Danny Boy

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.’