Page 64 of You Had Me At Pumpkin Patch
Rosie looked upwards, straining her eyes to see in the semi-darkness. Wow, Agnes was right. It looked as if someone had swung a great wrecking ball at the top of Agnes’s house. Rosie’s stomach dropped.
‘Right. Erm, it’s OK,’ said Rosie, thinking on her feet. ‘You can stay in my hut tonight. It’s probably too late to find you anywhere, with the animals too.’
Agnes’s eyes darted to Rosie’s holdall, which was sliding from her shoulder under the weight. ‘Were you going somewhere?’
‘No.’ Well, that was a lie. ‘I mean, yes. I had a falling-out with Zain, and everything’s a mess, and...’
‘You were just going toleave me?’ Agnes frowned and put her head to one side, her mouth open like Rosie had just declared her undying love and then dumped her for Julia Roberts.
Her dog Onions did the same, his furry little face even more heartbreaking than his owner’s. Damn, they were good.
‘You don’t need me,’ Rosie reassured her. ‘You’ll be fine.’
‘Fine?’ Agnes’s voice was almost a squawk. ‘Do I look like everything’s going to be hunky bloody dory? My house is falling down around my ears. I’ve got flocks of needy animals that won’t live on fresh air. I’m a poor, elderly, helpless lady. And you promised to help me.Youwere my last hope.’
Rosie sighed. Agnes was laying it on thick again, with the helpless old lady thing. Rosie was pretty sure nobody viewed the determined, slightly scary woman like that, even if she was well into pensionable age.
‘I need this new roof sooner than ever, Rosie. This big do and the auction tomorrow night can’t come fast enough. Ithas togo smoothly and bring in some decent funds, otherwise where will we all live? What will become of us?’ Agnes’s hand was clutching at her own heart now, and Rosie was sure at least three of the dogs were whimpering. ‘You’re the brains and the fighting spirit behind everything. There isn’t a hope in hell of me being able to take over at such short notice. And if you’re hoping to leave Zain in charge of hosting and schmoozing, then we might as well call in the bulldozers now. We’ll all be goners.’
Rosie let her holdall slip to the ground and screwed her eyes tight shut, because she couldn’t believe she was about to say this. Again.
‘Just one night. Or maybe two. And then I’m out of here. I mean it this time.’
Rosie could never live with her conscience if she didn’t see this auction night through and try her best to raise the money Agnes needed. Rosie had to prove to herself that she could do this, and that the white lies she had told had been for the greater good. And Zain had better keep his bloody mouth shut, because he’d told enough lies of his own.
‘Thank you, love,’ Agnes said earnestly. ‘And I’m sure you and Zain will make it up.’
Rosie’s eyes popped open. ‘That is not going to happen. If I’m going to stick around briefly to help with this, Zainwhatever-his-name-isneeds to stay out of my way.’
Agnes scratched his head. ‘I think he’s...’
‘And I do not want to talk about him.’ Rosie tugged her bag back onto her shoulder, hoping her tone was firm enough.
So it looked like Rosie would be spending the night avoiding her scoundrel of a neighbour whilst she topped and tailed in a small wooden hut, with an eccentric woman called Agnes. And approximately seventy billion cats, dogs, and for all Rosie knew, probably a flock of hens for good measure.
This surreal nightmare was getting worse by the moment. It couldn’t be over soon enough.
41
‘It’s Kookaburra, isn’t it?’ Agnes stood at Rosie’s side, scratching her head.
They were outside the log cabin that had once been Rosie’s home but, after that night’s launch party and auction was over, wouldn’t be. Their guests would be arriving soon. The scene before her ought to have filled Rosie with joy. Day was slowly fading into night, the sky becoming dusky. String lights encircled the lake, throwing golden reflections. A rainbow fleet of wooden boats bobbed on the lake’s surface, tables of pumpkin fizz were lined up, and jack-o’-lanterns and makeshift firepits were already burning brightly.
But far from feeling happy, Rosie’s stomach was a tight ball of stress. She’d spent the previous night squashed into the cabin with Agnes and her menagerie of animals, andnone of thiscould continue. After a frantic day of party organising, catastrophising about whether Zain would tell Agnes she was a con artist, and trying to keep her distance from him in case she went down for hot-blooded murder, her head was spinning.
‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘Or is it Kinnyburger? No, Kimberkoo. That’s it! Though I always call him Zain K, because it’s easier.’ Agnes clapped her hands like she was pleased she’d remembered, even though they’d started that conversation the previous night.
Rosie exhaled the world’s longest breath. Well, she must have assumed Agnes was calling him Zain Kay, as in the surname, rather than using an initial. Though right then, she couldn’t care less if his name was Zain King-of-the-Sodding-Cucurbitaceae. Just because he hadn’t actively lied about his name, it didn’t change the fact he hadn’t been honest about it. Or that he’d used a chatbot to trick her into falling in love.
‘I said I didn’t want to talk about him,’ Rosie said to Agnes, who was now putting a tartan coat on Onions so he could help his owner on gate duty, notwithstanding that he’d be the least scary guard dog ever.
‘That was yesterday,’ Agnes replied, straightening herself and pulling on her Tweed jacket, which smelled a bit like mothballs.
‘It still stands.’
‘Funny how we sometimes get confused about names, isn’t it? Remember that time Farmer Wilbur thought you were called Rachel?’
