Page 2 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch

Rosie was chomping her way through her fourth cupcake by the time she realised that iced treats probably weren’t the answer. But nobody could blame a girl for trying.

The cold air continued to sting her face. With her nose running and her mind racing, not even the rich colours of autumn had a hope of calming her. She was giving herself a pep talk about not being a crummy ‘spare part’, when she turned the corner of the road they called home.

It was Cassius’s flat and had always been too flashy for her taste.

It was all white and glass with too much stainless steel like somebody was about to perform an autopsy, and she’d probably never get used to everything being voice-activated.

But Cassius was gorgeous in a techy-nerd kind of way, with his slightly wonky glasses and the way he got excited about the latest new digital thingamabob.

And he was sweet with her. He hadn’t batted an eyelid when she’d introduced colourful throw cushions, and that robot vacuum cleaner he’d bought her was super handy, even if it wasn’t the most romantic of gestures.

But despite not being her choice of living space, their flat on Cybourne Road had been a sanctuary compared to the Regency townhouse where she’d lived with her family since her sort-of once fiancé James had died.

Living with the Featherstones had been like existing in a Cheltenham version of Made in Chelsea , with her mum Farrah and half-sister Flick casting themselves as party-girl socialites.

As much as she loved them, next to those two Rosie had always felt like a gnarly pumpkin at a ball.

Rosie battled with her key in the lock of the flat’s main front door, which had never seemed to like her.

‘ Here ,’ Cassius would usually say, leaning in to help her and managing first time.

She gave a tiny smile through her mouthful of crumbs.

She just needed that hug and a day of sobbing on the couch watching reruns of Murder, She Wrote .

She’d always wanted a typewriter like Jessica Fletcher, and at least somebody would never employ Artificial Intelligence to write her words.

The lock finally gave in, and Rosie shoved the door open.

Maybe she’d have time to call the maintenance person, now she didn’t have a job to go to.

Although Cassius would probably suggest replacing it with something eyeball-activated.

She exhaled, feeling the weight of the morning’s shock still heavy on her chest. Her role at KJ Marketing hadn’t been the best of jobs, but it had been hers .

One of the few constant, stable things in her life, for ten whole years.

It had seen her through her grief with losing James in that horrific, unexplained cactus accident seven years ago.

Working for Kelvin had never exactly been dreamy, but having her role ripped out from under her had come as a huge, earth-wobbling shock.

Maybe she was suffering with some bizarre version of Stockholm syndrome.

As Rosie stood under the ultra-bright false lights of the communal hallway unravelling her scarf, she wondered if she’d even manage to get another job as a writer if Artificial Intelligence was the future.

Surely there would be far fewer positions and a lot more competition.

Mediocre , Kelvin had called her. Another sting of tears hit the backs of her eyes.

Thirty-six years old, living in her boyfriend’s flat with a door that didn’t want to let her in, no job, no prospects, and her only ever hope at getting married had been squashed by a giant prickly pear.

Was that really the size of it? She sucked in a jagged breath and wiped the cake icing from her cheek.

No. She still had Cassius, and their relationship was promising.

He wasn’t wanted in four countries like the ex who’d popped up on Crimewatch for impersonating a lollipop lady, nor did he have a penchant for stuffing toy dogs with stolen knickers, like Dingo Dave.

She and Cassius had a happy future ahead of them, and as far as work was concerned, she’d sort something out.

She was like a piece of toast that always landed butter side up.

Well, at least after a few attempts, and a bit of picking off carpet fluff.

She navigated the lift, trying to ignore the irritating voice of robot lady, who seemed to be stuck on a ‘ doors closing ’ loop.

‘Perhaps when one door closes, another one opens,’ Rosie told the tinny voice.

Yes, today could only get better, couldn’t it?

Once she stopped trying to make friends with the lift computer, that was.

Rosie reached the front door of their flat, which Cassius had set up with swipe-card entry, even though her sister had once managed to get in with her Black Amex, and Rosie’s Boots store card would sometimes do the trick.

She swiped herself in and stepped into the hallway, which was dark compared to the brightness of the communal parts. Perhaps Cassius had popped out.

‘Ouch.’ Rosie looked down to see she’d stubbed her toe on a gigantic cardboard box in the hallway.

How hadn’t she noticed it? Well, it hadn’t been there that morning.

Had it? Rosie put down her bag and squinted at the packing label.

It was addressed to Cassius, and he’d opened it already.

Probably the latest bit of tech from somewhere or other.

The way her day was panning out, at least the box was big enough for her to hide in.

Rosie wasn’t in the mood to negotiate lighting with the voice-activated thing that Cassius called Serena.

Serena might only be a piece of smart technology, but she did not like Rosie and had a canny way of delivering the exact opposite of whatever Rosie wanted.

So she kicked off her boots and paced towards the bedroom to hang her coat.

‘Need anything, Zoe?’ Serena chimed sweetly from the speaker in the corner. Who was Zoe? Probably another of ‘smart’ Serena’s jokes.

‘A break from annoying robots trying to take over my life?’ Rosie whispered, because there was no point in infuriating her.

As she reached the bedroom door, Rosie stopped.

What were those unexpected sounds, emanating from inside?

Another of Serena’s not-so-funny capers?

Serena could definitely play romantic music, even if Rosie had never heard that tune before.

Could she replicate Cassius’s voice too?

And what was that odd grunting, interspersed with a cat-like whimpering?

