Page 6 of Always Be My Pumpkin

I stand up straight, pin on my best smile, and raise my hand like I’m back in school. Finbarr was principal there for years and he loves to have this noted. The way this night is going, a small gesture of goodwill can’t do any harm.

‘Can I make a suggestion?’ I ask cheerfully as if we’re all getting along wonderfully and I’m only hoping to add one more bright idea to the mix.

Finbarr’s brows knit together as though he’s expecting more trouble. And I smile to reassure him that I only want peace. So far, I’ve smiled and nodded amicably at everything, apart from Moll Stringer’s suggestion that we put any late-night ticket sellers in stocks and pelt them with rotten pumpkins on Halloween. There were a couple of enthusiastic cheers, but one was from her brother and the other from Moll herself. Hopefully, that won’t gather too much traction as it’s not quite the positive festive spirit that we need.

‘All right then, carry on,’ Finbarr says gruffly then folds his arms across his chest. ‘As long as you don’t offer to crochet a patchwork cloak for my costume. I’m perfectly happy with the one I have, thank you very much.’ His frown deepens. ‘And as long as it doesn’t create any more work for me. I’m a busy man and I don’t have time for all these shenanigans. If everyone doesn’t settle down and come to some sort of agreement, I’ve a good mind to cancel Halloween.’

Sarah snorts, but most of the crowd gasp as if Finbarr could actually do that. I’m fairly sure he can’t but I smile sympathetically and say, ‘Actually, I hope to reduce your workload, at least when it comes to Seachtain na Samhna.’ I make sure to use his preferred term. ‘I’d like to help co-ordinate the festival plans this year.’

I switch my smile to Gertrude and try to ignore the fact that her eyes narrowed to slits at my proposal. I plough on and I don’t stop for breath. One brief pause is enough for a hostile takeover, most likely from Moll Stringer, but I wouldn’t rule out my co-worker either.

‘Gertrude does a brilliant job of managing the admin, but I’d like to offer my services as her assistant.’ I make sure to stress the word assistant.

‘I spent the last eighteen months helping to run a community centre in London.’ I keep smiling as I speak. ‘And I gained a lot of experience co-ordinating events. Most of the basics are already in place, so it’s just a case of tweaking to make sure the varying approaches can be accommodated.’ I almost say warring but swerve to varying just in time. Phew.

‘I could help gather ideas from everyone and go through the suggestions to come to a workable compromise. If you like, I could do a report for the next meeting with recommendations for a festival that offers something for everybody.’

There’s muttering behind me that sounds like Barty Stringer: ‘I suppose you want us to sort world peace while we’re at it.’

I pretend not to hear him and sweep my gaze around the room to gauge the mood. It seems friendly, and Flynn’s eyes twinkle as he gives me a thumbs up from where he’s sitting by the door. My heart lifts in response and I feel more ready to go on.

‘We still have six weeks to Halloween,’ I say in my most confident voice, the one I practised in the mirror when I ran up to change my clothes. ‘That should give us plenty of time to organise a festival that everyone in the village can be happy with.’

‘Hmm. I suppose it might be worth a try.’ Finbarr eyes me suspiciously as though he hasn’t made up his mind whether I’ll be a help or a hindrance. ‘As long as you don’t stray too far from our traditions.’ He leans on his lectern. ‘Okay, folks, submit your suggestions to Gracie as soon as possible, by email or to the festival WhatsApp.’

‘Or just write a note and drop it to me in the library,’ I chip in. ‘Or call in and tell me in person, if you prefer.’ I know from my job that the easier I make this for everyone, the better the outcome is likely to be.

‘And we’ll reconvene here, same time next week, to consider Gracie’s report. All agreed,’ he declares, leaving no room for objections.

Everyone nods along, apart from Moll and Barty, and my shoulders relax as I gaze around the room. This day next week doesn’t give me much time, but at least we’ve agreed on something, so I decide to go with it for now.

Then my eyes land on Gertrude, and her face is set in stone. She hasn’t said a word since her altercation with Pat, and she hasn’t given any clue how she feels about my offer to assist. But it’s not looking good.

I grab my yellow rain jacket from the back of my chair and look around for Flynn. He’s nowhere to be seen. I feel put out that he didn’t wait for me even though I’ve no right. It’s been so long since we were close and he doesn’t owe me anything. I’m not the same girl I used to be and he’s not the same boy. In fact, he’s definitely not a boy any more. He’s all man.

‘Are you okay, Gracie?’ Sarah peers at me. ‘You’re off in dreamland there.’ She gives me a sympathetic head tilt. ‘Oh, were you looking for Flynn? I saw him earlier down the back.’ She glances around then winces when it’s clear he’s already gone.

‘I wasn’t looking for him.’ I shrug. Okay, maybe I was. ‘He asked me to stay for a drink after the meeting, but he must have gone ahead to the bar.’ Without me.

Sarah pulls on her jacket and wraps her scarf around her neck as we make our way towards the door into the main bar. ‘Well, I’m going home to Scott, but you should stay for a drink.’ She hesitates, then eyes me with concern as she adds, ‘Just don’t expect too much, okay.’

‘I don’t expect anything.’ My voice cracks as it hits me that I can’t expect anything. Every man I’ve ever cared about has let me down. Including Flynn.

‘It’s been a long time, honey, that’s all I mean,’ she says softly. ‘But you can still have a nice night. Just think of it as two old friends catching up. And have fun.’

4

Walking into the bar is a total contrast to the basic back room. It’s like stepping through time, with the long mahogany counter, old whiskey mirrors, and dimmed copper lights. The tables are dark reclaimed wood, and the seating is all faded brown leather couches and cushioned, timber-backed benches.

Flynn’s sitting on the couch down the end, next to the stove with its crackling coal fire. He looks up and waves when he spots me. His smile is soft, and his hair’s all tousled, and he looks like he could be starring in an ad for Guinness or Kerrygold, or even ‘hot guy in local village pub’ for the next Irish rom-com. Then he peels off his hoodie, and his T-shirt rides up to reveal a flash of taut, golden skin. And my stomach jolts like I’ve taken a plunge off one of those wild river water rides. Christ, Gracie, get a grip. Don’t you dare start catching feelings. Not again.

Pat’s perched on the bench across from him, flattening a cigarette paper like some ancient treasure map that needs to be handled with care. I never actually see him smoke a cigarette, and he can’t in here anyway, but he always seems to be rolling one, preparing to roll one, or tucking one behind his ear. He turns as soon as Flynn waves.

‘Gracie, girl, sit down.’ He stands and gestures for me to take his place. ‘Sorry I dragged Flynn away early, but I needed to talk to him about something confidential. Now, you’ll have a drink?’

‘That’s okay, Pat, I’ll get them.’

‘You will not.’ He ushers me onto the bench opposite Flynn. ‘Sit yourself down, I’d rather be up at the bar anyway.’ He waves over to Tim, now seated at the bar counter, and shoots him his trademark cheeky grin. Then he turns back to me. ‘What’ll you have?’