Rachel's Pudding Pantry Page 8

  Whilst on the computer she took a look at her emails. There were a few pieces of farming admin to address, and then she spotted an email that must be from Jake, at some new email address. The subject line was simply ‘Hi’. Rachel felt a bit queasy. It was always unnerving hearing from him; it left her wondering what his real agenda was.

  Hmm, first that late birthday present for Maisy. What now? Maisy had been so excited that day when Rachel passed the gift on to her, her little sunny face so full of hope as she ripped open the parcel. Her daddy had remembered her. It had turned out to be a dress a size too big; he hadn’t even bloody well remembered her age. Maisy had put it on regardless, sporting the baggy floral item around the house and doing little twirls, bless her.

  And now a message. Was he trying to come back into their lives? She should be pleased for Maisy’s sake, but it always seemed to spell trouble when Jake reappeared, stirring things up, only for him to just drift off and disappear again soon after.

  She took a deep breath and braced herself to read the email:

  Hi Rach,

  How’s tricks? Hope Maisy got her gift ok and likes it. Say a big hi to her from her dad.

  Oh yes, say hello from the dad who’s never here just to get her all wound up again.

  How’re you and your mum doing? Still on the farm?

  Of course, working hard to keep it all together and support your daughter.

  I’m down in Bedford on a job at the moment.

  Oh, so he is working, so where’s the child support? All Maisy gets is a toy monkey one Christmas and a dress a year too big!

  Thinking of coming up North this summer, so I’ll deffo call in and see Maisy then.

  Great, not – can’t wait for that to happen then.

  How is she? At school now? She must be. All grown up I bet. Send a photo.

  A photo – he needs a frigging photo to recognise his own child!

  Send her my love and a big hug.

  Cheers,

  Jake x

  Rachel felt all churned up. Her fingers were trembling on the laptop’s keyboard. Hah – so he thought he could flit in and out of Maisy’s life, just like that? But, if she mentioned to her daughter that he was planning a visit, he still might not even turn up – given his past track record. Rachel had heard it all before. There was no way she’d be telling Maisy that her dad might be coming up this summer – she couldn’t raise her little girl’s hopes just for them to be dashed. No, Rachel would hold strong and wait and see.

  She didn’t even know how to answer the message. Hearing from Jake always sent her into a bit of a spin. The implications for Maisy were complicated, and there was always the fear that maybe one day he’d want to come back up this way for good, perhaps even look for custody of Maisy – just the thought of that made Rachel feel sick. Maisy hardly knew her dad. And the one thing Rachel was sure of was that he was in no way reliable. Argh, she’d reply later. A polite response, but nothing overly friendly.

  It was many a year ago now since she’d fallen head over heels for that lad, taken in by a handsome face, a cheeky smile and a host of false promises, when she’d been a naïve teenager herself. The first time she’d met Jake was at sixth form, when he’d turned up in the autumn term as the good-looking new lad who’d grown up near London. His life before his arrival in Kirkton sounded so exciting, with trips to the big city, party nights, and a host of cool friends. All the girls in her year were totally into him, with his blond hair, that flash of a smile and easy chat. She knew he was a bit of a charmer, but that was just him. He was so much more confident than the other lads at school who suddenly seemed so much younger, naïve. Jake was fresh, interesting and very different from the local farming lads. And the crazy thing was that he seemed to like Rachel too, and would single her out to chat with at break-time; about music, life here in Kirkton, and his plans for travelling. And then, when he asked her to go along with him to the local nightclub over in Berwick, just after he’d passed his driving test, well, she almost hyperventilated.

  Dad hadn’t been so sure about this, of course. When he heard of the planned night out he said that they were too young to go out drinking and clubbing. But Rachel argued that anybody who was anybody went, even if they weren’t quite eighteen. And Dad didn’t know, but she’d already sourced a fake ID to get into the club. Dad insisted he needed to meet this lad who was showing an interest in his daughter, and Jake was promptly invited to Sunday dinner. Sat around the farmhouse kitchen table, it was the first time Rachel had seen Jake looking distinctly uncomfortable, as he was being quizzed on his plans for the future, which he seemed rather vague about. Well, who the hell knew what they wanted to do with their lives at seventeen years of age, anyhow? That’s what Rachel had thought back then, that her dad was being old-fashioned, had forgotten what it was like to be young and carefree. The world was their oyster, they didn’t need to have it all mapped out. But hey, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

  Weeks of schoolyard kisses, parties, dancing, drinking and fun, falling in love and first sex. And then there was Maisy, just a bud of life within her.

