Page 25 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch
In truth, that evening’s sunset swim was more of a decoy, whilst she worked out how to break it to Zain that the retreats would involve parading around his pumpkin patches more than freezing your nipples off in a lake. He wasnotgoing to like it.
‘After the dip, I’ll coax the ladies inside and wow them with a few pumpkin-themed retreat ideas. Good, hey?’ She’d been to the library to do some research at the same time she’d sneaked out to buy pumpkins. On the plus side, she didn’t have to feel guilty about pinching anything from Zain.
The insect house was one of the projects she’d found herself toying with since she’d been at Autumn Meadows. She’d seen people make them on TV once and had remembered this was a good time of year to help wildlife find a home. She’d madeWingsor Castlefor Zain, though she’d have to leave it outside his cabin silently, because he probably wouldn’t accept it with much grace. He’d hit the roof when he’d caught her appropriating items for it from his log shed. As if anyone got so territorial over chunks of old wood.
Rosie had been adding more of her own little touches around the place, like she was setting the scene for her brand-new Rosie-led adventure. A solitary chipped vase had appeared in the once scary toilet hut, which Rosie had taken as Zain’s sign that he wouldn’t kill her over her idea to add bunches of fallen autumn wildflowers in there. Seeing as she’d dropped her plans for a swanky new toilet and shower block, it was the least he could do.
She’d made paper bunting from old ribbon and discarded manuscript pages to brighten up the toilet hut too, which he hadn’t even torn down yet. And remembering something else she’d learned from her mother’s housekeeper, she’d made cinnamon-spiced soap for their shared shower, which had definitely gone down a bit even before she’d started using it.
The incident where she’d got stuck on the grassy roof of her hut whilst trying to plant wild daffodil bulbs had earned her a stern telling-off from Zain, but she couldn’t win at everything. It wasn’t her fault if Steve the cat had knocked her ladder over, and the flowerswouldlook lovely when it came to spring, if they were still there to see it. Zain’s surprised face when she’d shimmied down the drainpipe instead of waiting for him to replace the ladder had been worth the bruises.
Rosie had the growing sense that making this place special for the promise of future guests might actually suit her. Her imaginative mind was happy, and if she could magic up holiday lodgings for a bunch of beetles and the odd ladybird, maybe there was a chance she could work out where to start with these retreats too.
Whatever others might say about the slightly borrowed, completely unconventional life she was forging, nobody could call it dull. She glanced across to the horizon, which she found herself doing more these days, rather than checking her watch. The sun was beginning to settle towards the distant hills, and any moment, her swim friends would arrive. There would be plenty of excitement for her first group dip, though Zain wouldn’t be around to drag her out like a freshwater prawn this time. He was still keeping a sulky distance after their debate in his pumpkin fields.
‘Will he ever come around?’ she asked her bugs.
How would she even broach the subject of therealretreat plans, when he was already cross enough about any sort of intrusion on the land? His pumpkin patches could be so valuable – especially when he was currently doing nothing with his crops other than stroking them and whispering sweet nothings. Didn’t such magnificentgourds, as he’d called them, deserve to be shown off and celebrated? Maybe she’d have to get fearless with Agnes and insist he was told a few home truths, even if her boss had been obstinate that some things were better left unsaid.
Rosie looked absently at Zain’s cabin before going inside her own to get changed.
She was still pretending to the swim gang that she knew the ropes of wild swimming, because that was part of what she’d been employed for. But being ratted out for her rubbish swimming wasn’t quite as terrifying as overcoming her hurdles with Zain.
Rosie’s eyes flicked to her predecessor Krista’s retreat planning notes, which she’d found slung inside one of the cupboards. They said things likeZain is an obstructive twatandthis is never going to work, before launching into pages of plans for her ultimate trip around the world, which Rosie guessed she had promptly disappeared on. At least they agreed on one thing: Zain was the source of considerable conflict – although every story needed a good dollop of that.
With the windows open in her hut, she heard the swim ladies’ voices in the distance. She knew that Mags, Bonnie and Luna would be there, and a few others too.
Rosie popped a towel poncho over her swimsuit and opened her front door.
‘Oh!’ She put a hand to her mouth at the slight shock of finding a bright orange float on her doorstep, with hairless Steve curled up next to it in his usual denim attire. He looked up and yawned at her. As she bent to stroke him, she noticed a note tied to the cord of the float.
The strap goes around your waist, not your toe, it read. Followed by:It’s a TOW float. AND PLEASE DON’T DROWNin large, insistent capitals. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, and she dared another quick glance towards Zain’s cabin. The lights were off, although she’d worked out he often slunk about in there by candlelight. She swallowed the rising guilt that the swimming was partly pretence.
‘Who knew he cared, huh?’ she asked Steve, giving his bald head an extra rub. ‘I bet he’s a big old softie really.’ Steve purred, like he was trying to agree. But cats often did that.
The swim ladies were soon outside Rosie’s hut, hugging Rosie and shedding off their outer layers with wild abandon. The sky was turning shades of butterscotch and burnt orange as the sun began to set over the Cotswold hills, a soft blanket of clouds overhead to keep in a touch of warmth on the crisp autumn evening. As chatter and giggles laced the air, some of Rosie’s nerves began to dissipate. If she could get through this swim and then share her latest retreat ideas with the ladies without them thinking she was hopeless, she’d have ticked two courageous, action-taking things off her list. Her confidence would need it for the long haul.
The often-intuitive Bonnie, grey mohawk tied in bunches that evening, seemed to sense Rosie’s nerves when it was her time to get into the water. She came over and squeezed her arm.
‘Not feeling it?’ Bonnie whispered.
‘I’m not really... I don’t usually...’ Rosie sighed. ‘It’s a long story.’ Should she just tell them she’d ended up here by mistake? Would they feel compelled to tell Agnes?
Rosie looked into Bonnie’s big, aqua blue eyes. They were just like her daughter’s.
‘Stories, hey. We all have ’em,’ said Bonnie, quietly. ‘Our lives are made up of them. Sometimes they change in an instant and we find ourselves in a brand-new one, wondering who the heck we are, don’t we?’ Her laugh was delicate, like her words. ‘It’s all right – no need to share. If you’re having a fresh start, we respect that. Now, I’m getting into this water before that sun goes down. You coming? Nothing better than this to wash off life’s crap and restore you to factory settings. And I promise you, whatever’s bothering you will soon feel a whole lot smaller.’
Everything the others had said about wild swimming had been right. With her body immersed in the lake, surrounded by these women she’d been thrown together with, Rosie felt held, supported, and so inexplicably brave. It was so gloriously removed from her previous existence of town life and world-dominating chatbots that her soul was positively singing. Bonnie was right. With every immersion she felt more alive. And somehow, this was sweeping her mind clear of the debris that had been piling up like an old junk yard since she wasn’t sure when.
‘Takes your breath away, doesn’t it?’ Mags said, as they pulled themselves out of the water, the last of the apricot sun having slid down behind the hills, silhouetting the trees like distant lollipops.
‘And your troubles,’ Luna added.
Rosie hoped so.
‘It changes from minute to minute,’ said Rosie, marvelling at the sky as they wrapped themselves in towels. As the sun descended, it cast different shadows, the shades of the sky altering in each moment. ‘Blink and you’ll miss it.’
‘You know it, dear girl. Just like life.’ Bonnie’s voice sounded sad but happy all at once. ‘Grab it with both hands. Live it like you mean it. And don’t let the pumpkin farmers get you down.’
