Rachel's Pudding Pantry Read online

  Rachel was proud her daughter had remembered her manners. The little girl gave him a quick hug and then ran off to be with her friends who were enjoying the bouncy castle and slide.

  ‘Survived?’ Tom asked Rachel, with an understanding smile.

  ‘Just,’ she replied. ‘Do you fancy a tea or anything? There’s birthday cake coming shortly too.’

  ‘Well, now you’ve got me.’ He gave a grin.

  ‘Hi, Tom.’ Eve came across rather coyly, and Rachel left the two of them chatting whilst she went to fetch Tom a mug of tea and organise the candle-lighting for the birthday cake.

  ‘Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!’ they all chorused.

  The unicorn cake was met with delight, and Maisy’s face was a picture – she actually couldn’t speak. Rachel felt a happy tear crowd her eye.

  It was time to blow out the candles. Maisy scrunched up her face and made a silent wish. Rachel had a feeling she might well be wishing for a daddy – one that came to birthday parties. She felt a lump form in her throat for her little girl, and for the little girl inside herself too, still yearning for her own daddy to come back home, even though the adult in her knew that that was never going to happen.

  Jill sliced the cake up into rectangles of moist sponge, jam and icing. They ate it from napkins out in the sunshine, then the adults watched the children play once more. The early April day was warm and pleasant. The sky ultramarine with wisps of puffy white cloud. The fields, hills and countryside where their sheep and cattle grazed, were spring-green and bursting into life all around them.

  After eating a slice of cake and a sausage roll, Tom stood to say his goodbyes to the group. He then came across to Rachel. ‘I’d better be heading back.’

  ‘Well, thanks so much for taking the time to come across. I know Maisy loved seeing you.’

  ‘It’s no problem. She’s a great kid. And hey, you’ve done a brilliant job here, Rachel. The barn, everything. She’ll have had a real special day.’ His hand rested on her shoulder for a brief second. It felt reassuring, warm.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Tom then set off back to work at the farm next door. It was so nice that he’d made the effort to call. And, Rachel smiled to herself, it had certainly cheered up Eve’s day by the soppy look on her face.

  The party was wrapping up for another year, and after a flurry of farewells, a few tired tears, happy hugs and party bags distributed, it was finally time for home. Quiet – phew.

  Back at the house, Maisy crashed out on the old armchair by the Aga – Granny Ruth’s favourite seat. It had most likely been there when she and her husband, Grandad Ken, had lived in the farmhouse themselves with Rachel’s dad growing up as a little boy. There were so many memories over the generations in this farm, and there was a sense of history and comfort from that. Rachel placed a cosy blanket over Maisy, giving her tired daughter a kiss on her forehead, and set about doing the last of the washing-up in the kitchen.

  Jill arrived back from dropping off Granny Ruth, and Rachel poured out two glasses of left-over fizz as they collapsed at the kitchen table, with Maisy now sound asleep in the chair. A wave of fatigue hit Rachel.

  ‘Well, I’d say that was a success,’ pronounced Jill.

  ‘Yes.’ Rachel stifled a yawn. ‘Thanks Mum, for all your help. I couldn’t have pulled that off without you. All the food was just brilliant, and the second round of Sleeping Lions out in the garden was a triumph.’ In fact, two of the children had actually gone off to sleep.

  ‘The old games are the best.’ Jill winked.

  Rachel glanced over to check that Maisy was still sleeping, before lowering her voice. ‘Mum, I’m a bit worried about Maisy, lately.’

  ‘Oh … why’s that, pet?’

  ‘She’s been asking about her dad, and why he’s not around. I think the other kids at school have been asking questions and teasing her.’

  ‘Oh dear … bless her.’ Jill sighed. ‘It’s a tricky one, isn’t it. I don’t suppose you heard a thing back from him about her birthday, either?’

  ‘Now then … what do you think?’ Rachel asked, ironically.

  ‘Well, we can only be honest with her, Rachel. Be there to field her questions. She’s growing up, she’s bound to be curious.’

