Page 24 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch
But listening to the surprising fondness in Zain’s voice and witnessing the way he knelt gently to touch the fruits’ skin or check how it was growing was strangely addictive. Rosie found herself following him, keen not to interrupt his flow. She’d never seen nor imagined this side to him. Had many people? Never mind complicated retreat activities, like hayrides or carving jack-o’-lanterns – although she wasn’t writing those off. But guests might pay good money to have their souls soothed by Zain’s enamoured words.
Despite still clinging to her charity donation bag, which would have beensohandy for swag, as time passed, she realised she was struggling with the idea of stealthily nabbing his pumpkins to boil into retreat menu stew.
‘The ones that seem rough on the outside are misunderstood,’ he said quietly, as she crouched next to him to stroke the gnarly skin of a variety called Goosebumps. ‘They keep people at bay, but they’re often sweeter.’
They looked at each other, then quickly turned their heads away.
‘Then there’s the symbolism,’ he went on, more cautiously this time. ‘The cycle of life and fertility, the connection to the earth, hollowing them out to make room for new beginnings...’ He paused, seeming to inwardly groan. ‘Well, some of it’s probably bollocks.’ He stood up sharply, brushing down his clothes.
Rosie blinked a few times and then stood up too.
‘No, honestly. It sounds fascinating. What else can you tell me?’
He sighed heavily and turned to her. ‘I can tell you that I’ve been working on these fields, breeding, cross-breeding, trying to improve varieties and bring back species that my North American ancestors once grew. I don’t know what your plans are for theseswim retreats.’ He said the term as though he didn’t believe that’s all they were going to be. Rosie felt a pang of guilt, because he wasn’t wrong. ‘You luring a bunch of middle-class, retreat-hungry hipsters in swimsuits onto this land is going to stomp over everything I’m trying to achieve. If you were planning to encroach on my fields to erect a bunch of fancy yurts and start singing around campfires, I suggest you find somewhere else.’
Yurts. Now that was a nice idea.
Although something else had been bugging her.
‘What are all these pumpkins for?’ Rosie asked softly. She didn’t mean to offend him, but even her inner dreamer knew when to get real. ‘Have you got anyone to sell them, or any way to make good use of them? Or are they all going to live, die... and rot?’
A twitch in the vein in his temple told her she’d hit a raw nerve.
‘I have no wish to trample overanything, but like Agnes mentioned, she could do with the funds that my swim retreats would bring.’ She was allowed to say that much, even if it was more than her job was worth to mention crumbling roofs, the threat of a cat factory, or indeed the pumpkin-themed USP. ‘Maybe we could compromise over where I could set up camp for the guests and where people can safely wander?’
She willed herself not to mention carved pumpkin lanterns or turning his rare-breed squash into soup.
The question hung in the air, the faint idea of mutuality dancing between them through the autumn haze.
‘Nature has been compromised by humans enough.’
His pumpkin-headedness ought to have vexed her more, but there was something magnetic about the spark in his eyes. He was the hero in his own story, andthiswas his fight, even if she was only just coming to learn of it.
‘And why do people put money before...everything?’
There went another of his touchy subjects. Rosie’s story senses began twitching, but she feared if she prodded for reasons, Zain the ‘undetonated bomb’ would explode in her face.
‘Money doesn’t have to be a bad thing,’ she replied calmly, because she was coming to see thatsometimeshis bark was scarier than his bite. ‘People do good things with it too.’ Granted, her mum spent it on sequinned dresses – but he didn’t need to know that.
Zain didn’t look convinced.
‘We were getting along for a moment. I don’t want to ruin things.’
He looked away. ‘I was boring you with Latin words and freaky gourd facts. I’ll go back to keeping my mouth shut.’
‘Honestly, I enjoyed it. You’re passionate about this. Don’t feel embarrassed.’
‘I’m not. Passionate or embarrassed. It’s just a bunch of fruit. No point in getting attached to anything.’
She could tell he didn’t mean that.
Then he turned and stomped away, and it was clear he wasn’t going to turn back.
Rosie decided she’d go back to her cabin too, though she’d find a different route. And frustratingly, she no longer had the heart to steal Zain’s pumpkins. For now, she would have to find another way.
17
‘It’s sink or swim night,’ Rosie whispered, crouching down to talk to the tiny creatures in her new bug hotel, which she’d named Buggingham Palace.
