Page 5 of Always Be My Pumpkin

It’s been a few minutes since we sorted the door-knocking dilemma, and the crowd’s getting restless. Finbarr peers towards the back of the hall then taps on his lectern.

‘We might as well move on to the main business of the evening, folks. Seachtain na Samhna.’ He sighs heavily. ‘We were supposed to look at ways to save Pat’s Plants and Herbs, but the man himself can’t be bothered to show his face, and I, for one, am deeply disappointed.’

Sarah rolls her eyes.

‘You need to calm down,’ she calls up to Finbarr, doing her best Taylor Swift impression, hand flick and all.

And he stares at her, horrified, while she stifles a smirk. Then he squints hard at me, as though he suspects I’m to blame for this affront.

I tug at her sleeve, but she bats me away. ‘Pat just messaged me,’ she declares. Loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘So have a bit of patience. He’s on his way.’

I wonder why Flynn’s uncle would message Sarah, but I don’t get to ask as the door creaks open and all heads turn to watch Pat amble in, rocking his double denim and long grey ponytail. He gives an easy nod towards his audience and takes a seat in the very last row. Flynn strolls out from behind his table and sits down beside him, and they both lean back in their chairs, folding their arms as if to say, go on then, don’t mind us, carry on.

But Gertrude’s having none of it and she hops up from behind Finbarr, swipes his mic, and barks out, ‘Item three on tonight’s agenda, Pat’s Plants and Herbs.’ She thumps the lectern with her fist and even Finbarr flinches in surprise.

‘I, for one, want to know what you intend to do, Patrick McArdle. Are you still planning to sell your family business?’ she booms. ‘A business that has been at the heart of our village for generations. And to a pound shop chain, no less.’

All heads in the room swivel back to Pat.

‘Euro,’ he pipes up cheerfully, then coughs into a handkerchief. But I see his cheeks lift and I think he might be burying a grin.

‘Excuse me?’

Everyone swivels back as Gertrude’s brows soar towards her scalp.

Pat coughs again, then his eyes crease as he clarifies, ‘It’s a euro chain that’s after my shop. We’re still in the republic here as far as I’m aware. I’d never sell out to the Brits.’

Sarah chuckles loudly, then mutters in my ear, ‘But he has no problem dating one.’

Finbarr is still staring our way, and he glares at me again, even though I’m not the one chuckling and muttering. This is not helping my cosy cause. By the time I get to say my piece, he’ll be too pissed off to agree with anything I suggest.

‘Quiet, troublemaker.’ I nudge my giddy friend, but I can’t help the giggle that escapes me all the same.

Finbarr joins Gertrude at the lectern and whispers something in her ear. Then he eases the mic from her hands and ushers her back to her chair. Every muscle in her face is pinched tight and she’s glaring down at Pat. He’s completely oblivious, or at least pretending to be, as he rolls his tobacco and softly whistles ‘The Foggy Dew’.

‘Ahem.’ Finbarr shoots his wife an apologetic glance and faces the crowd. ‘It’s clear we won’t make much progress on the sale of Pat’s Plants and Herbs this evening. Although, I would like to convey on behalf of our community that we are all very concerned, very concerned indeed, and whilst this is not the time nor the place, perhaps we could arrange a meeting with the village business association to discuss the matter. At your convenience, Pat.’

‘Right so.’ Pat tucks his rollie behind his ear and wipes his hands on his jeans. ‘I’ll be out in the main bar if anyone wants me. For business or pleasure,’ he adds with a cheeky grin.

Nobody else seems to have noticed, they’re all too busy tutting and puffing, but Tim from our knit and crochet group is seated right in front of me and I saw his face light up when Pat stressed the word pleasure, and I’d bet my entire second-hand yarn collection that Pat added that specifically for him.

‘Ciúnas! Ciúnas!’ Finbarr roars half an hour later with cheeks purple as a bruise.

And Tim jerks back, clearly wondering if Finbarr just cursed us. It certainly sounds like he did. Tim’s English and lived most of his life in Brighton until he retired, so I doubt his Irish is the best. I lean forward to reassure him, ‘It means quiet, please.’

I think in Finbarr’s case ciúnas, pronounced queue-nas, actually means would ye all shut the feck up, but I offer the sanitised version. Things are heated enough as it is.

The crowd is split down the middle as to whether Halloween or Samhain should be soft or scary this year. The knit and crochet group are firmly in the cosy camp, but Finbarr and the Stringers are holding out for gorefest all the way. I’m hoping for a compromise, so all my translations of Finbarr’s Irish will be the warm, fuzzy version from now on.

The man himself looks battered but resolute. The crowd may have quietened but they’re jittery like pre-schoolers hyped up on Halloween treats. I can feel a row building and that’s the last thing we need. Finbarr won’t like it, but it’s time for me to step up. For the sake of our knit and crochet group, and for my beloved village too.

Oakwood has changed since I was a teenager. We still call it a village, and it still has that close-knit village feel, but there’s a supermarket now, and two beautiful new housing estates, with houses I definitely can’t afford. There are even plans for a luxury spa retreat that will revitalise Oakwood House, which has been looking a little faded these past few years. And Audrey told me she intends to refurbish the back of the Corner Bar so that she can hold more music sessions there. She’s on the regional tourism board and says they have big plans to promote Oakwood as a premium destination over the next decade or so.

It all sounds wonderful, and I knew as soon as I came home that I wanted to be part of that process of putting Oakwood on the map. And making sure it happens the right way, at the right speed for our community to absorb.

This place has always been a hive of creative activity, and with the lake and the woods, and the many beautiful walks on our doorstep, our village has soul. I want to make sure we hold onto that, even as we grow and share our hidden treasures with the wider world. I think everyone here does. But we have different ideas about the best way to do it, so I need to tread carefully.

I catch Sarah’s eye and she squeezes my knee and whispers, ‘Go on, you’ve got this.’