Page 23 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch

‘I’m siiiiiiiiinging in the shower.’

Rosie had to sing, to stave off the nerves.

She flicked the tap off and grabbed her towel, throwing it around her and stepping towards her wellies.

Her new friends would soon be arriving to make a start on the retreat plans, and she was a buzz of tension and excitement.

She could only hope that Zain wouldn’t be obstructive, because although she’d spilled the truth about the pumpkin USP, he hadn’t yet given his blessing.

In fact, she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t plotting to destroy her with a giant orange cucurbit.

But it wasn’t his land, and she had a job to do.

‘Lovely weather for a cold blast,’ she half-yelled to the very man, who’d appeared at the entrance to the open-air shower wrapped in his own towel, paired with a teasingly tight T-shirt and woolly hat.

He gave his usual grunt.

It was still pretty dark and crisp at sixa.m., but Rosie had been learning to embrace the autumnal outdoor cold showers with loud singing to counteract the sting.

It was the only option, with no bathroom in her wooden hut – and it wasn’t hygienic to wash her private bits in the same sink where she cleaned her teacups.

Zain’s eyes were wide, on his usually nonchalant face.

He’d probably never seen her taking the cold shower by storm, as she often sneaked in later, when the day was a few degrees warmer.

But today Rosie had plans, and she was keen to get started, come what may.

She reached for her heart-patterned dressing gown, which was on a makeshift hook, and swung it around her shoulders.

‘Oops. Mustn’t forget this.’ She bent to pick up the upside-down glass and slip of thin cardboard that she’d left on a nearby tree stump.

‘My humane spider catcher. You get some real biggies in the toilet hut. Don’t worry.

I’ve got them all out for you.’ She gave him a wink.

‘I’m popping to the house as soon as I’m dressed.

It’s bacon and egg Saturday, so I’ll bring your rolls back for you, if you like?

’ Kill him with kindness was as good a plan as any. ‘Save your legs.’

She pointed to his, which were bare below his towel. She tried to ignore how inviting the soft dark hair along his firm calves looked, because calves were surely not meant to be sexy. And those rugged work boots, undone and ready to be pulled off, much like that fluffy grey towel...

Rosie shook herself back to her less steamy reality. This shower did uncommon things to her. ‘Probably my turn to get the breakfast, anyway. Black coffee?’ She didn’t dare mention pumpkin spice.

It was the understatement of the season to say it was her turn, considering there was a tray of food and coffee outside her front door each morning, and she was fairly sure Agnes wasn’t ambling over in the dark, followed by fourteen stray cats and a one-eyed chicken.

Though every time she’d tried to thank Zain, he shrugged it off.

Rosie blew Zain’s still-surprised face a kiss, before hurrying back towards her hut to get warm and dry.

Wait. She’d blown him a kiss? She tried not to wince as she stomped across the grass.

Get back in control, Rosie. It must have been the shock of the cold shower making her brazen, or the fact she’d secretly enjoyed his bat-watching company a few nights ago, until the point she’d started talking about robots and the threat of his prized pumpkin fields being sold.

She arrived back at her hut and pushed through the door, sitting herself by the toasty log burner, thinking about that night again.

They hadn’t spoken since, other than his reluctant huffs of acknowledgement.

She guessed he needed time to brood about her revelations, and even she was glad of the breathing space after that curious is he about to kiss me?

moment. Had there really been a leaf in her hair?

Had he wanted more than a bit of foliage removal too?

Whatever was going on, when she had some more solid retreat plans, she would have to approach him. At least he hadn’t downed tools or fled, even if she’d seen him slope off in the direction of the farm’s exit a few times. Had he been going somewhere?

Rosie checked the clock and began pulling on her clothes, opting for her swirly dungarees. It was still early, but she had breakfast to collect, the next chapter of her novel to write, and a whole lot of highlighted lists to bring together.

In moments of wildness, she was still wondering if she could combine her passion for writing with her growing love for the great outdoors to offer writing retreats.

She knew people would come for the nature, pumpkins and the promise of peace, but they surely couldn’t harvest juicy pumpkins all year long.

Out of season, they would need other ideas.

This place helped her to switch off her mind from the busyness of real life, and write.

Could she make space for other budding authors to do the same?

It would be one in the eye for chatbots taking over.

The trouble was, Agnes still thought that if anything, Rosie would be whipping out blank canvases and teaching people to paint.

That was what the real interviewee for Rosie’s job loved to do.

Rosie still prayed that Rachel didn’t show up, or she’d be homeless without a cause – and this place was coming to mean everything to her.

Not long later, Rosie’s new friends were tearing towards her cabin in a flurry of ‘ coo-ees ’ and waves. Her heart swelled at the sight of them. Like a true protagonist, she’d gathered her team – and she couldn’t have dreamed up a better one.

Mags had brought flasks of tea because she didn’t trust Rosie’s intermittent electrics.

