Danny Boy (2 page)

It had rained in the night and dampness still lingered in the air and Geraldine and Chrissie had Dermot between them and they were jumping him over the puddles. Rosie was standing a little way apart watching them, a smile playing at her mouth at the squeals of delight from Dermot and was unaware of the figure beside her, until he spoke.

‘It looks as though the afternoon might turn out nice after all,’ Danny Walsh said to Rosie and she, certain Danny couldn’t be talking to her, looked around to see who he was addressing.

Danny laughed. ‘It’s you I’m speaking to Rosie McMullen,’ he said. ‘And I’d like to take a walk with you this afternoon, if you are agreeable?’

For a moment or two, Rosie was unable to speak, both from astonishment and pleasure and her face flushed with embarrassment.

She didn’t know quite how much the flush suited her and how the blood pumped through Danny’s body at the sight of her pretty, fresh face. He felt his heart soar with joy for the blush and tentative smile told it’s own tale.

‘I must…I must ask my parents,’ Rosie stammered at last, when she’d recovered enough to speak. ‘If…if they have no objections I’d be pleased to walk out with you. What time did you have in mind?’

Danny shrugged. ‘Half past two/three o’clock. Whatever you prefer.’

‘Either would suit me admirably,’ Rosie said.

Minnie and Seamus had no objection to a relationship beginning between Danny Walsh and their daughter. The Walshes were known to them, their farms were nearly adjoining, though they were over two miles apart by road and they knew them to be a respectable, and a good, catholic family.

‘And he’s the eldest,’ Seamus said. ‘Going on for twenty-one now and set to inherit all.’

‘Aye,’ Minnie said. ‘Course Rosie is young yet.’ And a grand help to me, she might have added, for she knew she’d miss that greatly.

‘Old enough to marry,’ Seamus said. ‘Sure, she’ll be seventeen in September, and you were just eighteen when we wed.’

‘Aye,’ Minnie said with a sigh, knowing her willing helper would not be with her much longer. But then Geraldine would be leaving school herself in the summer and Chrissie would still be at home, time to lick the pair of them into some sort of shape.

And so, a courtship began between Rosie and Danny Walsh. Each Sunday afternoon through that long and glorious spring and summer, Danny would call for her and they would go from her home sedately enough until they were out of sight of the farm, whereupon Danny would clasp Rosie to him and kiss her, until she felt she had no breath left in her body.

They would walk hand in hand by the side of the lake and just the touch of Danny’s hand in hers sent heat pounding though Rosie’s body and when he turned to look at her and smile, she felt as if her heart had actually stopped beating.

Rosie regularly visited Danny’s parents, Connie and Matt, and found she liked them very much and knew they liked and approved of her. Phelan, though he liked Rosie, was not above teasing her. On her second visit to the farm he had a grin on his face as he grumbled, ‘Danny’s making me do all the work, since he met you,’

‘You cheeky young pup,’ Danny cried, cuffing his brother, lightly on the side of the head. ‘Bout time you pulled your weight. Anyway, it’s only the evening milking I’ve asked you to do.’

‘Aye, so far.’

‘You turn will come, boy,’ Matt told his younger son. ‘Danny does his share and more, so lets have no more talk about it lest we embarrass our Danny’s young lady.’

Rosie was anything but embarrassed. She loved the teasing
and ribaldry between the family, never having experienced anything like it. As she helped Connie clear away the things from the meal one evening, while the men had a smoke by the fire, she gave her a brief account of her life and the cooking and washing and dairy work she’d done since she’d been a child.

Connie knew some of it of course. She knew too about the baby boy born to the McMullen’s after three daughters and at first she’d been as pleased for them as any of the neighbours, knowing most farmers wanted a son. Made the work all worthwhile if their own flesh and blood was to inherit all they’d worked for but though she’d been delighted herself to have two boys, she fiercely loved her daughters too.

She could talk to her daughters, far more than to her sons and she took pleasure in their company and she’d always hoped that Danny and Phelan would choose women who would fit in with the family, when they took a wife. She was delighted with Danny’s choice and knew she would get on a treat with Rosie and told Matt this later that night when Rosie and Danny had set out for a walk.

