Danny Boy (33 page)

Rosie, knowing how Danny felt, didn’t let on when her boots began to leak, nor tell him she seldom had a pair of stockings to wear. She also kept from Danny the little amount she was eating, though she always had a meal to put before him. ‘Where’s yours?’ he would ask.

‘I had mine earlier with Bernadette.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Eat away. I couldn’t eat another mouthful myself.’

Danny would eat then and feel less guilty and Rosie would hope her stomach wouldn’t rumble and betray the little she had in it, a couple of potatoes with salt or the heel of a loaf with a scraping of cheap margarine or lard. There was not enough money to feed them all adequately and so Bernadette had to be catered for first in Rosie’s eyes. Bernadette was the only child she would ever have and so she reasoned she had to look after her well, keep her fit enough to fight off infections and such-like. Then Danny had to be kept as healthy as possible, so that he’d be able to do a job when one did come up.

So she lived on a subsistence diet in order that Danny and Bernadette ate moderately well, and viewed the future with trepidation.

‘I went after a job myself you know,’ Rosie confided to Ida in early September, ‘because Danny…well, there’s nothing, is there? He isn’t the only one. Once in the streets you nearly trip over the gangs and clusters of unemployed. Anyway, Rita told me Power’s in Rocky Lane were setting on women enamellers. But all they’re offering is twelve shillings and sixpence. We’d be worse off. God, it’s hard enough to manage now.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ida said. ‘Rita finds it a struggle too. Still, as she says, Georgie is five just before Christmas and starts school in January. She’s going to do summat then, she says, and she don’t care what it is. She’s going to make sure they ain’t living hand to mouth all their bleeding lives.’

‘I can’t blame her,’ Rosie said. ‘I blame no-one for trying to get a bit extra. I mean, food’s bad enough, but clothes and shoes are a nightmare.’

‘Yeah, have you seen the barefoot urchins running around?’ Ida said. ‘Bare arses some of them too. Wonder they don’t all die of pneumonia.’

‘Maybe that’s what the Government’s hoping for, kill a few off and there’ll be less to worry over.’

‘God,’ Ida said with a sigh, ‘It makes you think Herbie and Harry died for nowt, don’t it?’

It did seem that way and both women fell silent, and then Ida said to Rosie, ‘You still hell-bent on taking Bernadette to the Catholic School up Thimble Mill Lane when her’s five?’

‘Aye.’

‘You’re clean barmy. There’s a school in Upper Thomas Street.’

‘Not a Catholic one.’

‘Who cares?’ Ida cried. ‘You don’t want to be dragging the little one all that way in the winter, and what if you have a couple of babbies to see to as well?’

‘She’ll be grand,’ Rosie said. ‘And there won’t be any babbies.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘What I say.’

‘Oh. Was Danny injured like?’ Ida said, her eyes and voice sympathetic, and for a second or two Rosie was tempted to say he was. But she couldn’t do that to Danny so she said, ‘No, it’s after what the doctor said, about me maybe doing something to myself by working in munitions. I mean, if I can’t carry a baby, I don’t want to risk another pregnancy.’

‘You mean you don’t do it?’

‘No.’

‘Good God, girl, you’re piling up trouble for yourself,’ Ida said. ‘You can’t just leave a man like that. God, he’s been at war for months. What do you want, a bleeding monk?’

‘It isn’t like that.’

‘Maybe not for you it ain’t,’ Ida said, and added warningly, ‘But I’m telling you straight, men ain’t like women. They can’t do without it forever and if you won’t oblige, one day he might find someone who will.’

‘Danny would never do that.’

‘If you were to have asked Danny just a couple of years ago if you’d ever refuse him, what would he have said?’

Rosie knew what he’d have said and that was that he could
never imagine a time that she would ever do that. She hung her head, but still said defiantly, ‘I want no more children. What’s the good of it? I’d lose them anyway.’

Ida felt sorry for her and she laid her hand on Rosie’s arm and said gently, ‘That’s between you and him, Rosie. There are things you can use, I think. Things you can do, like.’

‘They’ll all be against the Catholic Church, I bet.’

‘Bugger the Catholic Church!’ Ida burst out. ‘All I’m saying is this: there’s pressures enough between the two of you anyway, with Danny not able to get a job and grinding poverty that would bring anyone down. Surely you can bring a measure of comfort to one another? Think about it. Talk to Danny. See how he feels.’

There was no way Rosie could bring herself to talk to Danny of ways of preventing pregnancy. It was totally out of her understanding anyway, though she knew Ida had a point and so when just a few days later Danny’s hand reached for her in the bed she was suddenly filled with desire for this man that she still loved with all her being, though her insides were knotted with fear and she stiffened.

