Page 47 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch
They all laughed at that.
Rosie resisted the urge to climb out of the water and shout at them, even if Zain was sometimes a bithermitty. She wanted to know what was going on.
‘Whatever it is, it’s no better than a cottage industry, with no cottage. They’re just trying to run a few retreats for wannabe, pumpkin-stroking nomads. All this wildlife crap is just a fad, anyway. They can’t compete with a factory.’
Wildlife – afad? Rosie gawped.
‘The old bird isn’t as keen on selling though, now she sees funny dungarees lady and the hermit as a viable option.’
Rosie clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back her gasp.Old bird? Funny dungarees lady?Who were these ageist outfit-shamers? And yes, shecouldcompete.
‘Then maybe we need to up our offer again. Buy the old woman out of that ramshackle house too. I know she wanted a new roof, so her mangy cats didn’t drown. But wouldn’t she prefer enough cash to get out of here and buy a new place? Then we can dig everything up and have free rein. The trees, the crops, the lake, the house. So much easier if we flatten it all and pour in the concrete.’
‘You’re all heart, Reginald,’ said one of the voices, with a quite annoying chuckle. ‘You’ll be offering to replace her foul felines with a batch of cyber cats, next.’
‘That’s not a bad shout,’ Reginald replied. ‘They don’t need feeding, and you can switch them off when you get sick of them.’
‘Yeah, and they’re not full of bloody fleas.’
‘That is enough,’ Rosie heard herself shout, her voice loud enough to carry over the lakeside foliage.
Even Steve, who’d been waiting patiently for her on the jetty, was hissing now – and she wasn’t even sure if hairless cats could have fleas.
Rosie was done with trying not to make a noise. In fact, everything she’d just heard made her want to make more noise than ever. If she wasn’t submerged in cold water, her blood would have been boiling. She swam quickly to the jetty, her arms and legs thrashing like the sails of a very cross windmill. She hauled herself out and marched around the bullrushes, not caring that she was now standing in a too small, borrowed swimsuit in front of three men in smart suits. They could take her as they found her.
‘I don’t know who you are, other than you’re clearly from Cyber Purrz. But I do know that you’re behaving like very rude people. This is not your land, and anyone who doesn’t care forfaddy wildlife, our precious pumpkins or cats with real hearts does not belong here. You need to leave, before I call security. And you do not want to be set upon by six dogs and an angry hermit. It won’t end well for you.’
Rosie had no idea where she had just found her bolshiness from, or even whether these men were trespassing. And she wasn’t sure Agnes’s collection of friendly mongrels would scrub up well as guard dogs, with their limited number of limbs and teeth. The cats were probably scarier. But she wasn’t putting up with this nonsense on her quiet day off, because there was no excuse for bad manners.
The three suited men stood staring at her, their mouths open. One scratched his comb-over.
Rosie had felt like that little cartoon dog Scrappy-Doo marching over there, her fists almost circling, veins pumping with defiance. Though now she was in front of them, they merely looked at her like she was a little bit odd. It was a look she was used to, growing up next to her glamorous mother and sister. A look she’d spent her life aiming to avoid, by trying tofit in. And it was a look she’d barely thought about since she’d embraced life at Autumn Meadows. Until today.
Rosie felt her shoulders droop. Standing there with a tow float hanging limply from her waist, her body shivering, she began to sense the ridiculousness of it all. This place had a way of sweeping you into a fantasy. Of making you believe that anything was possible. Though maybe shewasjust one weird woman who couldn’t make a difference with her tatty treehouses.
As the men looked at each other, Rosie felt a swoosh of material around her shoulder. A towel had been thrown around her and firm hands rubbed warmth into her upper arms. A throat was clearing itself to speak.
‘The lady’s right. You shouldn’t be here. Unless you want to join us as paying guests.’
Rosie could hear the sarcasm in the voice, which was coming from behind her. It was Zain’s.
‘Though we’re not officially open yet.’ Zain stepped in closer behind Rosie, looking over her shoulder at the men’s feet. ‘If you’re coming, you might want to reconsider your footwear. The farm’s not a shiny shoe kind of place.’
One of the men harrumphed and the other two shuffled awkwardly. The sky above them darkened. Now Rosie came to look at them, they were quite comical, huddled together in theirdon’t get any mud on mesingle-breasted suits. They were markedly different in height, as though they were going for the bronze, silver and gold award in being uncivil, without the podium. And it wasthemwho didn’t fit in here.
‘We’re just doing our jobs,’ the smallest one muttered, half-apologetically.
The middle-sized one elbowed him in the side.
‘So am I,’ Rosie replied, straightening herself and lifting her chin. If nothing else, her mum had always reminded her that nobody took you seriously if you spoke to your feet – though her sister would add that she needed a pedicure. ‘And I’m getting quite good at it.’
‘She is,’ Zain warned. ‘And even I’m embracing it.’
Rosie’s heart swelled; was he back on board? There was a great thundering clap overhead, as if the whole planet was agreeing with them – and moments later, the sky lit up like a silvery smile matching hers. Rosie would usually have groaned at the arrival of thunder and lightning. Like the three men were doing now, her head would have darted around, looking for shelter, because it was a pain to get your nice clothes wet. But since she’d been here at Autumn Meadows – with Zain, and sometimes without him – she’d felt more connected to the ground beneath her feet and everything that grew here. Even to the vast sky above, which brought a kaleidoscope of weathers that all now had their places in her heart. And right then, with the elements cheering her on, she had never felt more of that oneness.
As the clouds began to drop rain onto the men’s dry-clean-only office attire, Rosie couldn’t help the triumph that was filling her. It only looked like a passing shower, and maybe like her, it couldn’t change much in the long run. But just then, it was making them use their briefcases as umbrellas and make haste off Agnes’s land.
‘Next time you trespass, we’ll call Steve,’ Rosie shouted after them, trying to keep the giggle out of her voice. ‘Then you’ll be sorry.’