  The thing was, Rachel had had to grow up and fast. And Jake hadn’t.

  Rachel was thrown back to the present by the phone ringing. She was the only one in the farmhouse as Jill had popped to Kirkton to do some food shopping.

  ‘Hello, Primrose Farm.’

  ‘Hi, is that Rachel? It’s Nick from the land agents.’

  ‘Oh, hi. Yes, it’s Rachel speaking.’ Had something happened with the two fields they had put up for sale? Perhaps there was some interest at last.

  ‘So, do you want the good news or the bad news?’

  ‘Umm …’ Rachel faltered.

  ‘Well, the good news is we’ve had an offer in.’

  ‘Wow, great.’

  ‘The bad news is … it’s substantially below your asking price and the valuation.’

  ‘Oh, so how much exactly?’

  ‘It’s an offer of five hundred pounds an acre.’

  ‘Blimey, that’s just taking the mickey. That land is worth at least fifteen hundred pounds an acre. Can I ask who the bidder is?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a Mr Macintosh, a neighbouring farmer of yours, I believe.’

  Ah … typical. The tight-fisted miserable old bugger. That was akin to stealing at that price. Oh yes, he’d know they were in financial straits. Could see the gain for himself by buying the land at way below the commercial value. He’d be rubbing his hands with glee, no doubt. Well, she wouldn’t give him the pleasure. They’d rather keep the land at Primrose Farm and struggle on somehow than sell it for that.

  Rachel’s hackles were up, thinking of how their neighbour was ready to prey on their misfortune. ‘Well then, you can go back and tell good old Mr Macintosh that it’s an insult of an offer. There’s no way I’d consider selling at that price.’

  ‘Yes, I did think that your answer might be along those lines.’

  ‘No other interest so far?’ Rachel asked, trying to remain hopeful.

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Oh well, we’ll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘Yes, of course, you’ll have to give it time. Unless, you’re thinking of adding more land to the sale? That might create more interest.’

  ‘Not just yet, but I understand what you’re saying.’ Rachel really wasn’t ready to give up more of the farm, everything her father had worked for and her heritage – not just yet, not until she had exhausted every other avenue. Unfortunately, time really wasn’t on their side …

  Chapter 12

  IT’S A WRAP

  It was a beautiful spring day. The sky was a hazy blue, punctuated with fluffy, cotton-wool clouds, and the daffodils were out in full bloom. Rachel was walking down Primrose Farm’s lane, Moss padding along obediently at her side. She reached the end of the track and found Eve waiting at the school bus collection point with a big grin on her face.

  ‘They’re ready!’ her friend announced.

>   ‘What? Ooh, do you mean the pudding packaging? Have you made some designs already?’

  ‘Yep, I’m so pleased with them, but … I’ll let you make up your own minds. Why don’t you and Jill come up to the cottage, in say fifteen minutes, and have a look? I’ll put the kettle on. Maisy can come and play with Amelia.’

  ‘That sounds a great idea. I’ll walk Maisy home, then catch up with Mum and let her know. I’m sure she’ll be happy to come across. Ooh, I’m excited to see them now. Spill … are they patterned, checked, floral, plain?’

  ‘You need to wait and see.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ‘No, I just think it’s best you see how they work. First impressions and all that. Just like your customers will.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. Well then, this is a special occasion which I believe deserves cake. Do you have anything in?’

  ‘No, sorry. Been too busy doing all my crafting these past few days.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure Mum was baking earlier today. I’ll see what she was rustling up. There’s always something tasty in our kitchen these days. If we’re lucky, she may even have been testing out some new puds. We’ll bring something along, don’t you worry.’

