Page 19 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch

‘You massacred his pumpkins!’ Luna gasped, her eyes landing on a Magic Lantern variety that Rosie had quite badly carved with a smiley face and filled with a tealight.

Rosie had packed her cabin with lots of them, like a mini pumpkin-themed grotto.

The glow from them was wonderful, although she was acutely aware that decorating one small hut was a million miles off organising successful retreats.

She didn’t even know where retreaters would sleep, or how she’d cater for them, what activities she could arrange, or if she could do any of that without Zain committing first-degree murder.

‘Oh, you are brave,’ Bonnie breathed, as though in the midst of someone heroic.

‘Nooooo. All of these are from the nearest village shop,’ Rosie rushed to clarify. ‘He’d carve my head if I butchered his precious Cinderellas without his say-so.’ Her forehead creased as she wondered how on earth she’d ever secure such permission.

‘He’ll come around, love,’ said Bonnie. ‘And it does look incredible in here. So inviting. You’re a natural.’

‘It’s not like he does anything else with them,’ Luna reasoned as she sat herself on the rug, drying her pink hair with her towel. ‘I mean, he just grows them all – massive ones, weird ones, multi-coloured ones – and they end up as compost. Surely, he has bigger dreams for them than worm food?’

‘A pumpkin deserves its moment of transformation into a carriage, if only for one night,’ Rosie added wistfully, her mind wandering off into a world of fairy tales.

‘Or to shine brightly in a pie,’ said Mags, rubbing her belly.

And it was time to dish some food.

After stripping down to her swimsuit and plunging into a cold, dark lake, sharing her tentative pumpkin farm retreat ideas with the others didn’t feel as daunting as she’d expected.

There were mmms of delight at the pumpkin and spiced apple soup she’d made earlier in Agnes’s extremely disorganised, cat-filled kitchen.

Bonnie was soon suggesting she could make pumpkin wine instead of elderflower, and Mags chipped in with thoughts on pumpkin bread and sweet treats.

Luna became animated about Rosie’s pumpkin pampering ideas, from face masks to hair treatments and maybe a spot of peaceful pumpkin painting.

With the warm glow from Bonnie’s wine, they were soon chatting like they’d always known each other.

Rosie couldn’t remember when she’d last felt like this.

She would usually duck away from socialising, because past friends had been too vocal about her iffy choice of boyfriends, even if she now knew they’d had a point.

Being at home with a book had always felt easier, but maybe there was something to be said for opening up to more real-life friends.

As the evening went on, Bonnie confided that her illness had brought her and Luna to the water, both determined to enjoy every moment, because you never knew what lay ahead.

‘C word,’ she said simply, touching one of her breasts.

‘Though I’m all right again, for now. They thought it was stubborn.

But it hadn’t met me.’ She winked. ‘I come here to feel skin-tinglingly alive. And because Luna vetoed mountaineering. Though she’ll have to learn to let go at some point. ’

There were a few tears, and some words from Mags about how bloody brilliant they’d both been.

Rosie could already feel the guilt of her own omissions bubbling up inside her, mixing with the sadness of all that beautiful Bonnie and her close ones had been through.

Bonnie had shared something so personal, and Rosie was still pretending to be someone completely different.

Even if it might put her job and home in jeopardy, could she really go on being dishonest with these women?

Just as she was grappling with her conscience and panicking at the thought of Agnes drop-kicking her over the farm gates for being Fake Rachel, Mags picked up a slip of paper that Rosie had hastily thrown on the fire pile before their swim.

‘Hey?’

Rosie saw Mags’s eyebrows raising and realised in a belly-dropping instant what she was holding.

‘You thought the float went on your toe?’ Mags asked, looking at Rosie. Then her eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Ignore me,’ she mumbled. ‘Nothing to see here!’ And she swiftly threw Zain’s note from earlier, about tow floats and not drowning, into the log burner.

Bonnie and Luna looked over, only half-registering.

Rosie’s mind raced through her options, mentally packing her bags, facing rollockings, and going to live in a cardboard box, before realising that she might be catastrophising.

If her secrets got out to Zain, that might well be her fate.

But tonight, with these women, she felt drawn to release some of her baggage.

Because a problem shared was one less problem that could eat you alive.

