Danny Boy by Anne Bennett Page A

new baby. They came bearing gifts and good wishes. Even her parents came – Rosie guessed only because it would have been remarked upon if they hadn’t. They certainly paid scant attention to the child and, on hearing the name chosen, Minnie snapped out sourly, ‘What kind of outlandish name is that? She should be named for members of the family. That’s how it’s done. It shows respect.’
    ‘Danny and I like the name Bernadette,’ Rosie remarked calmly.
    ‘Like! Like! What’s there to like in a name? It’s what you’re called and that’s an end to it.’
    ‘Well, our baby is to be called Bernadette Mary,’ Rosie said firmly. ‘We’ve already spoken to Father McNally about it. He liked it and gave me a wee book about St Bernadette to read to the baby when she’s older.’
    That was that then. If the priest had put his stamp of approval on the child’s name there was nothing further Minnie could say.
    They didn’t stay very long after that and although Connie said nothing in Rosie’s hearing, she remarked to her owndaughters that the woman was mean-spirited and miserable. Her daughter and first grandchild were there together and she barely gave them the time of day and would not even stay long enough to take a sup of tea. God, what a woman!
    Rosie’s sisters made up for the lack of attention she and the baby had received from her parents, picking Bernadette up and cuddling her, crooning to her and telling Rosie how grand she was and how proud they felt.
    They brought knitted coats and as Chrissie handed hers over she said, ‘It’s not great, Rosie, but I did my best.’
    Rosie unfolded the little jacket and noticed the odd hole and dropped stitch, but said nothing. She knew Chrissie was no hand with either a knitting needle or a sewing needle, but it touched her that she’d tried.
    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 bythe 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