‘But…how…’ Danny couldn’t put into words what he wanted to say. ‘You and Anthony?’

  ‘Well, whatever it was that ailed me with regard to the child, I’m over it,’ Rosie said. ‘I think I know why I was unable to take to Anthony at his birth, but I don’t know why all that was pushed to one side because he smiled at me. But it has been. You need have no worries, Danny, I love my son as well as my daughter.’

  ‘And your husband?’

  ‘I’ve never stopped loving my husband.’

  ‘Ah Rosie,’ Danny promised. ‘You need have no worries either. I’ll make you proud of me.’

  ‘I’ve always been proud of you.’

  ‘God, how can you say that? There have been times I haven’t been able to live with myself.’

  ‘Danny, that’s in the past. Let’s put that behind us and look to the future. And whatever that holds we’ll face it together. Now go and take off those wet things before they stick to you.’

  When Bernadette and Dermot came in a little later, both their cheeks were red as they’d run most of the way home. Dermot had said nothing to Bernadette about Rosie’s changed attitude to the baby, and so she watched her mother feeding Anthony for a bit and said, ‘Do you like Anthony now, Mammy?’

  Rosie was flummoxed by the question. ‘I’ve always liked Anthony, Bernadette.’

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ Bernadette said emphatically. ‘I’m glad you do now. He does get on your nerves when he cries all the time, though.’

  ‘He doesn’t cry all the time.’

  ‘Well, a lot, then.’

  Rosie thought it time to change the subject. ‘Bernadette, I don’t want to discuss Anthony’s crying just now, Daddy has got good news. He has a job on a narrowboat. He’ll be at work again.’

  This was news to Dermot too and he went across the room and took Danny’s hand and shook it.

  ‘I’m so happy for you,’ he said. ‘I haven’t words to tell you how much.’

  It made life easier for Dermot too, for he knew soon he’d have to return home and he’d have hated to go with things unresolved. Now he could leave with an easier conscience, and later, with Bernadette in bed and Anthony asleep in the crib, he told Rosie and Danny he must think about going home.

  Rosie was surprised. She’d never asked Dermot what his long-term plans were, but she’d assumed he would bide with them for some time. Now, she saw that could never be. ‘You’ll return to the farm?’

  ‘Aye,’ Dermot said. ‘Daddy will never manage it on his own and after all it will be mine one day. For the time being, anyway. I have another year at school and there may be trouble if I stay away any longer. There are to be changes, though. For example, I will see the girls and not lie about it either, skulking about the village as if it’s something to be ashamed of.

  ‘I’ll see Connie too. She’ll be anxious for news of you. She’s not the same woman since you left. Phelan does his best, but she misses all of you. She’d love to hear of Bernadette and wee Anthony, for she’ll never come here, the very thought of the journey terrifies her, and she knows you cannot come home for years. Write to her, Rosie?’

  ‘Aye, I will,’ Rosie said. ‘Now everything’s all right, I will.’

  Later in the bedroom, Rosie said, ‘I’ll write to your mother first thing tomorrow. There will be only good news to give her for a change.’

  Danny took Rosie in his arms. His eyes saddened suddenly. ‘I once told you I’d never let anyone hurt a hair on your head,’ he said. ‘And then, when we came to Birmingham, I promised I’d make it up to you, leaving Ireland and all. I often think all I brought you was a vale of tears and sadness.’

  ‘In everyone’s life there is sunshine and shadow,’ Rosie said. ‘No-one knows what the future holds. But at least we have a future. What future have those young men, from whichever side, whose bodies are littered over battlefields in a war they often didn’t have choice of fighting in? Ordinary people often don’t have a choice, but at least we have each other and we faced our shadows together. Let’s go out into the sunshine hand in hand.’ And she reached for Danny’s hand and grasped it tight.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  When I suggested the idea of this book to Susan Opie, my lovely editorial director, so many months ago, she advised me to ‘run with it’. At first, I could barely crawl with it, for the facts were so difficult to find. It is hard to credit today, when sometimes it appears you only have to sneeze for someone to write a thesis about it, but things were not documented back then in the same way at all. The Irish uprising itself was: there are books and websites and songs and poems about it, and the same can be said for the battles of the First World War. However, trying to find out what life was like for the ordinary Dubliner that Easter in 1916, or what a soldier earned once he’d enlisted in the British Army and when the carnage was over, what he was given in unemployment pay, was like asking for moon dust.

  These were times when I could go no further because I couldn’t find the information I needed. I did manage in the end, largely due to the help often perfect strangers gave to me. I am always staggered when this happens and I take great pleasure in thanking those people now.

