So I waited for you. “Down by the river where the red lilies bloom, meet me there, you can’t miss it” you said “there’s a thicket of wild roses all dusty pink and white tumbling down the bank to the rivers edge.” I waited but you never came.
Eileen
Meet me down by the river that’s what you said. I know that’s what you said because its graven in my heart and that’s god’s own truth and you can’t take that back now can you. I waited but you never came, you left me standing there like a fool. I never thought you wouldn’t come and I suppose that makes me sound daft or something.
Meet me down by the river you said, about sevenish you said, and we’ll take a long slow walk whilst summer yet lingers up by the old mill and over the bridge to shady corner where that crazy old man lives who’s always trying to grow a blue rose. You know the one; he grows red roses outside his door. I believed every word you said. There was something about you, something open, honest and good. So I waited for you. “Down by the river where the red lilies bloom, meet me there, you can’t miss it” you said “there’s a thicket of wild roses all dusty pink and white tumbling down the bank to the rivers edge.” I waited but you never came.
The evening was lovely and warm the air scented with clover and wild mint and I could hear a nightingale singing somewhere or maybe it was a lark, I don’t know but it was lovely and I thought maybe there was something special about the evening, sort of magical if you know what I mean and I was a little bit nervous too. You came across so nice and I just knew if it worked out I’d want to see you again. I think I love you but that’s daft isn’t it because we hardly know each other, well sort of but not really if you know what I mean. I’ve heard about people falling in love at first sight, I used to think it was silly but I don’t now. No, I don’t think it’s silly at all, sort of nice really, like what them old Elizabethan poets used to write about, love on the wing and all that. I waited but you never came, and the evening so fine and grand and as soft and warm as you please. I sat on the grass by the river bank for ages. The sun was low in the sky and there was all these long columns of buttery yellow light slanting down through the trees, the river looked like it was made of golden glass. You just don’t see that everyday, so it’s nice to have the memory to look at every now and again.
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You said about sevenish. I waited and waited and I kept thinking he’s not coming, then I’d think I’ll wait a little bit longer just in case. I mean you would wouldn’t you when you love somebody, even though your tummy’s all hollow and cold and you sort of know he’s not going to show but you keep on hoping anyway and wait just a little bit longer. It was after eight by then. I got up to go then I thought, he’s probably on his way, so I sat down again.
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Then it seemed like there was no more time left and I was just sitting there fooling myself. I felt all fluttery inside and I wanted to cry but I promised myself I wouldn’t. I sort of felt if I stayed, there was always a chance he might show, but once I walked away, well that was the end, sort of over before it really began so to speak. I think it must be hard to love someone when you know they don’t know how you feel, and if they did you’d just be embarrassed and avoid them if’n you thought maybe they don’t feel the same way about you. Life’s like that isn’t it, full of missed chances and things you never said but wish you had, wished you’d taken a chance even if it ended up embarrassing you. At least you tried and that’s got to be better than just wishing and hoping but never really doing anything about it.
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It gets dark late during summer so there was still a goodish bit of light when I walked away. I walked real slow and kept looking back just in case, well you know, the way that you do, even though you know you’re a daft thing for doing it but you just can’t help it can you. “Wait for me down by the river” you said, “where the red lilies bloom you know the spot, about sevenish” you said. I waited but you never came.
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Then suddenly I reached the old bridge without having realised I’d walked so far and I thought, well I know it’s daft, but maybe I’ll turn round and walk back, just in case he got delayed or something. It was like I knew he wasn’t coming but a par t of me keeps on hoping he will and well there’s no harm in hoping is there, I mean sometimes hope is all there is. Anyway as I was dithering about I noticed that funny old man standing outside his door. The last of the sunshine sort of bathed him and his roses in soft glowing light. The roses were the reddest I’d ever seen and his hair seemed to shimmer with light like a halo or something. I thought he was looking at his roses then I realised he was looking at me, and I can’t for the life of me think what made me do it but I, well I sort of waved to him.
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He waved back and called out; “come over here girl there’s something you should know.” Whatever does he mean, I thought to myself, and then before I knew what I was doing I found myself walking towards him. Funny thing is I cant’ remember what he looks like now.
