Danny Boy (17 page)

‘Surely we can wait till morning?’

‘Jesus, Rosie, did you not listen to a word I said. The men are raging and could descend on us at any time,’ Shay said, visibly nervous. ‘Dear God, Rosie, I’m terrified myself, so I am.’

It was Shay’s reaction that finally convinced Rosie that they had to leave and right away. She hoped it wouldn’t be forever – God knows she’d miss the place. Connie came into the room, then, as Rosie was packing, and said in a horrified whisper, ‘God, child, this is terrible. You can’t go just like this.’

‘I can’t not go,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s too dangerous for us to stay here.’

‘But like this…skulking away in the dead of night as if you have done something to be ashamed of.’

‘Mammy, I dislike it as much as you.’

‘Would you think of leaving the child?’

‘No, Mammy,’ Rosie said horrified. ‘I’d never rest away from her and I don’t know how long we’ll have to hide.’

Connie heard the catch in Rosie’s voice and took her in her arms as she cried out her fear and helplessness. ‘The happiest time of my life has been here,’ Rosie told Connie faithfully. ‘I love you all dearly and I’ll miss you sorely. But
Shay believes they will come for Danny, and soon, and if Danny was to be killed, life for me would lose all meaning,’ and she remembered the time she thought she would never see him again. Now she knew how Danny had stood against the IRA’s demands, the dilemma of which had caused him to behave so oddly, she loved him more than ever and knew for his sake and his safety she would follow him to the ends of the earth.

‘I know what he means to you, Rosie,’ Connie said, ‘and if you must go away then you must. I’ll put some food together for you.’

‘Thank you, Mammy’, Rosie said, glad that Connie understood, but it was with a heavy heart that she began to pack up their clothes and other items she’d hate to leave behind, although she knew they had to travel as lightly as possible.

She’d almost finished when Connie came in with parcels of food and another large, linen-wrapped bundle. ‘The clock,’ she said. ‘Have you space for it?’

‘Mammy, I can’t take that,’ Rosie protested. ‘It’s the family clock.’

‘And aren’t you still family even though you will be so far away?’

‘Aye, but…’

‘Child, I have nothing else I can give you.’

‘I want nothing.’

‘Take it to please me. It will be your link with home.’

Rosie was touched and she knew it was important to Connie that she take the clock and so she didn’t protest further.

‘God, girl, for this to happen? Connie said. ‘My heart is broken, so it is.’

‘Ah, Mammy,’ Rosie said, and she put her arms around Connie and they cried together.

‘Come on,’ said Matt suddenly at the door. ‘You must away quickly. There’s no time for tears now.’

Rosie knew he was right and yet she understood Connie’s
distress, She picked the still-sleeping Bernadette up, wrapped her in a warm shawl for the night air was treacherous and hurried out into the kitchen where Danny stood ready.

‘Have you enough money, Danny?’ Matt asked as they stood at the door with a very impatient and obviously nervous Shay beside them. ‘Aye, Daddy,’ Danny replied, ‘and I mean to get a job as soon as I’m able.’

‘Just in case it’s not as easy as you think,’ Matt said, pushing two ten pound notes into his hand.

‘Ah, Daddy no…’

‘Yes,’ Matt insisted, and went on, ‘It’s all right to be stiff-necked when you only have yourself to think about, but if you won’t take money for yourself then take it for Rosie and wee Bernadettte.’

Danny gave a brief nod and pocketed the money.

‘Will you not at least bid the girls farewell and Phelan too?’ Connie asked.

‘No,’ Danny said. ‘There’s no time, and anyway, the fewer that know the better.’

Matt at least understood that. ‘How are you going?’ he asked.

‘Across the fields, it’s quicker.’

‘Then take a lantern or you’ll break your neck,’ Matt said, giving them the one lit in the kitchen. With another tearful hug the four were on their way.

It was much shorter to Shay’s father’s farm across the fields, but it was a cold and miserable journey and Rosie was afraid she’d stumble and fall, and drop the child. She knew she would be glad when she reached the farmhouse.

‘Why is your father putting himself out like this?’ Danny asked. ‘I mean, it’s a fair hike for anyone, and in the dead of night too.’

‘He owes you a favour,’ Shay said. ‘He’s always felt it since you stood in for Niall last Easter. This is his way of paying back the debt. Anyway, it wouldn’t do for your own father
to be seen to be away from the farm the night you disappeared. I’ll not be suspected because I was with them tonight, and my family too will be semi-protected by that. This is the most sensible way.’

