Danny Boy. Anne Bennett

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СКАЧАТЬ much to her in the first place. It could have been that, but just as easily it could be the reticence of a boy on the verge of manhood, unsure and a bit nervous of the changes he would be starting to notice in his body. His voice had definitely changed. He’d gone through the embarrassing squeaks and gruffness and the times he’d begun to speak in a high voice and it had dropped an octave, or vice versa, but now it had settled down to a level that marked his childhood as being almost over.

      Then, one beautiful mid-April day, there came a pounding on Connie’s door. Few people knocked on the door and Rosie, coming from the room where she’d just laid the baby down for a nap, glanced quickly at Connie who was stirring a pot above the fire. She left off and crossed the room.

      Dermot almost fell in the door as she opened it. His face was scarlet, his breath coming in short gasps as he struggled for air. It was obvious he’d been running for some time and fear clutched at Rosie. ‘What is it? What’s happened? Is it Mammy?’

      ‘No. No,’ Dermot spluttered between gulps of air. ‘It’s nobody. Nothing like that.’

      ‘Then what…?’

      ‘You must come, Rosie,’ he said, pulling at her skirts. ‘You must come and see.’ He was jumping from one foot to the other in agitation.

      ‘See what?’

      His eyes slithered over to Connie and he muttered, ‘I can’t tell you. You must come.’

      Connie was amused. ‘Go on with the child. See what is so important,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about the baby, I’ll see to her if she should wake.’

      Rosie only waited to grab her shawl from the room before taking Dermot’s hand. She was grateful for the shawl Connie had given her for Christmas in these chilly spring months. It was of the softest wool, not thick but warm despite that, and it was a deep russet colour. ‘Coats are all very well,’ Connie had told her on the quiet, ‘for Mass and all, and it sets you apart, but a shawl is much easier for carrying a baby or a small wean.’

      And how right she was, Rosie thought. Her arms were nearly pulled from their sockets carrying her child to her mother’s and she’d thought she would have to leave her behind soon and make her visits briefer until Bernadette was able to walk the distance. But with a shawl she could have her on her back, the shawl around the both of them and tied securely at the front to keep Bernadette safe.

      Now she wrapped her shawl around her as she followed Dermot. She had no idea where she was being taken. ‘Why aren’t you at school, anyway?’ she asked her little brother as he led her around the edge of the fields.

      ‘It’s holidays,’ Dermot told her indignantly. ‘For Easter. We broke up yesterday.’

      ‘Oh, right. Well, where are you taking me then?’

      ‘I’m not saying. You have to see it for yourself.’

      Phelan, digging over one of the fields, watched the progress of the two with narrowed eyes. He wondered what had brought Dermot pell-mell to the cottage door and where he was taking Rosie, for it was obvious from the direction they were going in he was not making for his own place. Dermot had never come to the farm before without at least acknowledging Phelan and usually tagged along beside him. That morning Dermot had seemed preoccupied with something else and hadn’t even seen Phelan’s hand lifted in greeting. Something was up and prickles of alarm ran down Phelan’s spine.

      He lifted his head. His father and Danny were over planting in another field behind the tall hedge and Phelan threw his spade down with such force it sliced into the moist earth, and he set off to follow Rosie and Dermot.

      They toiled up the hillside, too breathless to speak much, and suddenly Rosie guessed where they were heading. Somehow, Dermot had found Danny’s secret hideaway, the one Danny had told her about, the one Sarah had recently mentioned. She wondered if he’d left treasures behind, things a young boy would value, and that was what had excited Dermot.

      And yet, she recalled it hadn’t been delight on Dermot’s face when he’d hammered on the door. There had been something else there…Trepidation. Even fear.

      She turned to ask him but he’d already stopped. ‘It’s in there,’ he said, pointing. Rosie looked at him. Where Dermot was pointing was an impregnable wall of brambles and bushes. ‘We can’t go through that,’ she protested.

      ‘Aye we can,’ Dermot assured her. ‘Look.’

      He held back a bush expertly and exposed a hole that had been hacked between the greenery with the bushes left at the front of hide it, which they did effectively. ‘I found this when I was bringing the sheep down with Daddy a few days ago,’ Dermot said. ‘One of them got stuck in there, its horns caught around the bramble bushes, and Daddy was miles away. Took me ages to free the sheep and pulling at it like that, I saw the hole. I didn’t tell Daddy or anyone, but I thought as soon as school finished I would come up here and explore.’

      ‘And what did you find?’

      ‘You’ll soon see.’

      Rosie looked at the uninviting hole, dim because little light penetrated through the canopy that would be above her head and so low that she would be bent nearly double. She had no desire to go in there. Hadn’t this gone far enough? Dermot was too used to grown-ups giving in to him. She’d left in the middle of a busy morning to come traversing the hillside on the mere whim of a child.

      ‘Look, Dermot,’ she said. ‘I can’t do this. I must go back.’

      ‘Oh no!’ Dermot cried and Rosie saw actual tears in his eyes. ‘You must come. You must see…I can’t tell anyone else.’

      ‘Oh, Dermot.’

      ‘Please?’ he pleaded. ‘I’ll hold the bushes for you.’

      Rosie gave a sigh and decided she really must find out what had affected her young brother. Bending low, she entered the tunnel. Dermot slipped in behind her and the bushes fell into place with a rustle.

      Now it was darker than ever, for the canopy above them successfully hid them from the sun. Unseen branches tugged at Rosie’s hair, scratched at her face and snagged at her shawl. Time and again she had to stop to disentangle herself and Dermot would often cannon into the back of her. She was glad of her stout everyday boots that protected her feet from what was underfoot, though she stumbled many a time.

      It was impossible to talk and so even when Rosie saw the undergrowth thinning and the dappled light shining between the trees, she made no comment.

      Then, suddenly, they were in a clearing. Someone had taken the trouble to cut down the bushes surrounding the cottage. Danny had told her the place had originally been used by shepherds years before, and had been nearly falling down when Danny had used it.

      Because of that, Rosie had expected to see a ruin, but this cottage was no ruin. It had new walls built up and was recently whitewashed, the rotting thatch that had obviously been on the roof was lying in a heap to the side of it and had been replaced by new. Even the door seemed new.

      ‘Is this what you had to show me?’ Rosie asked.

      Dermot shook his head. ‘Not the cottage alone,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

      As they approached the place, Rosie noticed the solitary window was СКАЧАТЬ