‘Look, I need to tell you something. Feel free to judge me or hate me for not coming clean before. But I’m not who you think I am.’

Telling Mags, Bonnie and Luna the truth about who she was and why she’d ended up here hadn’t been nearly as dreadful as Rosie had imagined. She opened her mouth and let it all spill out, and to her immense, slightly sweaty relief they were nothing but kind.

‘No offence, but I guessed you weren’t a wild swim expert,’ said Luna, with a cheeky half-smile. ‘Anyway, I like you just as you are.’

‘And not to be nosy, but where did your ex get his sexy robot from? And do they do one who looks like George Clooney? Because I could be in the market for one of those.’

‘Mags!’ Bonnie shook her finger. ‘Don’t be such a dirty old dog.’

‘Less of the dirty,’ Mags replied, as she tittered into her mug of soup. ‘No harm in a single lady checking out her options.’

Bonnie shuddered. ‘It’s all a bit creepy.’

‘And that’s not the worst bit,’ said Rosie, giving a quick look around.

‘Don’t tell Steve, but the future of this place could be given over to robot cats, if I don’t pull in the crowds and create some pretty impressive pumpkin farm retreats, in record time.

And guess what? I’m not a retreat expert either.

Apart from a few ideas from the library and a bit of pumpkin soup, my plans are looking sparse.

I have no clue how to bring this all together. Will you help me brainstorm some more?’

Rosie filled them in on the dangers of Cyber Purrz and their ugly factory plans, and the three suited men she’d seen poking around the farm and taking measurements.

‘Well, we’re not having that,’ said Mags.

‘Jeez, does Zain the sworn technophobe know about this?’ asked Luna.

Rosie sighed. ‘No. And I’m not allowed to tell him. It’s more than my job’s worth. Agnes thinks he’ll hit the roof or do something dangerous.’

‘You need to get real with him, if you want a cyber cat in hell’s chance of getting him onside.’ Luna gave Rosie an apologetic look, because clearly nobody wanted that scary job. ‘But whatever you decide, we need to make plans.’

‘I have to get things up and running this autumn. And there’s hardly any budget. This land and Agnes’s crumbling house depend on it,’ said Rosie.

‘And what is it that you want, love?’ asked Bonnie.

It was true that every main character wanted something.

‘I want to help. To do something that makes me feel worthwhile. And to keep my cosy little home, and the headspace to write the novel I’ve been working on.

’ She pointed towards the typewriter in the corner.

‘I’ve never written the way I write when I’m here. ’

It felt too fanciful to float the idea of the writing retreats that kept bobbing into her mind, but maybe one day – because surely they couldn’t run pumpkin retreats all year round?

‘So you write novels?’ said Luna. ‘Wow.’

‘Ahh, not a painter then?’ said Mags.

‘Nope,’ Rosie replied, feeling a little sheepish.

‘Then grab that typewriter, Rosie,’ said Luna. ‘We have some lists to make.’

And once again, Rosie’s fingers were typing like the wind.

But this time, she was creating list upon list of ideas, resources, areas of expertise, friends in the know, random talents, dates and deadlines, and all sorts of things she had never even thought of.

Her writer self loved a list. They would need plenty of pruning and perfecting, and lots of it would evolve as they went.

She’d have to run things past Agnes and perhaps put a firm foot down, and to reach a whole bunch of nail-biting compromises with Zain.

But somehow, a plan was coming together. Rosie’s mind was bouncing with brainwaves, and she was relishing every moment. It was just like crafting a story – but this one wasn’t make-believe. Who knew real life could be as much fun as fiction?

She also knew that when she got back to her writing cubby, her own storytelling powers would be elevated by the friendship and feelings she’d experienced tonight.

Any chatbot would have its work cut out to replicate these emotions and turn them into meaningful words that would change people’s hearts.

Rosie smiled as she sipped her elderflower wine, watching the others become enlivened too.

Perhaps they were onto something with these retreat logistics.

Maybe, just maybe, Rosie could pull this off.

There was just the not-so-small matter of Zain.

But she’d let some of her secrets out tonight, and it had gone surprisingly well.

They’d made progress and she was feeling like much less of a guilty fraudster.

If she could somehow convince Agnes to let her be similarly honest with Zain, surely there was a tiny, glimmering hope of winning him around?