Maybe, thought Rosie. But she could list a whole lot of things she would put under the label of sensible before this trek they were to undertake through this coal-black night. But she didn’t share her thoughts.

Danny grasped Shay’s hand suddenly. ‘I’ll never forget this, Shay,’ he said. ‘I know we’ve been mates for always, though we’ve different opinions about how to obtain Home Rule, but I know what you have risked coming here this night.’

There was a lump in Shay’s throat as he put his arms around Danny. How he wished things could be different but he’d done what he could to protect him, because he knew he was no traitor. ‘Go, on now,’ he urged, ‘and Godspeed.’

And they turned the corner at the bottom of the lane to see Willie, having heard them approach, leading the horse before the cottage.

‘Now are you comfortable enough, for it’s a fine step of a journey we have before us?’ Willie Ferguson asked, tucking a blanket around Rosie and her child as they lay in the cart.

‘Aye. Yes, I’m grand,’ Rosie said. ‘Are you coming in too, Danny?’

Danny still wondered if they were over-reacting, whether this headlong dash was really necessary, but if Shay and Willie were right then he didn’t think he could hide away in the back of the cart. He should be up at the front beside Willie where he could watch out for danger for any one of them, but he wasn’t going to tell Rosie this. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I have no sleep on me to tell you the truth. I’ll stay up here with Willie for a while.’

Rosie had her hands too full with Bernadette to argue the point. The night air had eventually roused the child and Rosie held her tight against her and fervently hoped the cart’s movements would send her off again. She was bone-weary and in no fit state to deal with an active and wide-awake toddler.

Rosie did eventually doze off, but as the cart went over stony ground or the sides of fields in an attempt to avoid the roads, she was thrown from side to side and jerked awake often, so that any sleep she snatched was fitful.

As the cart pulled into the outskirts of Dublin, she awoke with a pounding headache and saw Danny slumbering beside her. She eased the sleeping child from her stiff arms and lay her gently beside her father. She watched her settle against Danny with a sigh and smiled. She thanked God she’d got over any strangeness she had had with her father. Danny had tried hard with her, she had to admit, for even when he ranged against the whole world, it had never included Bernadette whom he loved with a passion. She clambered up to see where they were, but it was too dark to see anything much.

It was still cold, and as soon as Rosie left the relative shelter of the cart she felt the chill dampness in the air and it hardly helped her feel more optimistic about what fate lay before them.

‘Is it awake you are there?’ Willie said. ‘We’ll be coming to the canal before too long. Baggot Street’s not far away then at all.’ He glanced over at Rosie as he spoke. ‘You all right?’

‘No, Willie, I’m not,’ Rosie heard herself saying, too dispirited and nervous to pretend. ‘I feel sick with fear every time I remember what Shay said, and I’m heart sore to be leaving all that I hold dear behind, not to mention my native land too, for some strange and alien place.’

‘I’d feel the same,’ Willie said. ‘God, sure Ireland is where I’d want to bide till my time is up, but it’s not a safe place for you all to linger in just now. Please God you’ll be able to come back soon.’

Rosie felt the pressure of two hands on her shoulders, and turning she saw Danny had wakened and was behind her.

‘I’ll make it up to you, Rosie, I promise,’ he said and he kissed her cheek.

Rosie’s stomach gave a lurch and she knew she loved and adored this man, and life without him was unthinkable. Whatever sort of place Birmingham was, she could cope if she had Danny beside her. ‘I know, Danny,’ she said, smiling,
and set her face resolutely towards Dublin and the future, whatever it held.

The nuns welcomed Rosie back warmly, even at that early hour, and were courteous with Danny, enchanted by Bernadette, laughing when she said she was freezing cold and hungry.

Willie hadn’t gone into the convent with them, though they’d pressed him to at least have a warm drink. He’d refused, too anxious to get back home before he was missed.

After they’d all eaten, Danny spoke to the Reverend Mother about the reason for their intrusion in the convent and she said he’d done the right thing; the only thing. ‘Dublin, though, is not a place you can bide for long safely,’ she said. ‘Handsworth will be safer and that is where you must go. As soon as the day is properly begun we will send the Reverend Mother there a telegram and ask them to put you up for a wee while. Until we receive their answer it would be better for you to stay in the convent and not go outside for anything. You don’t know who might be on the streets at all.’

As Sister Cuthbert had spent some years in Handsworth, the Reverend Mother asked her to send the telegram and stress the urgency of getting the family away from Ireland as speedily as possible. The answer came that very afternoon. The Walsh family would be welcome.

