Page 69 of Always Be My Pumpkin

My chest burns as it hits me how much Jamie took from me, the bond that he very nearly broke, and all the days, months, and years that Flynn and I missed out on. All the choices I never got to make.

I turn away from Jamie and press the button on the crossing. The light turns green and I sprint across the road without looking back. Because I don’t want to waste another minute on this man who never cared how I felt or what I wanted. It was always only ever about him.

I’m gasping for air when I reach Hazel Cottage, and I lean against the door and pound the timber grooves until it’s clear Flynn’s not going to answer, or maybe he’s already gone. Then I remember I still have a key.

‘Flynn,’ I call up the stairs. But there’s no answer. I feel a bit weird as I climb towards the landing, invading his space. What if he’s been up there all along, waiting for me to give up and leave. But I know that’s not Flynn. He’d never hide from me. I’m the one who’s been hiding, from him, and from me.

The door to the bedroom is ajar and I knock and ease it gently open. The window is open slightly too and the voile curtains swish in the breeze. But there’s no other movement, no other sound. My stomach sinks at the thought that he’s already left. Packed his bags and gone home to Natalie and Cricket Falls. Then I see his backpack in the corner, his clothes folded in the wardrobe, and a page with my handwriting, resting on the bed. And I know in my heart he won’t leave again without saying a proper goodbye.

I stand in the doorway, willing myself to move, and the breeze rustles the crumpled paper and sweeps it to the floor at my feet. I bend down and pick up the letter I wrote Flynn two years ago, before I left for London with Jamie.

My eyes land on the line across the top. It’s over! And this time it’s for good! As if those exclamation marks would convince me, and Jamie, and Flynn that this time I meant it and I wouldn’t let Jamie persuade me again to revolve my life around his.

My gaze drops to the bottom of the page and the last lines I wrote. I miss you so much, Flynn. I feel like part of me is missing when you’re not here. Always, Gracie, xx

And he got on a plane. As soon as he got my letter, he dropped everything and got on a plane. And yes, I’ve been telling myself he was upset about Natalie and needed someone to talk to, but I don’t know that for sure, because I never really asked. Not properly. Because I haven’t wanted to hear him say the words out loud, I’m sorry, Gracie, I do really care about you, but she’s the one I love, she’s the one I choose.

Then I think about Jamie and how angry I am that he stole my chance to choose. How he convinced me he knew what I needed, and what I needed was him. And I realise I’m doing the same now with Flynn. Because how can he decide who it is he wants to be with, when I keep pushing him back to Natalie because I’m not brave enough to tell him how I feel?

I think it’s time for a whole new plan.

33

I’m still working out my next move when I get back to Mam’s. I promised to make a real Irish lunch for her and Cal, but I didn’t have time to rustle up Irish stew, so I made a detour to the Corner Bar and Audrey came to my rescue with home-made potato and leek soup and brown soda bread.

‘Oooh, that smells delicious.’ Mam grabs one of the paper bags slipping from my arms.

I hear a loud appreciative groan and turn to see Cal in the doorway, eyeing up the soda cake Mam’s just unwrapped like he could devour the lot in one hungry bite. ‘Och, you’re right. That does smell good.’ His crinkly eyes twinkle.

‘Hi, Cal, lovely to meet you.’

He crosses the kitchen to shake my hand, and I smile as brightly as I can to make him feel welcome.

‘The soup should still be hot, Audrey lent me a flask.’ I lift out the stainless steel thermos as Mam scoops bowls from the open shelf behind her. Half an hour later, we’re laughing and chatting like we’ve known each other for years. And Mam reaches over and squeezes Cal’s hand at the same time as she gives me a grateful smile.

It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh so loud since Dad died, and it lifts my spirits, because she deserves to be happy. And so do I. My mind drifts back to my new plan when my phone pings from the countertop.

‘Sorry, do you mind if I get that?’ I hop up from my chair.

‘Not at all. Go ahead.’ Mam smiles. ‘And don’t worry about us. We’ll potter around the village and catch up with you later.’

‘But I promised I’d help you show Cal around.’ I wince an apology as my phone pings again as I pick it up.

‘I’m big enough and hairy enough to find my own way.’ Cal beams at me. ‘You go do your thing. And thank you for this. Best lunch I’ve had in years.’ He rubs his rounded middle and laughs. ‘And as you can see, I’m a man who likes his food.’

‘Thanks. But make sure you come to the shop yard for three. Pat and I are judging the pumpkin sculptures, and there’ll be hot chocolate, and spiced lattes, and . . .’ I stare down as I see Flynn’s name fill the notifications on my screen.

‘Go, Gracie, honestly.’ Mam waves me on with a smile. ‘We’ll clear up here.’

Cal gathers our empty bowls and sets them on the counter by the sink, and I take them at their word and sprint to my bedroom clutching my fully charged phone.

Hi Gracie, I think I might have missed you earlier.

I flop down on my patchwork quilt and tap to read the rest of Flynn’s last message.

I went for a run to clear my head and I caught that sweet summer smell when I got back, or maybe I just felt you there, I’m not sure. Anyway, I know you have a lot on today and I don’t want to get in the way, but I need to see you later, when you have more time. I’m sorry how we left things last night. I was hurt and I needed time to process. But we need to talk. Really talk. And I want to hear everything, even if it’s not what I’m hoping for. Because no matter what happens, no matter what changes, you’re still my best friend, and I hope I’ll always be yours, Flynn, xx

I sink back onto my pillows and scroll through more messages, mostly festival-related. But I don’t read more than the first line of any, because if I start, I’ll be here until midnight, and my new plan for tonight, for what I need to do, is forming in my mind. I have people to contact, props to make, and a costume to put together.