife. She did feel pain, but it was overridden by waves of exquisite joy which engulfed her over and over again, until she felt she could die with happiness. She couldn’t help the cry that burst from her lips, and as Danny, spent at last, lay on top of her, she felt tears of joy seep from under her lashes and trickle down her cheeks.

She felt loved, desired, wanted, as she’d never truly felt in her life before. But none of her earlier life mattered – now she had Danny and he more than made up for her parents’ indifference.

When Danny discovered Rosie was crying he was horrified. ‘Don’t cry. Oh God, Rosie, don’t,’ he implored. ‘Did I hurt you? Oh God, I’m sorry.’

Rosie’s smile was watery but her voice firm as she said, ‘Are you not the finest eejit, Danny? Don’t you know women cry from happiness as well as sorrow? Don’t ever apologise for what we did tonight, for I wanted it as much as you and it was wonderful so it was.’

Danny knew he’d found a treasure, a woman who’d love him all his life and who enjoyed their lovemaking. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. ‘I love you, Mrs Walsh,’ he said.

‘And I you, Mr Walsh,’ Rosie replied happily. She snuggled against him and the two slept entwined until the cock crowed the next morning.

Connie got on well with Rosie. She liked the girl for herself and also because she made her son happy. She’d known it from the first morning. Connie had heard the cry Rosie had given the previous night and knew what they were about and prayed that it was a cry of joy and not pain. She hoped her son had had the patience to take Rosie gently, for she knew she would be a virgin, and later the stained sheets she stripped from the bed gave further evidence of this.

But when she saw the two of them together the next morning, she knew that whatever way Danny had approached their first nuptial coupling, it had pleased his young wife, and that was all that mattered. She saw the way their eyes met and the secret smiles between them, the way Danny found ways to be near Rosie, putting his hand around her shoulder, touching her arm, catching her suddenly around the waist and pulling her close. Rosie delighted in these exchanges, even as she coloured in embarrassment. They were happy and at one together and Connie was content.

Rosie had wondered how it would fare with so many women in the one kitchen, but she needn’t have worried. Danny’s eldest sister, Sarah, had been working as a seamstress in Blessington village since Elizabeth had left school and was able to help her mother. Now, with Rosie to take on that role, Elizabeth was anxious to follow her sister, who assured her there was plenty of work. ‘Do you mind?’ Rosie asked Elizabeth. ‘I’d not like to think I was pushing you out of your own home.’

‘You’re not,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘I’ve been dying to go. Sarah has fun there with the other girls and after I left school I found the farm a bit stifling and lonely – you know how it is. It’s different for you, you’re married now and you’ll probably have your own babies soon enough, but I want something for myself before I tie myself down.’

‘Well, if you’re sure?’

‘I am,’ Elizabeth said, and suddenly, impulsively, gave Rosie a kiss on the cheek. Rosie was pleased but surprised. ‘What was that for?’

‘Oh nothing,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Just to say welcome to the family. We’re all glad you’re here, Danny especially – he’s like a dog with two tails.’

There was a lot of talk and laughter around the Walsh table in the evenings. They found humour in many things and were not averse to poking fun at one another. Rosie was included in this from the start and it only took her a short amount of time to be able to come back at them in the same teasing vein.

Connie knew that Rosie hadn’t been happy at home and she also knew, like most of the village, that the main problem in the house centred around the fuss made of the wee fellow Dermot.

It didn’t help that Dermot looked so angelic, with his fair curls and his large blue eyes and elfin face. He looked remarkably like the statues of the cherubs in the church in Blessington, except that he didn’t have the angels’ chubby frame. Dermot was slight and fine-boned, and Minnie called him delicate yet the child seldom ailed. ‘She’ll not let the wind blow on him because if it,’ Danny said with a snort whenever Connie spoke of him. ‘The child’s no more delicate than I am.’

‘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.