She saw Connie had been busy. There were pictures on the walls and bright rag rugs on the stone-flagged floor, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus above their bed. Rosie and Danny had bought a new bedroom suite from a catalogue, but Rosie hadn’t seen it until now because it had been delivered to the Walshes’ farmhouse only a few days before the wedding. Now, Rosie saw someone had hung her clothes in the dark wood wardrobe and her personal things were laid out on the matching dressing table.
‘Oh Danny, it’s beautiful!’ she cried.
‘So are you and I can’t wait much longer,’ Danny said huskily, wrapping his arms around his young wife. ‘Oh God, Rosie, how I’ve longed for this moment. I love you and want you so much.’
The love in his voice melted Rosie’s apprehension and she allowed Danny to strip the wedding dress from her and let it fall in silken folds at her feet, her petticoats, corset and bloomers following as he laid her on the bed and removed her boots and stockings. She lay beneath the sheets, naked as she hadn’t been since she’d been a wee child, for she’d always been taught to dress and undress beneath her nightdress.
Suddenly, Danny, in his haste to divest himself of his clothes, kicked the chamber pot beneath the bed and the ringing sound reverberated throughout the house. Rosie put her hand across her mouth to still the giggles.
‘Shut up,’ Danny hissed, laughing himself. ‘This is no laughing matter, madam. Please conduct yourself with proper decorum.’
‘Aye, Mr Walsh, I will,’ Rosie said, gazing at her husband as she spoke and realising she was seeing a naked man for the very first time in her life. Danny snuffed out the light and slid in beside her.
After her mother’s words she’d imagined herself lying rigid in the bed in her pristine nightdress while Danny did unmentionable things to her that she had to submit to now that she was his wife. She imagined it hurting her so much she’d cry out and everyone would hear.
But it wasn’t a bit like that. Danny held her close and caressed her gently, while his tongue, darting in and out of her mouth, sent sharp shafts of desire flowing through her whole body as she let her hands explore his body too. When she came upon his hardened penis, she gave a gasp. Danny was nuzzling at her breasts and she cried, ‘Oh, Danny, please, please hurry.’
Danny smiled. The passion in both of them could be denied no longer and he carefully entered his young wife. She did feel pain, but it was overridden by waves of exquisite joy which engulfed her over and over again, until she felt she could die with happiness. She couldn’t help the cry that burst from her lips, and as Danny, spent at last, lay on top of her, she felt tears of joy seep from under her lashes and trickle down her cheeks.
She felt loved, desired, wanted, as she’d never truly felt in her life before. But none of her earlier life mattered – now she had Danny and he more than made up for her parents’ indifference.
When Danny discovered Rosie was crying he was horrified. ‘Don’t cry. Oh God, Rosie, don’t,’ he implored. ‘Did I hurt you? Oh God, I’m sorry.’
Rosie’s smile was watery but her voice firm as she said, ‘Are you not the finest eejit, Danny? Don’t you know women cry from happiness as well as sorrow? Don’t ever apologise for what we did tonight, for I wanted it as much as you and it was wonderful so it was.’
Danny knew he’d found a treasure, a woman who’d love him all his life and who enjoyed their lovemaking. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. ‘I love you, Mrs Walsh,’ he said.
‘And I you, Mr Walsh,’ Rosie replied happily. She snuggled against him and the two slept entwined until the cock crowed the next morning.
Connie got on well with Rosie. She liked the girl for herself and also because she made her son happy. She’d known it from the first morning. Connie had heard the cry Rosie had given the previous night and knew what they were about and prayed that it was a cry of joy and not pain. She hoped her son had had the patience to take Rosie gently, for she knew she would be a virgin, and later the stained sheets she stripped from the bed gave further evidence of this.
But when she saw the two of them together the next morning, she knew that whatever way Danny had approached their first nuptial coupling, it had pleased his young wife, and that was all that mattered. She saw the way their eyes met and the secret smiles between them, the way Danny found ways to be near Rosie, putting his hand around her shoulder, touching her arm, catching her suddenly around the waist and pulling her close. Rosie delighted in these exchanges, even as she coloured in embarrassment. They were happy and at one together and Connie was content.
Rosie had wondered how it would fare with so many women in the one kitchen, but she needn’t have worried. Danny’s eldest sister, Sarah, had been working as a seamstress in Blessington village since Elizabeth had left school and was able to help her mother. Now, with Rosie to take on that role, Elizabeth was anxious to follow her sister, who assured her there was plenty of work. ‘Do you mind?’ Rosie asked Elizabeth. ‘I’d not like to think I was pushing you out of your own home.’
‘You’re not,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘I’ve been dying to go. Sarah has fun there with the other girls and after I left school I found the farm a bit stifling and lonely – you know how it is. It’s different for you, you’re married now and you’ll probably have your own babies soon enough, but I want something for myself before I tie myself down.’
‘Well, if you’re sure?’
‘I am,’ Elizabeth said, and suddenly, impulsively, gave Rosie a kiss on the cheek. Rosie was pleased but surprised. ‘What was that for?’
‘Oh nothing,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Just to say welcome to the family. We’re all glad you’re here, Danny especially – he’s like a dog with two tails.’
There was a lot of talk and laughter around the Walsh table in the evenings. They found humour in many things and were not averse to poking fun at one another. Rosie was included in this from the start and it only took her a short amount of time to be able to come back at them in the same teasing vein.
Connie knew that Rosie hadn’t been happy at home and she also knew, like most of the village, that the main problem in the house centred around the fuss made of the wee fellow Dermot.
It didn’t help that Dermot looked so angelic, with his fair curls and his large blue eyes and elfin face. He looked remarkably like the statues of the cherubs in the church in Blessington, except that he didn’t have the angels’ chubby frame. Dermot was slight and fine-boned, and Minnie called him delicate yet the child seldom ailed. ‘She’ll not let the wind blow on him because if it,’ Danny said with a snort whenever Connie spoke of him. ‘The child’s no more delicate than I am.’
‘I agree with you,’ Connie said. ‘Phelan was a bit like that when he was younger and now look at him.’ Phelan had sprouted that year and was continuing to grow, and while Danny was six foot in his stocking feet, she thought Phelan might even exceed that eventually. ‘No,’ Connie concluded. ‘There’s not a lot wrong with that wee boy – I’d just call him wiry.’
‘Call him wiry, delicate, or whatever you like,’ Danny said. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, I’m almighty glad Rosie is out of that unnatural atmosphere.’
Connie agreed with Danny, and yet she encouraged Rosie to visit her old home once a week. After all, it was no distance at all over the fields, even if they were too muddy to cross and she had to use the roads, it was only just over two miles away, not that far at all.
Rosie was glad to go, for kind though Connie was, she missed her sisters and young Dermot too, for all he was a wee tyrant. But as the days shortened she seldom saw her brother for she always left the house before he came in from school so she could be back home before the dark set in. As the weather got colder, she often thought if it wasn’t for Connie urging her to go and the genuine welcome she received from Chrissie and Geraldine, she’d