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When I was up close standing near his roses he said, “He would have come girl but he could’na.”
I stared at him, the hollow in my tummy icy cold. “What are you saying old man,” I stammered out, “what are you saying you crazy old coot.”
His eyes were as blue and as deep as the summer sky. “He would have come girl but he could’na, that’s what I’m saying Eileen, he could’na come, something evil this way passed and stole his life away.”
I stared at him in shock then I realised he must be mad and how come he knows my name I didn’t even want to think about that. “You’re weird” I said, “you’re just a crazy old man who grows roses and you’re never going to grow a blue rose everybody knows that,” and suddenly I felt all confused and weepy and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
He said, “he loved you girl but he could’na come, and not all the wishing an’ hoping can change that. Now be off with you girl,” he said in a gentle voice, “he loved you Eileen.”
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As I was walking away I turned to give the old man a wave but I couldn’t see him or his roses. The sun was setting in a blaze of fiery red and orange and it was shining straight in my eyes but I waved anyway.
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When I was nearly home, and a good long walk it was too, I suddenly went all goose bumpy and cold, how did he know. How did that old man know I was waiting for someone, how could he know he loved me how did he know my name and sweet Jesus what did he mean by something evil this way passed?
Who was that old man, I felt a bit scared then, well you would wouldn’t you, and was glad to be home. He’s just a crazy old man I told myself who you’d do best to ignore and forget what he said. It was spooky though, I couldn’t get away from that, truth is it scared me.
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I used my key to let myself in. I could hear the telly going and mum and dad chatting away ten to the dozen, god love ‘em both. “Meet me down by the river where the red lilies bloom, you know the spot, there’s a thicket of wild roses all dusty pink and white tumbling down the bank close by,” I said I liked Snow Patrol and Mercury Rev, he said he liked the Eagles and America, most all the Showbands and Domonic Behane. I said I thought they were a bit old fashioned, he said yes, but he didn’t mind. I just like the songs he said, they make me feel good, music’s like that don’tcha you think, it sweeps you away and your troubles too. He smiled then and my heart just melted. He said he liked bikes and was working on an old Triumph Tiger. When it’s fixed up I’ll take you for a spin. It won’t be fast but it’ll be steady he said with a grin.
“I’ll meet you down by the river, about sevenish” he said.
I waited but you never came.
Something evil passed by and stole his life away the old man said, whatever did he mean by that I’m sure I don’t know.
“He loved you,” the old man’s voice whispered in my head. I felt cold and hollow inside and thought, I’ll be glad to climb into bed.
I could hear mum out in the kitchen brewing a pot of tea, cups and saucers clinking. Dad was going on about some rubbish on the telly. God love ’em both, I thought, as I snuggled down, god love ’em for loving me.
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The next day I found out what the old man somehow already knew and my heart nigh broke it ached so bad and not all the music in the world can sweep it away now my smiling man has gone.
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I went back a time or two, down past the old mill and across the bridge. The house stands shuttered and empty. I never saw the old man again and all his lovely roses were gone, like they’d never been there in the first place; and nobody I asked seemed able to remember him, like they’d lost the memory or something and that can’t be right now can it?
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He loved you girl, he would have come but he could’na. Something evil passed by and stole his life.
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Why, why you? I ask myself over and over, but there’s no answer to why, there never is.
They said you walked into the florist at half past six, they said three seconds later, one two three, the building was blown apart. They said you wouldn’t have suffered but how do they know that, they said it was a terrorist bomb, well of course it bloody was nobody else in their right mind would think of killing innocent people, eight dead they said and twenty two hurt really bad. Dear god is that what the old man meant when he said something evil passed by.
That’s what Father O’Brien said too, “such be pure evil lass,” that’s what he said, “but don’t you give in don’t you let evil win, though I’ll grant you,” he said, “sometimes the good Lord needs a helping hand to look after his own.” He’s a good man is Father O’Brien; he helped me to come to terms with the pain and the emptiness in my life now my smiling man has gone.
“Meet me down by the river, about sevenish” you said, “meet me down by the river where the red lilies bloom you know the place, there’s a thicket of wild roses all dusty pink and white tumbling down the bank.”
I waited but you never came, you could’na could you. Something evil passed by and stole my smiling man away.
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