Page 53 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch
‘Woo hooooo! Rosie Featherstone is back. ’
When Rosie had thought she couldn’t be happier, she’d clearly forgotten the love and effervescing joy of her new friends. And suddenly, they were making it their business to remind her.
The first voice had been Luna’s. She was legging it across the grass towards Rosie and Zain, who’d been lost in the depths of the best-ever kiss. Behind Luna was her girlfriend Ellen, who was laughing gleefully and pushing a wheelbarrow containing goodness knew what.
Bonnie wasn’t far behind them, her long boho skirts billowing, her arm waving what looked like a bottle of pumpkin fizz, which would now be considerably fizzier.
And at the back were Mags and Agnes. Mags was carrying her new ginger cat in a sling, and Agnes was marching in her frog-eyed wellies, Onions the dog barking around her.
Rosie had no idea what they were doing, or how Agnes had become part of the ensemble.
‘Sorry to interrupt the hot action.’ Luna panted as she arrived next to them, pink hair and piercings glinting in the sun. She gave them a wink.
‘Blame me,’ said Mags, as the rest of the group gathered. ‘I put Agnes on strict instructions to let us know the second you arrived back.’
‘Because we knew you would,’ said Bonnie, giving Rosie a squeeze.
‘I sent them a message on Instagram,’ said Agnes, looking pleased with herself. ‘I’ve been following that sister of yours, and her livestream whatchamacallits. #LetTheTruthSetYouFree! ’ She clapped her hands.
So that’s what the computer in Agnes’s kitchen was all about.
‘I’m more of a #PumpkinFarmKiss fan myself,’ said Luna. ‘And we just got front-row seats to the live-action show.’ She gave a celebratory, arm-wavy dance, in the carefree way Rosie had come to love her for. Ellen too, judging by the way she bounced over and sprang a kiss on Luna’s cheek.
‘Honestly, it’s so great to see you all.’ Rosie hadn’t realised just how much she’d missed them, until she’d seen them careering across the grass. ‘But what are you doing here?’
‘Making sure you don’t escape again.’ Luna shrugged as though it was perfectly obvious.
‘You’re free to make your own choices, love,’ Bonnie clarified.
‘But if you’re staying, Bonnie’s brought the fizz,’ said Mags.
‘I’ve got the glasses.’ Agnes clonked the box down so firmly, Rosie prayed they were shatterproof. ‘And I didn’t lug them all this way for nothing.’
Rosie looked at Zain, who was smiling at her friends’ antics in a way that told her he did quite like people. The possibility that they could continue to grow these friendships, with Zain too, made her heart swell. Although maybe she should check that.
‘What are your thoughts about me coming back?’ Rosie asked Zain. ‘I mean, you were here first, and maybe you don’t want me living here again so soon, or perhaps we should talk about this in private...’
Zain stepped in and put a playful finger to her lips.
‘As much as I love your voice, I’m not letting you talk yourself into leaving.
Of course I want you back here. I want nothing more than to see you striding around the place, leaving wildflowers in the toilet hut and decorating the meadows with leaf-shaped bunting, like trees don’t have enough foliage.
’ He grinned. ‘Towels folded into the shape of winter squash, pumpkin-spiced everything, your quirky family of friends.’ He gave them a wink. ‘I’d be made up if you’d stay.’
‘Even if I was running writing retreats too?’
‘Knew you’d be hot for the idea.’ He winked at her. ‘I’m your resident muse.’
Bonnie cheered and popped open her bottle, most of it spraying everywhere.
‘Talking of writing retreats,’ said Ellen, stepping forward with her wheelbarrow, which Rosie now saw was filled with old-fashioned typewriters. They’d been carefully cushioned with dustsheets, and the sight of them filled Rosie with joy. ‘Can you make use of these?’
‘Yes!’ said Rosie, crouching down to touch them. ‘They’re beautiful.’
‘Looks like I’ll need to heft some logs over and start making writing desks,’ said Zain.
Rosie was loving the sound of this already. ‘Now I’ll need to round up more guests.’
‘I’ve made a waiting list,’ said Agnes, who clearly never took no for an answer. ‘I knew you’d see sense. Frogs only jump forwards.’ She gave her frog-eyed boots a nod. ‘Not backwards. And you, Rosie F, belong perfectly here.’
