Rachel's Pudding Pantry Read online

  Ruth particularly loved to spend time with Maisy and hear all about her activities and about life on the farm. It was evident she found it harder to visit since Dad’s death, but it didn’t stop her coming. She was a good baker too, despite the arthritis in her fingers, and there was often a crumble or a slice of homemade cake to be found in the larder at her cottage.

  Rachel popped the kettle on as Jill cleared the surfaces and began to wash up. ‘Tea?’

  ‘Sounds good, thanks, love.’

  Rachel knew this was the ideal time to mention last night’s big idea. She poured hot water into the teapot and placed it along with two mugs on the mat at the centre of the pine table, giving it time to brew.

  ‘Right, I’d better keep an eye on the clock. It’ll take around two hours to steam.’ Jill took up a seat. ‘You never know, if it’s a good one we could introduce some of these to the Deli too.’

  ‘Well, yes, let’s definitely look to do that … Look Mum.’ Rachel had to steel herself. ‘I’ve been thinking. The baking you’re doing is brilliant and I’m so happy you’re on board with it all and trying out new recipes. Really, it’s great.’

  ‘Well, I have to admit, after my initial concerns, I’m enjoying it. Ooh, and Brenda said she had a lady in yesterday who took two of each flavour to take home with her to Edinburgh, after trying a sticky toffee on her holidays here.’

  ‘Well, that’s just fabulous. But …’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re about to burst my bubble?’

  ‘I’m not, honestly. It’s just I kind of think we need to blow the balloon up a whole lot bigger.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘Well yes, the puddings for sale at the Deli are doing well and that’s great. But even if we sell, say, twenty a week, hopefully thirty, and then get a new outlet thereafter, by the time they take their cut, and with all our costs, we’re still not making much of a profit to really help the farm out.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jill looked deflated.

  ‘It’s good that we’re on the right lines, don’t get me wrong. But what we need to do is think bigger, think differently. In fact,’ Rachel paused, aware she was about to launch a whole new idea in the mix, ‘think about having an outlet right here.’

  ‘Like a shop or a stall, do you mean?’

  ‘Not quite. We need more than that. I feel we’re a little out of the way for just a shop. We need to draw the customers in … with somewhere to sit and relax. A tearoom … or, a Pudding Pantry.’

  ‘Crikey, you have been thinking. So how on earth do we suddenly do that?’

  ‘I was thinking of the barn. Maisy’s party worked so well there. We’d have to do some work to it of course. We could hopefully get some grants in place, and I can save some of the monthly rental we’re now getting from Tom on the fields. It’d all have to be done on a careful budget, of course.’

  ‘Oh Rachel, that’d be a hell of a lot of work. The barn’s in a bit of a state. We’d need a working area for a kitchen to start, and that won’t come cheap.’

  ‘Yes, I know there’s a lot to consider. But I’d like to look into the idea more, Mum. I’m thinking of getting some companies in for quotes, actually.’

  ‘Blimey, it all seems rather sudden. You always were one to jump in feet first.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do my homework first. And, only if you’re in agreement, of course. It will need both of us on board to make this work.’

  ‘Look, I don’t want us to rush in and get this wrong, Rachel. It’s a big thing.’ Jill’s tone was calm but serious. ‘You still have the farm to work, that’ll take several hours a day, and there’s Maisy to think of too. And … if it didn’t work out, we might well be even worse off and lose the lot, the farm too. I don’t want to dash your plans by any means, but this needs careful consideration.’

  ‘I know, I know. I’ll do some more research and we’ll keep up the pudding making to supply the Kirkton Deli just now. That will hopefully continue to get our name out there, as well as helping prop up our income a bit. It’ll all take time.’ Rachel took a slow breath, remembering the most recent farm accounts.

  Jill spotted her concern. ‘But I don’t suppose we have a lot of time, do we?’

  ‘With the farm finances the way they are just now, Mum, realistically … not a lot. And if it’s something we feel we should do, then we need to make it happen sooner rather than later before the main summer season starts – to take advantage of the holiday tourist trade. Don’t you think?’

  They were already in early May. Could a facelift to the barn really happen by the summer holidays? Or was it all just pie in the sky?

