She examined her face and body critically in the mirror in her room and could see she had little to recommend her. Her eyes she felt were as dull as her hair, her skin sallow and while her body was thin enough, it had no shape to it at all.
She had few to compare herself with, for she saw her contemporaries only at Mass or the village, if she went in on Saturdays. There was a social in the church hall once a month for young people over the age of sixteen, but Rosie didn’t think she’d ever be allowed to go. She knew her mother didn’t approve of such goings on. Rosie didn’t mind too much for she had nothing to wear, the serviceable day clothes and outfits for Mass were not the sort of clothes to wear to a dance. She knew too, the possibility of her mother spending money to get her new clothes, especially the things suitable for a social, was as likely as her flying to the moon, and she had no money of her own.
But, despite all this, there was a boy, a man almost, Rosie liked and his name was Danny Walsh. She was the same age as his younger sister Elizabeth, while Sarah his other sister was another two years older and he had a younger brother Phelan, who was the same age as Geraldine. The girls had all been at school together and when she talked to them after Mass, she had ample time to study their older brother, Danny.
He was a well set up and muscular young man, and from being out in all weathers his face was always bronzed. As he was the eldest son he was set to inherit the family’s farm and he carried that assurance with him. His mouth turned up at the sides as if he was constantly good humoured, his chin was determined and strong and his sparkling eyes were as dark as the mop of brown curls he sported.
Rosie, knew that nobody as handsome as Danny Walsh would look the side she was on, and she kept her thoughts about him to herself and only dreamed about him in her bed at night when she was tucked in beside her sisters. However, Danny Walsh had noticed the young girl with the deep brown eyes and hair that shone in the sunlight, but he also knew how old she was and he was no cradle snatcher.
In the spring of 1914, Rosie was sixteen and a half and Danny’s feelings for her had deepened, though he had no idea how she felt about him. He was no flirt and didn’t give his heart freely and that Sunday morning he decided it was time to see if Rosie liked him enough to step out with him and he dressed with extra care. The McMullen family came out of church and Minnie and Seamus stopped to speak to some neighbours just a little way from the porch.
It had rained in the night and dampness still lingered in the air and Geraldine and Chrissie had Dermot between them and they were jumping him over the puddles. Rosie was standing a little way apart watching them, a smile playing at her mouth at the squeals of delight from Dermot and was unaware of the figure beside her, until he spoke.
‘It looks as though the afternoon might turn out nice after all,’ Danny Walsh said to Rosie and she, certain Danny couldn’t be talking to her, looked around to see who he was addressing.
Danny laughed. ‘It’s you I’m speaking to Rosie McMullen,’ he said. ‘And I’d like to take a walk with you this afternoon, if you are agreeable?’
For a moment or two, Rosie was unable to speak, both from astonishment and pleasure and her face flushed with embarrassment.
She didn’t know quite how much the flush suited her and how the blood pumped through Danny’s body at the sight of her pretty, fresh face. He felt his heart soar with joy for the blush and tentative smile told it’s own tale.
‘I must…I must ask my parents,’ Rosie stammered at last, when she’d recovered enough to speak. ‘If…if they have no objections I’d be pleased to walk out with you. What time did you have in mind?’
Danny shrugged. ‘Half past two/three o’clock. Whatever you prefer.’
‘Either would suit me admirably,’ Rosie said.
Minnie and Seamus had no objection to a relationship beginning between Danny Walsh and their daughter. The Walshes were known to them, their farms were nearly adjoining, though they were over two miles apart by road and they knew them to be a respectable, and a good, catholic family.
‘And he’s the eldest,’ Seamus said. ‘Going on for twenty-one now and set to inherit all.’
‘Aye,’ Minnie said. ‘Course Rosie is young yet.’ And a grand help to me, she might have added, for she knew she’d miss that greatly.
‘Old enough to marry,’ Seamus said. ‘Sure, she’ll be seventeen in September, and you were just eighteen when we wed.’
‘Aye,’ Minnie said with a sigh, knowing her willing helper would not be with her much longer. But then Geraldine would be leaving school herself in the summer and Chrissie would still be at home, time to lick the pair of them into some sort of shape.
And so, a courtship began between Rosie and Danny Walsh. Each Sunday afternoon through that long and glorious spring and summer, Danny would call for her and they would go from her home sedately enough until they were out of sight of the farm, whereupon Danny would clasp Rosie to him and kiss her, until she felt she had no breath left in her body.
They would walk hand in hand by the side of the lake and just the touch of Danny’s hand in hers sent heat pounding though Rosie’s body and when he turned to look at her and smile, she felt as if her heart had actually stopped beating.
Rosie regularly visited Danny’s parents, Connie and Matt, and found she liked them very much and knew they liked and approved of her. Phelan, though he liked Rosie, was not above teasing her. On her second visit to the farm he had a grin on his face as he grumbled, ‘Danny’s making me do all the work, since he met you,’
‘You cheeky young pup,’ Danny cried, cuffing his brother, lightly on the side of the head. ‘Bout time you pulled your weight. Anyway, it’s only the evening milking I’ve asked you to do.’
‘Aye, so far.’
‘You turn will come, boy,’ Matt told his younger son. ‘Danny does his share and more, so lets have no more talk about it lest we embarrass our Danny’s young lady.’
Rosie was anything but embarrassed. She loved the teasing and ribaldry between the family, never having experienced anything like it. As she helped Connie clear away the things from the meal one evening, while the men had a smoke by the fire, she gave her a brief account of her life and the cooking and washing and dairy work she’d done since she’d been a child.
Connie knew some of it of course. She knew too about the baby boy born to the McMullen’s after three daughters and at first she’d been as pleased for them as any of the neighbours, knowing most farmers wanted a son. Made the work all worthwhile if their own flesh and blood was to inherit all they’d worked for but though she’d been delighted herself to have two boys, she fiercely loved her daughters too.
She could talk to her daughters, far more than to her sons and she took pleasure in their company and she’d always hoped that Danny and Phelan would choose women who would fit in with the family, when they took a wife. She was delighted with Danny’s choice and knew she would get on a treat with Rosie and told Matt this later that night when Rosie and Danny had set out for a walk.
‘Mind you,’ she said. ‘I don’t like the set up in that house at all, and that’s not so much from what Rosie said, but more from what she didn’t. And didn’t Danny tell you when he was invited up for a meal, that the wee child was served even before his father and that he held court over the conversation at the table and all had to be quiet and listen to him?’
Matt gave a brief nod. ‘Aye, he did right enough.’
‘God, but they’ll have him ruined,’ Connie said.
‘Do him no good in the long run.’
‘Aye, don’t I know that?’ Connie said with feeling. ‘Course Minnie has always been daft about the boy and never has a good word to say for the girls and from what Danny says is far too free with her hands. Rosie herself let slip that Minnie had used