She would raise her glass to that.
For the next couple of hours, they sat around chatting, Rosie fetching picnic blankets, Zain bringing pumpkin bread and whatever he could find in his fridge. Bonnie emptied out her basket, which always harboured a selection of treats.
Ellen had brought a copy of the local paper, which had run a story about the Cyber Purrz directors having a fall-out. There was word of the robot cat company dissolving. Rosie didn’t want to wish bad luck on The Three Tuxedos, but she kind of hoped it was true.
Mags shared that she was going to help Agnes with her new, improved animal sanctuary. In the meantime, Agnes was going ahead with the best quote for the building work and no doubt had a hard hat so she could keep the builders in check. And both Agnes and Mags had been reading up on llamas.
Bonnie had been on her wine and dine date with Theodore, who’d been the highest bidder at the pumpkin farm’s opening party auction, to Bonnie’s delight.
They’d had the best time and were planning to meet again, this time without Luna spying on them from the next table in case Theo was an axe-wielding outlaw.
‘We should keep ourselves busy too, Luna,’ said Ellen. ‘Maybe we could start a family.’
Luna’s eyes bulged. ‘Erm...’
‘A fur baby, I mean.’ Ellen leaned over and gave Mags’s kitten Orangeade a fuss. ‘Obviously. Ever fancied a rescue cat?’
Luna exhaled a slow breath. ‘I’m more of a dog person. But yeah, I’m up for a pet. As long as you don’t want one of those robotic things.’
They all pulled faces at that.
Rosie could already tell she was going to relish watching her new friends taking charge of their next chapters and being a part of hers too.
When the others were busy talking, Zain had something else to confide. After Rosie had fled, he’d got in touch with his father about Kimberkoo Chat.
‘I couldn’t believe it when the stingy git offered me money for my early input with the chatbot.
I told him to get stuffed if he was hoping for a big reunion, to boost his PR.
But I did accept a payout, in lieu of me suing his arse.
I got him to send it to Agnes, for the farm and retreats.
Those treehouses will need better heating for the winter, and I could expand my speciality pumpkin patches, and maybe throw up a shack for people to buy produce.
’ He shrugged. ‘I guess money isn’t always bad news. ’
‘Wow,’ said Rosie. ‘Great ideas. Would you have sued him?’
‘Nah. Too much hassle, and what would I need with even more cash? Everything I want is right here.’ He squeezed her hand, his touch setting off a million fireworks.
And then it was time for her to explain what she’d been doing since she last saw him.
They laughed about her triumphant raid on Cassius’s place, and when it came to the tale of James’s stuff he was surprisingly understanding, to say she’d once sort-of compared Zain to James in the manuscript Zain had found.
They agreed that all of that was history.
Soon enough, their friends began leaving, and it was back to being just her and Zain, taking a stroll around the pumpkin fields, exactly as she’d been dreaming of.
She hadn’t been sure how her heart-to-heart with Zain would go.
She hadn’t tried to write it in her head, and she knew he would never again be scripting his part.
But it had turned out just perfectly – as life often did when you let it.
As the sun went down, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the sky, they curled their bodies together on a blanket among the vines, next to the warmth of a camping heater, by the light of a pumpkin lantern that had been carved with a smile.
Their lips met, moving lazily in another kiss that Rosie wished would last forever. They knew they would have peace here now. No guests were due for another few days, and Agnes would be back at the house. They had the Prizewinner pumpkin patch to themselves.
She’d already shared her deepest pumpkin field fantasies with him.
But right then, all she wanted was to lie next to him, wrapped in his arms. Flesh touching, bodies snuggled under a pile of discarded clothes, feeling the warmth of his breath, the rise and fall of his intricately patterned chest. Running her fingers across the map of him.
Rosie had always been an autumn girl at heart.
Pumpkin-spiced lattes, cosy blankets, writing by candlelight.
But she knew now that she’d never experienced the true joy of it until she’d found this place and this incredible, multilayered man, who had set her world alight.
He’d shown her what true, head-over-heels love felt like.
She never wanted this real-life fantasy to end.