‘Now, you need to get to Kingstown to the mail boat,’ Sister Cuthbert told them. ‘There is a train going from Westmoreland Station and there is a mail boat which leaves on the evening tide – you might just make it.’

‘If it’s all the same to you,’ Rosie said. ‘I think I need a good night’s sleep in a proper bed and so does Bernadette. I’d rather stay here the night and leave in the morning.’

Danny would rather have left as soon as possible, but agreed to abide by Rosie’s decision for he’d seen the strain lines on her face and knew, however inadvertently, he was the one
who had put them there. ‘It will be all right, Rosie,’ he assured her that night as he held her tightly in bed. ‘It might be a wee bit strange at first, but we’ll cope if we’re together.’

‘Of course we will,’ Rosie said, glad of the dark that hid her expression from Danny. When his even breathing told her he was finally asleep, she cried the tears she’d held back all day, taking care to muffle them in a pillow.

Bernadette woke full of beans the next morning, ready for whatever the day might throw at her, while her parents were full of trepidation. After a hurriedly eaten breakfast, the family were ready for the off and Sister Cuthbert said she would lead them as far as the station. ‘Wouldn’t do to draw attention to yourselves asking directions of a passer-by,’ she said. ‘It’s a sad fact, but you can be sure of no-one in Dublin today.’

And will it ever be safe again? Rosie thought as she lifted Bernadette into her arms, tied her securely inside the shawl and picked up her large bag. ‘Wait,’ cried Sister Miriam, hurrying from the kitchen just as Danny and Rosie were preparing to leave. ‘We’re not as badly off as we were last time you came to visit,’ she said to Rosie and put some small packages into Rosie’s hands. ‘A little something for the journey.’

‘Ah, sure you’ve done enough,’ Rosie protested.

‘We’ve done very little,’ Sister Miriam said, ‘and I’ll not have you arriving at our sister convent faint from hunger. Think at least of the child.’

Rosie didn’t argue further and tucked the packages well down into the bag. Soon the small group was walking through the dark morning. The sun wouldn’t rise for some time yet, but at least there was little wind, Rosie thought, praying that would mean the journey across the Channel might be a smooth one.

It was probably as well she didn’t know how turbulent the Irish Sea could be, but first there was the station to contend with and that was unnerving enough. The steam trains already
in panted black smoke into the stale air like some wild beasts. Water dribbled onto the rails beneath them with a hiss and spit of steam and occasionally one of these untamed beasts would let out a screeching whistle. The first time this happened, Bernadette let out a scream to match the train in decibels, and wriggled in Rosie’s arms as if she wanted to bury herself deeper. Rosie held on to her, taking comfort from the child’s warm body because the noise had unnerved her just as much.

Danny came back with the tickets he’d bought. He didn’t seem fazed by any of it and began loading their luggage onto the train. Rosie was anxious to get them all aboard, away from any curious eyes, and she hitched Bernadette around onto one hip while she embraced Sister Cuthbert.

‘Write to me when you’re settled,’ the nun urged. ‘Tell me how things are?’

‘I will,’ Rosie promised, and Sister Cuthbert’s lips brushed Bernadette’s forehead and she ran her hands over her golden curls.

‘Look after her,’ she said. ‘You have a treasure there.’

Danny said emotionally, ‘That’s what I’m trying to do, care for them both. D’you think I’d be trailing them to England if there was any other way?’

‘No, Danny,’ Sister Cuthbert replied. ‘You’re doing the only thing possible and I wish you Godspeed.’

If Rosie hadn’t been so apprehensive she might have enjoyed that train ride through the dark morning, finding the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks and the slight sway quite soothing. Bernadette eventually relaxed enough to let go of her mother’s neck.

They saw nothing of the town, even though the day had lightened a little, for they were ushered speedily from the train to the harbour where a mail boat awaited, rocking slightly in the water. ‘
The Hibernian
,’ Danny read out from the side. ‘Now we’ll see if we have sea legs or not.’

Rosie thought she’d not die dissatisfied if she never had to put that to the test, but she chided herself that that was no way to go on. There would be tougher times ahead, she was sure. And yet she hesitated at the gangplank, looking down at the sudsy grey water lapping around the sides of the boat. ‘God, wouldn’t you hate to end up in that?’

‘Aye,’ Danny agreed, ‘and we’ll take care not to.’

Rosie followed Danny, who carried Bernadette up the gangplank, past the sailor checking the tickets and boarding passes and up to the deck where Danny pointed out the two piers almost enclosing the harbour. ‘That gap doesn’t look big enough for this boat, does it?’ Rosie said fearfully.

