Bernadette screamed with delight and beat at her father’s head with her podgy infant hands. ‘Mind you,’ Danny went on, ‘your granny’s right about you being a ton weight. Nine months old and still being carried about. About time you took up walking.’
Bernadette had no idea what her father was saying, but she knew she was being spoken about and she shouted out her scribble talk in reply as Danny sidled up to his mother and, mindful of the other people streaming past them from Mass, said in an urgent whisper, ‘Go on back to Daddy. He’s on the look-out for Phelan and if he should come across him…well, let’s say he won’t be fully responsible for his actions.’
Connie shot him a startled glance. ‘I can’t,’ she complained. ‘The dinner.’
‘I’ll see to the dinner,’ Rosie told her. ‘Go on now, smooth down his feathers. We don’t want to see murder done on an Easter morning.’
‘I can’t say I’d blame Daddy, though,’ Danny said, as Connie scurried away. ‘God, I’d be livid. Christ, who am I kidding? I am livid.’
But thoughts of Phelan had brought to Rosie’s mind her own family. ‘I’ll go home after dinner,’ she said. ‘I have a bar of chocolate for Dermot. It’s Easter Sunday, after all, and I should pay them a visit.’
‘Will you take the wee one with you?’ Danny said, indicating the waving, babbling Bernadette above him.
‘Oh, aye,’ Rosie said. ‘Dermot wouldn’t forgive me if I left her behind. In fact, he probably wouldn’t let me in the house at all.’
‘He is fond of her all right.’
‘More than fond,’ Rosie said. ‘Our baby is well-loved, Danny, and no harm in that, but I won’t have her as spoiled as Dermot is.’
‘Sure, there’ll be no time to spoil her,’ Danny said. ‘She’ll probably have a wee brother or sister before she’s much older and when you have a whole squad of them to rear you’ll not have a spare minute to ruin any of them.’
Rosie laughed and thought that Phelan could go hang himself. All the worrying she had done about him had achieved nothing at all but upset those around her, particularly Danny who loved her so much. Well, from now on, she decided, she wouldn’t lose a wink’s sleep over him. She looked up at Danny and smiled broadly. She had the urge to catch up his hand and run with him as if they were weans, the baby bouncing up and down on his shoulders.
Danny was delighted with the smile that lit up her face and hoped whatever had ailed her was now over. He held the baby’s feet with one hand and with the other he pulled Rosie close. She felt so loved and cherished it brought tears to her eyes. She took hold of Danny’s hand and, united, they walked home together.
Everyone expected Phelan back for dinner. Connie always said his stomach had often brought him home when he was younger. But when the food was served up there was still no sign of him. Matt was raging: it was almost seeping out of him. When he said menacingly that Phelan would have some explaining to do when he did come home, Rosie thought she would not be in Phelan’s shoes for all the tea in China.
The meal was an especially delicious one, and with a steamed pudding now Lent was over, which the family lingered over as if determined they wouldn’t let Phelan’s non-appearance destroy the meal Connie and Rosie had slaved for hours preparing.
It wasn’t entirely successful. Phelan’s empty chair was a stark reminder of his absence, and Rosie knew Connie’s ears were constantly attuned to hearing her son’s boots on the gravel path or across the cobbled yard.
They eventually finished the meal and the men settled before the fire for a smoke, Bernadette on Danny’s knee, while the women began collecting the pots, Connie taking every opportunity to peer through the window or the door, left open because of the warmth of the day. Rosie’s heart ached for her. How could Phelan just not come home like this? He’d know how his mother would worry so.
Matt too was equally worried and also hurt, but he didn’t deal with it the same way as Connie and sat before the fire and talked to Danny about everything under the sun as if he didn’t have a care in the world. ‘Where d’you think he is?’ Connie asked Rosie quietly as they folded the tablecloth together.
‘He could be anywhere,’ Rosie whispered back. ‘Maybe he stayed at a friend’s house last night and is afraid to come home.’
‘You think that’s it?’ Connie said desperately. Rosie felt her grasping at straws.
What should she say? If she mentioned the Brotherhood and then found Phelan’s disappearance had nothing to do with that, she’d endanger the family. ‘I’m sure it will be something simple,’ she said reassuringly.
By the time the pots and plates were washed and dried, and the room put to rights, Matt had dropped off before the fire and Bernadette had followed suit, cuddled against her father. ‘I could put her in the room and we could have a wee walk out if you’ve a mind to,’ Danny suggested to Rosie. ‘It’s a fine day and you could go on to your mother’s after, when Bernadette wakes up.’
‘Aye,’ Rosie agreed, though in reality her legs ached and she longed to sit and rest. ‘Aye, that would be grand. Will you see to Bernadette, Mammy, and I’ll get my coat?’
But as Rosie crossed the floor she saw Dermot streak past the window and come to the threshold of the door, bent over, gasping for breath, his brick-red face glistening with sweat.
‘What in God’s name…?’
‘I have a letter,’ Dermot gasped. ‘It’s from Phelan.’
‘Phelan,’ Matt said, wakened by the boy’s name and leaping to his feet. He took the letter from Dermot and tore it open hastily. All eyes were on him as he scanned the words and then he burst out, ‘The bloody little fool. He’s joined the Irish Republican Brotherhood and he’s off to Dublin to answer Ireland’s call.’
Danny passed Bernadette to Sarah and came across to his father and took the letter from him, aware that his mother had begun to cry. He too read the letter and then turned to Dermot. ‘How did you know this was from Phelan?’
Dermot had been through this many times. He knew not to say he’d had the letter from late on Friday night, and had chosen not to deliver it till now. It would not be a wise thing to do, and to say he’d spoken to Phelan and knew of his plans wouldn’t help his case one bit. ‘There was a note to me tied around the letter,’ he told Danny. And he went on, ‘The letter must have been pushed in the window. It was on the floor of my bedroom.’
‘When was this?’
Dermot shrugged. ‘Don’t know, I found it just now and I thought you should see the letter before anyone else.’
‘You did right,’ Danny said. ‘Good boy.’ His eyes raked the room. His mother was wiping her eyes with her apron, his father’s face set like stone.
‘What of Sam?’ Sarah asked suddenly.
Dermot shrugged. He knew Sam was involved, but to say so would bring more questions and he might trip himself up and so he said, ‘I don’t know about Sam.’
Sarah did, though. She knew her man would be fully embroiled in this nonsense, and she too felt tears seep from her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. She held Bernadette tight against her for comfort. The child, unused to being held so firmly, began to wriggle and Danny took her from Sarah and laid her in the cot in the bedroom, where she curled herself into a ball and put her thumb in her mouth and slumbered on, unaware of the turmoil in the next cottage.
Rosie was standing stock-still, the feelings of alarm and fear coursing through her body so that she tingled with it. She felt raw, as if every nerve-ending was exposed.
‘Find him, Danny!’