Danny Boy by Anne Bennett Page B

with refreshments for them all.
    ‘Are you excited about tomorrow?’ Chrissie asked Rosie, biting into one of the biscuits.
    ‘A bit. Are you?’
    ‘No, I’m scared to death.’
    ‘You only have to do the responses,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s all written down and Sarah can go first if you like.’
    ‘Oh I’ll probably be all right when I start,’ Chrissie said. She and Sarah were to be Bernadette’s godmothers, and Phelan the child’s godfather, for the baby’s christening the next day. It was to be a lavish affair, with a large party afterwards in the Walshes’ house. With the help of her daughters when they were home, Connie had been baking and cooking almost since the day the child was born.
    Rosie was pleased at the fuss being made, although she protested that Connie was doing too much. The next day, as she stood before the altar of the church with the sun shining through the stained glass in the windows to send a myriad of coloured lights dancing in front of them, she felt such peace and contentment. Here she was, beside the man she loved, welcomed so warmly into his family. Her own were in pews behind, together with neighbours and friends, and Rosie felt tears of happiness in her eyes.
    She wouldn’t let herself cry, though, not at her own child’s christening, and she passed the baby to Sarah as the priest indicated. If Sarah noticed Rosie’s over-bright eyes she knew she would make no comment about it, for her own voice had been a little shaky when she made the responses.
    Rosie wasn’t aware straight away that Sarah was raging about something. She was too busy showing off her baby and accepting the praise and presents of all those friends, neighbours and relatives who’d crowded into the Walshes’ house after the christening.
    Bernadette eventually went to sleep and Rosie took her into the room away from the noise and laid her in the cradle. It was on coming out again that she caught sight of Sarah’s face and knew she was in a temper then right enough, for Sarah’s feelings were always portrayed in her face.
    The looks she shot across the room to her Sam, who was drinking deep of the beer Matt had bought and talking earnestly to Shay, should have rendered him senseless on the stone-flagged floor. ‘Lover’s tiff?’ Rosie enquired lightly.
    ‘No,’ Sarah hissed back. ‘It’s that pair, on about the war and places none of us have heard of – Wipers and Gallipoli – and how over two hundred thousand have died now and a good percentage of them Irish men and boys. It’s not the time or place to discuss such a thing, if there is ever a suitable time. I told them straight, but God, there’s no stoppingthem when they get together. You’d think they were planning a revolution. They’ll be at Danny next, you see if they’re not.’
    ‘They can try,’ Rosie said. She remembered the conversation she’d had with Danny when war had been declared, just two months before their wedding. In no time at all recruiting officers had toured Ireland, gathering up zealous volunteers and Danny had assured Rosie that he was one man who had no intention of joining that war, or any other war come to that. ‘Why should I help England?’ he’d said. ‘They’ve gone to the aid of Belgium because Germany has invaded them, taking over their country and oppressing the people. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic, for isn’t that the very thing that England have been doing to Ireland for years? If I ever took up arms it would be to gain Ireland’s freedom. And I have no reason to do that, for Ireland will get Home Rule in the end. It’s there, ready to be implemented, and is only postponed because of the war. Eventually, Ireland will be a united country and hopefully without a shot being fired.’
    So Rosie was able to say categorically, ‘Danny will never be tempted that way. Particularly now that he’s a family man.’
    ‘It’s good to be so sure of him,’ Sarah said. ‘And you’re right,