Читать книгу Danny Boy - Anne Bennett - Страница 7

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.

‘What were you thinking of, letting her go out for water in this?’ Danny demanded. ‘The whole place is covered with ice, that yard is like a death-trap. Well, it’s got to stop, especially now Rosie is expecting. I’ll bring in the water in the morning. If necessary I’ll buy a couple more buckets while I’m about it, but I’ll not have Rosie go out and carry in heavy buckets of water.

‘And she’s not to lift heavy clothes from the boiling pan to the rinse pail, either – they’re too heavy,’ he went on. ‘Nor is she to pound the clothes in the poss tub, or do the churning.’

Neither Connie nor Matt said a word. Connie watched her son walk agitatedly from one side of the room to the other, knowing Danny wasn’t really blaming her, he was just worried and felt helpless.

So she didn’t come back at him and ask Danny if he had any idea of how many buckets of water were needed for Monday’s washday and how was she to do all this herself and the work in the dairy too.

Instead, she poured Danny a cup of tea and put it into his hands. He gulped at the scalding liquid almost immediately, his eyes never leaving the bedroom door. Under her breath, Connie began to pray to the Blessed Virgin Mary who knew what worry was all about.

When the doctor left the room he found four people in the kitchen staring at him. ‘How is she?’ Danny demanded.

‘Badly shaken up,’ the doctor replied. ‘She has a nasty gash on her head which I’ve bandaged, and her back will probably be badly bruised by tomorrow, but there are no broken bones.’

‘What of the baby?’

The doctor shrugged. ‘We must just wait and see. I’d advise at least a week of bed rest. If she starts to lose the child, send for me and I’ll come.’

He wasn’t reassuring, but Danny knew it was all they were going to get. ‘Can I see her?’

‘You can, but try not to disturb her,’ the doctor warned. ‘I’ve given her a draught and she’ll sleep soon. Sleep’s the best healer.’

Danny went into the bedroom and pulled a chair up to the bed. He sat beside his wife, whose eyes were already closing, holding her hand and talking softly to her. He told her how he loved her and how worried he’d been. He didn’t mention the child. He’d barely come to terms with the fact that he was to become a father before he thought that this might be taken from him. Would he be distraught if that happened? he asked himself. He had to admit now that he wouldn’t be. He’d be upset, of course, but Rosie was the one that mattered to him. They could have other children.

He bent and kissed her cheek, his whole being consumed with love for her, and then he returned to the kitchen to tell his mother he’d spend the night and maybe many nights on a shakedown on the bedroom floor. He’d not share a bed with Rosie in case he should inadvertently hurt her, but neither would he leave her alone and go back to sharing the mattress with Phelan.

‘If that’s what you want to do, then we’ll sort it out later,’ Connie said. ‘Now will you all sit up to the table and have a bowl of stew. You’ve not had a bite past your lips for some hours.’

When the girls came in from work and there had still been no sound from the bedroom, Phelan was all for going across the ice-rimed, rutted fields with the aid of a lantern to tell Rosie’s parents about her fall. Connie told Phelan he wasn’t to go. For one thing he’d likely break his neck, she said, and for another thing, he’d worry Rosie’s parents and sisters unnecessarily, going over in the dark night. It wasn’t as if the girl’s life hung in the balance. ‘I’ll trot over myself, tomorrow,’ Connie promised her son, and with that he had to be content.

Rosie awoke in the middle of the night and once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she saw the mound of her husband on the floor beside her. She was glad he was there, but would have preferred him in bed with her, his arms wrapped about her tight while he assured her everything would be all right.

She’d wanted to believe this, oh she did, but her back ached and her head throbbed and there were drawing pains in her stomach that caused her to pull her legs up. The doctor had told her that she must keep to her bed if she wanted to save her child, and then he had given her something for the pain that made it float away as she fell into a deep sleep.

Well, she wanted the baby all right. No question of it, and she vowed if that meant she had to stay in the bed, then she would. Anyway, she thought with a wry smile, Connie, who’d been so pleased about the baby, would see she stayed there. She blessed the fact she was living with such caring people, and secure in that knowledge she let her eyelids close again.

However, despite Rosie wanting to do nothing to damage her baby, she found lying in bed irksome, particularly after a few days when the aches and pains had begun to ease. Connie was kindness itself, but had little time to spend with Rosie, working single-handedly, and the men were always busy.

She was delighted one day, therefore, to see her sisters at the bedroom door, for Connie had informed them the day after the fall as she’d promised Phelan.

