She called herself Rose, because of the flowers that her mother grew in their backyard. But her real name was Matilda. Only her father called her that, though. When he decided it was worth coming to see her, that is.
She was seven years old and she was running around the backyard, dodging between the rose bushes, trying to get as close as she could to them without hitting any of the thorns they each had.
Their neighbour, the bossy Mrs Pritchard, had said that her mother should clip the thorns off, or get bushes without thorns and both Rose and her mother had told her no. This is what they both wanted, so this was what they all got. Besides, Mrs Pritchard didnt own this place, they did. They could plant whatever they wanted, thorns or no, and no bossy woman next door could tell them otherwise.
Rose was only allowed to play on this side of the house when her mother was watching. The rose bushes acted as a sort of fence. There was no actual fence there, and when they had moved in, just after Rose had been born and just before her father had left, there was nothing separating their property from the untamed wilderness beyond.
Her mother had chosen the roses because of their thorns. The child would attempt to squeeze through the gaps left between them, get pricked and not want to go near them again. That had been the plan, at least, but after her father left, after several tries at different jobs, there had been very little money left. Certainly not enough to buy the amount of bushes needed to fill the fenceline properly. So, now, while she was too young to understand fully, while on this side of the house, her mother had to be there watching. No one else. Not her father, not the teenager next door, or Mrs Pritchard on the other side. Just her mother. And, to her credit, Rose followed this rule. Her mother knew best and if she said something wasnt to happen, then that was that.
But then Mrs Pritchard fell ill. Her family came in and moved her to a hospital. Her house was empty with a bright sign outside that said For Sale. For Rose, that sign was there for a long time. In reality, however, it was less than three months.
One day, on being dropped off from school, she found her mother in the living room peering through the curtains at Mrs Pritchards place next door.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she hung her school bag up on her hook and took all her books and such out and put them on her table. Once this was done, she walked over and joined her.
“We have new neighbours, sweetheart,” her mother said. “There seems to be a little boy about your age as well.”
“Ugh,” Rose said in that overdramatic seven year old way. “There are already too many boys at school. I dont want anymore here.”
She stomped back over to her table and sat down to do her homework. Her mother giggling a bit as she watched the new family move in.
“It might be fun to have someone else to play with,” her mother said, letting the curtain fall and joining Rose in the kitchen. Rose didnt say anything and just glared at her mother until she mimed giving in. “Ok, ok, it was just an idea. What happened at school today?”
For the rest of the day, the two of them kept to their usual routine.
It was the Monday of the following week when Rose stormed in the door and threw her bag across the kitchen. Her mother, having a late afternoon cup of coffee watched, bemused, as the small child ran into the living room and threw herself face down onto the sofa.
“Is everything ok sweetheart?” she asked with the most innocent voice she could muster.
“No,” a muffled reply came back
“Whats wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, huh? If nothings wrong, then you can come back out here and hang your bag up properly, cant you?”
There was a moment of silence, and then, “theres a new boy in my class,” she whined. “He lives in there,” she raised her hand and pointed in the general direction of the newly occupied next door. “And he sucks!” she shouted as an afterthought.
“You can tell me all about it out her,” her mother said. “Once youve picked your bag up.”
“Ugh,” the girl said, rolling off the sofa and onto the floor where she crawled awkwardly across the carpet back towards the kitchen.
“On your feet, missy. You know I dont want to come over there and make you.”
The change of tone in her mothers voice and the command sprung Rose into action and she jumped to her feet and ran out, picked her bag up and emptied it onto her table before hanging it up behind her.
“Thats better,” her mother said, rewarding the outcome, not the methods. “Now, whats wrong with this young man?”
“Hes mean,” she said. “He keeps bullying my friends.”
“Did you tell the teacher?”
“He did it in front of Ms Robinson and Mr Metcalfe!”
“And what did they do?”
“Nothing,” Rose sulked. “He called me the M word too.”
“The M word?” her mother said, confused at what possible slur could be used to describe her daughter.
“Matilda,” she whispered. “I hate him!”
“Oh, that M word,” her mother said, doing her best not to laugh. “I hope you said something to him about it.”
