Wet grass and mud dampened the seat of her jeans. Plops of rain spotted her face like tears. A part of her mind told her to calm down, to put it into context. Maybe he was just letting off steam. It was a throwaway comment. But it didn’t seem throwaway, and it loitered uneasily in her mind.
Tom and Ben must have been talking more, but Rachel heard none of the next few seconds, as she was reeling from Tom’s revelation. She felt panicked, finding it hard to breathe, like she was underwater. Eventually she caught Ben wrapping up the conversation.
‘Well, see you later, mate.’
‘You too, thanks for listening, eh?’ said Tom. ‘I’ll see you about.’
She heard the clunk of a gear, the slight rev of Tom’s truck engine, and the two vehicles started to move off down the lane.
Tom’s words lingered ominously in Rachel’s mind: ‘Don’t know why I’m even thinking of getting married again …’
The storm clouds up above suddenly looked a whole lot darker.
14
‘Mummy, can Daddy come and see me in my pretty bridesmaid’s dress for your getting married day?’ Later that day, Maisy was twirling around in her gorgeous cornflower blue, off-the-peg and in-the-sale, flower-girl frock.
It was one scenario that Rachel hadn’t contemplated; having Jake, her wayward ex and Maisy’s dad, there at her wedding to Tom. She certainly hadn’t sent out an invitation to him.
‘And Chelsea too. She’d love to see this. It’s like a princess dress.’ Maisy was still in motion, dancing on tippy-toes around the room.
Chelsea was Jake’s latest girlfriend, though heaven knew if they were even still together – what with his track record, most likely not.
Jill and Eve gave Rachel an empathetic grimace: awkward or what? Charlotte, who was having her hemline pinned up, merely raised her eyebrows whilst they awaited Rachel’s response.
The girls were having a trying-on session at the farmhouse, with Jill’s close friend and hobby seamstress, Jan, taking final measurements and pinning here and there, so she could make some last-minute alterations to the bridesmaids’ and flower girls’ dresses. Eve had offered to do the sewing for these too, but Rachel had insisted someone else do this job at least. With all of Eve’s work so far on Rachel’s wedding dress, and the many beautiful craft creations she was making for the tables and the tipi, as well as her own business to run, Rachel was concerned that her friend might be at the point of burn-out.
‘Umm … well, petal …’ Rachel floundered. ‘I’m not sure if he’d be able to come.’
‘Why not?’
Rachel didn’t want to go into the complications of adult relationships, and how having your ex at your wedding might be a little bit awkward. She tried to imagine having Caitlin there, no doubt cursing her from the pews, as Rachel made her way down the aisle. It really wouldn’t be fair on Tom.
‘So why don’t you just ask him?’ Maisy persisted. It all seemed so simple when you were six years old.
Rachel hated to disappoint Maisy, who was already looking confused. Oh crikey, would it be so awful if Jake turned up, even with Chelsea in tow? It’d be a busy day with so many other people there. It’s not as though she or Tom would have to spend much time with them … and he was Maisy’s dad after all.
All eyes were on Rachel now, Jan kneeling with a large pin poking from the side of her mouth, Maisy’s eyes pleading. She felt her resolve floundering. Maisy saw so little of her father as it was, with him living hundreds of miles away. ‘Well, I suppose we could ask him. But I can’t make any promises that he’ll be able to come.’
‘Yay!’ The beam on Maisy’s face said it all. ‘We can ring him tonight, and we can tell him all about my pretty dress, and the sparkly hair things … and the big tent and the lots of puddings.’
‘Y-es.’ Rachel was still trying to convince herself that she hadn’t just made the most dreadful decision.
‘Yippee.’ Maisy grasped Amelia’s hands and they did a little spin together, their lilac-blue skirts flying out in a whirl. The rest of the gathering couldn’t help but smile, but if anyone looked at Rachel, they’d see that hers didn’t quite reach her eyes.
‘He said “yes”.’ The words reverberated around the kitchen.
Rachel hadn’t long come off the phone call with Jake upstairs and was still rather incredulous.
‘Oh crikey, right,’ said Jill, floundering.
