Rachel gave a slow sigh, took a sip of fragrant tea, and looked out across the green curves of the valley. Although she knew that Granny was probably right, somehow, she just couldn’t shake her feelings of unease over what the future held.
16
Arriving back at the farmhouse, after picking Maisy up from her after-school club, Rachel found Jill and Daniel looking rather cosy at the kitchen table. Argh, that was all she needed right now. Having talked about her dad with Granny Ruth just before, his absence felt especially raw. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Daniel – he was a nice enough guy – but seeing him sitting there, in Dad’s place, his long legs stretched out, relaxed, it just felt all wrong to Rachel.
She spotted Mum pull her hand away from Daniel’s across the table top.
‘Really, Mum. You’re acting like a pair of teenagers.’ The words were out before Rachel knew it. She realised she was behaving like a surly teenager herself, and tried hard to stop the frown that was threatening to break out across her face, but today of all days she didn’t need to have this new relationship rubbed in her face. She missed Dad so much. Wasn’t Mum feeling that too? How was it so easy for her to move on?
‘Rachel,’ Jill warned, her grimace saying it all.
‘Hi, Rachel, Maisy,’ Daniel ventured, tactfully ignoring Rachel’s spikiness, even though the air in the kitchen could have been cut with a knife.
‘So, how was Granny?’ Jill said, moving the conversation on and deciding to behave like the adult in the room.
‘Oh, umm, she was in pretty good spirits. Though she’s still got a bit of a cough hanging on.’
‘Hmm, she’s never been quite right since that bad spell last winter. We’ll have to keep a careful eye on her.’
‘Yeah, we will.’
‘I’ll watch her if you like, Grandma?’ Maisy offered, bless her.
‘Well that’d be good, Maisy. We’ll all keep an eye out for Granny Ruth, shall we? Tea, love?’ Jill turned to Rachel, hoping the offer of a cuppa would be an olive branch of sorts. ‘The kettle’s just boiled.’
‘Umm, I’ve only just had one. I think I’ll crack on and do my early evening checks on the animals before supper.’ Rachel didn’t feel quite like cosying up in the kitchen with Mum and Daniel right now. She knew she was feeling out of sorts, and some fresh air and a job to do was what she needed. A new focus for her thoughts. ‘Maisy, do you want to come with me or stay with Grandma?’
‘Hmm, are there any cupcakes, Grandma?’
‘I think there might be. There were some chocolate ones left from the Pantry today.’
‘I’ll stay.’
‘Cake trumps everything else, does it? That’s my girl. Okay, I’ll just get my wellies on and jump on the quad. I’ll not be too long – if all’s well out there, that is.’
‘All right, love. See you later.’
‘Bye, Daniel,’ Rachel managed to say politely.
With the handlebars held tightly, the quad engine revving beneath her, and the fresh Northumberland wind in her hair, she began to feel a little better. Whatever her problems, this place, the hills, helped settle her. Big skies (today’s was an ultramarine blue with just a few puffy wisps of cloud), undulating valleys, and pastures that morphed higher up into moorland. There was an amazing sense of space and freedom here. The valley rolled away below her now as she roared up the bank, pausing the vehicle at a rise to take in the view; those curves and folds of vibrant summer greens, dotted with her cattle and sheep. The hay fields near the farmhouse had grown long and were nearly ready to cut. She hoped the recent good weather would hold out for that.
She headed to the top fields where her flock were happily grazing. Rachel liked to do a check twice daily, early morning and evening. Mostly things were fine on the farm at this time of year, but there could be problems with minor injuries, lameness from issues with their hooves being a common ailment in her flock of ewes. And she liked to know that the water troughs out in the fields still had their supply flowing freely.
After trimming a sheep’s hoof and cleaning it with her purple antibacterial spray, Rachel got back on the quad bike and drove slowly around the hillside to check on the rest of the flock. All seemed well thankfully, with the other ewes and lambs enjoying the sunshine and settled weather. Heading back down the bank, she caught sight of Tom’s neighbouring farmhouse in the valley – her potential future home.
She’d been sheltering behind the cover of text messages the last day or so. Suddenly the urge to go and see him, to feel his arms around her, was overwhelming. She knew it was no good hiding from her fears, not when they were getting married in only four weeks’ time. And actually, looking down at his solid stone-built farmhouse, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, just to move in, give it a try, see how she and Maisy settled? After all, that little cosy scenario with Dan and Mum had felt pretty awkward in the kitchen back at Primrose Farm. Maybe Jill needed a little space and privacy too.