Bonnie had her big smile, and no doubt a collection of sweet treats.

And Luna had brought her girlfriend, Ellen.

Luna and Ellen had spent a summer working in North America making teepees, which apparently made them a dream camp-making team.

Ellen was pushing a wheelbarrow of goodies they’d managed to gather.

‘Everyone was so generous in the village, especially when we mentioned how vital it is that we make these retreats work,’ said Luna, giving Rosie a hello hug.

Ellen bounced over for an introductory squeeze too.

She was tall, slight and naturally beautiful like Luna, but with long blonde hair that had been dyed blue and green at the tips.

‘And I’m sure there will be plenty more donations when word gets around.

Nobody wants to see the big house crumble, especially with those cute cats and dogs needing shelter.

’ She bent down to give Steve a stroke. He seemed to have appointed himself as overseer already, somehow wearing a lumberjack-style cat coat today.

Did Zain have a range of outfits for him?

‘Luna might have painted a worst-case, imagine if the land got sold for a dirty great factory situation,’ Bonnie whispered. ‘That soon got people keen to help. I’m surprised they didn’t follow us down like a rescue crew. They’re loving your mission, Rosie. Everybody’s rooting for you.’

Rosie blinked a few times, feeling a rush of something.

She realised she was trying to hold back tears.

Maybe this was how it felt not to be a spare part.

To be out here making a difference, rather than writing about periodontitis for a numpty named Kelvin.

Make yourself irreplaceable , he’d told her.

She wouldn’t quite say she was that, but she was fighting for something – even if it was still extremely precarious.

‘Thank you,’ she mumbled into her sleeve as she tried to swallow a sob. It was a lot of weight on her shoulders, even if she did have the world’s loveliest helpers.

‘At least the Gingerbread Café in the village sent emergency ginger and rum cake,’ said Mags, settling herself down on Rosie’s cabin steps. ‘Here, at your service.’ She kicked off her wellies and stretched out her toes, not looking like she intended to do a great deal any time soon.

Bonnie tutted and dragged a huge pile of canvas from the wheelbarrow. ‘You’ll be helping me measure and cut this for the teepees, while Luna and Ellen sort the poles.’

‘I’ve been thinking about how you could spread word of the retreats,’ said Luna. ‘There’s a local woman called Lexie who runs a popular blog and knows loads of other bloggers. She’s happy to share what she can.’

‘We could all shout stuff out on social media,’ said Ellen.

Rosie thanked her. If she was honest with herself, her sister Flick could probably drop a few posts and make the retreats a hit.

Though that would involve letting her family know where she was, and she couldn’t cope with her mum and sister turning up and blowing her cover – or the fact that if they arrived, they’d surely bring more orange letters full of hurtful words and possibilities she couldn’t face.

‘Bea from a gorgeous shop in the village sent bunches of dried lavender for the teepees,’ said Luna. ‘Great for tranquillity and sleep. She sent honey too.’

Rosie inhaled a deep breath of the lavender. It certainly was calming.

‘Pumpkin waffles and cinnamon honey butter,’ said Mags, as though she was already creating her perfect retreat breakfast menu. ‘Bea is Farmer Wilbur’s daughter. Do you know him? He’s good friends with Agnes.’

Rosie gulped. ‘Well, people have been kind.’ She put her hand on her heart, which did feel touched, even if it was now beginning to race at the mention of Wilbur. She hoped he was still on the long autumn holiday Zain had mentioned. ‘But maybe we won’t call in the rescue crew just yet.’

In fact, all of these details were giving Rosie more ideas of her own and reminding her that she was good at things too.

She could add her own tweaks and creations to make guests feel at home.

She’d learned all sorts from her mum’s staff through the years, from towel sculptures to making chocolates for pillows, and she could hand-craft more soaps like the ones in the shower that she was sure Zain was still sneakily using.

And of course, there would be all manner of cute pumpkins, when she finally got her hands on them.

They set to work outside Rosie’s cabin, the late September sun warming their backs and reflecting off the lake like it was a large, glittery mirror.

Birds sang from the trees and coppery-coloured bushes, seeming happy with their company.

Rosie couldn’t help wondering where Zain was, though she was trying not to panic about how he might react or to have wayward memories about his full lips in the moonlight.

Luna and Ellen pulled out lengths of rope and various supplies from the trolley. Agnes had agreed to them using logs and planks from the woodshed, with or without Zain’s blessing. Mags ambled around barefoot, pointing a lot and pretending to look busy.

Bonnie helped Rosie to lay her plans out across the grass, weighing the sheets of paper down at the corners with pebbles.

Rosie knelt, took her coloured pens and scribbled more notes.

How would she divide these jobs up? Where would these yurts even go, if they needed to work around Zain’s fields?

Would they provide enough sleeping space?

Her head filled with more questions than answers.

Just as she looked up to quiz Bonnie, she realised that the person kneeling next to her was Zain.