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The moment autumn had arrived in its shades of orange and brown, Penscombe had been transformed into a display worthy of a Harvest Festival. Each weekend his children had visited, something new had appeared or an activity had been planned. Under Taggie’s guidance pinecones had been dipped in glue and covered in glitter under Tabitha’s eager fingertips. Marcus had peeled and sliced apples from the dining room table as the air filled with the smell of cinnamon and ginger, and pies, biscuits, and tarts came to life under Taggie’s instruction.
But even so, Rupert wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him when he rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Taggie, darling, what on earth could you possibly need all those for?”
“It’s Halloween tomorrow.” She replied simply, brow furrowed as though this was enough explanation for the array of pumpkins now making a home on the kitchen worktop.
“Yes, I know that, but I didn’t think we would be surviving on naught but pumpkins for the month.”
“Of course I’ll be making some soup, maybe some pies, but most of them will be for carving of course.” She busied herself around the kitchen, pulling a striped apron from the hook next to the pantry door and fastening it about her waist, before standing on her tiptoes to reach for the flour from the top cupboard.
Rupert quickly moved and placed it beside her.
“Carving?” he asked.
“Yes of course, pumpkin carving, for Halloween. Tabitha and Marcus will be here in an hour so I need to have everything ready.” She spread the flour thinly across the countertop and plopped the ball of dough from the mixing bowl in the midst of it.
As Taggie began to rub the flour across the surface of the rolling pin, his eyes followed the motion and he caged her in against the countertop, fingers fiddling with the strings of the apron where they sat against her hips. A curl of her auburn hair had fallen free from her claw clip and he tucked it behind her ear, replacing the path of his fingertips with his lips. “Stop it,” she laughed, squirming away from him, “you’re distracting me.”
“I thought you liked it when I distracted you, and besides, like you said, we’ve only got an hour until they arrive.” Rupert made quick work of the bow at the base of her spine, spinning her round to kiss at the juncture of her neck. Her legs parted slightly and he quickly moved into the space between them, “and I can assure you neither of them will be expecting to carve pumpkins.”
“What do you usually do for Halloween then?” She asked as he ghosted his fingers up her sides taking the thick wool of her jumper with him.
“Nothing,” he murmured against the edge of her lips, “we treat October 31st the same as any other day.”
Taggie hummed lightly against the pressure of his lips, melting like butter against him. Until suddenly she pulled away, shaking her head as though trying to break free from the spell he had cast over her. Two warm hands pressed against his chest and pushed him slightly backward. “Wait a moment, have you never carved a pumpkin?”
“It wasn’t exactly on the boarding school curriculum, and I’ve never felt the need to give squash a face as an adult.”
Taggie looked positively distraught. “So Tabitha and Marcus have never carved a pumpkin before either?”
“No.” He replied, as she extracted herself from his hold and clutched a pumpkin to her chest like it was a precious gift. “What would be the point?”
“The point?” She sighed. “It’s fun Rupert. You can carve whatever you want! Then at the end you get to show each other what you’ve made, and it doesn’t matter if it’s terrible! I can’t believe you’ve never done it with them!”
Rupert shrugged. “Well they’re carving them tonight,” she said definitively. “And so are you.”
He let out a short, sharp laugh, incredulous. “Me? I can understand the children, but surely you don’t expect me to carve one as well?!”
Taggie’s face collapsed and it wasn’t dissimilar to a punch in the gut. “Of course,” she whispered, “why did you think I bought so many?
He was immediately winded at the sight of her downcast eyes. Her shoulders dropped and she gave him a wan smile as she turned away. Why was he so careless as to have laughed at something so simple, especially when it would clearly bring her joy?
Taggie had slotted herself so perfectly into Penscombe, and into his life since they had married. His house had gone from an empty manor, to a home overnight, all thanks to her.
“Oh Tag, I’m sorry.” He could never deny her anything, and he moved to slide her hand into his. “Of course, I’ll carve a pumpkin, my love. I’m sure we’ll all love it.”
