Page 3 of All Wrapped Up

‘Well,’ I hedged, in a desperate bid to put her off, ‘I’m sorry but I don’t actually have enough free time to help with the festival this time around, but I’ll definitely visit it when it’s happening.

’ Lizzie looked disappointed. ‘Maybe I could sell some raffle tickets or something,’ I conceded in the face of her faded enthusiasm, ‘but only if you agree to—’

‘But I’m not asking you for that sort of help!

’ she butted in again and with a fine disregard for what I’d just said about having no time.

‘I’m asking if you’ll actually run the thing, Clemmie!

With your credentials and love of the season, there won’t be anyone better.

This is what I was getting at when I said my finding you at home today was meant to be. ’

‘You’re asking me to run the festival?’ I gasped, feeling slightly hysterical.

‘That’s it.’

‘Even though we’ve literally just met?’

‘A technicality.’ She shrugged as if that was the most minor detail of all. ‘Your love of the season is what counts.’

‘But—’

‘Are you working at the moment, Clemmie? Do you have a job?’

‘Well, no, but—’

‘So, you must have some spare time then, which is just as well, because you’d actually need to set it up and organise it pretty much from scratch,’ she confessed. Her smile faded and her shoulders slumped. ‘I do appreciate that it’s a big ask…’

‘It’s an impossible ask,’ I said firmly. When she’d first described it, I had assumed it was already in the offing, but clearly not. ‘Who was it who came up with the idea in the first place?’ I asked. ‘Why can’t they do it?’

Her former buoyancy completely deflated then.

‘They can’t do it,’ she said, ‘because they’re sadly no longer with us. The guy who originally had the idea to do something pumpkin related in town was the farmer who championed the crop most and he died unexpectedly a couple of months ago.’

‘Oh.’ I swallowed. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘His name was Moses Talbot,’ Lizzie continued. ‘His family had farmed in the Fens for four generations. He was the last and it was his idea to make the most of the region’s much-loved autumn crop by championing it with a specific seasonal celebration.’

‘I see,’ I sighed. ‘Well, it was a lovely idea.’

‘A fantastic idea,’ Lizzie agreed. ‘It still is. And though completely underdeveloped, a popular prospect, too. Everyone was keen to see it happen in some guise or other. Still are, in fact…’

‘But there’s no one else willing to take the vision on?’

‘Jake and Amber from Skylark Farm, who have taken on some of the fields that Moses farmed, had hoped to do it,’ she explained, ‘but they’ve had to pull out because they just haven’t got the time, and there’s no one else come forward to step into the breach.’

‘That’s a shame,’ I said sincerely, because the festival could have been wonderful.

‘You would have loved Moses,’ Lizzie told me, sounding wistful and a little brighter again. ‘He had a passion for autumn that could almost rival yours. Hence turning over so much of his land to growing pumpkins…’

I found my heartstrings being tugged and myself wishing that I had met Moses, but I wasn’t going to change my mind about me being the person to take the event on, on his behalf.

‘And there’s really no one else who can sort it?’

‘Afraid not,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘Everyone else who has the organisational skills is gearing up for Christmas now. I know that probably sounds rather premature given that we’re not even out of the summer yet, but there’s so much to do.

You might not have heard about the proposed autumn festival, but I daresay you know that Wynbridge is very big on the festive front and a lot of people are already committed to helping organise things for that. ’

‘I didn’t know that either actually,’ I corrected her and she was agog. ‘I don’t know much about the town at all, because since I’ve been living here all my time has been taken up with the cottage renovation rather than socialising.’

‘But you’ve finished it now,’ Lizzie then astutely pointed out, as she found her smile again. ‘And you’re not currently working on anything else, so, my coming here today was definitely meant to be.’

‘You’re reading too much into it, I’m afraid.’

‘I don’t think I am,’ she nudged and wheedled.

‘Now you’ve finished renovating, you must have literally oodles of time, rather than none.

You can finally start socialising, get to know Wynbridge and more of the people who live there and all while you’re organising the festival.

We could do with some fresh blood to mix things up and I’m sure Moses would approve, given your love of autumn. ’

She really had the bit between her teeth, but I wasn’t in the least bit tempted. In fact, the responsibility of what she was suggesting was making me feel quite nauseous.

‘You need to remember this festival is something a much-loved local had come up with, Lizzie,’ I therefore pointed out.

‘And as a result, I’m sure that the last thing anyone would want is a blow-in stepping in and taking over.

I know how these things work,’ I added, thinking back to the petty politics surrounding local events in my childhood hometown in the north of the country.

‘You need someone who has lived here for at least three generations to take it on. Someone properly local who knew Moses and who can make his vision come to life. Someone who lives here.’

‘You live here,’ Lizzie said in exasperation.

‘You know what I mean,’ I tutted. ‘And besides, there’s no time to do it now, is there? It’s September next week.’

Lizzie took a moment to consider that.

‘Oh, I daresay you’re right,’ she eventually sighed. ‘It is getting rather tight for time. Maybe we’ll manage it next year.’

‘Next year, for sure.’ I nodded, feeling relieved that she was now finally willing to let the subject drop. ‘Now,’ I forged ahead, ‘can we please get back to what I was trying to say about my Insta account?’

