Читать книгу Danny Boy - Anne Bennett - Страница 8

Rosie recovered from her fall with no after-effects at all, and after that she sailed through her pregnancy. There was no need for Danny to caution his mother about not letting Rosie do anything too strenuous, or carry anything heavy, for Connie was just as anxious as he was for a healthy grandchild. Sometimes she would let Rosie do so little she felt like screaming in frustration. She never lost patience with Connie, though, for she knew the fall she’d endured at the beginning had unnerved her.

As soon as Rosie had risen from her bed and the weather had allowed it, she’d resumed her weekly trip home. Her parents seemed unconcerned with her pregnancy, but Dermot, once he knew, was enraptured with the news and watched Rosie’s growing stomach with great interest. She never saw Chrissie on these trips for, although as the nights lengthened she was able to stay until the schools closed so she could see Dermot, Chrissie had secured a job in the clothing factory with Sarah and Elizabeth. She began to come to the farmhouse on Saturdays to see Rosie and sometimes the two girls would go into the village together. There was usually someone from the farm going in, but if not the girls would begin to walk, though they were often picked up by a neighbour on the road.

‘I don’t tell Mammy what I earn,’ Chrissie told her as they walked along one day. ‘She’d have nearly every penny off me but you’d not believe the wages, Rosie, two pounds a week, sometimes two pounds and ten shillings. Of course, the hours are long to earn that type of money, but none of us mind that. I tell Mammy I get a pound a week and she lets me keep two shillings of it. I share what I have left with Geraldine and she saves it in a handkerchief in her drawer. D’you think me awful?’

Rosie considered this. ‘Honour thy father and mother,’ the Bible and the Catholic Church taught all children, and lying to one’s parents was showing them no honour at all. Yet, Rosie had known for some time that the future for her and her sisters was totally in their own hands. Neither of her parents would lift a finger to help any of them. Dermot would inherit all and the girls would have to look out for themselves. So she said truthfully to Chrissie, ‘I don’t think you awful and I don’t blame you either. But take care, for if Mammy sees you buying too much for yourself she’ll tumble you’re getting higher wages than you say. Geraldine will have to be even more careful.’

‘Oh, she knows I give Geraldine something out of what she allows me to keep,’ Chrissie assured her. ‘I’ve asked if she can go with me to town a time or two to see if she wants to spend it, but Mammy won’t let her, she says she has duties at home.’

‘Well how do you do it?’

‘I told Mammy if I’m working all week and paying my way, I need free time,’ Chrissie said, and didn’t add that the first time she voiced this the resultant slap had knocked her from her feet, and the second time she had been thrashed with the strap. But she refused to give up and kept asking until her mother eventually gave in.

‘You’re a stronger character than Geraldine, though,’ Rosie said. ‘I always realised that.’

‘Aye,’ Chrissie agreed, and added almost fiercely, ‘But I’ll tell you one thing, Rosie, going to work in the factory was the best thing I ever did and I’d not give it up for a pension. Those sisters of Danny’s are nice girls. I knew them from school of course, but they were much older and weren’t friends then. But Elizabeth and Sarah have been really helpful. They’ve shown me all the fancy work they’re back to doing now there are more girls working on the uniforms. They wouldn’t let most of our lot near the work they do, but they’re not snooty or anything. They give us tips on how to make the best of the clothes we have, like how to do up a shabby hat really cheaply, or how to spruce up a dress by adding a collar and cuffs, or maybe getting a belt and accessories to wear to make it look a bit different. I tell you, Rosie,’ she said, giving her sister a friendly push, ‘I will cut quite a dash at the socials when I’m allowed to go. Roll on sixteen.’

Rosie laughed with her sister, knowing she would be sixteen in August and glad to see her so happy, and then she said, ‘Sarah’s begun walking out with a young man, hasn’t she?’

‘Aye, by the name of Sam Flaherty,’ Chrissie said. ‘The silly fool nearly got himself arrested the other day.’

‘Oh!’

‘Aye, the recruiting officer was in the town, you know, and the band were playing and all, and we ran to the door to watch. He’d been to some places already and a heap of young men were already marching behind the soldiers. Sam was in the village and began shouting. He said they were being led like lambs to the slaughter and where was their sense; that Ireland needed their young men and why should they throw their lives away for a nation that had invaded them and always kept them down.’

