Page 71 of Always Be My Pumpkin

‘Follow me, ladies.’ She waves us to the wall by the arch that leads to the back bar then she lifts the seat of a long mahogany bench. ‘There should be room in here. I use it to store the beer garden cushions, but I have new storage outside so this is empty now.’

‘It’s perfect, thanks.’ I drop in my refurbished placards and most of my signs.

‘You certainly made enough.’ Sarah grins. ‘One for everybody in the village?’

‘Pretty much. But maybe I should wait for later to put the posters up.’

‘If you’re worried about Flynn popping in, he was here not long ago with Pat,’ Audrey says. ‘Said he was off to catch a few hours’ sleep. The poor lad looked exhausted.’

Sarah’s eyes flick to mine and my stomach sinks. I told her everything that happened after I left the pub. We both know if he didn’t sleep last night, that’s my fault.

‘Maybe someone should wake him later, before the session.’ Sarah gives me a concerned look, and I know exactly how she feels. Flynn could have booked a flight to Cricket Falls tomorrow morning. Or tonight. My heart crashes to the floor. All the plans I’ve made will come to nothing if Flynn leaves before we talk.

‘I should go and wake him.’ My words come out in a panicked rush. ‘Talk to him now.’

‘No!’ Sarah gasps. ‘You have to stick to the plan. It’ll be way more fun.’

Fun for her, definitely. Possible humiliation and heartbreak for me, though. Maybe a chat now, in private, would be best.

‘I told you the poor lad looked shattered.’ Audrey gives me a disapproving frown. ‘Pat said he hasn’t slept since Wednesday night.’ She folds her arms and stares me down. ‘You have to let him sleep.’

But what if . . . what if . . .’

Then I realise I’m doing it again, and I tell myself to stop. Stop worrying that I might mess things up. Or that I already have. Stop believing I can’t cope if that happens. And focus on what I can do. On what I want to do. Then go and make it happen. Or at least, try my very best.

‘What about Flynn?’ Sarah asks as she follows me out into the street. ‘Do you want me to throw a few stones up at his window? Maybe around nine?’ She gives me a meaningful look as she adds, ‘To give him time to change into his costume before he comes to the bar.’

‘I doubt he’s had time to think about a costume.’ I bite off a strip of tape, arrange it along the edges of my poster, and press it onto the glass. Then I pass some to Sarah.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure he doesn’t have a costume planned,’ Sarah says as she tapes her poster to the glass. ‘Scott was in Abbeyville at lunchtime, picking up his costume. And he bumped into Flynn and Pat on their way into the party shop as he was leaving.’

‘Really?’ I squint at her. Then I shrug it off. ‘They were probably picking up a costume for Pat. I doubt there’s much left at this stage, unless they pre-booked.’

And I don’t think Flynn had a costume in mind before he left for Cricket Falls. I asked him if he had, and he spun out a range of crazy options like a Chappell Roan cheerleader, a Paul Mescal gladiator, and a sexy gardener complete with straw hat, dungarees, and bare, fake-tanned chest. None of which I took seriously, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he turns up in flannel shirt and jeans, claiming he’s a young Luke from Gilmore Girls, if anybody asks.

‘Well, there was one costume left that Scott thought Flynn might go for.’ Sarah grins. ‘I think you forcing him to watch Twilight might have given him a clue.’

‘Who? Flynn? We haven’t watched that in years.’

‘I meant Scott. But I’m sure Flynn remembers you’re a fan. I bet you made him watch that movie countless times back then.’

I smile, because Sarah’s absolutely right.

‘Edward or Jacob?’ I ask with bated breath. Because I don’t want to friend-zone Flynn any more. And I’ve never fantasised about a werewolf. But a certain dreamy vampire, well . . . I close my eyes, feel Flynn’s teeth lightly graze my neck, and I shiver.

‘Edward, of course.’ Sarah smirks.

‘You look fab,’ I say when I arrive at the Corner Bar and spot Gertrude at the bar. ‘Terrifying, but fabulous all the same.’ She hands me a glass of Audrey’s blood-red punch. Gertrude has gone all out as an Irish Banshee in a silver-grey dress and matching wig.

‘And not a headless horseman in sight,’ I add, as I spot Finbarr over by the arch in a collared black cape with shiny red lining.

Gertrude rolls her heavily kohled eyes. ‘That was long past its sell-by date, and besides, he looks far more attractive as Dracula.’ She eyes Finbarr appreciatively. ‘Definitely a ten, don’t you think?’

I gulp back my punch. I’ve shared lots of opinions about my former school principal but his hotness rating has never come up. Until now. ‘Em, very . . . convincing . . . Great teeth.’

‘Looks like we’re the first to arrive,’ Finbarr says as he joins us. ‘That’s not like you, Gracie.’ He bares his pointed fangs, and Gertrude gives a little shiver.

‘It’s a big night,’ I say as I try to block out Gertrude’s Dracula kink and stay focused. ‘I want to make sure everything goes to plan.’