Where the Wild Roses Grow

by Willow Rose

  I kept reading and reached the statement taken from her mother, who was clearly heartbroken, and from her neighbors and someone who worked for Bridget Callaghan in the flower shop. The last one caught my interest. She had told the police that she knew Bridget had met a man and that she was going on a date the same evening. The woman working for her had never met the man she was meeting, but she knew that Bridget was very excited. They hadn’t found the man she was dating yet.

  “And you probably never will, since the autopsy concludes it could have been an accident,” I grumbled and leaned back in my bed. The face of Bridget Callaghan wouldn’t leave me. Was it her eyes that bothered me? Something did. Was it just the rose thing? I didn’t know. But I did know that the rose was important. It was no coincidence. Not the way it was placed. In between her teeth. Could it have landed like that when she fell from the riverbank onto the rocks? I seriously had my doubts. The way it was placed was simply too careful. It was too perfect, making her look like a dancer. And it bothered me how intact the rose was. How perfect it was. It looked like it hadn’t dropped one single petal. How on earth would you explain that?

  Maybe she put it in herself before she fell, or maybe it was suicide and she wanted to stage herself? Make a beautiful picture?

  “Nah,” I said out loud. It was simply too far out. I had an idea and sat up. I googled the rose between the teeth. Lots of hits came up. Ninety million or so. Most hits were about tango-dancing. But there was something that caught my eye, and all of a sudden, I remembered where I had heard about the rose before.

  In the song by Nick Cave.

  21

  July 2015

  Dinner was nice. The place Michael had found was perfect, Fiona thought to herself as they drove back towards Enniskerry. It was a small Italian restaurant out of town. She had ordered a pasta dish and he had eaten a pizza. It hadn’t been too fancy, which was great because fancy wasn’t her style at all, but just romantic enough with tablecloths and a little red wine with the food.

  It was all just perfect. And so was he.

  Michael had turned out to be everything Fiona had dreamed he would be. He was a lot older than she was, but Fiona didn’t mind. When he first wrote to her on the dating profile, she had wanted to not write back, since he was so much older, but then she had decided to give him a chance after all. She realized she might have a better shot at getting what she was looking for in an older man. The thought was appealing. Older men were so much more ready to settle down, and knew what they wanted in life. Not like the young men her own age who had no idea where they were going and had no idea how to take responsibility. Fiona needed a man. She was ready to settle down, and for that she needed a real man. And Michael was everything she wanted. He was charming, witty, and good-looking on top of it. Fiona needed everything he was. And he could take care of her. He already had, when picking up the check, and serving her wine when her glass was empty, and holding the door for her. He made her feel like a princess, like she was important, and she liked that.

  “So, have you ever wondered about your father?” Michael asked.

  In the restaurant, she had told him how she had grown up without knowing who her father was, that she was a lonely child who knew no more family than her mother and cat.

  She shrugged. “Of course, you wonder while growing up and all the other kids have their dads. But my mother never wanted to talk about it. So, I kind of stopped asking.”

  “Have you ever thought about looking him up?” Michael asked.

  She shrugged again. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. My mother is not going to tell me anything.”

  Michael chuckled. The headlights lit up the trees of the forest as they drove through the darkness.

  “Those mothers. Can really get on your nerves, huh?” he said.

  Fiona laughed lightly. “They really can.”

  Her relationship with her mother had been quite bad the past many years, ever since she had gone into her teenage years. When she was a child, they had been quite close. Well, her mom had kept her close and never allowed her to play with other children. Only a few select ones like Gael Higgins, but that was because she knew her mother. Fiona was told to always come straight home from school, and was never allowed to go to any birthday parties or in any way be social with others. She was asked to keep her room neat at all times and to not talk too much.

  “Speak only when spoken to,” her mother would say.

  Fiona had never enjoyed her mother’s company and suffered under the fact that she was never good enough in her eyes, that she was constantly criticized. Still, to this day, she couldn’t go visit at the house without her mother constantly nagging at her, telling her all the things she did wrong. Maybe that was part of why she wanted so badly to move away from this town, to go to the countryside and have her own family. If she had a husband to take care of her, she wouldn’t need her mother anymore. She wouldn’t have to listen to her or be bothered by her criticism. She simply wouldn’t have to care about what she thought.

  Michael stopped the car. Fiona looked out the window. They were surrounded by dark trees.

  “Where are we?” she asked. “This isn’t Enniskerry?”

  Michael smiled. “I have something I want to show you. It’s the most beautiful place in the world. You’ll love it to DEATH.”

  22

  October 1977

  The rain was soaking Violet as she stood at the side of the road. Her arm was hurting from holding it out in the air to try and get someone to pick her up. She sniffled and walked a little more in between cars passing. Sometimes, it could take up to ten minutes before the next car came. It might have been uncomfortable, but she wasn’t one to give up. She had left her childhood home, and now she was heading out into the world to finally live the life she was destined for. No more animals to feed, no more food to prepare for her constantly starving brothers, and no more washing their endless piles of clothes. Violet couldn’t wait to see Conan’s face when she knocked on his door. She didn’t know where he lived, but knew he worked on the campus somewhere. All she had to do was to find the University College in Dublin, then she would find him, right?