  ‘Now that sounds a plan.’

  Rachel, Jill and Maisy were soon jumping into the farm’s battered old Land Rover and heading across to Eve’s place to see the pudding packaging samples. They parked by the old stone cottage and walked up the pathway that was bordered by sunny daffodils and soft-pink tulips.

  Eve came to the door with a cheerful grin. ‘Hello, hello. Come on in, my lovelies. Welcome to the mad house. Sorry, it’s a bit chaotic here just now, but I’m so excited to show you what I’ve made so far. Would you like a cup of tea or anything?’

  She led them through to her dining room, which looked like an arts and crafts Aladdin’s cave – where the table and dresser were piled with bundles of colourful material, balls of wool, scraps of felt, buttons, threads and ribbons in all shades, and more.

  ‘Oh yes, tea would be lovely,’ Rachel answered. ‘But can we see the packaging ideas first?’ She didn’t think she could wait.

  ‘Of course. Right …’ Eve had some material samples placed at the centre of the pine table top, next to a box of coloured satin ribbons. ‘Well then, eek …’ she sounded rather nervous. She opened a cardboard box and from it set out four options which she’d wrapped earlier, using the correct size of metal foil containers that Jill had chosen to bake her puddings in. ‘Here are your pudding packaging ideas.’

  Each had a different floral print that had a gorgeous vintage-farmhouse look. Any of the patterns would work brilliantly, and Eve had tied thin satin bows around them, which looked beautiful.

  ‘Of course, the material wrap will come off before baking, but they just look so pretty. And I can change any of the patterns or the colours of the bows to whatever you prefer. I’ve got some other samples of materials here.’ Eve sounded slightly anxious as she pointed to the other colour options.

  Jill just stared at the package designs with a huge smile on her face.

  ‘Oh wow,’ said Rachel, ‘I love them. They look old-fashioned in a lovely vintage kind of way.’

  Jill had a glisten to her eye as she spoke. ‘Aw, they look like something Grandma Isabel would have made.’ She gave a little sniff. ‘This pattern is just adorable.’ She was pointing to a small floral print in red and green, with tiny red roses.

  ‘Oh, and I love this one,’ Rachel added, pointing to another floral pattern but with browns, yellows and orange shades that had a seventies feel. It had been tied with a deep-brown satin bow. ‘This has chocolate pudding written all over it. Don’t you think, Mum?’

  ‘Yes love, and the red roses one could be for the sticky toffee. Do you like the green ribbon or the red on that?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Rachel rubbed her chin, as she considered.

  ‘I think I’d go green,’ Eve commented. ‘I’m thinking countryside, farming colours.’

  ‘Yes, I’d agree,’ said Jill buoyantly.

  ‘Just to warn you though, I may not always be able to get exactly the same material prints,’ added Eve. ‘To keep the costs down initially for you, I’ve bought remnants and samples, but they are all new material. I know you made it clear you can’t have anything pre-used to wrap food. But, I’ll get online as soon as poss now that you’ve chosen, and see if I can order some more of these two patterns at least. I’ve enough to last for a while anyhow.’

  ‘No worries,’ said Rachel. ‘There are so many lovely options here Eve, I’m sure we can find other styles we love too. And maybe as we expand our range with other puddings,’ she gave Jill a wink, ‘we can go for some of these other lovely designs.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so happy you like them.’ Eve looked more relaxed now.

  ‘I knew you’d come up with something special, Eve. Never doubted you for a minute,’ said Rachel, with a smile.

  ‘Right then, I’ll get the kettle on now. Phew.’ Eve went off to the kitchen, leaving Jill and Rachel grinning at each other.

  They were soon chatting over tea and homemade ginger shortbreads – delish. Jill had come up trumps on the baking front as per usual. Amelia and Maisy came running in from Amelia’s bedroom where they’d been playing, to take a biscuit each and zoom off again.

  ‘Having fun girls?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘Yes, we’re playing shops,’ answered Maisy, already on her way back out of the room. ‘Amelia is selling her toys. We have them all lined up and I’m the buyer.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  They scampered off, happy in each other’s company.