  The little village of Blessington, where the book opens, for those who don’t know, is situated just outside Dublin in the county of Wicklow and even today is still a local beauty spot. The great people who live there like nothing better than to talk of old times, as I found out when I visited in April 2003. But they have gone one better, for the members of the Blessington Local and Family History Society have compiled a book, Blessington Now and Then. Without this book, my life might have been far harder.

  Ken Finlay’s website depicting Dublin ‘in the rare old times’ was particularly good too. And, as well as information and photographs, he would answer any question I threw at him. Surely a saint of a man?

  But there were others, like the young girl at the National Library of Ireland who found, photocopied and sent me old maps of Dublin and especial thanks must go to Molly Staunton, who lives in Tallaght and who carried out research about the Blessington to Dublin steam tram for me in her own time and out of the goodness of her heart. Then there was the girl in the Terenure Library. Terenure had been the old terminus of the steam tram, and a librarian there spent her lunch hour finding out the routes of the two electric trams that had gone into Dublin from there, which I had been unable to find anywhere else.

  The people at the harbourmaster’s offices in Dun Laoghire astounded me (pre-1918 this town was called Kingstown). When they heard I was unable to get hold of a book detailing the history of the port by a man called John de Courcy, they not only photocopied the book, but also bound it beautifully before sending it to me.

  Sincere gratitude must also go to Sister Barbara Jefferies. Sister Jefferies is the archivist at St Mary’s Convent in Handsworth, (Sisters of Mercy) who supplied me with literature and the history of the order. In the same way, the Catholic Archdiocese of Birmingham helped find out about the Catholic churches and schools in the area at that time.

  Handsworth Historical Society was able to supply me with facts about local history and old maps as did the compilers of Astonbrook – The History of Aston, which has had support and input from Carl Chinn. He has given me, and continues to give me, immeasurable help in anything to do with old Birmingham.

  The website, ‘The Home Front. Britain During The First World War’, was informative as to the woman’s role in that Great War, but for many particular things I had to contact individuals – thank God for e-mail!

  Thanks, therefore, go to Chris Baker and Andrew Jackson. Andrew has compiled a moving and emotive site about Accrington Pals and it is well worth a visit. It reduced me to tears. In search of this important information, I also contacted the War Research Society and was put in touch with Nick Frear (Nick@Nickintime.co.uk) who gave me help, answered questions and supplied me with other material and facts that could form the basis of another book or two. Thanks Nick.

  Then there was Paula Biddlestone, the lady in Birmingham Social Science Library, I told you this list went on and on. This terrific lady searched through the archives and unearthed pages and pages of papers relating to National Insurance records for the relevant periods and marked the photocopied pages to make life easier for me before sending them on.

  While I was searching for information about life on the canals at that time, I came upon a site called, ‘Up the Cut’ about the boats on the Birmingham canals which again helped tremendously.

  There was one book, too, which gave me valuable material and that was a book called Up the Terrace – Down Aston and Lozells. It was written by a man called Donald K Moore and he’d recounted the reminiscences of his grandfather, who had been a child at the time of the First World War. I have tried to contact Mr Moore personally, for the book was a pleasure to read and very helpful, but have been unable to find him, so here I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks.

  I have great respect for the thousands of people who spend hours compiling and adding to various sites on the internet to help keep history alive and pass on their knowledge and that of others. I’d like to feel I do my bit and try to give accurate information in the novels I write, but my work would be harder without the internet and also without the people who have helped me and if I have forgotten anyone, I am very sorry.

  My family’s unfailing support is also a great encouragement to me, from my four children, Nikki, Simon, Beth and Tamsin, my son-in-law Steve, my daughter-in-law Carol and mother-in-law Nancy Bennett, to my lovely husband Denis, who I would be lost without.

  Thanks also to my dear friends, Ruth Adshead, Judith Kendall and Judy Westwood, who in various ways helped to make this book a reality.

  But especial and immense gratitude must go to the most marvellous team at HarperCollins who work with me: my editorial director, Susan Opie, and equally my editor, Maxine Hitchcock, my valiant agent, Judith Murdoch, Ingrid Gegner, my publicist and last, but by no means least, Peter Hawtin, the Midlands’ sales director. I owe them all so much.

  Thanks a million times to each and every one of you.

  By the same author

  A Little Learning

  Love Me Tender

  A Strong Hand to Hold

  Pack Up Your Troubles

  Walking Back to Happiness

  Till the Sun Shines Through

  Copyright

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  HarperCollinsPublishers

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  Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2004

  Copyright © Anne Bennett 2004

  Anne Bennett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition © MARCH 2010 ISBN: 978-0-007-34688-2

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  Anne Bennett, Danny Boy

 

 

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