Danny Boy

Danny Boy
Anne Bennett

A deeply moving saga of a young couple with high hopes for a bright future in rural Ireland, only to find themselves embroiled in the uprising of 1916 and having to make a new life for themselves in Birmingham.Rosie’s family doesn’t have much money, but she’s rich in other ways: she loves her life on the farm, her sisters, her friends, and even her spoilt baby brother. When Danny Walsh asks her to walk out with him one Sunday, it’s a dream come true.Everyone agrees that they are made for each other and soon they are married. But Danny’s young brother runs away to join in the uprising of Easter 1916. Danny is a man of peace but has no choice; he must find his brother and bring him home. Before he can be released, Danny must swear to take his place.Danny will never be free of his pledge. He takes Rosie and their small daughter to what they hope is safety in Birmingham – but the fight to survive has just begun, as nobody will employ an Irishman when there’s a war on. With no money coming in, Rosie does the unthinkable and leaves Danny to look after the child while she finds a job in munitions. Little does she realise the danger she is in and what consequences it will have for her and her family. Danny and Rosie will find their resources, spirit and love for each other are tested to the utmost limit before the future is bright again.

Danny Boy

Anne Bennett

To my only son Simon, with all my love.

Table of Contents

Cover Page (#u21882a1f-fca1-5458-b724-aba8db020562)

Title Page (#u96d651e2-d9e4-5ead-999a-379cd0fd304a)

Dedication (#u8f3fc7da-d9db-545a-9891-c8bf8536f6de)

ONE (#u78310fd8-b13f-5967-aa02-30a0fbcb005c)

TWO (#u8d00211c-5e8f-5d70-aad4-bf863626f01f)

THREE (#ufb896a15-4be3-5548-ad7f-1fd8279b5a42)

FOUR (#ud5d7ed0d-6f81-5eab-a50c-4547fa9cb014)

FIVE (#ucf499079-9984-5e01-a793-3c09b1814d75)

SIX (#u1c9da8af-56fc-5fe2-ab6a-8784b09ec538)

SEVEN (#ue2f93a84-d9e5-517b-9234-933b5b36cc1a)

EIGHT (#u919b49d5-ab15-54b4-aca5-db31eea35c38)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS (#litres_trial_promo)

By the same author (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

ONE (#ulink_d3e57aef-65ee-57ed-93bb-bc8ce63df0dd)

Rosie McMullen never thought much of the beauty of the countryside she lived in, like the verdant green hills to each side of the farm. These were speckled with sheep and dotted here and there with cottages very like her own and had rivers that shone like silver ribbons in the sun trickling down them that fed into the large lake beside Blessington village.

She lived with her parents Minnie and Seamus and her two younger sisters, Chrissie and Geraldine, on a small, but prosperous farm just over two miles from the village in County Wicklow, a county that was often dubbed ‘the garden of Ireland’.

She took it all for granted like she did her home, that squat, whitewashed, thatched cottage, with the cobbled yard in front of it, full of strutting hens pecking at the corn and grit. There was a barn to one side of the cottage, a byre to the other, a midden at the back and a spring well in the first field. The cottage itself had a large kitchen with a curtained-off bed, in the corner where Rosie’s parents slept. There were also two other bedrooms, the first and largest one, which opened directly off the kitchen was used by Rosie and her sisters and at the end of that room another door led into a smaller room, which remained unoccupied until Rosie took it over for her first ten years.

From the cottage window, Rosie could see the winding lane leading up to the road with cultivated fields to one side of it and the pasture land to the other side, where the cows stood placidly chewing the cud.

However, Rosie’s childhood was a harsh one, even in this idyllic place and came to an end entirely by the time she was just ten, when in October 1907 her mother gave birth to a baby boy she named Dermot. Rosie’s sisters were eight and six, and from the moment Dermot let out his first newborn wail, it was as if they’d all ceased to exist.

Neither Minnie or her husband had ever been particularly demonstrative with their affections towards the girls, and Minnie especially, was always quick to find fault. She would fly into a temper for little or no reason and smacks, or strokes from the strap was a regular feature of their childhood. They never questioned this, it was just how things were. But, Dermot, they were soon aware, had a totally different kind of upbringing.

At only twenty inches long, Dermot ruled the house and all in it. Neighbours trailed to the house to offer their congratulations and catch a glimpse of this marvellous child, as if Dermot McMullen was the first child born to the family. Seamus’s hand was shook over and over. He was stood drinks at the pub by the men, while the women brought gifts for the baby and cakes and other fancies for the family. The three girls were mostly ignored, but if they were noticed at all, it was only to be asked if they weren’t delighted altogether by their wee brother?