Summer at Rachel's Pudding Pantry Read online

  SUMMER AT RACHEL’S PUDDING PANTRY

  Caroline Roberts

  Copyright

  OneMoreChapter an imprint of

  HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by One More Chapter 2020

  Copyright © Caroline Roberts 2020

  Cover design by Holly MacDonald © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

  Cover illustrations © Hannah George/Meiklejohn

  Caroline Roberts asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008401948

  Ebook Edition © July 2020 ISBN: 9780008401955

  Version: 2020-06-05

  Dedication

  For Ken and Pam

  Epigraph

  ‘Marriage is not a destination, but a journey.’

  Bernard Dsa

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2: Two Months Later

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5: Eve

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8: Eve

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18: Eve

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21: Eve

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23: Eve

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26: Eve

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31: Eve

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33: Eve

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46: Eve

  Chapter 47

  A Letter from Caroline

  Acknowledgements

  Keep Reading …

  About the Author

  Also by Caroline Roberts

  About the Publisher

  Something Old

  Granny Ruth’s Wedding Cake

  Ingredients

  350g (12oz) plain flour

  1 tsp mixed spice

  100g (3½oz) ground almonds

  4 medium eggs

  225g (8oz) unsalted butter

  225g (8oz) caster sugar

  225g (8oz) currants

  225g (8oz) sultanas

  225g (8oz) raisins

  100g (3½oz) glacé cherries, halved

  100g (3½oz) cut mixed peel

  A quality brandy and a nip of whisky

  A dash of milk

  Method

  Macerate the currants, sultanas and raisins in brandy overnight.

  Preheat an oven to 150°C/Fan 130°C/Gas mark 2. Grease and line a cake tin, using either a 23-cm (9-inch) round or 20.5-cm (8-inch) square tin. Sieve the flour and mixed spice into a bowl and add the almonds.

  Beat the eggs together with a little milk. Soften the butter. Cube and cream the butter together with the sugar. Slowly stir in the flour and then the egg mixture. When completely mixed, add the soaked dried fruit, cherries and mixed peel. Stir until evenly distributed. Place the mixture into the prepared tin and protect the top with baking parchment paper.

  Bake for about 3¼ to 4 hours. Remove from the oven and allow to cool slightly. Turn onto a wire rack. Pour a small amount of brandy and a nip of whisky over the cake whilst warm.

  Allow to cool thoroughly. Wrap in greaseproof paper and then tinfoil, store in an airtight container. Store for at least six weeks before use, feeding once a week with a tablespoon of brandy. Decorate as required using an apricot glaze, marzipan and white icing.

  For a larger, wedding-style cake, depending on the size of tins, make double or triple the mixture.

  1

  ‘Oh my … that is just beautiful, Rachel.’ A tear crowded Jill’s eye as she watched her daughter step out from the changing room.

  A slow smile spread across Rachel’s face. ‘I like it too.’

  It did feel strange though, being in a ‘frock’, as Granny Ruth would have called it, and not just any old frock – an off-white, gorgeous, lace-detailed, to-the-floor wedding frock. It had a hint of boho chic about it, just perfect for her countryside summer wedding. Rachel did a small twirl in the middle of the shop, then caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror, and paused. Hah, she hardly looked like herself at all; she was usually dressed in old jeans and wellies and could even sometimes be found out on the farm in a practical green boiler suit, which was highly glamorous. Ooh, it was a lovely feeling to be wearing something so special, but strange too.

  ‘I think we might’ve found the one, Mum.’ She had a lump in her throat as she spoke.

  ‘I think so too, love.’ Her mum nodded with a proud and happy look on her face.

  Rachel had also found the one in Tom Watson. Just thinking about him and their impending marriage made her heart swell, yet there was still a trace of disbelief that all this had happened to her over the past few months. Tom was her long-time friend and neighbour; their relationship had blossomed into something so much more, taking them both rather by storm, a most beautiful, soul-drenching storm.

  ‘Gosh, your dad would be so proud if he could see you now, Rachel.’

  ‘Oh Mum, it’ll be so strange not having him there on my special day, won’t it?’

  ‘I know, love, but he’d want you to enjoy it … to be happy. And he was always very fond of Tom, even before you and he got together. I’m sure he’d have approved.’

  ‘Yeah … I think he would have. But he won’t be there to walk me down the aisle, will he …?’ There would be such an empty space beside her on the day, as well as the one that she always carried inside.

  ‘No, love.’