  ‘Okay then, I’ll do some research too.’ Jill suddenly sounded upbeat. ‘I’m sure I’ll have friends of friends who’ve done something similar. There’re often new ventures within the farming community in the area. I’ll ask around. But we can’t afford to get this wrong, Rachel. I’ll not take any unnecessary risks.’

  They shared a look, as they thought of Dad, the farm, their precious legacy.

  ‘I know that, Mum,’ Rachel replied earnestly.

  But doing nothing at this point wasn’t a great option either.

  It was a wet afternoon, so Rachel made the most of being stuck indoors by researching further into local building companies and electrical firms as well as grant opportunities. During a break in the rain showers, she wandered across to the barn, opening its creaking wooden doors and turning on the single electric lightbulb that hung from a wooden rafter above. She walked in and stood, looking around her. The two trestle tables were still left from Maisy’s party, but otherwise it had all been cleared. The barn’s honeyed-stone walls and smoothed-over-time flagstone floor were just waiting to be transformed. With a little building work, some imagination and hard graft, they really could bring this place to life.

  A shaft of warm spring sunlight beamed in through the open doors and, for a few seconds, Rachel half closed her eyes and dared to dream. Yes, there could be a small kitchen area and a wooden counter over there at the far end, with a selection of quaint tables and chairs, maybe a pine dresser with a jug of sweet peas and blue-and-white patterned vintage plates and teacups on it, resting against the back wall.

  Oh, and of course, a display of delicious homemade pudding and cakes and scones … in fact all kinds of foodie delights. Cheesecakes, pavlovas, crumbles, brownies …

  ‘Rachel?’ Jill’s voice came from the yard.

  ‘In here,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh … I wondered where you’d got to.’ Jill came on in.

  ‘I was just imagining how it might be … our Pudding Pantry. All set out with tables and chairs and cosy lampstands.’

  ‘Daydreaming, were you, love?’

  ‘No … not daydreaming. I want this to be real, Mum. I’ve got a good feeling about this. Can you picture it … a kitchen and a counter over there, piled with your amazing puddings and bakes, people gathered happily chatting over tea and scones, or sticky toffee pud and coffee?’

  ‘It is a lovely thought. But,’ Jill seemed to hesitate, wary of breaking her daughter’s reverie, ‘we do need to be careful, love. So many businesses fail.’

  ‘I know.’ But, were some dreams worth the risk? Or was she being foolish? Rachel needed to find out more at least.

  Back in the farmhouse, she made a couple of calls and had two building companies lined up to visit within the week to give a quote for the basic renovation work.

  The good news was that grants and rural schemes were available for this kind of diversification, but on reading the small print, what was worrying was that most grants needed a good solid investment from the farmer themselves and could take several months to come through should they even be agreed. Hmm, quite where that kind of financial investment would come from was beyond her at this stage. But that wasn’t going to stop Rachel’s plans and dreams just yet – she’d get some quotes to start and cross that bridge when she came to it.

  She lost herself
in research and all too soon it was time to go and collect Maisy from the school bus. As it was drizzling, she nipped to the lane end in the Land Rover – Moss leaping in the back to join in. She just had time for a quick hello and catch-up with Eve, when the school bus came into view and pulled up. The first off was Maisy, bouncing down the steps in her royal-blue school uniform, rucksack swinging off one shoulder, one sock up and one down, and a beam of a smile on her face. She ran over to give Rachel a big hug.

  Maisy was full of chat about Eleanor’s mum bringing in her two gerbils Bubble and Squeak for show and tell.

  She started giggling as she said, ‘Aw, they were so cute and naughty. Do you know what Bubble did?’

  ‘No?’

  Maisy and Amelia then collapsed with infectious, sunny laughter. ‘He pooed … all over Mrs Watson’s hand.’

  ‘Oops.’ Rachel couldn’t help but smile, imagining the classroom scenario.

  ‘Oops, poops,’ said Maisy cheekily, giggling again.

  ‘Come on then, let’s head home. Bye, Eve, bye, Amelia.’ Rachel gave them a wave as she got back in the Land Rover.