“I did! I told him to call me Rose, like everyone else does, but he just said thats not my name and he was going to keep calling me the other one.”
“And what did the teachers do?”
“Nothing! They just told him to be nicer to people and they let him off because hes new,” the last three words were said in a sarcastic mocking tone that her mother didnt know the young girl even had.
“Well, if it keeps happening, let me know and Ill go and talk to his parents, ok?”
“No!” Rose shouted. “You cant do that!”
“Why not?”
“Because then hell pick on me even more!”
“Alright, Ill go and speak to Ms Robinson then. Is that ok?”
“I guess,” Rose sulked, knowing that she had lost.
“Good. I have some more news for you as well,” the way her mother spoke, Rose already knew what it was, and instinctively put the word bad in before news.
“Its Dad, isnt it?”
“He says hes moving back to town.”
“Ugh,” Rose said. “Why?”
“He didnt say,” her mother shrugged. “Work, probably.”
“Does that mean Ill have to see him more? His house always smells funny.”
“I dont know,” her mother said. “He didnt mention anything about that.”
“I dont want to see him,” Rose said quietly, almost sadly.
“Neither do I,” her mother chuckled and came over to give her a hug. “We will be strong, though, right?”
“Right!” Rose said brightly. The power of a hug fixes most things.
Rose was sitting on her back deck. It was a Saturday afternoon and her mother was in the room behind her, typing another resume. Rose watched the backyard, her favourite rose bushes and the strange, dangerous bush behind it.
She knew that she wasnt allowed past the rose bushes. That there were wild animals and all kinds of other things out there. Her mother had said, more than once, that once she was 10, only a couple of years away, she could go out further. On days like today, where she could only sit and watch, those few years felt like an eternity away.
As she watched today, though, she saw a small figure dart out from the fence of the house next door and into the trees and wild shrubbery. She turned, wide eyed, towards her mother who had not seen anything.
“Mum!” she called. “Someone ran into the bush out there!”
“Im busy, honey,” her mother said, not turning around. “Just sit there and be good for a little bit longer, ok?”
“But-”
“Rose, please, Im very busy.”
Rose threw a dramatic frown at the back of her mother without saying another word and ran down the back steps to the rose bushes. She stood between two of the bushes and looked out into the forbidden area. Some way out, she could see someone, a small child she thought, digging around underneath a bush.
“Hey, its dangerous down there!” she shouted.
The figure turned around and Rose saw that it was the new kid at school.
“Shut up, Matilda,” he snarled and ran further into the bush. A few seconds later, Rose thought she heard a scream which was cut off abruptly.
Rose turned back to the house. Her mother was still at the computer, but now she had headphones on. Rose pushed through the rose bushes and ran down towards where the boy had disappeared.
At the bush where she had seen him digging around, she found a small, rough path that disappeared into the plant life. She slowly pushed through, afraid of everything she didnt recognise.
“Can you hear me?” she shouted and heard small creatures running through the leaf litter all around her. She let out small screams as she heard things close to her. Above her, the birds called out in a cacophony of noise. As she walked under them, they quietened down, flew off to another branch and started their noise again.
Rose held her hands in front of her and pushed through the shrubbery. It was easier than she thought it was, and while she hadnt seen anything bigger than a spider, she was still terrified of walking into a wolf or a wild cat or something that could actually hurt her.
Out of nowhere, she broke through the plants and trees into a clearing which was colourful and bright. The sun shone through a hole in the canopy above and a giant tree grew on the far side of the clearing, soaring into the sky. Beneath it, at its roots, there was a hole. A cave.
Rose took her time, walking through the clearing in awe of its beauty. She reached down and touched the grass, it was soft and bounced right back to where it had been; not like the grass in her backyard, which stayed crushed. She picked a flower and tucked it behind her ear.
As she got closer to the cave, she heard the sharp whistling of wind coming from inside it. Curious about what was causing it. As she leaned down to peer into it, she felt the mud at its entrance slip slightly and as she panicked, the mud slipped more and she lost her balance and fell head first into the cave, screaming all the way down.