****
Rupert Campbell-Black was certainly not loving this new experience. With every spoonful of the seemingly endless amount of pumpkin guts being slopped into the bowl his impatience was growing. And Taggie had gleefully told Marcus that he could carve as many as he wished, so Rupert’s torture was not likely to stop once the four pumpkins atop the table were thoroughly eviscerated.
But still his children seemed to be enjoying themselves, though he privately thought Tabitha’s happiness was solely from the unwise choice to trust her with a knife for a few hours.
“Taggie, what should I do with mine?” Marcus piped up, scraping his chair across the tiles to move closer to her.
“You can carve whatever you want sweetheart,” she replied, leaning across to turn the pumpkin to face her. “What sort of things do you like?”
“Marcus doesn’t like anything other than his stupid piano.” Tabitha said, stabbing her knife into the front of the pumpkin and wrinkling her nose in frustration as it got stuck.
Marcus looked cowed, but Taggie fixed Tabitha with a look. “Just as you love Biscuit. But I feel like horses and pianos might be a little complex for first timers like yourselves, don’t you think? And even for me. Maybe we should stick to a scary face, or maybe a cat for now? Here, I’ll show you,” she said as she passed a pencil to Marcus and guided him to roughly outline a pair of eyes on the tough rind.
“I do like cats,” Tabitha pondered. “Not as much as horses or dogs, obviously, but I suppose they’ll do.” She stuck her tongue out, fixed it between her teeth and started to work again.
Rupert watched them for a moment, Marcus meticulously planning out each aspect of where he would make his cuts, with Taggie’s guidance at every turn, and Tabitha hacking at her pumpkin with reckless abandon. He would never understand how he and Helen had made two children so vastly different from one another.
He wondered then, and not for the first time, what his and Taggie’s children would be like. Confident and bold like Tabitha, or shy and quiet like Marcus? Or something in between, yet undiscovered. Either way as he watched Taggie stand and move back to admire both children’s work, one thing they wouldn’t be short of was love.
“Taggie,” Tabitha said, pulling him from his reverie, “I do hope we have sweets or cakes for later because if we don't I’m going to be very disappointed.”
“Tabitha- don’t be rude-” he warned, despite the beginnings of a smile that graced Taggie’s features.
“There might be some pastries for later, after we’ve finished.” Taggie said warmly.
“That means there is.” Tabitha whispered conspiratively. “Daddy, have you nearly finished with yours or do you need Taggie to help you too, like Marcus did?”
“Oh I always need Taggie to come and help me.” Rupert winked.
“I think your father will be alright on his own.” She replied, an eyebrow raised in warning.
“He really won’t be.”
With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Taggie moved around the table and stood next to Rupert. “What exactly do you need help with?”
“I think you need to come a bit closer, I need your creative eye to help me design.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, before checking that Tabitha and Marcus remained focused on their tasks before he slid his hand down and pinched her bottom.
“You’re insatiable,” she whispered.
“With you around, how could I not be?”
“Later.” She responded, and he tried to school his features to look less like a child that had just discovered the final slice of cake had already been eaten. But then she had the audacity to wink at him, and he was forced to smooth his face into a portrait of indifference as Tab fixed him with a questioning stare.
With a sigh, he picked up his pencil and drew a quick face on his pumpkin and set to work cutting into the ridiculous thing.
****
“Oh they look brilliant!” Taggie cried as she lit the final candle and passed the lighter back to Rupert.
Six large, round pumpkins stood in front of him, all with varying faces, and clearly varying levels of expertise, or care. Taggie’s pumpkin was perfectly cut, a cat face complete with whiskers and two small triangles of pumpkin atop to form tiny ears. The entire thing appeared to be meticulously planned, and he wouldn’t be surprised to see such a showing in the Women’s Institute tent at a country fair. Marcus’, three pumpkins were equally well planned. Faces with symmetrical jagged teeth, huge Jack O’Lantern smiles with wide eyes.
In comparison, his and Tabitha’s contributions were laughable. Tabitha had attempted to copy Taggie’s cat pattern, then clearly had gotten bored halfway through, rushing the mouth and whiskers so one side was longer than the other. Strings of the innards of the pumpkin were visible through the gaps, where she hadn’t scraped the pumpkin fully. Then his own pumpkin, which had a simple set of eyes and a round smile cut out, looked positively amateur in comparison.