Unreliable, wayward, flippant Jake had only gone and said ‘he’d love to come’ to Maisy, backing it up with a, ‘Yeah, I’ll make it up there for your do’ to Rachel as she took the mobile from her daughter at the end of the call. ‘I was thinking of calling up to the farm soon and seeing Maisy again, anyhow,’ he’d continued breezily.
‘Bloody hell, Mum. That’s so typical of Jake.’ Rachel had popped down to fetch Maisy a glass of bedtime milk and found herself feeling all hot and bothered.
Jill was finishing drying the last of the supper dishes, tea towel in hand. ‘He might not make it yet …’ They both knew her ex’s tendency to let people down at the last minute.
‘Well yes, but how am I going to explain his presence to Tom if he does go and turn up?’
Once she’d settled Maisy, Rachel resolved to call Tom and explain. But, would that just be stirring up more trouble between them? From what she’d heard in the lane earlier, Tom was already feeling wobbly about the wedding as it was. And Jake could still let Maisy down. Maybe there was no harm in keeping quiet for now, just holding this little secret close to her chest.
How would she feel if Tom asked Caitlin to the wedding, Rachel mused? Not that that was likely to happen in a month of Sundays, their relationship being much like World War III at the moment, with a huge post-divorce bomb about to erupt at any point.
Rachel lay wide awake in bed that night, tossing and turning for what felt like hours.
Tom’s words in the lane were haunting her. Just as she tried to clear her mind and shake off the day, that scene in the lane reared its ugly head. Did he mean it? Did Tom really want to bow out?
What about those long, tender nights when they had lain together? The excitement at their engagement. Dancing with Maisy in the kitchen as they shared the news. Did it all suddenly mean nothing? Didn’t he remember how they had held each other so tightly after that scary night of the snowstorm in the winter, how in spring they had shared midnight sticky toffee pudding in the lambing shed after saving that ewe and her new-born lamb, how life could be so beautiful? All those shared memories …
Somewhere out in the dark an owl hooted, a lonely sound, followed by the rustling of leaves blown on a blustery summer breeze on the old apple tree beneath her window. Rachel got up and wandered across to draw open the curtains, looking out over moonlit fields towards his farm. No lights were on there. Was Tom lying there thinking of her too? She hoped so.
The physical distance between them didn’t help. If she could just reach across the bed to talk to him, maybe that would help, just like they would be able to do when they were a married couple – if that ever came to reality … What had happened to Tom to shake him so badly? Too many questions lay unanswered, taunting her tired mind.
Somehow, they had lost their way, and she needed to find a path back to him.
15
With all the recent stresses and strains, Rachel was in need of a wise and friendly ear and she knew just where to go.
They’d had a busy lunch session at the Pudding Pantry. Rachel and Jill were now a well-oiled team as they worked, Jill doing most of the prepping and plating up, Rachel serving and clearing. The white chocolate raspberry cheesecake Rachel had made that morning was proving particularly popular, along with Jill’s lemon meringue pie. Business was growing steadily after the blips and bumps of starting out last year, and their name and good reputation was becoming known among the locals and tourists alike. Whilst life was looking stormy in one respect, at least the business was in fairly good health.
‘Oh, I promised I’d pop some more e
ggs over to Granny’s today,’ Jill said to Rachel once all the customers were served. ‘She called earlier; she’s been doing some extra baking for the village coffee morning and has run out.’
‘No worries, I’ll go.’ Rachel leapt at the chance. ‘I feel like I haven’t caught up with Granny for a while.’
‘Okay then, love. I’m sure I’ll manage fine here for a while.’
‘It’s after-school club for Maisy, so I’ll collect her on the way back.’ It was nearly three p.m., but with an hour in hand, that’d give Rachel time to ‘bide a wee while’ with Granny and have a much-needed chat.
‘Of course. Send Ruth my love and tell her I’ll pop in to see her in the next day or two.’
‘Will do, see you soon, Mum.’
Granny Ruth’s cottage was bright and cheery; adorned as it was with tall, pastel-shaded hollyhocks, pretty pink roses that arched around the front door, and old-fashioned snapdragons that sprang up in the borders and peeped out of the cracks in the low stone wall that bordered the lane.