Danny stifled a groan. ‘Please, Rosie,’ he pleaded. ‘I know what you are frightened of, but I can pull out before I…You don’t need to know about it, but I’ll make certain you’re all right.’

‘Oh, Danny, are you sure. I am so frightened.’

‘I promise you,’ Danny said. ‘You will not become pregnant. I don’t want to see you suffer that way any more than you do. We have Bernadette and I am content. This is something different and will bring pleasure to both of us.’

Rosie could deny him no longer and didn’t want to.

‘Relax, my darling girl,’ Danny said gently as he ran his hands all over her body. ‘I’ll never hurt you.’

‘Oh, Danny, oh…’ Rosie got no further for Danny kissed her then, her lips, her neck, her throat, until she groaned and
writhed and eventually cried out. ‘Oh, please, Danny. Now, now.’

It was rapturous, the only word for it, Rosie thought, and a shame it had ended so abruptly. Danny lay beside her and hoped to God he’d pulled out in time. He’d been so carried away and it had been so long that he’d almost forgotten. He didn’t want to make Rosie pregnant, not again. He had to face the fact that he’d never have a son to follow in his footsteps. The bloody munitions had seen to that. But then, he asked himself, what footsteps? He’d more or less lost his inheritance. All any child of his could hope to look forward to was joining a line at the unemployment offices.

‘Danny, was it all right?’

‘All right? My darling girl, it was much more than all right,’ Danny said and his lips sought hers. And Rosie sighed in contentment.

When Rosie’s period came the following week she was ecstatic, for she knew that Danny had spoken the truth and they could make love without repercussions. It got much easier after that and Ida noticed the difference in Rosie and guessed the reason for it, but decided against teasing her.

Then, one day, a month before Christmas, Danny came home in a buoyant mood, something Rosie had not seen in ages. He’d got work on one of the narrowboats. ‘It’s Ted Mason’s. You mind I told you of him before?’

‘Aye,’ Rosie said. ‘I always wanted to meet him and his wife, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah,’ Danny said. ‘But he has had it rough. His eldest son was killed in the closing months of that butchering war and then Mabel took ill a couple of days ago with severe bronchitis, and she’s staying with a friend on land while she’s so poorly because Ted said the air around the canal is too damp for her and fog lingers there too. Syd’s stayed with her, to see to her, he says, but I have my doubts.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he doesn’t like canal life,’ Danny said. ‘Well, let’s say he didn’t when he was sixteen, and two years on I can’t see it will have altered any. Anyway, Ted can’t cope and because I’ve helped him before he thought of me. It’s just till Christmas, he thinks. By then, with the holiday and all, he reckons Mabel will be as right as rain again. But just think, Rosie,’ he said, grabbing her waist and spinning her around. ‘Just before Christmas. It couldn’t be better.’

‘And think what will happen if the dole place gets to hear?’

‘How would they? Who will know?’

‘Oh, Danny, don’t be silly. The whole street I should think,’ Rosie said. ‘How can you hope to keep a secret in this place?’

‘It’s only for a few weeks,’ Danny said, and his tone was dejected and Rosie was cross with herself for pouring water on his news. Excluding the army and odd times he’d helped on the canal, this was the first job of work he’d had since leaving the farm. Small wonder he was excited.

So she forced a smile to her reluctant lips. ‘I’m delighted for you anyway, Danny.’

‘You are?’

‘Sure I am. The extra money will be tremendous. How much is it, by the way?’

‘Ted said it depends what we carry. But at least two pounds a week.’

‘Oh, Danny, that’s terrific.’

‘I thought so,’ Danny said, and allowed himself a smile, and Rosie stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, but only lightly.

Danny thoroughly enjoyed his time on the narrowboat and Rosie was grateful for the money. His last day was Christmas Eve and Ted paid him two one-pound notes like he’d done every week, with an extra ten-shilling note for Christmas, and said he was delighted with him. ‘You’re a natural,
man,’ he said. ‘Come on, I’ll stand you a few drinks.’

Danny would rather have gone home, but he felt it would have been churlish to refuse. Most of the other boaties were already in there and a couple besides Ted bought Danny a drink, and eventually he knew he’d have to break into the ten bob note for he couldn’t just accept drinks and not stand his corner. He felt bad about it for he’d wanted to give the two pounds ten shillings to Rosie complete and see joy and relief flood over her face. But still, he told himself, he’d just have the one more and go home.

However, Danny found it wasn’t that easy. Someone produced a mouth organ and another had a tin whistle and yet another a squeezebox and the tunes they began to play set his foot tapping. Someone pressed another pint into his hand and by the time he’d finished that he found the urge to go home, away from the music, the congenial company, the crackling fire and the pints of foamy beer, was not a good prospect at all.

