Danny Boy

‘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.

THREE (#ulink_c02a9598-7dea-5a21-aa7f-b27fa51d5327)

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.