‘Mind you,’ she said. ‘I don’t like the set up in that house at all, and that’s not so much from what Rosie said, but more from what she didn’t. And didn’t Danny tell you when he was invited up for a meal, that the wee child was served even before his father and that he held court over the conversation at the table and all had to be quiet and listen to him?’

Matt gave a brief nod. ‘Aye, he did right enough.’

‘God, but they’ll have him ruined,’ Connie said.

‘Do him no good in the long run.’

‘Aye, don’t I know that?’ Connie said with feeling. ‘Course Minnie has always been daft about the boy and never has a good word to say for the girls and from what Danny says is far too free with her hands. Rosie herself let slip that Minnie had used the strap on her more than once.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t understand the woman at all. Rosie, at any rate,
is a daughter I’d be proud to own and I’d welcome her here tomorrow.’

Danny somehow talked Minnie into letting Rosie go to her first social, to show her off he said and Minnie relented enough to buy Rosie a dress when she said she couldn’t go, for she hadn’t suitable clothes. Minnie wouldn’t want the Walshes to think her mean. Rosie didn’t care why the dress was bought, she was just glad it was for she was wild to go and let her friends see the fine man she had. Several girls were already jealous of Rosie’s luck in landing such a grand catch, but Rosie didn’t see Danny as a catch, but as a good and kind man whom she loved with all her heart.

Shay, Danny’s best friend still footloose and fancy free, teased Danny about settling down so young that night at the social. He had noticed a change in his friend over the last few weeks and knew Rosie had captured his heart. ‘Sure, isn’t there plenty of time and the whole world full of women?’

‘Aye, but it’s just the one woman I want,’ Danny said. ‘You’ll know one day. You’ll fall for someone and it will hit you like a ton of bricks and nothing will do you, but marry them.’

‘Well, I wish you joy of it. I’m in no hurry myself.’

‘Just wait until it’s your turn,’ Danny said and he left Shay and went over to claim his sweetheart, who was surrounded by a group of girls. ‘Excuse me ladies,’ he said. ‘I need to have a dance with my lovely Rosie’.

Rosie missed the looks of resentment and envy on many of the girls’ faces for she had eyes only for Danny and he took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor and they made up a set for the Dublin Reel with young people like themselves. ‘Enjoying yourself?’ Danny asked. As the music came to an end and the partners bowed to one another.

‘Ever so.’

‘Well, it won’t be the last time you go to a dance I promise,’ Danny said. ‘You shouldn’t be stuck away in some farmhouse
all the time, for just to look at the beauty of you would brighten anyone’s dull life.’

‘Oh, Danny, you say such silly things.’

‘True things,’ Danny said and Rosie was unable to answer for she was swung away by another man, as the music changed to a polka. The man had his arm tight about her waist and the pace was such that there was little time or breath to talk and she was glad to take a rest at the end of it and hang onto Danny’s arm and accept the glass of homemade lemonade he had ready for her for she was out of breath. It was a wonderful, magical evening and later in bed that night she went over Danny’s words again and again, as she did after every date and they warmed her very soul.

In fact, she thought about Danny nearly every waking minute and dreamed of him every night. With every passing hour and day, she loved Danny Walsh more and knew she would do anything in the world to please him.

One Sunday afternoon in late June, they climbed the Wicklow Hills. They’d been before, but never so high and eventually, Danny called a halt, hauling Rosie up to join him. They stood and looked about them, the lake shimmering blue in the sunshine that lit up the hillside. ‘Have you ever been up there?’ Danny said, pointing his hand way into the distance. It was a clear day and they could see for miles.

‘Sugar Loaf Mountain?’ Rosie said, recognising its distinctive granite summit where it was said nothing grew at all, although it was miles away. She shivered. ‘No. I’d be afraid. They say the Devil walks there at will.’

‘Jesus, Rosie, you can’t believe that?’ Danny cried. ‘It’s a tale put about to frighten the weans. Shay and I always promised ourselves we’d go there one day and stay the night, just to prove there was nothing to be scared of, but we never did get around to it.’

Rosie liked Shay Ferguson. The Walshes and Fergusons were good friends and Shay and Danny had been inseparable since
their school days, just as Shay’s brother Niall was with Phelan now. ‘We used to get up to some high jinks as lads,’ Danny said. ‘We even had a den. Don’t know if I could find it now, if it’s still standing that is. It was an old shepherds’ shelter, but we thought it a grand place. We became blood brothers together there, slicing our fingers with our pen knives to mingle the blood.’