  She would. And, once he saw her, he would take her in his arms and give her a home. They would live happily together in the world of books, and their baby would grow up to be smart and well educated, just like Conan. It was going to be perfect. Just perfect.

  Finally, after an hour or so of standing on the side of the road, a car stopped. Violet took in a deep breath before she went to open the passenger door.

  Here goes nothing. This is it.

  She would be lying if she said she wasn’t terrified of who would turn out to be in the car, but the way things were, she had no choice. She had to take the chance. And so she did. She was so happy to realize the driver of the car was a woman. The woman smiled widely as she entered.

  “Hi there. You can put the suitcase in the trunk. Bad weather you chose to be hitchhiking in,” she said, and reached out her hand when Violet got inside the car. “I’m Shauna.”

  Violet took her hand and shook it. “Violet.”

  “Okay, Violet. Where are we going today?” Shauna asked, and drove off onto the road.

  “Dublin,” Violet said. “University College of Dublin.”

  Shauna nodded. “Well, guess it’s your lucky day. I’m heading that way too. Going to see someone there?”

  Violet nodded and looked out the window. She didn’t really feel like talking to a stranger about her situation, but she was still very grateful for Shauna showing up like this.

  “A friend,” she said.

  “Well, good thing I stopped by then. You never know what kind of creep might pick you up when you hitchhike.”

  Violet nodded. Her teeth were clattering, her clothes soaking wet. Yet she was happy. Happier than she had ever been in her short life. She couldn’t wait to be with Conan again. She couldn’t wait to finally be home.

  “So, what are you running away f
rom?” Shauna asked after a few minutes silence. The sign on the side of the road said twenty-five kilometers to Dublin.

  Violet blushed. She had no idea it was that obvious. “My father,” she said with a low voice.

  Shauna nodded. “Ah. Yes, the fathers. Had my problems with mine as well back when I was your age. I am not sure running away ever solves anything, though.”

  Violet shrugged and avoided looking at Shauna. She wasn’t sure she was trying to solve anything. She just wanted to be happy.

  “Do you have any money?” Shauna asked.

  Violet nodded, then showed her her wallet. She had stolen money from her father’s dresser. She had five hundred pounds.

  Shauna nodded and smiled, then took the exit towards Dublin. About ten minutes later, she drove up in front of a huge building. Violet couldn’t stop smiling when she saw the university’s main building. She recognized it from a photo Conan had once showed her. Boy, had she dreamt of this moment. Finally, she was here. Finally.

  Shauna stopped the car. “Here we are,” she said. “I sure hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  Violet nodded and grabbed the handle to open the door, when Shauna stopped her. “Not so fast,” she said and grabbed Violet’s arm.

  Violet gasped and looked at her. Her firm grip was hurting her arm.

  “You might as well learn right away that nothing in life is free. I need to get paid.”

  Violet’s heart was beating fast. “What…h-h-how much?”

  Shauna tilted her head to one side. “Ah, let’s say about five hundred pounds will do.”

  “B-b-b…but that’s all I have.”

  Shauna made a grimace and mocked her as she spoke. “W-w-well that’s just too bad, isn’t it? Cough it up, sister, or I won’t let you leave this car.”

  Violet felt like crying, but held it back. She wasn’t going to let this stop her. Nothing in this world would ever stop her. She reached into her wallet, grabbed the money and handed it to Shauna, who took it while smiling widely.

  “There you go,” she said and let go of Violet’s arm. “Now scram!”

  23

  July 2015

  “It’s a song! It’s a song!”

  I was talking really loudly and soon Morten looked at me from his side of the bed. He was confused and sleepy.

  “What’s going on? What song?”

  “Where the Wild Roses Grow!” I said, looking at him excitedly.

  He didn’t seem to understand and sat up. “What are you talking about, Emma?”

  “Nick Cave,” I said. “That’s what it reminded me of. Elisa Day.”

  He still looked confused. “You’re not making much sense, Emma. Could you try and explain it to me?”

  “You know the song Where the Wild Roses Grow by Nick Cave? He sings it with Kylie Minogue…or did back in the nineties. It goes like this…”

  I have never been much of a singer, and never liked to sing for people, but still I burst into song:

  They call me The Wild Rose

  But my name is Elisa Day

  Why they call me it I do not know

  For my name is Elisa Day

  Morten nodded. He seemed to remember the song. “Okay, Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue. I get that part now. But what about it?”

  “It’s a song about a murder that is believed to have been committed here in Ireland. It’s an old myth or urban legend or what you call it. It’s the story about Elisa Day. She was a beautiful woman. Her beauty is said to be like that of the wild roses that grow down the river, all bloody and red. One day, a young man came to town and instantly fell in love with Elisa. They dated for three days. On the first day, he came to her house, on the second, he brought her a single red rose and asked her to meet him where the wild roses grow. On the third date, he took her down to the river to show her the roses. When her back was turned, he took a rock in his fist, and while whispering, All beauty must die, he hit her with the rock and killed her. He then placed a rose between her teeth and slid her body into the river. No one ever found her body and as the years passed, her real name could not be remembered, so she was called The Wild Rose. Some people claim to have seen her ghost wandering the riverside, blood running down the side of her head, a single rose in her hand.”