Rosie had Danny’s dinner ready, as she had every night, and she was surprised when he wasn’t in by half past six. Eventually she put Bernadette to bed, who was in a very bad humour for she always had time with her daddy before she went up, and Rosie had to be quite sharp with her in the end.

By half past eight, Rosie was convinced something had happened to her husband, and with a shawl wrapped around her she went to the top of the entry to see if she could see him coming. She stood peering into the dark till the cold started to eat into her bones and then she went back to the door. But unable to stay in her own house alone and hear the fire settling and the clock ticking, with worry eating into her, she gave a brief knock on Ida’s door and went in.

‘He’ll be away for a drink,’ Ida told her. ‘Don’t worry. It’s Christmas Eve, after all.’

‘He said nothing.’

‘He probably didn’t know. My Herbie always had a skinful Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. The rest of the time he was more sensible. Don’t fret, and don’t expect him early or sober either,’ Ida said. ‘Sit down here and have a cup of tea and calm yourself.’

Later, Rosie was glad Ida had warned her. Danny was unused to drink, there was little to be had in the army and before that he’d no more take a penny piece from Rosie’s hard-earned money in the munitions for a pint than he would cut off his right arm. All he’d had in the time he’d been in England was the odd pint offered when he’d helped a boatie through a lock or some such.

So the pints he was imbibing at the impromptu party at the pub were affecting him far more than many of the rest. It didn’t bother him at the time. Nothing bothered him, he didn’t have a worry in the world and everyone was happy.

When, eventually, ‘Time’ was called, Ted hauled Danny to his feet where he stood swaying. He staggered and would have fallen but for Ted’s arms around him. ‘You all right?’

Danny had an inane grin on his face and he tried to say, he was grand, that he’d never felt better, but what came out was nothing like that. Ted laughed. ‘By God, man, you’re hammered.’

‘You best walk with him till he’s off the towpath at least,’ one of the party advised. ‘Silly bugger will fall in the canal else.’

‘Aye, I will. Ta-ra then, and a Merry Christmas to you.’

‘Christmas,’ Danny remembered in his befuddled brain and he tried to wish the season’s greetings to all his new friends, but it was beyond the capabilities of his tongue, which seemed to have swollen to twice its normal size in his mouth.

Without Ted, Danny wouldn’t have made it that night, and Ted realised that when he had nearly got him to the clock at Aston Cross and Danny just sank to his knees. ‘Come on you drunken old sod, you,’ Ted said good-naturedly, hoisting
Danny to his feet again and wrapping one of his arms around his own neck. ‘Good job you don’t live far,’ he said as he was taking most of the weight, and Danny just nodded.

Rosie opened the door to see a man she didn’t know holding Danny up, and she knew the man to be a boatie for he had on the cord trousers, waistcoat and cap they all wore. Danny was so drunk he was unable to stand. ‘Sorry, missus,’ Ted said. ‘I’m Ted Mason and your husband’s been working for me these last weeks, and tonight we had a bit of a party and he had one too many like.’

Rosie was embarrassed at the state Danny was in and furiously angry with him, but she remembered her manners. ‘Thank you for bringing him home,’ she said to Ted stiffly. ‘Please, won’t you come in?’

Ted went in with Danny hung around his neck and he looked around the room. No settee, nowhere to lay the man down, and that little woman would never be able to manhandle him upstairs. ‘Shall I take him upstairs for you, missus?’

‘Oh, no, it’s too much trouble.’

‘No trouble and better me than you,’ Ted said.

‘If you’re sure,’ Rosie said. ‘I’ll go and turn back the sheets.’ And she ran up ahead.

The stairs were almost Ted’s undoing and he nearly fell many a time. ‘Come on, Danny,’ he cried at last. ‘Give us a hand, mate. We’re on the stairs, for Christ’s sake, and if you don’t want us to arrive at the bottom you’ll have to help a bit.’

What Ted said funnelled through to Danny and he tried in the uncoordinated way of the drunk to help as best he could, and they reached the bedroom without further mishap. Ted lowered Danny onto the bed Rosie had turned back and removed his boots. ‘He’s all yours, missus,’ he said, and then, because he’d seen Rosie’s mouth in a tight angry line and two spots of bright colour on her cheeks, he added, ‘Don’t be too hard on him, like. I think it’s that he’s not used to it, for he had no more than the rest of us.’

‘No, he isn’t used to it,’ Rosie said grimly.

‘Well, I think he’ll have a head and a half tomorrow,’ Ted said with a smile and then he touched his cap. ‘I’ll say goodnight to you and a Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas,’ Rosie said through clenched lips and began to divest Danny of his working jacket and muffler before Ted had reached the door. She was so angry with Danny for getting into such a state that she rolled him from side to side roughly in an effort to remove his clothes as quickly as possible.