Cassius wouldn’t even let her have a cat.

Rosie put her ear to the door, her heart beginning to beat hard in her ribcage.

Was she about to inadvertently burst in on a grunty cat burglar who liked stealing stuff to the sound of the saxophone?

She grabbed a steel vase from a nearby shelf.

It would be a handy defence if they tried to attack her.

The dodgy cat noise came again, but louder this time. Like it was... excited? But the swoony sax music kept drowning it out.

Hang on. Wasn’t Cassius quite partial to a bit of woodwind?

Was he in there doing something reckless with the neighbour’s moggy?

Rosie gasped. That would be one thousand times worse than Crimewatch guy.

Cassius would never do that. Every part of her wanted to run for her life, but she had to prove to herself that she was thinking nonsense – and she really did need to put her coat away.

And then Vix’s words from earlier that morning came back to her. ‘Please stay vigilant.’

What were her vigilant eyes about to see?

Rosie took a deep breath, steadied herself, and barged the door open, clinging to the sturdy vase with one shaking hand.

‘Aaaaaaaah!’

Rosie wasn’t quite sure who was screaming. Maybe it was all of them. All of them being herself, Cassius... and whoever the hell was lying across their bed unclothed with her legs in the air, as though she was riding an upside-down bicycle.

Was it a who ? Or was it a what ?

Rosie screamed again, feeling like she was on the world’s most horrific fairground ride, and she was desperate to make it stop.

The metal vase fell from her hand, crashing down onto her toes.

Pain seared upwards. The vase bounced across the wooden floor, in near slow motion, each landing making a deafening crack.

Naked Cassius rushed towards her, looking more scrawny and awkward than she’d ever seen him.

She jumped backwards, pushing her hands out to keep him at bay and praying her fingers didn’t touch anything hairy.

All that commotion, yet upside-down cycling woman hadn’t flinched. She simply lay there, emitting the strange sexy cat noise, and groaning ‘ Cassssssiuuuus ’ like he was taking her to dizzy feline heights when clearly, he wasn’t.

‘What are you doing here?’ Cassius tried to usher Rosie out of the bedroom, as if there was absolutely nothing odd to see.

‘What am I doing here? What about that ?!’ Rosie pointed behind him.

The thing whimpered again.

‘Deactivate, Zoe.’

So that was who Zoe was. Well, Serena was quick at learning names when she wanted to be.

‘You gave it a name?’ Rosie hissed. She could only assume it wasn’t human, as much as its naked pink body had been crafted to look freakishly person-like.

The thing had arms, legs and remarkably good boobs, now she came to gawp at it.

It had a much better figure than Rosie had ever managed and was obviously good at staying in uncomfortable poses.

Maybe it could write goddamned novels too.

It was abundantly clear that when she’d spotted Cassius internet searching sexy robots over his breakfast bagels, that hadn’t been the first time – and he hadn’t stopped at window shopping.

To think she’d naively believed he was just curious about the latest technology.

And with what he’d been doing with his purchase, there was little chance of a refund.

Zoe made a robotic deactivating sound, pulling Rosie back to this terrifying version of the present.

‘What I’m doing here,’ Rosie continued, ‘is coming back to hide from life, because stingy Kelvin has replaced me with a robot. Much like my appalling ex -boyfriend.’

They were standing in the doorway of the bedroom, trying not to look at the unfortunate tableau inside.

‘A robot?’ Cassius scratched his head. ‘A robot writer?’

‘Not a physical robot, you computer-shagging buffoon. One of those Artificial Intelligence things. A chatbot . Presumably it’s better at stringing words together than your new cat-whimpering girlfriend.’

‘Ahh, a chatbot. They’re not really robots at all. AI is software , not...’ His voice trailed off, as though acutely aware that the next part was ill-fitting for the situation. He covered his groin.

‘Hardware,’ Rosie finished, with a weighty sigh.

And with that, she marched into the room, pulled a holdall from under the bed, and began throwing essentials into it as fast as her arms would allow her, trying her best to ignore robot woman and her particularly supple limbs.

It seemed Rosie was a ‘ spare part ’ even in her own bedroom.

Perhaps her crappy boss had been right. She was easily replaceable, like some kind of minor character in the story of her own life.

Didn’t everyone deserve a chance at playing the heroine?

‘Can’t really blame me,’ she heard Cassius grumbling, somewhere behind her. ‘You’re still clinging to the fantasy of that dead James bloke. At least Zoe has a bit more life in her than him.’

‘You bloody loser,’ Rosie yelled as she slung her bag over her shoulder and left the room. If she’d ever compared him to James, she’d been right to conclude that Cassius would never measure up.

When she reached the hallway, she spied the huge box again and felt her heart plummet.

So that was what the special delivery was all about.

How had she seen this woman-sized box and not put two and two together?

Was her head actually in the clouds? She gave the robot’s empty box a swift hip barge, because that seemed like the best revenge she was going to get.

A small collection of envelopes that she hadn’t noticed before fell off the box and floated to the floor.

The day’s post. She pulled out anything with her name on it, only half-registering the bright orange envelope with the handwritten address that on any normal day would have stood out like a big sore thumb.

But today was not a normal day. She shoved the mail into her pocket.

It was time to get out of there. Rosie had no idea where she was going, but one thing was clear. She needed to get as far away from civilisation and disrobed robots as her clapped-out Citroen would carry her. Which probably wouldn’t be far enough.