‘I suppose he has a point,’ Rosie said. ‘Danny feels the same.’

‘Aye, many do,’ Chrissie said. ‘But it’s a point it’s not sensible to share. The Guards came out and it was only the threat of being locked up that stilled Sam’s tongue in the end.

‘Sarah gave out to Sam later,’ Chrissie went on with a smile. ‘He was waiting for her when we left the factory and she told him that he’d be no good to Ireland, or any other damn country, if he ended up behind bars. She gave it him straight. Said there was to be no more of it and from now on he’ll keep a civil tongue in his head or he’ll have her to deal with.’

‘Oh, I think I’d take my chance with the Guards rather than Sarah on her high horse,’ Rosie said with a smile, knowing the power of her sister-in-law’s temper.

Chrissie laughed. ‘From the look on Sam’s face, he felt the same,’ she said. ‘Anyway, he never said a word back to her and they went off together.’

‘Aye,’ Rosie said. ‘Well, Sarah will keep him in line if anyone can. But let’s hurry now, I’ve a lot to buy today, mainly things for the baby’s arrival.’

‘Not that much, I hope. We’ll never carry big parcels.’

‘Could you see Danny allowing that?’ Rosie said. ‘He left early this morning to give Shay and his dad a hand with thatching their roof. Rain came through it during the winter and Danny said neither Shay nor his father were ever any good at the thatching. He told me to wait in Kilpatrick’s Hotel when I’m done and he’ll be along to fetch me as soon as he’s able.’

‘Come on, then,’ Chrissie said, catching Rosie’s hand and attempting to pull her along.

‘Chrissie!’ Rosie said, in mock indignation. ‘I’m a married woman now, about to become a mother. The times for skipping through the town like a wean are past. Put your arm in mine and we’ll walk with decorum.’

And, laughing like children, they went arm in arm along the main street.

Rosie’s pains began on 14 July. All day the sun had shone from a sky that was a brilliant blue except for the odd fluffy white cloud scudding across it, helped along by the warm breeze.

Rosie had been uncomfortable for days: it was really too warm for her and everything she did was an effort, and so when she felt the first twinges, she thought fervently, ‘Oh, thank God.’

She said nothing at first: the pains were no more than monthly pains and she’d already been told by Connie that the first baby usually took a while to come. ‘Baby doesn’t know what to do, see. But don’t you worry, I’ll be with you, and to be on the safe side I’ve asked Abigail Mehan to lend a hand. She’s helped at many births.’

Rosie knew Abigail and was reassured. Now she lived alone, her man being dead and her children scattered, but she always had a cheery word. And though her hair was steel grey and her face brown and creased, her brown eyes still sparkled with life and she was kindly and softly spoken.

When Rosie picked at her tea later, only Connie noticed. Danny and his father were concerned about the milk yield being down because of the heat and Elizabeth was entertaining the family with some amusing incident in the factory, while Sarah had one eye on the clock for she was meeting Sam at half past seven. All missed the grimace of pain that crossed Rosie’s face.

It was as they were gathering the plates after the meal that Connie snatched a quiet word with Rosie. ‘Have you got pains?’

‘Aye,’ Rosie said, ‘not so bad yet, though.’

‘Still, I’ll take Elizabeth and make up the bed. Then if things get worse, we’ll be ready.’

Rosie nodded and went on collecting the pots until a sudden contraction caused her to double up in pain and the plates fell from her hands, clattering back onto the table.

‘Oh dear Lord! Leave the pots. Go and sit by the fire while I see to this bed,’ Connie urged.

‘God, Mammy, I’ve no need for a fire, one thing I’m not is cold.’

‘Well, sit anyway,’ Connie said. ‘That last one was big enough. It might not be so long after all.’

It was as Connie was helping Rosie to a chair that Danny and Phelan came in the door, each with a bucket full of water they’d got from the pump in the yard. There was only their mother and Rosie in the kitchen: Elizabeth was helping Sarah get ready for her date and their father was sitting on the wall outside, having a smoke. Danny took in at once the grey pallor of Rosie and sprang forward. ‘What is it?’ he immediately demanded.

