little else, she was still hurt.
Chrissie and Geraldine, on the other hand, were interested in everything, and Chrissie was particularly interested in sex and what it was like. Remembering her own ignorance over periods, and how it had caused her such distress and made her think she was dying, Rosie told her sisters about what would happen well before it should. Chrissie had been grateful to Rosie when she began her periods the previous year, but in talking about it, Rosie had set a precedent for talk of intimate things.
So on Rosie’s first visit home, Chrissie, on the pretext of leaving her down at the farm gate, had asked her as soon as they were away from the house, ‘Have you and Danny done it yet?’
Rosie turned to face her sister and replied sharply, ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Oh, please, Rosie,’ Chrissie pleaded. ‘You’re the only one I can ask.’
‘Why should you want to know?’
‘Well, just because I’ll probably do it eventually myself, won’t I?’ Chrissie said. ‘I mean, most women do and I’d be scared, if I didn’t know what to expect.’
‘It’s natural to be a bit scared,’ Rosie said. ‘I was.’
‘I just can’t imagine letting any man do that to you,’ Chrissie said. ‘It seems such an odd thing.’
Rosie hid a secret smile as she remembered the longing and passion that had almost taken over her reason when she’d been courting Danny. Chrissie had not yet had those feelings, but she was bound to have them one day and maybe it would do no harm to tell her a wee bit in advance. ‘The other girls talk about it,’ Chrissie went on. ‘Josie Clancy said her sister bled like a stuck pig the first time and it hurt like hell then and got no better. It’s just something you have to let men do. Is that the way it was for you?’
‘Far from it,’ Rosie said.
‘Do you bleed?’
‘Aye,’ Rosie said, ‘the first time. It shows that you’re a virgin.’
‘And does it hurt?’
‘Aye,’ Rosie said. ‘Again, just the first time, but you don’t notice it.’
‘I’d notice it, if someone hurt me.’
Rosie laughed. ‘Look, Chrissie, I’m not going into details, but there are things a man can do to a woman that means you’re as willing as he is. You have to let your husband make love to you, however you feel about it – it’s what you promise on your marriage, but if he is kind and patient and loving it can be that you will want it and enjoy it as much as he does.’
Chrissie still looked doubtful and so Rosie went on. ‘One day there will be someone who’ll make you feel just the way I’ve described and you’ll want to do things you know are wrong and he may promise you the moon if you’ll let him do as he pleases. When that happens, Chrissie, remember what I’ve told you and wait for the ring on your finger.’
‘Don’t fret yourself,’ Chrissie replied with meaning. ‘No man will get within a yard’s length of me I’m telling you. It seems a lot of fuss for little return and I want no part of it.’
Rosie remembered when she had felt the same about the vulgarities of sex. Any thoughts she had about boys had been romantic and very chaste – the position Chrissie was in now. But she said nothing else, and hoped when the time came, Chrissie might remember her sister’s words and that they might prove helpful to her.
She kissed Chrissie at the gate and made her way home, going over the conversation in her head. ‘I’m a fine one to talk about my words helping Chrissie,’ she told herself. ‘There are not words written that would have helped me with Danny. I just thank God he was good enough to make me wait.’
The Walsh family walked together to Mass early on Christmas morning. The milking was done but there had been no breakfast cooked for no one was allowed to eat or drink before taking Communion. Rosie was glad to hang on to Danny: she felt light-headed and her empty stomach growled in protest.
It was better in the lovely church, everything white and gold and shining and she listened to the Latin words and let the familiarity soothe her. The sermon was short, the priest taking pity on his hungry parishioners, some who’d come far greater distances than the Walshes.
Afterwards, around the churchyard, Rosie glimpsed her own family and Dermot, catching sight of her before anyone else, came hurtling across and threw himself at his sister, nearly tipping her over. Rosie felt sorry for the boy – though she’d visited her home every week, she’d always had to leave before Dermot arrived home from school and so she hadn’t seen him in ages. She also knew Dermot hadn’t been told that Rosie had visited on these occasions because her parents were well aware of the fine rage the child could work himself into if ever he was thwarted in anything. To Dermot it must have seemed as though Rosie had abandoned the whole family.
They’d never even met at Mass, for Rosie and Connie attended the one at half past seven, with Danny too if he was through milking in time. Occasionally, she’d glimpsed her father in the congregation and have a brief word, but she knew her mother, sisters and Dermot would attend the children’s Mass at nine o’clock.
So now, when Dermot pulled himself away from his sister’s embrace and said accusingly, ‘Why haven’t you been to see us?’ she knew he had a point.
However, before she was able to reply, Dermot continued, his voice high with excitement, ‘Santa’s been to our house, and I got an orange and pencils, a tin whistle and a bar of chocolate in my stocking.’
‘Well, aren’t you the lucky boy?’
‘Aye, and that’s not all,’ Dermot continued, almost breathless with the thrill of it all. ‘I’ve got a train set too – it’s all set out on the floor in the kitchen.’
Rosie’s mouth dropped open with astonishment. Her questioning eyes met those of her two sisters who’d followed Dermot to speak to Rosie and it was Chrissie who nodded and added wryly, ‘Aye, he does – a big one. It’s clockwork.’
‘You wind it up,’ Dermot boasted. ‘And I’ve got two big engines and lots of carriages and goods wagons and two tracks that wind together and a bridge and a tunnel and a station.’ He hopped around with exhilaration. ‘Come and see,’ he urged. ‘You can play with me.’
‘Not now, Dermot,’ Rosie replied. ‘I must go home and help cook breakfast and then Christmas dinner for us all. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.’
‘Promise?’
‘Aye, I promise,’ Rosie assured him.
Back home at the Walshes’ house, after they’d eaten, there were presents for everyone. Rosie’s were small for she hadn’t much money of her own, but she had bought lace hankies for Sarah and Elizabeth, a bottle of perfume for Connie, socks for Matt and Phelan and a new shirt for Danny.
She was overwhelmed by their gifts to her: a hat, scarf and glove set in dark red from Matt and Connie, and a blouse from the girls which they’d made in their free time at work. It was peach and the material had a shine to it, and the girls had embroidered flowers in pale blue and white on the collar. Rosie was able to declare truthfully that it was the prettiest thing she’d ever owned.
And then Danny gave her his presents. The first was a thick woollen coat in navy blue, the cut of it the height of fashion and the hem falling just to the top of her boots. She put it on and spun around in the kitchen in absolute delight and said she felt like a queen, and all the family had laughed at her fondly. Then Danny presented her with a little box. Inside it, set in tissue paper, was a brooch with an amber stone, surrounded by a filigree of blue and white that he’d chosen especially to go with the blouse his sisters had told him about.
The gifts, selected with such care, brought tears to Rosie’s eyes and she suddenly thought of her parents’ house, where a wee boy had a train set