Danny Boy. Anne Bennett

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      Geraldine’s little jacket was better, and Rosie thanked them both and showed them her other gifts. Pride of place were the two dresses Elizabeth and Sarah had given her, both in brilliant white satin and with smocking so fine and beautiful that Geraldine said, ‘They’re lovely, Rosie, both of them. Is Bernadette being christened in one of these?’

      ‘No,’ Rosie answered. ‘Mammy – Connie, you know – has the family christening gown. It’s beautiful and kept between layers of tissue paper in a trunk in the loft. She’s washed it to freshen it up and it looks like new. It would so please her for Bernadette to wear it.’

      ‘I love the cradle,’ Chrissie said, tipping the rocker gently with her foot.

      ‘It’s beautiful, all that carving on the side,’ Geraldine said. ‘Is that a family heirloom too?’

      ‘Aye, but Danny did it up, you know, and gave it another coat or two of varnish. Mammy has spent the last weeks hemming cot sheets and nappies from a bolt of soft cotton she bought, and she’s bought the softest woollen blankets too.’

      But of either of the families, the one totally besotted by the child was Dermot. He’d spend ages just looking at her. The first day the girls called was a Saturday and Bernadette was four days old and he had insisted on coming with them. After that, he prised money from his piggy bank and went after school and chose the best rattle in the shop for his little niece.

      The following Saturday they called again and Dermot had the rattle with him and waved it from side to side above Bernadette’s head, but gently so as not to startle her. He was delighted when Bernadette’s reflexes caused her to clasp his fingers and Rosie, watching him, thought it would have been the making of him if he’d not been the youngest in the family.

      ‘Would you like to hold her, Dermot?’ she said.

      ‘Can I?’

      ‘Surely you can.’

      ‘I’ll not drop her, Rosie.’

      ‘I know you won’t. Sit you up on the bed and open up your arms.’

      Even Chrissie and Geraldine smiled at the awe on the young boy’s face as he held the baby close to him, and so did Connie when she came into the room with refreshments for them all.

      ‘Are you excited about tomorrow?’ Chrissie asked Rosie, biting into one of the biscuits.

      ‘A bit. Are you?’

      ‘No, I’m scared to death.’

      ‘You only have to do the responses,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s all written down and Sarah can go first if you like.’

      ‘Oh I’ll probably be all right when I start,’ Chrissie said. She and Sarah were to be Bernadette’s godmothers, and Phelan the child’s godfather, for the baby’s christening the next day. It was to be a lavish affair, with a large party afterwards in the Walshes’ house. With the help of her daughters when they were home, Connie had been baking and cooking almost since the day the child was born.

      Rosie was pleased at the fuss being made, although she protested that Connie was doing too much. The next day, as she stood before the altar of the church with the sun shining through the stained glass in the windows to send a myriad of coloured lights dancing in front of them, she felt such peace and contentment. Here she was, beside the man she loved, welcomed so warmly into his family. Her own were in pews behind, together with neighbours and friends, and Rosie felt tears of happiness in her eyes.

      She wouldn’t let herself cry, though, not at her own child’s christening, and she passed the baby to Sarah as the priest indicated. If Sarah noticed Rosie’s over-bright eyes she knew she would make no comment about it, for her own voice had been a little shaky when she made the responses.

      

      Rosie wasn’t aware straight away that Sarah was raging about something. She was too busy showing off her baby and accepting the praise and presents of all those friends, neighbours and relatives who’d crowded into the Walshes’ house after the christening.

      Bernadette eventually went to sleep and Rosie took her into the room away from the noise and laid her in the cradle. It was on coming out again that she caught sight of Sarah’s face and knew she was in a temper then right enough, for Sarah’s feelings were always portrayed in her face.

      The looks she shot across the room to her Sam, who was drinking deep of the beer Matt had bought and talking earnestly to Shay, should have rendered him senseless on the stone-flagged floor. ‘Lover’s tiff?’ Rosie enquired lightly.

      ‘No,’ Sarah hissed back. ‘It’s that pair, on about the war and places none of us have heard of – Wipers and Gallipoli – and how over two hundred thousand have died now and a good percentage of them Irish men and boys. It’s not the time or place to discuss such a thing, if there is ever a suitable time. I told them straight, but God, there’s no stopping them when they get together. You’d think they were planning a revolution. They’ll be at Danny next, you see if they’re not.’

      ‘They can try,’ Rosie said. She remembered the conversation she’d had with Danny when war had been declared, just two months before their wedding. In no time at all recruiting officers had toured Ireland, gathering up zealous volunteers and Danny had assured Rosie that he was one man who had no intention of joining that war, or any other war come to that. ‘Why should I help England?’ he’d said. ‘They’ve gone to the aid of Belgium because Germany has invaded them, taking over their country and oppressing the people. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic, for isn’t that the very thing that England have been doing to Ireland for years? If I ever took up arms it would be to gain Ireland’s freedom. And I have no reason to do that, for Ireland will get Home Rule in the end. It’s there, ready to be implemented, and is only postponed because of the war. Eventually, Ireland will be a united country and hopefully without a shot being fired.’

      So Rosie was able to say categorically, ‘Danny will never be tempted that way. Particularly now that he’s a family man.’

      ‘It’s good to be so sure of him,’ Sarah said. ‘And you’re right, of course, Danny has too much sense. At this minute I want to walk up to Sam and hit him across the top of the head with something heavy.’

      Rosie laughed. ‘Och, Sarah, don’t mind him. Isn’t it just the beer talking?’

      ‘I wish it were just that, Rosie,’ Sarah said. ‘But he goes on the same way when he’s stone-cold sober. Of course, Shay encourages him too.’

      Connie, who’d been keeping a weather eye on Rosie, for she was still officially lying in, came up to her at that point. ‘Don’t be doing too much now,’ she warned. ‘Or your milk will dry up.’

      ‘Aye, I know,’ Rosie said. She did feel weary all of a sudden and so she said, ‘I do feel a bit wobbly now you mention it. I’m away for a lie down, if that’s all right.’

      Danny saw Rosie detach herself from his mother and sister and followed her into the bedroom. ‘You all right?’ he whispered, mindful of the sleeping baby as he sat down on the bed beside Rosie.

      ‘Aye, I’m grand,’ Rosie said. ‘Just a wee bit tired.’

      ‘Bed’s the best place then,’ Danny told her. ‘You get tucked up СКАЧАТЬ