Page 49 of Always Be My Pumpkin

Pat leans against the doorframe and rubs at his jaw, just like Flynn does when he’s worried or upset. ‘Leave that, Gracie, there’s no need,’ he tells me as I reach for the kettle. ‘Flynn, lad, you’d better come with me. There’s something we need to show you.’

‘Idiots.’ Flynn huffs an exasperated sigh as we stand in the yard at the back of the shop and survey the rest of the damage. ‘What a waste.’

‘At least we have a fair idea who it was.’ I lift the empty paint can out of the mucky black sack that I found stashed behind the mound of smashed-up pumpkins. There’s bright red paint everywhere, streaking the battered chunks and pulpy seeds, and pooling over the patch of grass by the wall where the pumpkins were piled, ready to be collected for decorating next week. The mound of turnips at the other end is fully intact and paint-free.

‘Christ,’ Pat grunts. ‘If they’d just bashed them without all that bloody paint I could have used them for compost.’

‘Do want me to give the sergeant in Portville a call?’ Finbarr asks. ‘He can send someone to file a report.’

‘Ah, it’s not worth the hassle.’ Pat shrugs. ‘It’s not like we need an investigation.’ He points to the paint-spattered remains. ‘This has Barty written all over it.’

‘It sure does.’ I hold up the black plastic sack which looks exactly like the sack Barty was carrying the day he deposited his mucky turnips on my desk. It even has the same earthy clumps clinging to the ridge at the bottom.

‘He’s not the brightest.’ Pat rubs at his neck. ‘And him and Moll had a hard life. My mother told me all about it.’

‘Plenty of people had a hard life,’ Finbarr growls. He folds his arms across the thick wool of his long winter coat. ‘But they don’t go around trying to make other people’s lives even harder.’

‘Maybe. But I’m not sure that was all their idea.’ Pat points to the gable wall. ‘Gracie told me they came into the library waving laminated placards with the same exact words. But they don’t have a car and there’s no way they have a laminator. The only place around here selling paint was my shop. And I only sold the eco-friendly stuff for garden furniture and fencing, not that toxic stuff they’ve plastered everywhere.’ He shakes his head deliberately. ‘Something doesn’t add up.’

‘Pat’s right.’ Flynn sighs. ‘There’s no point getting the guards involved. What are they going to do? Lock them up for smashing a few pumpkins and throwing a bit of paint around?’ He nudges a battered husk with his boot. ‘I’d rather focus on what we can do to get this place cleaned up.’

‘Well, I’m not letting them off that easily.’ Finbarr pulls his car keys from his pocket and waves them in his fist. ‘I’m going to go have words with the pair of them and I’ll tell them that I’ve made an executive decision. They’re barred from our Samhain Fest. There’ll be no Halloween for the Stringers this year.’

Flynn chuckles, and I have to smile. Only he and Pat would take this so lightly and focus on how to fix things rather than worrying about revenge. I’m not feeling quite so kind.

‘And while you’re at it, Finbarr, tell them I’m proposing a motion at the next village meeting. If they defy your barring order and turn up at any of our events, the villagers will gather on Samhain’s Eve, and we’ll put the pair of them in stocks and pelt them with turnip mash. Tell them I’ll organise it myself.’

Flynn and Pat both crease forward, shoulders shaking, trying not to laugh.

‘When did you become so tough on crime?’ Flynn grins at me. ‘What happened to the sweet, gentle girl I used to know?’

I hike one shoulder, grin back. ‘Somebody told me I needed to toughen up.’

23

‘Thanks, it was really good of you to do this,’ I say breathlessly as I dash in behind the desk to relieve Gertrude.

‘Nonsense.’ She flicks her hand. ‘It’s no trouble. I only hope they get it cleaned up before the rain comes in.’ She smiles as a young mother drops an enormous pile of picture books on the counter, but I swoop in and grab the scanner.

‘I’ve got these, you go on ahead, honestly.’ I point to the story nook. ‘Looks like Ella’s happy to take story time, and I’m sure the teen book club can manage on their own for a bit.’

‘Okay.’ Gertrude nods. Then her brow furrows as though she’s considering something before she turns and strides purposefully up the stairs. She already has her coat and keys in her hand, but I don’t have time to ask where she’s going as my pile of picture books is waiting to be checked out and my stressed-looking customer has a toddler swinging impatiently from her arm.

Ten minutes later, I’m on the phone, explaining to a customer why I can’t research their entire family history while they hold, when I look up and see Gertrude leading a line of teenagers past the desk. ‘Bye now,’ I say cheerfully as I hang up the call.

I have two customers waiting, and everyone else is gathered down the back of the children’s library, watching Ella in her witch costume read Room on the Broom. She’s drawn spiderwebs on her porcelain cheeks and matched her lipstick with her jet-black choppy bob. She looks more pretty than scary, and the children are hanging on every word.

But her teen book club have disappeared out the door, and all I can do is cross my fingers and pray that Gertrude’s not planning to meddle with their movie night plans.

The rest of the morning passes without incident and we manage to get everyone out on time before we close for the day.

‘Thank God it’s Saturday,’ I say as I wave goodbye to Ella. At least I have some time before dark to help Pat and Flynn clear up that mess.’

I pull the hood up on my jacket as I turn the gable corner. The wind has eased since this morning but the sky’s a lot darker and I feel the first drops of rain in the air. Between the miserable weather, and the even more miserable Stringers, my plans for a stroll by the lake are well and truly down the drain.

‘Come and have lunch,’ I call to Flynn. He’s halfway up a ladder scrubbing hard at the gable and he still has three of those garish red letters to go.

‘Yeah, I’ll get the rest later.’ He starts to climb down. ‘There’s heavy rain on the way.’