  Maisy rubbed Moss’s shaggy coat affectionately as he came to greet her with a lick as she took up her seat beside Rachel. ‘Hey, Mossy boy.’

  ‘Let’s go then.’

  ‘Can we have hot chocolate when we get in?’

  ‘Well that depends, have you been a good girl at school?’

  ‘Of course, I was the best!’

  ‘The best? Well, I suppose that’s deserving of a nice cup of cocoa.’

  ‘By-ee!’ Maisy called to Amelia and her mum, as they moved off.

  Back at the farmhouse soon afterwards, they had their hot chocolates – Grandma-Jill-style with whipped cream and mini marshmallows on the top – and then later they tucked into a supper of cheese and ham omelettes with salad.

  ‘Right Maisy, I’m going out to check on the sheep. Do you want to come and see how Pete’s getting on out in the field? He’s a big boy with all the others now.’

  ‘Oh, wow. Does he like it? I bet he’s made some new friends.’

  ‘He probably has, and by the way he was gambolling around like a loony this morning, I think he was very happy, and enjoying the fresh grass to eat.’

  Rachel and Maisy popped their coats on. Though the rains had passed and it was a pleasant evening it would soon cool, and it was often nippy when riding on the open-air quad which was easier to use in the fields. Rachel gave a quick whistle to Moss who was up like a shot from his prone position in the porch. He was sadly banished from the kitchen for health and safety reasons just now with the pudding business underway, but he sneaked as close as he could, bless him. Rachel made sure she still gave him lots of attention though, and he was her companion on the farm for most of the day, sat happily in the back of the quad.

  The sheep and lambs were spread over two large fields, with the latest arrivals and the newly turned out pet lambs being in the one nearest the farmyard. Pete came running up to the quad, seemingly excited, and Maisy got down to give him a pat and a cob of sheep nut which made him very happy.

  ‘Hi there, Petie, do you like your new field?’ Maisy was chatting away with her four-legged friend and he baaed his response. They both then gave him a good rub on the back – Rachel had to admit she was fond of him too – before moving on to see the others. Rachel spotted a ewe that was limping and needed her foot trimming. She dealt with it and finished with a douse of antiseptic. Then they drove up to the top of the hill and sat side by side on the grass, sharing one of Jill’s melt-in-the-mouth chocolate brownies and looking out at the view before them: rolling green fields, rising moorland near to Doddington Hill and away on the horizon the dark blue glimpse of the sea. It was so calm up here, quiet, other than the odd baa of a sheep and tweet of a bird. A place to chat in comfort about their day, a place to catch up and just breathe.

  ‘All fine at school today, Maisy?’

  ‘Yeah, good. I played with a new girl today, Bethany. She was nice … but not as nice as Amelia. But Mrs Watson said we had to let her join in our game.’

  ‘Well, that’s a kind thing to do. And I expect she was a bit shy. It’s hard when you’re the new one.’

  ‘A bit like Pete in the field, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes, a bit like Pete.’

  ‘He’s making friends. I saw him playing with those other lambs.’

  ‘Yes, and I’m sure Bethany will too, as long as you are all friendly to her.’

  It was a lovely mum and daughter moment, sat chatting as the sun began to fade in the sky, their sheep and cattle content in the fields below. The farmhouse light was a welcoming glow in the valley, where Grandma Jill would be getting some milk warmed on the Aga soon, ready for Maisy’s bedtime. Their valley was peaceful and, despite its problems, the farm, their home, was such a comfort.

  Chapter 17

  THE CATTLE ARE LOWING

  The next morning, after checking on the hens, Rachel was striding across the yard towards the trill of the house phone. She daren’t run with a basketful of eggs. She heard it stop and then start all over again. She wasn’t sure where Mum was, maybe out hanging the washing in the garden. Rachel placed the eggs down at the front door and ran in, in case it was Maisy’s school or something.

  ‘Rach-el?’ The voice was male and sounded gruff.

  ‘Ye-es.’

  ‘There’s a bull and a dozen or so of your cows and calves trampling all over my barley crop. I suggest you get yourself over here right away.’ She recognised the deep, angry tones of old Mr Macintosh, their neighbouring farmer, whose land was on the opposite side from Tom.