The minute Marcus had downed tools on his first pumpkin, Tabitha had pulled her head up with a groan from its resting place in her hands, and rushed to the cupboard where she knew Taggie most commonly hid her baked goods. So she had been completely enraged when he had requested a second, and then a third pumpkin. She had tapped her tiny heel of her riding boots against the kitchen tiles, groaning dramatically at least once every five minutes whilst she slowly worked her way towards a sugar rush.
Rupert couldn’t deny he was also growing a little bored, until Marcus suddenly declared he was satisfied, and Tabitha furiously rubbed the crumbs from her face.
“Perfect! Now we can put them out in front of the house tomorrow, ready for people to come trick- or-treating! I even think we have enough tarts left to give them!”
Rupert opened his mouth to protest that he couldn’t think of anything worse than crowds of random strangers descending on his home, interrupting his peace by knocking on the door and then even worse, having the audacity to take his wife’s baking.
But then he glanced at her. The wide smile breaking across her face, as beautiful and bright as the sun.
He watched as she pulled Marcus into her side as he stood next to her, and assured a horrified Tabitha that of course she’d bake some more for her tomorrow as well.
Then she walked over to him and placed a kiss against his cheek, with Tab barely wrinkling her nose at the sight and he realised he no longer cared. No longer cared about the mess and the noise, as long as he could ensure she would always stay this happy.
“Daddy, could we go trick-or-treating tomorrow too? You know I’ve always wanted to!” Tabitha piped up.
Taggie stared at him in astonishment. “Rupert… they’ve never been trick-or-treating?”
“Mummy says it’s uncouth to go knocking on strangers’ doors in the night.” Tabitha replied, the words muffled as she took another pastry from the table and popped it in her mouth.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” He warned, and though Rupert himself hardly relished the thought of traipsing around the town in the pitch black, the thought that it might annoy Helen was certainly an unexpected bonus. “We can go trick-or-treating if you like, angel.”
Tab squealed and jumped into his lap whilst Taggie started planning, muttering to herself as she wandered from the room to find the telephone, “we can walk down to Lizzie’s, maybe meet up with them, I’ll give her a call to see what time they’re going…”
Marcus trailed behind her like a lost puppy, and Rupert had every intention to follow until Tab scooped up a handful of pumpkin guts and chucked it at Beaver’s head. The poor dog had barely shook the slimy strands from his fur and started sniffing at it curiously, before a handful also landed in Rupert’s hair.
“Oh you’re going to pay for that!” he cried as Tabitha jumped up and scarpered down the hall, giggling as she ran.
He gave her a head start, watching as she ran and vaulted over the back of the sitting room sofa like a gymnast, barely avoiding crashing into where her brother sat.
“Where’s Taggie gone?” Rupert asked.
“She’s gone to find Mrs Bodkin before she goes home- something about finding some materials to make costumes.” Marcus answered, pulling his knees into his chest.
Thanking him, Rupert placed a hand against his son's shoulder, catching a thin smile before he headed off in search of his wife. “Taggie?” he called.
“Yes?”
She was crouched at the base of the staircase pulling her wellies on over thick socks. “I’m going to find Mrs B-”
“Yes, Marcus said. But that can wait an hour, or two, come sit down for a moment.”
From the sitting room Tab was starting to shout again, “Taggie! Marcus said you’re going to get us costumes! Can we make costumes for the dogs too? And one for Biscuit!”
Rupert chuckled, snaked an arm around Taggie’s waist and placed a kiss against her soft curls. “You know, I think I might like Halloween. The chaos, the noise, the ridiculous activities.”
“Oh really?”
He hummed, pulled her in closer, “they’re both so happy, and it’s all down to you.” He pulled her face to his, finally capturing her in a kiss that tasted of pumpkin. Then breathed against her lips, “but I do have one stipulation, we’re never dressing up the dogs.”
“DAD!” Tabitha cried.