  ‘So, how’s the Etsy stuff going?’ Jill asked Eve when she’d brought in the tea, interested to find out more. ‘Rachel’s been telling me all about it.’

  ‘Yes, it’s not just us starting a new venture,’ added Rachel.

  ‘Well, it’s early days, but I’ve got off to a good start, yeah. There’ve been a few orders in already. I’ve sold some felt animals, a few knits and some of my new wooden hearts and stars. I’m personalising the hearts with messages and names on, whatever people want really. In fact, I’ve just got an order for a wedding gift, for a hanging wooden heart, to put the couple’s names on and the wedding date.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful, Eve. Well done you,’ said Jill.

  ‘We’re flying the flag for small businesses from home. I love it,’ said Rachel. ‘Cheers ladies.’

  They picked up their teacups and gave them a happy and hopeful sounding clink together.

  ‘Cheers everyone,’ said Jill.

  ‘To crafts and puddings!’ proclaimed Eve.

  ‘And lots of sales,’ added Rachel.

  These were exciting times, but they all desperately needed these businesses to work out. Maybe with a little luck – and a good dollop of teamwork – they had a chance of pulling off something special.

  Chapter 13

  A VERY GORGEOUS APPLE CRUMBLE

  They were brainstorming over beer. Well, cider in Rachel’s case.

  The promised post-lambing-shed night out had finally materialised, so Eve, Rachel and their close friend Charlotte were having an evening out at … wait for it … The Black Bull Inn in Kirkton. Okay, so it wasn’t anything plush – the hour’s travelling to either Newcastle or Edinburgh and a certain lack of finances had put them off going further afield. And, so it was that the three of them had ended up in their local pub; the best of the two in the village. It was cosy and friendly, with dark wood furniture, a well-worn deep-red tartan carpet, some quirky examples of farming memorabilia and some scary-looking tools – Rachel daren’t think what they did with those in the olden days. There was a hearty choice of lagers and ciders, and the usual round-up of locals at the bar.

  The girls were sitting chatting away at a table near one of the pub’s front windows.

  ‘Ah, it’s so nice to get out. Just for an evening, child-free,’ Eve said, then couldn’t help but yawn.

  ‘H
ah, well, you’re looking lively. We want you up dancing on the tables in an hour or so.’ Rachel laughed, giving Eve a friendly nudge.

  ‘I might be sleeping under the table at this rate. Sorry girls, life’s just so busy at the mo. What with all my crafting and keeping up with Amelia and stuff at home.’

  ‘Well, I don’t have a child of my own, but put yourselves in front of a class of twenty-five seven-year-olds daily and see how that feels.’ Charlotte was a primary school teacher in the local town of Alnwick.

  ‘Hmm, think I’d actually prefer life in the lambing shed than a class full of children to cope with.’ Rachel grinned. ‘It never stops though, does it. There’s always so much going on. It’s the same at the farm. Full on with the sheep, it’ll be calving any time, and now we’re trying to set up the pudding business.’

  ‘Ooh yes, so come on Rach, tell me all about this scrummy-sounding pudding business you’re planning,’ Charlotte enthused. ‘And please, tell me your mum is making that divine chocolate stuff that we had at Maisy’s party.’

  ‘Well, progress is being made. We’ve now set aside an official area in the farmhouse kitchen as Mum’s special baking zone. Poor old Moss is allowed nowhere near it, bless him. He’s very put out. We’ve passed our health and hygiene certs, ta-dah.’ Yes, she and Jill had sat and studied together over the past few evenings and passed with flying colours, much to their relief. So, another step in the right direction. ‘We’ve bought in all the ingredients to make a start and I have a fab packaging design, care of my trusty assistant here …’ Rachel smiled, gesturing at Eve, who gave a mock bow. ‘And, we have our first retailer all ready to go, the lovely Brenda at the Kirkton Deli.’

  Yes, it was all coming together. And with Jill about to make her first official batch of puddings tomorrow, it would be a reality very soon.

  ‘Wow, that all sounds great. I hope it goes well for you and your mum, Rach,’ said Charlotte. ‘You so deserve this.’