‘I know what you mean,’ Danny said. ‘But it must be, for they travel this route twice every day. Mind, I’d say you’d have to be a good pilot to steer it so well.’

Bernadette was shouting to be let down, but the deck, with the water slapping and swirling to the sides of them, was no place for a toddler, and though the early morning was cold, Rosie didn’t want to go inside yet. She wanted to wait until the boat was moving and so Danny put down the bags and case and lifted Bernadette onto his shoulders.

It wasn’t a long wait they had. Soon the gangplank was raised and the thick hawsers unwound from the bollards on the dockside. Then the ship gave a shrill shriek that caused Bernadette to put her hands over her ears, the engines throbbed into life, black smoke billowed from the two funnels and the boat moved slowly through the swirling frothy water.

Rosie waited until the boat had successfully negotiated the gap between the East Pier and the West and was in the open sea before she turned again and looked at the shores of Ireland disappearing into the murky gloom of the morning. Guessing some of her thoughts, Danny put a hand on her shoulder. ‘We’ll be back one day,’ he said. ‘This won’t be forever.’

Rosie sighed. She wasn’t at all sure of that, but she wasn’t
going to share her fears. ‘Aye, I know,’ she told Danny instead and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

‘Come on, let’s go in,’ he said, ‘Bernadette must be cold for I surely am.’

Inside, the noise and the smell of cigarettes and Guinness hit them. ‘Do you want a drink?’ Danny asked. ‘Shall I see if I can get us a cup of tea each and some milk for Bernadette here?’

‘Aye,’ Rosie said. ‘A cup of something might settle my stomach.’

‘I’m feeling that way myself,’ Danny said, putting Bernadette down.

Bernadette took some watching. Everything was new and exciting and she wanted to explore so Rosie was constantly running after her and bringing her back, which didn’t help her churning stomach.

The tea Danny eventually brought back was welcome, but it didn’t make Rosie feel less sick and she had barely finished it when she had to run out to the deck and deposit most of her early breakfast into the sea.

Half an hour later, Rosie thought she’d never felt so ill in the whole of her life. Danny was little better. ‘It’s not sea legs we want,’ she told Danny. ‘It’s sea stomachs!’

‘Aye,’ Danny said. ‘Thank God Bernadette seems to be all right.’

‘Aye,’ Rosie agreed with feeling, not at all sure she could have coped with the child being sick as well.

But Bernadette was being happily entertained by the antics of a family near to them. The woman looked from Bernadette’s smiling face to the green-tinged ones of her parents and asked sympathetically, ‘First time over?’

‘Aye.’

‘I was sick as a dog the first time too,’ the woman said. ‘I’m well used to it now.’

Rosie wasn’t sure she could ever become used to it, for the
bile continued to cause her to run to the rail, along with other passengers, even when her stomach was empty.

She was so glad to see the shoreline of Wales in the distance, for she knew her ordeal would soon be at an end.

On the train she felt slightly better and pointed out the landscape to Bernadette. As they left Holyhead behind, the fields with the mountains in the distance was so reminiscent of Ireland that Rosie felt a sharp pang of homesickness.

They passed over a girdered metal bridge and noted the sea on either side of it and Rosie said to Danny, ‘Where the boat came in, at that place, Holyhead, must be on an island.’

Before Danny could answer, another passenger in the compartment said in an accent Rosie found hard to place, ‘You’re right, it’s the Island of Anglesey and this bridge goes over the Menai Straits.’

‘Thank you,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s our first time over here.’

‘Well, I know from your accent where you’re from. Where are you bound for?’

‘Birmingham,’ Danny said.

‘Birmingham, is it,’ the man said. ‘You have work there?’

Danny thought it better not to tell the man too much. He said. ‘Aye, my uncle’s getting me set on with him in one of the factories.’ He shot Rosie a warning glance as he spoke, but she knew what he was doing.

‘Plenty of work around now, I’d say,’ the man went on. ‘Making stuff for the war.’

Beside her, Rosie felt Danny stiffen. She knew he’d be against making anything for a war that had nothing to do with Ireland, but while that was all well and good, a job was still a job. Even if they were staying in England for a short time, they couldn’t live on fresh air.

She said none of this. When they got to Birmingham and saw what was what, Danny would surely see the sense of that himself.

The train was travelling along by the sea, steel-grey waves fringed white on the dull April day, but Rosie could imagine the beauty of it in the sunshine, shimmering blue like Blessington Lake and surrounded by mountains.