Rachel parked up, feeling her heart lift a little already. Whatever problems you had in this world, Granny Ruth had the knack of putting them into perspective. She was also highly likely to have something tantalising and just-baked out of the oven.
Rachel knocked, and headed right on in, calling out, ‘Hel-lo, it’s just me, Rachel.’
The aroma from the kitchen didn’t disappoint, and as Rachel poked her head around the door, she was welcomed by the sight and smell of warm, buttery baked scones.
‘Oh, hello pet.’ Ruth gave a smile as she rose a little stiffly, lifting the tray up to the kitchen side.
‘Ooh, they look good, Granny,’ Rachel said as she popped down the box of eggs.
‘Thank you, pet. Aye, well, if you’ve got a few minutes to spare, lass, we can let them cool a little and then have one each with some jam and cream, what do you think? I’ve just made my first batch of strawberry jam this last week. I do like a blob of strawberry preserve on a scone, I must say.’
‘With your own jam too, Granny? I think that sounds perfect.’
‘Cream-tea time it is, then. Let’s pop the kettle on, lass.’
Despite Granny Ruth busying herself around the kitchen, Rachel could see how stooped she had become over these past months, and her movements were strained. Also, she hadn’t managed to totally get rid of the cough that had troubled her all winter. It seemed to flare up every now and again, and left her rather breathless at times. She watched her grandmother hold on to the side for a second or two to steady herself.
‘Here, let me make the tea for us, Granny. You go on outside and have a seat on our favourite bench. It’s lovely and warm out there.’ Luckily the summer showers had dispersed today. ‘I’ll get sorted here and bring out a tray.’
Ruth looked at Rachel and nodded, accepting her granddaughter’s offer.
‘Aye, it has been a busy day so far. I’ve been down helping at the coffee morning for the old folks.’
Rachel couldn’t help but grin; Granny said ‘old folks’ as though she certainly wasn’t one of them, despite her eighty-one years.
The kettle soon came to the boil and Rachel set out a tray with china cups and saucers, a jug of cold milk and a pot of loose-leaf tea, just as Granny would have made it herself. She joined Ruth at the wooden bench, nestled at the back of the cottage, that overlooked the valley. Everything was so lush and green, vibrant in the early June sunshine. Rachel set the tray on the little wrought-iron table beside them.
‘Gorgeous day, isn’t it, lass? I’m so glad for my garden. So, how are you? Tell me all.’ Granny’s blue eyes crinkled into a warm smile.
‘Oh fine. Busy, as you can imagine, with the farm, the Pantry, the wedding …’ She edged cautiously to the root of her concerns. ‘All go, really.’
‘Yes, I bet. The wedding day is coming around so fast.’
‘I know …’ Rachel couldn’t help the crease in her brow.
‘So, pet. What’s on your mind?’ Ruth could read her like a book.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m just so busy trying to get everything organised. I just want it all to go right for everybody, you know …’ She was still skirting away from her real fear; terrified that Tom was having second thoughts.
‘Tell me about your wedding day, Granny?’ Rachel continued, suddenly wondering why she had never asked this before.
‘Oh well, there’s a question. I remember it like it was yesterday. My dress was just beautiful, I felt a million dollars, it was to-the-floor and a lovely satin. I had a long veil – they were all the fashion then, you see – and a bouquet of yellow and white roses. It was such a chilly April day, though, nothing like this nice June weather we’re having now, and I was freezing standing outside the church having umpteen photos with Grandad Ken. Who,’ she said with a poignant smile, as the memories flooded back, ‘looked so dashing in his smart black suit and yellow tie.’ She blushed a little and continued to tell Rachel how all the locals in the little Scottish border village came out to watch, and there was a big tea party back at the village hall. ‘I’ll have to fetch out the old photo album next time you pop by, Rachel.’
‘That’d be lovely. So, what was your wedding cake like, Granny?’ Rachel was enjoying losing herself in Granny’s lovely memories.
‘Oh, quite traditional, lass. Two tiers of white-iced fruit cake. No one thought of using sponge back then. Lasted longer, and was often the same recipe as our Christmas cake. Mother made mine, Great-Granny Tessa, aye, she was a good baker. Lovely and moist her fruit cake was. She’d been feeding it for weeks – splash of brandy and a nip of whisky, if I remember rightly. Decorated so pretty it was, with a beading of icing around each layer. Hah yes, and one of those little model bride and grooms on the top with fresh flowers, tiny yellow roses they were … I think there was enough to feed the whole village.’