Rosie was unable to answer for another wave of pain washed over her and Connie said, ‘Nothing is wrong. It’s just that she’s about to give birth to the child she’s been carrying for months, a day you knew would come.’

‘Oh God,’ Danny cried and he fell to his knees before Rosie. ‘Are you all right?’

The pain had passed and Rosie smiled at Danny seeing his face creased with concern and nodded. ‘I’m fine,’ she assured him.

‘What can I do?’ Danny asked his mother.

‘Nothing but wait,’ Connie said. ‘It’s all in hand. Phelan, you run up to Abigail Mehan’s house now and tell her Rosie’s time has come. She knew it would be any day now and will probably be ready to come straight down with you.’

Phelan set off without a murmur. It would be different having a baby in the house, he thought, and he was glad to be doing something to help. As for Danny, he’d got to his feet and could barely stand still. His nerves were jangling inside him and Connie said, ‘For Heaven’s sake, Danny, will you relax. Sit down by your wife and keep her company while I make up the bed with Elizabeth.’

Danny sat obediently, but could think of little to say. But Rosie had no need of words and was just grateful to have a hand to hold. The pains were a lot stronger now, but, though it showed in her face and eyes and she gripped Danny’s hand tight, she didn’t utter a sound. When Connie told her all was ready for her, she followed her mother-in-law gladly and sank onto the bed with a sigh of relief.

Danny sat in the chair Rosie had vacated. Around him, life went on. His father came in. Phelan had told him the reason for his errand as he had left the house and Matt knew what Danny would be feeling, for he’d felt it himself. They had no need of speech and sat in a companionable silence.

When Phelan returned with Abigail she gave the briefest of greetings to the two men before hurrying to the room Phelan directed her to.

Sarah, dressed for her date with Sam, went in to see her sister-in-law and wished her all the best, and Elizabeth said she’d be on hand if she was needed. Danny felt useless and said so to his father. ‘That’s the way of it, son,’ Matt said. ‘Sure, don’t all fathers feel the same, especially when it’s the first?’

Danny couldn’t imagine any other potential father being as worried as he was, but he was glad of his own father sitting with him, and even of Phelan whittling at a piece of wood while Elizabeth got on with washing and drying the dishes.

Later, there were groaning sounds from the bedroom and it was only his father’s hand on his that stopped Danny from leaping up and into the room to find out what was happening. ‘Let them get on with it, lad,’ he advised more than once. ‘This is women’s work. Rosie will be as right as rain. Sure, isn’t she in the best of hands?’

She might have been, but there was no way Danny would sleep that night, with it all going on just yards away. When Phelan was eventually driven to his bed with weariness, Matt sat on with his eldest son. Matt had been relieved they’d had no further children after Phelan. They had two fine sons by then and two beautiful daughters and he had no wish to see the body dragged out of Connie with a child every year. Yet, he was a normal man and Connie a sensual woman and she’d never refused him, but luckily there had been nothing to show for it since Phelan’s birth.

Life was strange right enough, he thought, as he gave the fire another poke. All around them there were families of ten – even twelve or fourteen weren’t uncommon – and Matt knew many men found it hard to earn the money to feed and clothe so many. There was a sudden strangled scream from the room and Danny, unable to remain still any longer, leaped to his feet. ‘Easy, lad,’ Matt said, standing up himself and putting his arm round his son’s shoulder. ‘I’ll brew up a pot of tea and put a wee tot of whisky in it, shall I? That’ll put you right.’

Danny wanted no tea, laced or not, yet he knew it would help his father to do something and so he gave a nod. ‘If you like,’ he said, and then with a glance at the closed door, asked, ‘How much bloody longer?’

‘God, lad, could be hours yet,’ Matt said, pressing his son back into a chair and pulling out the kettle to rest above the glowing peat. ‘’Specially with the first. Dear God, always worst with the first.’

Danny said nothing. His insides were tied in knots through fear and worry. Matt made the tea and Danny drank it without tasting it and still they sat. Eventually, Danny noticed his father trying to cover his yawns with his hand, and immediately felt guilty for keeping him up. ‘Go to bed, Da. You’ll need to be up for milking in a few hours.’

‘Aye,’ Matt said, getting to his feet relieved. ‘I won’t say I’m not weary.’ And then he leaned across to Danny and said, ‘See if your mother and that Abigail would like a sup of tea, and Rosie too. None of them have had anything for a few hours now and God knows it’s already been a long night.’