When I had set up AutumnEverything, I had purposefully kept my identity a secret and I had every intention of keeping it that way.

Callum and I had made a huge success of sharing our whole first house renovation online.

We’d had hundreds of thousands of followers, but I had shut all of the accounts down when he died because there had been so much publicity surrounding his accident, that the extra attention the accounts received, the reams of comments and messages, had been too much for me to cope with.

I didn’t doubt that practically everyone who posted and messaged did so with the kindest of intentions, but it was way too much for me to process and individually try to respond to.

I had absolutely no privacy or protection when I needed it most and was inundated with personal stories of grief from so many followers.

Consequently, I felt even more emotionally exposed and it was utterly overwhelming.

After that, I had never intended to go online again, but when I moved to Rowan Cottage and started the work, I found I wanted to chronicle what I was doing and therefore created a new account, just the one on Instagram, but it didn’t feature my name or photograph.

I didn’t want anyone knowing it was me behind it and I certainly didn’t want Lizzie Dixon poking about and somehow stumbling upon my tragic past. My life in the Fens was all about a fresh start and I had no desire to see that scuppered.

‘I hope you’re not thinking I only asked you about the festival because I thought the account would help promote it?’ Lizzie frowned. ‘Though it would, of course…’

‘That hadn’t even entered my head,’ I was able to tell her with total honesty, because I hadn’t had a moment to consider that. ‘But what you need to understand, Lizzie, is that the account is entirely anonymous and it’s essential to me that it stays that way.’

‘But Jemma and Joanne won’t saying anything,’ Lizzie insisted, then added, ‘Well, Joanne might, so how about I just tell Jemma?’

‘No!’ I waspishly snapped. ‘I don’t want anyone to know and if I’d realised you were an account follower when you arrived, I never would have invited you in.’

Lizzie looked taken aback by my outburst.

‘I’m sorry,’ I apologised, quickly modifying my tone.

‘I didn’t mean to snap, but this is really important to me, Lizzie.

You might not think word would spread if you just tell Jemma, but it so easily could.

She might know another follower and let it slip to them on the promise of not telling anyone and so it goes on until… well, the whole world knows.’

I knew my voice was getting louder again and Lizzie looked puzzled.

‘And that would be a bad thing?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it would! Absolutely the worst. You have to promise me,’ I forcefully, but more calmly said, ‘that you won’t say anything to anyone about me being the face behind the account.’

My parents knew about it, but that was different.

They loved the account and seeing how many followers interacted with it served the handy purpose of making them believe that I had wholeheartedly immersed myself in my new life in the Fens.

They had latched on to the idea that some of the people who commented on my posts were real life friends and I had no intention of disabusing them of that assumption.

I had shared with them some of the difficulties I had faced last time around, but not the full extent because I knew they would spend time worrying that something similar could happen again.

‘I honestly didn’t mean to upset you,’ Lizzie said, sounding less sure of herself in the face of my determination to make her promise to keep quiet. ‘I was just excited to have worked out that Rowan Cottage is the setting of AutumnEverything.’

‘And I really didn’t mean to raise my voice,’ I apologised again. ‘but I can tell you that I have very good and very private reasons for not revealing my identity and I am begging you not to out me to a single person, so I can keep it that way.’

I couldn’t put it more plainly than that.

‘In that case,’ she said, eyeing me with interest, ‘of course I’ll promise not to say a word.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It clearly means a lot to you.’

‘It really does.’ I nodded. ‘It means everything to me.’

‘Okay,’ she said, thankfully not asking me why I kept the account anonymous.

I wasn’t sure how I would have fielded her enquiry had she been so direct.

‘And I also promise that I won’t try to further cajole you into taking the festival on,’ she nudged, some of her previously breezy manner returning.

‘Good,’ I reminded her. ‘Because there’s genuinely no time to get it up and running now.’

Even though I hadn’t known him, I felt sad that Moses Talbot’s vision of an autumn festival of some sort wasn’t going to be realised, but I definitely wasn’t the person who could make it happen on his behalf.

‘I know you’re right really,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘And I suppose I’d better go.’

‘I’ll see you out.’

I quickly opened the door before the visit went further awry. There were dark clouds gathering on the horizon which felt entirely appropriate given what had just occurred.

‘Thank you for showing me around and for the lovely cordial.’

‘My pleasure.’ I smiled, because until she’d recognised the cottage as being the main setting for AutumnEverything and then tried to pressgang me into organising the festival, it had been lovely. ‘It’s been great to meet you.’

‘Come to the café,’ she insisted as she stepped outside. ‘Let me show you around my domain.’

‘I’d like that.’ I nodded.

‘And if you leave it a few days,’ she mischievously grinned, ‘Jemma will be ready to launch her Autumn Delights menu.’

‘I think we should give autumn a wide berth from now on,’ I called after her as she walked back along the path.

‘Whatever you say!’ she called back as she climbed into her car and then quickly drove off, one hand waving out of the window.

I closed the door and leant against it wondering if all efforts to immerse myself in life in and around Wynbridge were going to be so complicated.