  ‘Yes … I think she’s missing him. Well, missing a father figure anyway. Especially with Dad …’ Rachel couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  ‘Yes, I know, I know, love. We’ve just got to be strong for her. Be her mum, dad, grandparents … everything. Families come in all shapes and sizes, especially these days.’

  ‘You’re right. Thanks, Mum. We can only do our best, can’t we.’

  ‘Indeed. And, today was a pretty good shot at a super birthday party for her.’

  ‘It was. Well then, I don’t think I’ll need any help getting off to sleep tonight.’ Rachel gave in to another yawn.

  ‘Nor me.’

  They spent a few quiet moments sat in the kitchen, Rachel looking out of the window at the view; the fields with their white woolly sheep dotted about and the valley below – all green and lush, and rather beautiful. The gentle foothills of the Cheviots which cradled their lovely farmhouse. Rachel gave a tired, yet contented sigh. It was lovely to stop for a second and take in the scene – sometimes you were so busy you forgot to look.

  Later that evening, Rachel carried Maisy upstairs and, after a nice warm bath, they started reading Tom’s birthday book, all about magical adventures at a fairy glen – a good choice.

  Maisy’s head was heavy on the pillow.

  ‘Night, night, Maisy. Happy birthday, my love.’

  ‘Night, Mummy.’ Maisy went quiet for a second and looked thoughtful. ‘Mummy … do you think … maybe Tom could be my daddy?’ she said sleepily.

  ‘Oh, Maisy. It doesn’t quite work like that, sweetheart.’ Rachel kissed her little girl gently on the forehead. ‘Night, night, petal. Sweet dreams.’

  If only life was that simple.

  Chapter 9

  COFFEE, CHAT AND CHOCOLATE BROWNIES

  A few days after the party, reality was hitting home all too hard for Rachel. With lambing over and birthday dreams delivered, the cold hard facts of the farm’s ever deepening financial woes were impossible to avoid. Rachel could no longer shield Jill from the truth, as leaving their heads in the sand any longer would lead to far bigger issues – and the chance that they might lose the farm altogether. That was one thing Rachel could not risk.

  The time had come to face the music. Maisy was at school, Rachel had done the morning’s farm checks and she and Jill were pottering around in the farmhouse kitchen.

  Rachel took a deep breath. ‘Mum, we need to talk.’

  ‘Okay, right. What about … you sound awfully serious?’

  ‘Well, it is.’

  ‘Does it warrant a cup of tea?’

  ‘Yes, I think maybe a gin actually.’

  ‘Ah …’

  Jill quickly put the kettle on and set about making a pot of tea, placing a small milk jug and two cups in the centre of the pine table.

  ‘It’s the farm. We’re struggling, Mum.’ Rachel found herself all choked up just saying the words aloud. Yes, she’d known it herself for some time, but telling her mum made it all much more real. She was incredibly worried about how it would affect her.

  ‘Oh … Well, it’s always been a bit of a juggling act, love. Even years back.’ Mum’s tone was light.

  Rachel realised that she’d not quite grasped the seriousness of the situation. How very wrong it had all gone since Dad’s death.

  ‘It’s getting harder and harder to earn a living, Mum. I didn’t want to have to involve you, I hoped we might see a turnaround, but the prices for sheep aren’t looking too good for when we come to market, and our costs are forever rising. We are already struggling with an overdraft now and if things carry on the way they are, in a few months’ time we’ll hit rock bottom – the farm’s subsidy payment for this year is alrea
dy nearly used up.’ Most of it had disappeared into the black hole of the farm’s overdraft straight away.

  ‘It’s gone already?’ Jill looked shocked.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry, Mum.’

  In fact, at any point the bank might pull the plug on them and that would be it. Rachel held back from voicing that last hammer blow.

  ‘Oh dear …’ Jill grasped the edge of the table. ‘Well, it’s not your fault, pet. It’s the way things are, have been, for a long time. Your dad …’ Jill couldn’t finish that sentence. Instead, she stirred the teapot and poured out the tea on autopilot.

  There were a few seconds of heartfelt silence between them.

  Jill took a deep breath. ‘So, what do we do?’