It was a Saturday and Danny had gone into the village with produce to sell, and taken his mother and Sarah and Elizabeth to do a bit of shopping. Rosie was finding the day especially long. ‘Tell me all the news?’ she begged.

‘What do we ever get to hear?’ Chrissie objected. ‘We never see a soul from one week to the next. No one visits and we never go to town.’

‘Why don’t you?’ Rosie asked, knowing she loved nothing more than a morning shopping and gossiping in Blessington village. ‘You’re well old enough now. Would Mammy object?’

‘I expect so,’ Chrissie said. ‘Doesn’t she object to most things we say or do? But what is the point of us going into Blessington when we have not a penny piece to spend?’

When Rosie was at home she’d had no money of her own either. But once she’d married Danny, the money got from the egg sales was split between her and Connie, with sometimes a percentage of the butter they made up in the dairy. Rosie liked the feel of her own money in her pocket. It meant she could buy the odd trifle for herself without asking Danny all the time.

She said to Chrissie. ‘Have you thought of taking a job?’

Chrissie shook her head. ‘Mammy would never stand it. Anyway, what could I do?’

‘As well as the rest, I suppose,’ Rosie retorted and then went on, ‘Elizabeth and Sarah are working as seamstresses.’

‘Well that’s out,’ Chrissie said. ‘D’you remember my efforts at sewing?’

‘I wouldn’t mind a job either,’ Geraldine said. ‘But just because Sarah and Elizabeth Walsh have work, it doesn’t mean there’d be anything for us.’

‘Aye, but that’s just it,’ Rosie said. ‘Danny’s sisters have been working there a while now and they were mainly doing the fine work, the embroidery, or sewing beads or some such on to clothes and doing buttonholes, the fiddly things, but at the moment they’re run off their feet.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because of the war,’ Rosie replied. ‘The few machines they have in the workroom have been added to and they’re making uniforms by the score. They need people both to operate the machines and to sew on the buttons and any other sort of decoration.’

‘Well, I’m glad to see some are gaining from this war,’ Geraldine said. ‘There are plenty from this village in the thick of it.’

‘Aye,’ Rosie agreed, ‘couldn’t wait to join up, many of them, like it was all some big adventure.’

‘Well, it was supposed be over by Christmas,’ Chrissie reminded her.

‘Danny never believed that,’ Rosie said. ‘But somehow, living here, it’s hard to believe that awful things are happening not all that far away. I mean it will really only hit home if we hear of people we know dying, or being dreadfully injured. At the moment it barely touches us.’

And it didn’t of course, but those men who had answered the call and were still answering it would all need uniforms and someone would have to make them, Chrissie thought. It wouldn’t hurt surely to make a few enquiries.

When the Walshes came home in a flurry of noise and bustle a little later, everyone was in a grand humour for all the eggs and butter had been sold and Chrissie took the opportunity to speak with Danny’s sisters about their jobs. They weren’t so keen on doing the uniforms, they told her: the material was coarser than they were used to and there was less chance of finding a remnant to make up something for themselves, but the money was good and the work would continue at least as long as the war went on.

Rosie’s sisters returned home after sharing a meal at the Walshes’, with Chrissie determined to speak to her parents about getting a job of her own. She wanted the company of other girls and money in her pocket. With keep tipped up to her mother each week to sweeten her temper, just maybe it would work.

Minnie needed that sweetener, for at first she forbade Chrissie to even think of such a thing. She fanned her temper to full-blown fury and slapped Chrissie when she continued to plead her case. ‘Be quiet, girl!’

‘Do you want to make me a laughing stock?’ Seamus asked. ‘Have people saying I can’t afford to keep you and that I had to send you out to work?’

‘Matt Walsh doesn’t think that way,’ Chrissie pointed out, holding a handkerchief to her bleeding nose. ‘He has two daughters at the factory.’

‘Don’t you dare answer your father back,’ Minnie said, bouncing up before her. ‘By God, I’ll take the strap to you.’

Chrissie quailied inside, but outwardly showed no fear. ‘There’s no need, Mammy,’ she said soothingly. ‘I’ll pay keep into the house.’

Minnie thought about it. Money would be useful, she decided. And there was still Geraldine at home – she’d have to do. ‘All right,’ she said grudgingly. ‘We’ll try it for six months. And,’ she said, pointing her long bony finger at Geraldine, ‘don’t you get any ideas, miss, for the whole of the work will fall on you now.’

Geraldine didn’t risk saying anything, and even her sigh she suppressed, but she shot her sister a baleful look and knew for her the future was now set.