‘Sounds perfect.’ On the contrary, Rachel’s life felt far from perfect right now. ‘Oh Granny, it’s all a bit of a mess …’ Her tone changed completely as her fears threatened to spill over. ‘I’m so worried.’
‘Oh lass, it’s not unusual to feel a bit shaky just before your wedding day. It’s a big thing, or at least it should be: a lifelong commitment. Although, I have to say, some of the young folk these days seem to think of it as a throwaway commodity …’
Rachel took a sip of her tea, as the thought dawned on her that Tom had already thrown away one marriage. Was he right to feel so wary about the next? Was she acting like some romantic fool, blinded to reality? Rachel sighed, trying to smother her fears. She loved Tom so very much, but was love enough? He’d made her feel better than she had in such a long time … experiencing emotions and sensations that she hadn’t ever imagined she could. He made her feel complete. But to him was she just a spare part? Arrrgh. Those words she’d overheard in the lane had sent everything spiralling into uncertainty. She knew she should be trying harder to ask Tom directly, she should probably be banging on his farmhouse door, but that seemed too scary a prospect right now … what if it was true? She was frightened of what his response might be.
‘Oh, Granny, there’s so much going on … and I’m worried about Tom. How he feels about me … about the wedding,’ she finally blurted out.
‘What’s been happening, pet?’ Granny’s warm tones soothed.
‘So, I was mending the fence by the road, yesterday … I was on the other side, out of sight, and I heard Tom pull up, he was talking to Ben. I know he’s having a rough time with Caitlin as she’s a real pain at the best of times, but … oh, it hurt so much to hear it, Granny …’ Rachel paused.
Ruth looked on kindly and listened, waiting for Rachel to find the words.
‘He said … he said that he couldn’t believe he was even thinking of getting married again.’ There, it was out.
‘Oh, dear lassie, it sounds as though he was just feeling exasperated, that’s all. That Caitlin woman … well, there’s not many folk that I don’t take to, but I nev
er did warm to her when she was living here in the village. No, I didn’t much like her, if I’ll be honest. She was always one to pick fault in others, and never judged herself on the same terms. I remember her having a go at Brenda in the deli once, for not stocking her favourite olives. What a palaver over nothing. It was her tone, as though we were a load of country bumpkins out here.’
‘Oh …’ Rachel was still feeling at a loss. Caitlin didn’t sound a very nice person. She hadn’t really got to know her – or seen a lot of her – when she was married to Tom, being too busy with a young baby at the time.
‘Of course Tom loves you, lassie. You can see it plain as day from the way he looks at you. And you’re a good match, the pair of you. Don’t let something like this unsettle the apple cart. And if you’re fretting, why don’t you just ask him about it? I’m sure he’d be upset if he thought he’d hurt you, by saying something like that in the heat of the moment.’
‘I suppose.’ Rachel took a bite of her cream scone, but it didn’t taste half as good as it should have done – emotions stealing her appetite. ‘There’s something else too … All the wedding arrangements and everything, it’s all bustling on around me, and that’s kind of nice, but I can’t help but feel sad too.’
‘Oh, pet.’ Ruth seemed to know what was coming.
‘There’ll always be someone missing, Granny.’
‘Aye.’ Ruth nodded her head in understanding. ‘It’s true. But life must go on, Rachel. Your dad wouldn’t want to be spoiling your big day for you now, would he.’
‘But … he should be there, walking me down the aisle, my arm linked through his. Giving me away. Making his father-of-the-bride speech.’ Rachel’s heart felt sore just thinking about his absence.
‘Yes, he should. But that cannot be, pet. You need to keep remembering him, of course, and it might be difficult at times on that day especially, but you also need to make sure you have a damned good time and celebrate your wedding with your family and friends. That’s what he’d want for you.’ Ruth laid a gentle, stoical hand on Rachel’s shoulder. ‘We’ll get by just fine, and we’ll be sure to have a lovely day of it.’
Summer at Rachel's Pudding Pantry Page 9