Yes, Rachel resolved to go and see Tom. They could chat about all that, and maybe she might find the words to say how she’d felt overhearing him and Ben talk, get all that off her chest and give him a chance to explain. She felt lighter, more positive, as she took the track that crossed her farm and led to Tom’s land. Arriving at his yard a few minutes later, she was relieved to see his grey truck parked up outside the house. She might even be able to broach the matter of Jake being at the wedding too. And then … well, they could reconnect in the loveliest, sexiest way she could think of.
She leapt off the quad, with a bounce in her step, rapped on the door that led into the kitchen, and waltzed in.
‘Hey!’ She gave a beam of a smile and saw Tom on the phone pacing the flagstone tiles.
He gave a nod of acknowledgement, and the tightest of smiles, then continued his conversation. The dip of a frown was etched into his forehead.
It might well be work, she reasoned, problems with suppliers or equipment maybe, which often led to all sorts of frustrations. Not to be deterred, Rachel went ahead and filled the kettle to get some coffee ready.
‘Okay, well, keep me posted,’ Rachel heard, even though Tom’s voice was low. ‘Thanks for your advice.’ He pursed his lips together as he turned off the mobile.
‘Hi … sorry about that.’ He seemed distracted as he ran his hand through his longer-than-usual, chestnut-brown wavy hair.
‘It’s all right. Coffee?’ Rachel gave him the chance to come down from the conversation. Maybe he’d open up about it in a minute or two. She spooned instant coffee into two mugs.
Tom stayed silent. He didn’t look at all happy as he stared across the kitchen into some void.
‘Everything all right?’ Rachel ventured after a few more moments.
‘Ah … been better.’
‘Wanna talk about it?’ She passed him a steaming mug.
‘No, not really.’ He sounded distant; wherever Tom was, it wasn’t in this kitchen with Rachel.
‘Oh … Tom,’ Rachel wanted to hold him, kiss him, bring him back to the present, but he seemed so damned bristly that she daren’t. ‘Is it to do with the farm?’
‘Yes, it’s to do with the bloody farm. If I have any sodding farm left at the end of it.’
‘Caitlin?’
He visibly flinched. ‘Who else …?’
Tom’s bitter ex was obviously rearing her head again. Despite a generous divorce settlement, she’d been out to get more from the farm since Christmas, claiming that she’d been handed a raw deal in the split. Tom suspected she was just out of cash, flashing it around too freely on fancy holidays and expensive meals out.
‘Oh,’ sighed Rachel. Caitlin was never good news.
She risked walking over to him. He’d already placed his mug absently on the side, so she wrapped her arms around him as she looked him in the eye. ‘I’m here for you, you know that. If I can help, tell me how, my love?’ But he felt stiff within her embrace, and his eyes had a coolness that she’d not seen before.
; ‘I’ve damn well given her enough already … more than enough. There’s no point raking over it, Rach.’ He sounded bitter, angry. It was no wonder he was frustrated, but it felt as though he was shutting Rachel out.
His earlier haunting words suddenly rang true, as he stood taut in her arms: ‘I can’t believe I’m even thinking of getting married.’
‘Tom, I wanted to ask …’ She faltered.
‘What is it?’
She tried to muster the courage to follow through and ask him about that conversation on the lane with Ben, but the words failed her.
‘It’s OK, it’s nothing.’
But she wouldn’t let Caitlin win, no way. Rachel wasn’t the same person; she was nothing like his ex. She was totally different – kinder than that, stronger than that. And … she loved Tom so much. It was hard seeing him hurting like this. Her arms reached around to stroke his back tenderly and she gazed up at him for a few seconds, hoping for some connection. He stayed close physically, but mentally he seemed distant. Maybe now was the ideal time to offer her olive branch and tell him she was prepared to move in there with Maisy, to give living there a go. That should cheer him, surely.
‘Tom, I’ve been thinking. About where we will live, after the wedding. You’re right, Primrose Farm will be crowded with Mum there … and with Daniel about at times. So, Maisy and I will be happy to come here and live with you.’ She smiled, even though her words felt strange on her lips, the reality hitting home that she would finally be leaving her beloved farm.
‘Hah, there might not even be a bloody farmhouse left by the time she’s finished with me. She’ll be after half of that too.’
‘Tom …’ Rachel swallowed hard, feeling hurt. She’d thought he’d be pleased that she’d come around to his way of thinking, that she wanted to be there with him, and would make that move with Maisy too, but he still seemed irked about friggin’ Caitlin. Crikey, there was no point discussing where they were going to live now, not with him in this mood, and she didn’t dare mention about Jake coming to the bloody wedding – that’d fire Tom right up again for sure. And the chance of some steamy making-up romance in the bedroom seemed to be absolutely nil.