Danny gave a short laugh at the memory. ‘Little wonder we didn’t bleed to death, or get an infection,’

He put his arm protectively around Rosie. ‘There’s no need though for you to fear anything any more, Rosie McMullen for I will never let anything harm you in all your life.’

‘Oh Danny.’

‘Do you love me, Rosie?’

‘Oh yes, I haven’t enough words to tell you how much.’

Danny sank to the ground and Rosie was glad to sit beside him on the springy turf, for her legs had begun to tremble. They lay together clasped tight and when Danny began kissing Rosie, she felt those strange yearnings beginning in her body which she barely understood. Danny fumbled at her top until her breasts were partly exposed and as his tongue gently parted her lips, she felt such excitement and pleasure, she could no more tell him to stop, than she could prevent the sun from shining.

Dear God! She knew right from wrong, but never knew about this, this passion that could rise up in you. When Danny’s lips began to nuzzle at her breasts, she pressed him closer her whole yearning for him. Yes. Oh yes, and she pushed her fist in her mouth to prevent her saying the words aloud.

But she couldn’t help the cry escape her when Danny slid his hands between her legs. She felt she’d died with happiness and she cried. ‘Go on. Oh Danny, please go on.’

And how much Danny wanted to. God, he loved Rosie so much it hurt and he knew now, this minute, she would stop
him doing nothing and that she wanted for them to be truly together as much as he did.

He pulled away reluctantly, though his groin ached with desire. He had to be strong and sensible for both of them. He was four years older than Rosie, and he had to be the one to put on the brakes, for she seemed incapable of it. He didn’t want her disgraced, her family dragged through the mud with her, the wedding rushed and baby born a scant six months later and all claiming it was premature. He’d seen that enough times and didn’t want it for his Rosie.

After that though, their courtship became more ardent and their lovemaking more and more intimate, until there were few places on Rosie’s body Danny hadn’t explored. Rosie, with Danny’s urging, had touched him too, feeling his strong muscles move beneath her hands and she had even felt the throbbing hardness of his manhood.

Each time, Danny would pull away from Rosie with difficulty and she would return home frustrated and filled with desire. She didn’t know what it cost Danny to resist, for he was burning up himself.

‘Oh God, Danny,’ Rosie said breathlessly one evening at the farm gate, as Danny pulled away from a passionate embrace. ‘Christ, I can’t stand this much longer.’

Danny too felt they had waited long enough. ‘Rosie, do you love me, as I love you with all your heart and soul?’

‘I love you with all my being,’ Rosie told him earnestly. ‘Danny, I’d need a lifetime to show you how much.’

‘Then you’ll have a lifetime,’ Danny said emphatically. ‘Rosie, will you marry me?’

‘Oh Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.’

‘Then my darling, we’ll talk to your parents tomorrow evening’ Danny promised.

But, despite Minnie’s indifference to her daughter, she had seen Rosie come home flustered time and enough and knew what ailed her. She hoped Danny Walsh had respect for Rosie
and that Rosie had worn her sensible head when she was with him, for she knew well enough what could happen to young couples allowed out alone. So she was relieved and pleased that Danny came to see them and asked for permission to marry Rosie and readily gave their permission. Connie and Matt weren’t averse to this either, for they weren’t fools and had seen the way things were going for some time and the wedding was set for October 1914, a month after Rosie’s seventeenth birthday.

Rosie began sitting by the fire each evening that she didn’t see Danny, sewing things for her bottom drawer. Geraldine was an accomplished seamstress and helped her, but Chrissie had no interest in it at all. Rosie looked at the cobbled mess Chrissie had made of the sheets she’d offered to hem and knew she’d have to unpick the stitches and begin again. She knew Chrissie had tried though and said nothing to her.

Not so their mother. ‘Who in God’s name would marry a woman who barely knows how to thread a needle?’ she demanded, giving Chrissie a cuff across the head so hard that it knocked her from the stool. Chrissie’s face burned but her eyes remained dry. She said not a word to her mother, but once she’d left the room she whispered to her sisters, ‘Am I worried? I don’t think so. There are more ways of satisfying a man than sewing a button on his shirt.’