‘Aye, I will,’ Danny agreed, knowing he wouldn’t sleep either. ‘And I’ll make the tea, don’t worry. Go on to bed.’

Later, when he knocked on the door to tell them he had a cup of tea ready and his mother came out to take the tray, he asked anxiously about Rosie. ‘She’s fine, Danny. Dozing between the contractions now.’

‘Does it…Is it normal to take so long?’

‘God bless you, Danny, it’s been no time at all yet.’

‘I hate to think of her in so much pain.’

‘And Rosie, like many before her, will forget it as soon as she holds that wee baby in her arms.’

Danny doubted that, but returned to his seat before the fire and settled himself again for the long vigil.

He was dozing when his father came down the stairs for the milking a few hours later, but stirred when he heard him making tea. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles and struggled to his feet. ‘No, lad,’ Matt said. ‘Stay and rest yourself, Phelan will give me a hand.’

‘Daddy, I’d be better doing something,’ Danny said.

Connie came out of the room carrying the tray at that moment and at the enquiring look from her son she shook her head. ‘Nothing yet.’

Danny sighed. He was glad to follow his father to the byre. A little later, with his forehead leaning on the cow’s velvety flanks and hearing the hiss-hiss of the jets of milk hitting the pail he felt more at peace. The rhythm of milking the soft, gentle cows, who stood so placid throughout with only the barest flick of their tails, often had this effect on him.

Back in the bedroom there was no such peace. Rosie was now in agony. She bit her lip to prevent the screams from spiralling from her, but she couldn’t help the gasping sobs and the strangled yelps.

She was glad she wasn’t alone, glad of Connie’s hand in hers, unaware that her nails had scored that hand often through the right. She thrashed on the bed, trying to get rid of the pain inside her that threatened to break her in two. ‘Hush, pet. Lie still,’ Abby said again and again. ‘Soon be over.’

How soon? Dear God, Rosie thought, this pain has been going on for hours already. No one warned me it would hurt like this.

Abigail tied a towel to the head of the bed. ‘Pull on that when the pain gets too bad,’ she said. ‘Many find it helps.’

Rosie glared at her. When the pain gets bad! ‘Every pain is bad, you stupid bugger,’ she wanted to cry, but the throes of agony took all of her energy and this time she tugged on the towel so hard she threatened to bring the bedhead on top of her.

And so it went on, hour after hour. Connie never left her side, for Rosie seemed to gain comfort from her presence and she continually wiped the sweat from her face, telling her she was a good girl and doing just fine.

Sarah and Elizabeth called in before they left for work and took in the situation in one glance. They felt sorry for Rosie: she was so ravaged by pain, her eyes glazed and sweat lending a sheen to her pale skin, for all Connie’s efforts.

‘We’ll see to breakfast,’ Sarah told her mother. ‘Shall I make something for you?’

Connie looked across at Abigail, who gave a brief nod. ‘Best have something,’ she said. ‘We have to keep our strength up if we’re to help the girl.’

But suddenly Rosie arched in the bed and Connie knew they’d soon be too busy to eat or drink anything. Rosie let out a long low scream just as Danny was coming in through the cottage door. He felt as if his heart had stopped beating. ‘What is it?’ he asked his sisters. ‘Dear God, what’s up with Rosie?’

‘She’s fine,’ Sarah said, closing the door firmly behind her, knowing it would do no good at all for Danny to catch sight of his wife now.

The breakfast was eaten to a background of groans and cries and the occasional scream or shout and Sarah and Elizabeth were glad to leave the farmhouse. Phelan too found many duties that kept him outside.

By eleven o’clock, Rosie was visibly tiring and Connie and Abigail became concerned. ‘I’m going to have a wee feel about,’ Abigail said. ‘But first I’ll scrub my hands. Seen too many women die because of infection.’

There was a pot of water hanging on the fire in readiness for this and Abigail poured some of it into the basin, and added cold from the bucket by the door. She began washing her hands thoroughly, glad the men, especially the girl’s husband, were out of doors.

‘Now,’ she said, returning to the room. ‘Let’s have a look.’