  Morten looked at me, then shook his head. “Okay, I admit it sounds a little too much of a coincidence to be just that, but…really, Emma? I thought we were on vacation?”

  I sighed. “Yes, but…”

  He looked at my computer on the bed. “You’ve been researching this, haven’t you?”

  “It was driving me crazy, Morten. But this means that the rose can’t be a coincidence. Someone inspired by this old story killed Bridget Callaghan. She can’t have simply fallen and hurt herself by accident, like the autopsy said. I simply don’t believe it.”

  Morten opened his eyes wide. “The autopsy?”

  Uh-oh.

  “Did you hack again?”

  I tried to look away. Morten grabbed my shoulder. “Christ, Emma. I thought you had stopped doing that. After everything that happened last time. You could have gone to jail. You could go to jail for what you just did tonight. How can you be so careless?”

  “I was being very careful,” I said, feeling like a teenage-girl. I didn’t understand why this upset him so much. I closed my laptop and put it on the desk. “But the thing is, they don’t realize how important the rose is, and I feel like I should help them. Tomorrow, I’ll go down to the police station and talk to them.”

  Morten looked like he would explode. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back with a sigh. “You just insist on ruining this vacation, don’t you? I can’t believe you,” he said.

  I sat down next to him, then leaned over and kissed his nose. He tried to avoid my kiss, but I continued, and soon reached his lips.

  “I promise I’ll let it go as soon as I have told them this, okay? I just can’t sit on this information without telling them. But what I really don’t understand is, if this old myth is so well-known, then why haven’t they thought of it themselves?eck if this myth is so big”

  24

  July 2015

  Fiona woke with a gasp, only to realize she wasn’t in her bed like she had expected to be. She thought it had all been a nightmare and it was painful to realize it still existed in the waking world. She couldn’t move. The back of her head was hurting badly. Terrified, she spotted him above her. He was bending down, caressing her cheek, wiping away blood.

  “Still so beautiful,” he whispered.

  Fiona opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Nothing but a low sob that he didn’t even hear.

  What had happened? How had she ended up here on the ground in such excruciating pain? She tried to piece the night together, but everything was a daze, a fog. She tried to single out the events before ending up here. She remembered getting out of the car with him. She remembered his seductive smile as he led her through the forest towards the river in the bright moonlight. She remembered his hand on her back, urging her along, telling her she was going to love this place, that it was his favorite spot in the entire world. She even remembered feeling excited about seeing it.

  They had held hands through the forest.

  She had felt special because he wanted to share this place with her. She had been delightfully nervous about what it was, and she had wondered if he would kiss her. She had wanted him to kiss her. And he had. He had kissed her so gently. She thought it wasn’t possible for a man to kiss like that. He wasn’t rough and demanding like most other men she had been with.

  He had grabbed her by the waist and they had danced in the moonlight, danced in the middle of the wild red roses that grew everywhere in this place. He had held her face between his hands and kissed her. So gently, so sweet. She had laughed and felt so happy. She had pictured herself in the small house in the countryside, with the sheep and dogs and kids running everywhere.

  Please, God. Please, God, help
me!

  She tried to move again, but couldn’t. Excruciating pain shot through her body. She tried to focus on her legs, focus on lifting them up and kicking him. But she couldn’t. The pain in her head was unbearable. It felt like her head had cracked open. She cried in shame and pain.

  What was he going to do with her?

  Then she remembered when the pain had begun. He had asked her to look at something on the riverbank. She had gazed out over the river, and when she was about to turn to tell him it was hard to see anything, that was when the pain had struck her. She still remembered the sound when something hit the back of her head. It was the same sound she had heard the other day when she dropped a melon on the kitchen tiles.

  Michael was humming as he plucked a handful of the roses and looked at them, one after the other. He shook his head and threw them to the ground, like they weren’t good enough. Then he plucked another handful and looked at them.

  “No. No. No. Not that one either.”

  What was he looking for? What was he going to do with her?

  The taste of blood in her mouth made her feel sick. Her body felt strange. Like it wasn’t hers anymore. Like it wasn’t attached to her anymore. She tried to move her arm, her leg, her lips, but nothing happened. She tried to blink her eyes, but couldn’t.

  Have I gone numb?

  She had met one paralyzed man in her time of working as a nurse at the ER. She remembered when they brought him in. He had been in a car accident and was screaming that he couldn’t feel his legs. It was one of the worst nights of her life. She still remembered his screams and heard them at night sometimes. Was that what had happened to her? At least that man could talk and scream. That was more than she could do. Had the blow to her head paralyzed her entire body? Would she ever be able to walk or even talk again?