  Rachel had already been thinking so much about this. ‘Okay, one, I think we have to sell some land. Just one or two fields for now, to get some extra income in to keep us afloat.’ It wasn’t ideal and was very much a last resort. Losing land was heart-breaking and there was always a sense of shame within the farming community somehow, in letting it get to that. But sod it, they had already been through enough, who gave a stuff about rural tittle-tattle? If it meant keeping the rest of the farm together, giving them time to find some way out of this, then so be it.

  Jill couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips. There were a few seconds before she said pragmatically, ‘All right, if needs must. But that still won’t solve the long-term income problems, will it?’

  ‘No … but …’ Maybe it was time for Rachel to share her pudding business ideas. Sow the thought that they might be able to do things differently. She didn’t have much else up her sleeve. ‘Look, Mum, I’ve been doing some research. We need to do something new, to diversify.’

  Jill was nodding, listening.

  ‘So hear me out. I’m thinking … puddings,’ Rachel continued. ‘A pudding business. Something we can do from here. I think it might have legs.’

  ‘Oh, blimey. So, how do you see it working?’

  ‘Well, you’re great at baking. And you really enjoy it, don’t you?’ Rachel felt nervous broaching the idea.

  ‘Well yes, but … a business … I’m sure there’s a darn sight more to it than just enjoying baking, love.’

  ‘Of course. I know that. But what if we made the farm kitchen our base? We can do the qualifications like health and hygiene we might need, both of us, and just start small, give it a try. Make some puddings to sell. Just have a think about it, yeah … And in the meanwhile, I’ll look into it some more.’ Rachel was trying to gauge her mum’s reaction, but Jill’s face was hard to read. ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘It’s a lot to take on board, pet. I’ll need a little time.’

  Rachel didn’t like to say that time was one thing they didn’t have on their side. But she knew her mum needed a bit of space to get her head around all this. And that was fair enough. After all, Rachel herself had been mulling it over for several weeks now.

  ‘Okay, I understand. Promise you’ll at least consider it, yeah?’

  ‘I will, pet.’

  ‘And tomorrow, I’d better make that call to the land agent,’ Rachel stated, facing up to the worst of it.

  Jill placed her hand gently over her daughter’s on the table top, then nodded her acquiescence sadly.

  A week later, there was a large wooden sign mounted on a post by the farm gate. It read ‘Land for Sale’ and it tugged at Rachel’s heartstrings every time she saw it.

  One evening soon after the sign went up, Jill went along to the local WI meeting for a talk on jewellery making. She’d come home deflated, telling of the hassle she’d had from a certain Vanessa Palmer-Pilkington there. ‘Honestly, that woman was probing so much. Wheedling for information. Was it the whole farm up for sale? She was so sorry to hear it, blah, blah, bloody blah. She wasn’t sorry at all, just wanted some juicy gossip to tell her neighbours and the village.’

  ‘Oh dear, doesn’t sound like it was the best of nights for you, Mum.’ That was such a shame too, as Jill had still been a bit reclusive of late. Rachel had hoped that getting out and about more would do her good.

  ‘Bloody woman was like a vulture at the end of the talk circling me, looking for every juicy scrap of information. Pretending to be concerned, when all she wanted was some tittle-tattle.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry about her, Mum.’ Rachel knew the woman was a bit of a nightmare. ‘Some people have nothing better to do with their lives. I bet the others there were supportive.’

  ‘Oh yes, I do have some nice friends there, of course. And all the farming folk know the tough issues we face every day in this business. Anyway, I was getting fed up with Vanessa’s constant wheedling, so I told her we were using the money from the sale of the fields to build a new indoor swimming pool. Well, you should have seen her face. It was a picture.’

  ‘Hah, I love it. Go, Mum.’

  ‘Well, that shut her up. She moved off swiftly then. And Jan, who was there beside me, nearly choked on her tea and biscuits. We couldn’t stop chuckling.’

  ‘Good for you, Mum.’

  It was never easy in such a small community where everybody knew everybody’s business – or at least they thought they did.

  ‘So, what was the jewellery talk like?’

  ‘Good, actually. Very informative. She’d brought some really pretty examples too. It was just the end with old V.P.P. that spoilt the night a bit, that was all.’