She lifted the bedclothes up and bent Rosie’s knees and felt gently inside her. Rosie was too far gone to know or care what Abigail was doing and Abigail nodded confidently. ‘I can feel the head. It’s nearly there. She must push through the pain now. Rouse her, Connie, for it’s time for her to help us along.’

Rosie didn’t want to be roused, and certainly didn’t want to push. What was Connie talking about? The pains tearing through her body took her breath away, especially now there was such little space between them. ‘I can’t push,’ she said mutinously.

‘You can and you must,’ Connie said firmly. ‘Take hold of me and when the next pain comes, push with all your heart and soul.’

Rosie pushed but when that almighty effort yielded nothing, Connie said, ‘All right, Rosie, now rest yourself until the next one.’ Rosie wanted to scream at her, tell her to shut up, only she hadn’t breath to do so.

Then Abigail, at the foot of the bed, suddenly cried, ‘Come on, bonny girl, the head is nearly out. Let’s have another gigantic push.’

Rosie gathered her strength and pushed and then felt such an extreme ache between her legs that she screamed and cried in pain, fearing she was going to be ripped in two.

And then it was over. The baby’s body slithered out and its wails filled the room. In the barn, Danny, who had been sawing logs for something to do, lifted his head at the sound and then threw the saw down, overturning the stool in his haste to get indoors.

The door was still closed but he heard movement and above it all the wonderful sound of a child crying. Connie, coming out with soiled linen, saw her son pacing and smiled at him. ‘It’s all over,’ she said. ‘You have a beautiful wee daughter.’

‘Oh Jesus Christ!’ Danny said, relief coursing through him. He felt ten-foot tall. ‘Can I see Rosie?’

‘You’ll see them both when they’re fit to be seen,’ Connie said. ‘Just bide here a wee while longer.’

She left her son and went into the room to see Rosie already suckling her daughter, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Rosie’s eyes met those of her mother-in-law and she asked happily, ‘Can I see Danny?’

Connie smiled. ‘You’ll see him in a minute when we have you tidied up and before he wears a channel in the stone floor.’ She stroked the down of hair on the baby’s head gently with one finger and said, ‘Have you a name for her?’

‘Aye,’ Rosie said. ‘Danny and I discussed it for hours. She’s to be called Bernadette Mary.’ She didn’t go on to say she would call the baby after no set of parents, for then her own might insist other children she might have be called after them. After the life they’d led her, she would not afford them that honour. To choose an independent name seemed safest.

If Connie was surprised the child was not called after her grandmother, or even herself, she made no comment on it. Abigail also looked at the baby. ‘Doesn’t matter how many times it happens,’ she said. ‘Always seems like a miracle. I love helping in homes such as this one where the children are wanted and not seen just as a burden and yet another mouth to feed.’

When Danny was allowed in a little later, Rosie scanned his face for any sign of resentment or disappointment that their firstborn was not a son. She saw none, but she had to be sure. ‘You’re not disappointed that it’s a wee girl we have?’ she asked anxiously.

Danny was mesmerised by the child. Rosie had removed her from her breast, but still held her close, and Danny noted the milky grey-blue eyes as they blinked trying to focus, and was amazed at the perfection of her, this perfect being he’d created with Rosie. ‘Disappointed?’ he said. ‘Not a bit of it. I’m thrilled to bits.’

He was going to add maybe they’d have a son next time, but he stopped himself. He didn’t know whether he’d want to put Rosie through all that pain again. But then again he was a normal man with normal needs and everyone knew that in the Catholic Church it was wrong to plan your family – you had to take whatever God sent.

Added to that, Rosie didn’t look as if she’d suffered overmuch from the ordeal. Her eyes were sparkling and her mood almost euphoric. Rosie was discovering what veteran mothers had told her was true: the trials and rigours of childbirth were instantly forgotten once you’d given birth to a healthy baby.

‘Could you eat a wee bit of something now?’ he asked, knowing she hadn’t eaten for hours, and Rosie laughed. ‘No, I could eat a great lot of something,’ she said. ‘I’ve done a hard job of work and existed on cups of tea since yesterday dinner. I’m famished now.’

‘That’s grand,’ Danny said, glad there was something practical he could do for his young wife. ‘I’ll see to that straight away,’ and he kissed Rosie and planted a kiss on the baby’s cheek before leaving them.