Page 3 of Always Be My Pumpkin

2

‘Why didn’t you tell me Flynn was back?’ Sarah asks as I turn the lock on the automatic doors. She had to dash off to a meeting earlier but raced back after work to quiz me.

‘I didn’t know.’

‘Really?’ She hitches her golf umbrella above our heads to fend off the soft September rain. I lose every brolly I buy, but Sarah likes to keep her raven black pixie cut perfect at all times and never leaves the house without hers.

She squints as I turn to face her. ‘Don’t you follow him on Instagram? And doesn’t he write to you every Christmas?’ A soft smile breaks over her face. ‘Like some long-lost lover from one of those soppy novels you read.’

My cheeks warm at the idea of Flynn sending me love letters but I breathe out hard and push the notion firmly out of my mind. ‘He sends me a card with a few lines at Christmas. You know that’s all it is.’

I don’t mention the letter I wrote two years ago, after Jamie and I broke up, before I relented and followed him to London. I was lonely and confused, and I still missed the boy I once thought would always be there for me. But I should never have written that. Flynn had his own life to live. It wasn’t fair of me to burden him just because I missed his friendship, even though he had clearly moved on.

‘And he’s not into social media.’ I sigh. ‘He posts photos of trees and lakes, the occasional rare plant. But he never posts anything personal.’

He used to, back when he was with Natalie. The girl he was with all through college, and for a few years after, until they broke up two years ago, about the same time I moved to London.

I knew things were hard for him after he left Oakwood. I didn’t know the details, just that his mam wasn’t well and he was doing his best to be there for her. I used to scroll way too often back then, through those pics of him and Natalie. And I was glad he had someone in his corner. Someone he loved and who clearly loved him too.

I don’t add that his current girlfriend tags him all the time in a stream of endless selfies, gushing about what a wonderful guy he is. He’s only appeared in one photo though, and that was a group shot, so I often have a giggle and tell myself it’s all only happening in her head. Now that I think of it, she hasn’t posted for weeks, apart from some cryptic quote about not giving up on her dream. She didn’t say what her dream is, but I have a feeling Flynn plays a starring role.

Sarah’s eyes soften. ‘I’m sorry, honey. I was only teasing.’ She wraps one arm around me and squeezes. ‘I forget sometimes how hard it was for you when he left.’

‘That’s okay.’ I force myself to smile. ‘It’s so long ago now, I barely even remember myself.’

That’s not at all true but there’s no point making Sarah feel worse. We’re an odd couple, total opposites, but we get each other, and I know she’ll always have my back and I’ll always have hers. Her family moved to Oakwood the year before Flynn’s family left for the States and luckily for me, she decided almost immediately that I should be her new best friend.

That was a bit tricky, as Flynn and I were so close, and she couldn’t understand how I could be such good friends with a boy. But then he left, and she took over, and now I’m crashing in her spare room in the house she shares with Scott, her fiancé, who also happens to be Jamie’s cousin and best mate.

And they hate Flynn, by the way. Not Sarah. Just Jamie and Scott. Even though they haven’t seen him in ten years, when we were all in the same class at school. But every Christmas after I’d get Flynn’s card, Jamie would crack some sneery joke about Flynn being soppy and preferring to hang out with girls, even though he had more male friends than Jamie did. And he was the star of the school football team, which I think is what pissed Jamie off most of all, because he’d been their star player before Flynn arrived on the scene. I’m not sure Scott hates Flynn, really. But he and Jamie grew up together, and he backs him every time.

‘Did you two talk at all? After I left?’ Sarah scans my face for clues.

‘I didn’t get time to talk to him.’ My throat feels tight as I swallow down my hurt at Flynn disappearing so easily. Again. ‘I had to sort out our knit and crochet group. They’re up to ninety with schemes and notions for the festival. I’m going to turn around one of these days and find I’ve been crocheted into the belly of a patchwork pumpkin.’

Sarah scrunches her nose. Crochet is not her thing, and she’s never understood how obsessed our group gets about the wonders of yarn. ‘But what about Flynn? Where did he go?’

‘I don’t know.’ I shrug as though it’s no big deal. ‘Last I saw, Gertrude was ushering him towards the walled garden out the back. I went to make tea for the group, and when I came back, he was gone.’

‘He didn’t even say goodbye?’ She purses her lips. She doesn’t add again but she doesn’t need to, I know she’s thinking it. Sarah always liked Flynn, but she never forgave him for laughing when she suggested he ask me out, even though I begged her not to. She was so convinced he’d say yes, she went ahead and did it anyway. And he laughed in her face. And I guess, if I’m honest, I’m still really, really hurt about that.

‘Grub’s up.’ Scott greets us with a satisfied grin as we stroll into the kitchen of the beautifully renovated townhouse they’re renting, on the opposite side of the road from the library. Sarah bought him a cookbook a while back, after he said they were eating too much junk. He’s only mastered one recipe, but it’s his pride and joy, and every Friday, freezing fog or scorching sun, Scott cooks easy fish curry, and we all go around smelling of coconut and cumin and lime pickle for the rest of the weekend.

We never complain. Sarah’s big on positive reinforcement and she doesn’t do cooking, so it’s either train up Scott or live on sandwiches and takeaway. Or keep me in their spare room forever, which is absolutely not an option. I’m not a bad cook when I get around to it, but I am a third wheel, and I feel awful about invading their space for so long. I don’t have much option at the moment though, as there’s no place in town available to rent, and I’m definitely not in a position to buy.

‘Yum, that’s smells delish, darling.’ Sarah leans over the pot and inhales like she’s about to pull a Meg Ryan in that scene from When Harry Met Sally that I’ve watched at least a dozen times.

‘Hey, save that for later.’ I swat her arm with a tea towel. ‘No orgasms in the kitchen, fake or otherwise.’

‘Pah.’ She ruffles my hair. ‘You’re the closest we’ve got to a Meg Ryan lookalike around here. And you’re the people-pleaser, honey, not me.’ She laughs and then turns and runs her thumb across Scott’s furrowed brow, and reassures him, adamantly, that all her orgasms are very, very real.

I pretend to laugh too as I reach into the cupboard for plates, but her words remind me of what Mam said when I told her I was moving home, and that Jamie and I were finished, for good this time.

Just promise me you’ll do what’s best for you, Gracie. I know you like to keep everyone happy, but you deserve to be happy too.

I wasn’t sure if she was really talking about me. Or reassuring herself that it was still okay to rent out her bungalow and head off on her Eat, Pray, Love adventure, now that I was moving back. I promised her I had everything under control, and that Sarah had offered I could stay with her for a while, and all she needed to do was finish packing her suitcase and send me lots of great photos from her trip.

I wolf down my dinner and dash upstairs to change into my favourite blue jeans and floppy jumper. I promised the knit and crochet group I’d see them at the village meeting, and back their proposal for a cosy Halloween festival this year. There are grandparents in the group, and quite a few young mothers, and they’re campaigning for a change from the usual ghastly ghouls and vampires. And especially from the blood-soaked headless horseman that terrified the life out of the smallies last year.