  Rachel sighed, then gazed at herself in the shop’s full-length mirror, her dark wavy hair falling loose down to her shoulders, her green eyes catching the light. There she was, standing in the prettiest of gowns, which hung and clung in just the right places, as if it had been made for her. The only problem was the price tag. Her mum had persuaded her to give it a try when it had caught her eye, even though it was somewhat over budget, along with a few other gowns that she’d discovered on the sale rack. She’d
tried the reduced ones on first, being mindful that this was very much a wedding on a budget. They were very nice, but not quite right.

  She looked at the price tag once more, with a sigh. How could she be selfish and go ahead and get this one? It would mean a cut in the wedding budget somewhere else. Maisy, her daughter, and Maisy’s best friend Amelia, the cutest of flower girls, deserved lovely dresses, as did Eve (maid of honour) and Charlotte (her bridesmaid). There were flowers to buy, some kind of marquee or tent to organise in case of rain. They could of course do much of the buffet themselves, and they really wanted to be able to invite all their family and friends from the village and local farming community to share this happy occasion. So many people had supported them through such difficult times over the years, it’d be a wonderful way to show their appreciation. Rachel really didn’t want to have to cut the guest list.

  The shop assistant stepped forward from her position near the counter. ‘Oh, that looks stunning on you, really.’ She was smiling softly, the hint of a tear in her eye. ‘I see lots of dresses come on and off and sometimes you can just see when it’s the perfect gown for the bride-to-be.’

  ‘But I can’t …’ Rachel began.

  ‘Can’t what?’ asked Jill.

  ‘I can’t get it … I’m sorry, Mum, I shouldn’t have tried it on. We were being silly, thinking we could stretch to this. The others were in the sale, this one isn’t. There’s so much else we need to pay out on.’

  ‘But I’m sure we could manage, with a bit of careful budgeting … if this is the right dress for you. It is your wedding day, after all. A once-in-a-lifetime occasion.’

  ‘Yes, but there’s no need for it to make us stony-broke. And I want everyone to enjoy it, not just me.’

  ‘Oh, I suppose … but what a shame, love.’

  ‘It’s fine … There’ll be another dress to catch my eye somewhere, I’m sure.’ Rachel rallied, despite the nip of disappointment, as she headed back into the changing room. She took one last longing glance at this gorgeous dress before the assistant stepped in to help undo the rear zip, ready for her to step out of it.

  ‘I know it’s a long shot … I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a discount on this one?’ Rachel ventured. Well, if you didn’t ask …

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, madam, but we can’t reduce this one. It’s the new season’s range, just come in, and we always try to price our dresses competitively as it is. The others you tried were the remaining few from last year’s stock, that’s why we could discount them. I’m sorry.’

  Rachel gave the dress one last look, the delicate flowers appliquéd on the draped tulle skirt catching her eye, as the assistant began to place it carefully back on the hanger. Ah well, a chance to dream.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Jill asked, as she emerged from the changing room.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. It’s lovely, but it’s just too expensive. It’s not about the dress at the end of the day, it’s about me and Tom, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ her mum sighed and nodded. ‘Come on then, I don’t know about you, but all this dress shopping has just about done me in. I spotted a coffee shop over the road. Shall we go and recharge with a cappuccino?’

  ‘Great idea.’

  Settled at a wooden table by the window of the café, Rachel could see the assistant tidying the little wedding shop after their visit. Her dress was placed back on the rail, ready for someone else to try on.

  ‘We’d manage somehow, you know love …’ Jill’s voice trailed off, as if she was a little disappointed too.

  ‘No, it wouldn’t feel right – even if it looked right – if I blew the budget already. I’m sure I can find something else that’ll do just fine.’

  How Jill wished she had some secret savings stash she could dig into right now – she’d so love to make her daughter’s day. Maybe there was a way she still could?

  Whilst Rachel nipped to the bathroom, Jill sketched what she could remember of the dress on a white paper napkin, while it was fresh in her mind: the simple yet flattering bodice with its V front and back, the fine tulle of the skirt with its gorgeous appliqué flower design. She then popped the drawing into her handbag. Well, you never knew …

  2

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  ‘Have you remembered to put the hiking boots in, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, both our pairs are in.’ Jill was trailing a couple of all-weather anoraks to the Land Rover. Well, you had to be prepared for all eventualities in Scotland, rain or shine, even in May and at the supposed start of summer.

  ‘Prosecco?’

  ‘Yep, got the essentials packed, of course. The box of six is in the boot.’

  ‘Perfect … and I’ve got the sticky toffee puddings and the Tupperware box of meringues from Granny Ruth right here.’ Rachel perused the back of the truck. Cases in, yep, the cool bag of provisions, yes … hmm. Rachel had a mental check list but she was sure she was going to forget something. She knew she should have written it all down last night, but she’d been far too busy getting everything ready for Maisy’s next two days at school and for staying over at Amelia’s. She’d also been flat out organising everything on the farm ready to hand over to their farmhand, Simon, and Tom – her lovely, gorgeous Tom – who were taking the reins whilst she was away for her hen do. A hen do, she could barely believe it.