  ‘Well, I think you handled it brilliantly. We stand tall and we fight back, Mum. We can hold our heads high. I, for one, am proud that we’re trying to keep things going here, whatever that takes. We can only do our best.’

  ‘I know, I know that, love. I just wish certain people would mind their own bloody business.’

  ‘Yes. I know. So, why don’t we rename her? V.P.P.: Visible Panty-line Palmer – has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Then every time we see her, it’ll make us smile.’

  Jill spluttered on her tea. ‘Hah, that’s genius!’

  For all her fighting talk, Rachel had to admit that she was desperately worried too. What if the land didn’t sell soon? Or what if it did but the money they received didn’t make enough of a difference in the long term?

  She swallowed down her fears and managed to smile across at her mum. ‘We’ll be okay, Mum. Together, we’ll find a way.’

  The next day, after the heart-to-heart with Mum, puddings were very much on Rachel’s mind. Not just that she could eat a very generous portion of some left-over lemon pudding that she knew was still in the fridge right now, but also, and more-so, that there might actually be something in this pudding-making business idea. Thinking back to Maisy’s party last week, the parents had raved about Jill’s sticky chocolate pudding – and Charlotte wouldn’t go home without the recipe. Rachel was desperate to dig a little deeper, and find out what her mum was really thinking, but knew she’d asked for some time – and it was only fair to give her that space.

  Of course, Jill would have to be fully behind the idea to make it work, as they’d be relying heavily on her commitment as well as her baking skills. But they could start small, Rachel mused, test the waters. Sign up for their health and hygiene course together and trial a few sales locally. There were bound to be some nearby shops who’d be interested in stocking local farmhouse-made puddings, or perhaps they could even try a stall at the local farmers’ market.

  Rachel had given herself a headache looking at their accounts again this morning and yes, whilst they were still just about okay, their heads above water for now, they’d need money to keep the farm going until the first lambs were ready for market and beyond. There were wormers and medicines to buy, machinery to keep going, their farmhand to pay, the household bills to cover too. The list could go on … and on.

  It was when the land agent had come around to value the fields that reality had really hit home. He’d pushed them to make a larger acreage available, suggesting that three or four fields might be more saleable, but Jill and Rac
hel hadn’t been ready to give up too much land. They’d compromised at two, understanding that something had to be done, but he’d warned them that unless it was a local farmer or someone wanting a field or two for a pony to graze, it might not be snapped up that quickly. They’d have to see, but neither of them had felt ready to allow too much of the farm to go just yet. There must be some other way … if they could just think creatively.

  Yes, she’d have to do lots more research on this pudding business idea, find out if there were any grants available for such things to help them get set up, and she really needed to talk over this idea properly with her mum. Without the Queen of Primrose Farm Puddings by her side, it was a non-starter.

  Chapter 10

  COFFEE, BROWNIES AND CHAT

  The next morning Rachel had been checking the boundary fences and was trying to repair a bolt-hole that the lambs were escaping from.

  ‘Want a coffee?’

  Rachel jumped. Eve’s head popped over the hedgerow.

  ‘Jeez, Eve, you frightened the life out of me!’

  ‘Sorry, hun. I spotted the quad, knew you’d be about somewhere. I was on my way back from Kirkton, been getting a few groceries.’

  ‘Let me just finish securing this fence here – the lambs have been making a bid for freedom.’ She was weaving a mesh of chicken wire through the existing fencing to stop the gap.

  ‘Okay, call up at the cottage when you’re ready. Be nice to have a catch-up.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that. Thanks.’

  When she got to Eve’s ten minutes later, there was a cafetière of coffee ready on the kitchen side along with a plate of chocolate brownies – the room was smelling of cocoa-coffee gorgeousness.

  ‘Shall we take it outside?’ Eve suggested. ‘It’s nice and sunny.’

  ‘Sounds divine, coffee and a view.’

  Eve picked up a tray and loaded the goodies onto it, along with a couple of mugs. ‘To be honest, the dining room and lounge are covered in my craft stuff just now. There’s not a lot of space left in the cottage. It’s driving Ben crazy, but I need to keep it all somewhere handy, especially when I’m mid project.’