  Oh shit. Cows could do some serious damage if left to their own devices. They must have broken through the adjoining hedge somehow. And yes, Mr Mac would be extremely grumpy if his crop was ruined. Shite. Shite.

  She was already grabbing the Land Rover keys as she replied, ‘I’m right on my way, Mr Macintosh. Which field are they in?’

  ‘Ah, you’ll see them soon enough, lassie. They’re in the one right by the road when you come along the lane.’

  She suddenly thought better of going on her own. Cattle were often a nightmare to herd, especially if they got themselves into a panic.

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ She put the phone down and ran to the garden where, as she’d guessed, her mum was hanging out the clothes to dry.

  ‘Mum, can you give me a hand? The bloody cows have got out.’

  ‘Oh blimey, is Macduff leading his ladies astray again?’ Macduff was their Aberdeen Angus bull, a huge and rather handsome, but wayward, black beast. Jill raised her eyebrows exasperatedly as she quickly pegged out the shirt that was in her hands, leaving the rest in the basket. ‘Right then, where are they?’

  ‘Sounds like they’re trampling all over Farmer Mac’s barley crop. He’s not a happy man.’

  ‘Damn. No, I don’t suppose he will be. And that’s one neighbour we don’t want to get on the wrong side of.’

  Rachel started relaying the phone call as they leapt into the truck.

  ‘Oh blimey, this is a nightmare.’ Jill went a bit pale.

  The two of them knew all too well the havoc that even a few escapee cows could cause. The Land Rover engine rumbled into life and they set off, leaving a trail of dust on the farm track. They stayed quiet, feeling anxious, as they zipped the half mile along the lane.

  It was so hard keeping the perimeter fencing in check. Rachel would go out on the quad regularly to take a look, but all it took was one weak link and a tasty-looking crop in the next-door field, and the weight of a bull would bring it down in no time, leaving a nice pathway for the rest of the herd to follow. Oh my, she hoped they hadn’t done too much damage already. Mr Mac had sounded furious.

  Soon enough, they had passed Eve’s cottage and were further along the lane, approaching the neighbouring farm gate. The field next to it was sporting a crop of barley shoots. And, yes, there they were, a dozen or so of their errant catt
le plus their new calves with a frazzled-looking Mr Macintosh with a large stick in his hand, desperately attempting to herd them to the set-aside verge of the field, trying his best to keep them off his precious crop. But as Rachel got out of the Land Rover, she could see the tell-tale hoof marks and a trail of trampling from the adjoining field. Aargh!

  She leapt out of the vehicle. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Macintosh.’

  ‘Aye, well there’s no time to mess about. Let’s get them rounded up and off my land. I’ll be wanting some kind of compensation for the damage, mind!’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ Jill reassured him from her stance beside Rachel.

  From the magic pot of money they didn’t have, Rachel mused with a heavy heart.

  ‘Let’s herd them this way to the gate,’ Rachel suggested. ‘And I’ll take them down the road way and home. Okay?’

  ‘Aye, that’ll stop them crushing my crop further.’

  ‘Mum, will you go ahead and stop any traffic on the road?’

  ‘Yes, love.’

  ‘Come on,’ Rachel started calling as firmly yet calmly as she could, as she raised her arms in a sweeping action. Mr Mac had stirred them up enough already with his hollering; what they needed was calm assertion. ‘Come on Macduff. Come on cows.’

  Mr Mac got behind them; they were quite happily chewing his set-aside grass now. They looked up nonchalantly, then started slowly shifting. Once Macduff got himself moving, the others started to follow, thank heavens.

  Mr Mac jumped on his quad and that rallied them along further, with Rachel walking with arms spread widely and encouraging shouts, keeping the herd together. With Jill ahead, they went on down the lane, back up their own farm track, and Jill opened the gate on the first grass field they got to. The cattle could go in with the sheep for now, she’d herd them on later, back into their original field, once she’d had a chance to look at that damaged fence line.

  ‘Sorry again, Mr Mac.’ Rachel was extremely apologetic as she closed the field gate. The frazzled farmer was by her side on his quad with the engine running – the noise seemingly grumbling away at her.