  It felt weird packing up the truck, ready to pick up her best friend and maid of honour, Eve. It was going to be a weekend to remember, Eve had boasted, though she still hadn’t spilled on all the details. Rachel was so excited but there were a few nervous butterflies in her stomach too; as a single parent she hadn’t had a night away since Maisy had been born five years ago, and with her father’s tragic death nearly three years past, and the devastation they had endured in the aftermath, the family hadn’t been in the frame of mind to take a holiday.

  Dad … memories of packing for holidays in years gone by suddenly flooded over her. Long weekends piled into a static caravan near Scarborough on the Yorkshire Coast, fish and chips sitting on the harbour at Whitby, with donkey rides on the golden sands at Filey Bay. Dad’s strong hand holding her own as they splashed up to their knees in icy-cold waves that took their breath away, laughing even as they shivered. God, she missed him. Her thoughts turned to her own little girl, Maisy, who had given her an extra big hug at the minibus pick-up that morning before school. Rachel had been left with a solid lump in her throat as she watched the bus pull away, with Maisy waving animatedly out of the window. It felt so strange to be leaving her child behind, even though she was looking forward to these few days of fun and freedom. She’d left a check list for Amelia’s dad, Ben, on top of the small overnight case she’d packed with her daughter’s favourite outfits, pyjamas and wash bag, and her comforting soft toy sheep. Maisy would be fine, she told herself.

  A couple of friends, Kirsty and Hannah, were going to make their own way to the accommodation in Oban and join them there later today, as they had younger children and were sorting out timings with grandparents and dads who were working. Close friend and bridesmaid, Charlotte, was taking a train up after work tomorrow; the best she could manage was an early finish from her Friday classroom shift at the primary school. Honestly, between her and Eve, it had needed military-style strategies to arrange this getaway.

  ‘Right then, Moss is in his kennel, isn’t he?’

  Moss, their faithful Border collie, herder of sheep and tail-wagger extraordinaire, was going to be looked after by farmhand Simon, and then Granny Ruth when she came over to stay with Maisy for the Saturday night of the weekend shift.

  ‘Yep, and the Pudding Pantry is in safe hands with Jan and Daniel, so it’s time to go, love,’ rallied Jill.

  With that, Dan appeared on the threshold of the Pantry ready to wave them off, calling out, ‘Have a wonderful time, ladies.’

  Jill gave a small sigh and waved back, looking slightly emotional herself.

  Oh gosh, they really were getting fond of each other, Ra
chel mused. It was still strange to think her mum had a new man on the scene, even if the romance was in its fledgling stages. It was lovely to see her mum with a spring in her step once again. But Rachel couldn’t deny it was still hard to balance that against her father’s absence. How could anybody possibly step into her father’s shoes? But, she conceded, it was so good of Dan to offer to help out at their beloved Pudding Pantry business, and for the next few days he’d certainly be a godsend. He wasn’t a bad baker himself, either, and was already getting a name for his cheese and chive triangle scones.

  ‘O-kay then.’ Rachel took up the driving seat of their old and slightly battered Land Rover. As she started the engine, she gave a silent prayer that it would make the four-hour journey across the border. She gazed up at the stone farmhouse as she pulled away, feeling a tug in her heartstrings. As they made their way down the farm track, the valley nestled around them, green and lush with fields of sheep happily grazing, she saw little Petie, Maisy’s now extremely big pet lamb, munching away. They passed their herd of cattle, Morag and Iona looking over the hawthorn hedge at the departing vehicle with seemingly sad, deep brown eyes. ‘Won’t be long, ladies,’ Rachel called out.

  Three whole days away at a cosy wooden lodge near Oban – with her mum Jill, best friend Eve, and close mates Charlotte, Kirsty and Hannah by her side. The lodge had looked so lovely from the images on the internet, with log fires, old beams, all set in woodland beside a small lake. It even had an outside Jacuzzi with a view across the water: very chic.

  Pulling up outside Eve’s cottage five minutes later, and seeing her friend come bounding out of the front door, Rachel found herself feeling an unfamiliar buzz of freedom.

  ‘Hi, Eve. Are you road-trip ready?’ She stuck her head out of the window and beeped the horn excitedly.

  ‘Just about, hun. I’ll go fetch my suitcase. Hi, Jill.’ She gave a merry wave.

  Out she came a few minutes later with a large case – it was big enough for a fortnight, never mind three nights. Rachel hoisted it into the back of the Land Rover. ‘Blimey, how long do you think you are going for? What on earth have you got in there, the kitchen sink?’ she jested.