‘Well, I thought you might be a bit more pleased about us moving in. I’m trying here, Tom, but you’ve got to give me something back.’ Rachel slammed half a cup of coffee down her throat, annoyingly scalding herself, and then turned on her heels and marched out, launching the words, ‘Let me know when the bear with the sore head is out of its cave!’ as she slammed the door.
17
‘Good morning to you, Rachel. And how’s our lovely bride-to-be today?’ Frank doffed his tweed cap as he entered the Pudding Pantry.
‘I’m fine thanks, Frank.’ There was no point being down in the dumps – not in front of the customers anyhow. And Rachel hadn’t even told her mum about yesterday evening’s scenario at Tom’s. Jill was having a baking morning over at the farmhouse to keep up the supplies, so Rachel was solo just now. She busied herself making Frank his coffee, just as he liked it, with warm milk and one heaped spoonful of sugar.
‘Well, the weeks are surely skipping by. It won’t be long at all until the big day,’ Frank continued chirpily. ‘I’m very much looking forward to it, I must say. I’ll have to get my best suit out and dusted off.’
‘Hmm, yeah.’ Rachel swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. After yesterday’s antics, who knew what might happen? Her head had been spinning all night, trying to make some sense of it. Was Tom so fed up that he might really just jack it all in? Give up on their relationship because of the shitty first one he’d had?
‘Can I tempt you with any of our baking this morning, Frank?’ Rachel needed to focus on something else.
‘Go on then, try me. What’s on the specials today?’
‘Well, we have some just-baked honey cake.’ (Jill had been up early baking this morning.) ‘There’s also a ginger pudding, chocolate melt-in-the-middle puddings, some strawberry shortcake …’ The local strawberries were in season, plump and juicy. ‘Our usual selection of scones and teacakes. Oh, and there’s an almond and raspberry flan.’
‘Spoilt for choice as always … ooh, I think I’ll go with the ginger pudding. That’ll take me back. My mother used to make a delightful one, and I’m sure yours will be just as good.’
The cakes and bakes were always freshly made at Primrose Farm in the farmhouse kitchen Aga, and there was usually a ‘special’ or two on the menu at the Pudding Pantry, to make the most of seasonal ingredients and to keep the selection interesting. Jill loved trialling new puddings, often scrolling through the pages of the family’s Baking Bible, or taking a look at Mary Berry’s or Delia’s recipes for inspiration. Rachel enjoyed baking too when she got the chance; it made a refreshing change from her farm work. Carrot cake and cheesecakes were her speciality, and she’d made the melt-in-the-middle puds.
She plated up a generous portion of ginger pudding, which smelt all tangy-sweet ginger as she spooned into it, serving it with a small jug of double cream on the side. ‘There you go, Frank. Enjoy.’ She delivered it to the gentleman’s favourite spot by the window overlooking the valley, where he was sitting looking very comfy with the local broadsheet set out before him.
‘Thank you, lass. I’m sure I will. It looks delicious.’
Shortly afterwards, two young mums from the village appeared with pushchairs and hungry toddlers in tow, shortly followed by Denise and Christine from the local WI group, who were also regulars at the Pudding Club.
‘Morning,’ said Denise. ‘And how are all the wedding plans going, pet? It’s what … only three-and-a-half weeks to go?’
Not another wedding well-wisher. ‘Yes, not long at all,’ Rachel chirped out a reply, in the hope of sounding cheery, though her heart felt as if it was currently lurking somewhere down near her shoes.
Their wedding was evidently the hot topic of conversation in the village right now. Rachel suppressed a groan, smiled sweetly, and held back the urge to give up and lie down behind the glass-fronted pudding counter or hide behind the coffee machine.
‘And how’s your lovely fiancé? Haven’t seen him about for a while,’ added Christine.
‘Oh fine. All good. Just perfect,’ Rachel lied. Would he turn up for his bacon roll elevenses today, she wondered? And more to the point, would he actually even make it to the church at this rate? A wedding without a groom, now that would be interesting. Her heart felt as though it was sinking.
‘So, ladies, what can I get for you?’ She needed to move on from all this wedding chitchat.
Rachel felt relieved when they ordered, enabling her to tootle off, make their teas, and escape from the verbal firing line for a little while at least. It wasn’t their fault, the villagers were just getting excited about the wedding event to come, which was evidently a highlight on the Kirkton calendar. How were they to know things were rocky between the two of them just now?
Jill arrived with a freshly baked Victoria sponge, sandwiched together with cream and fruit. ‘Ooh, that looks good, Mum,’ commented Rachel, as the smell of sponge and sweet strawberries wafted by.
‘Thanks, love.’
With all the wedding chatter still clamouring in her ears, and Jill back on hand to take the Pantry helm, Rachel saw her chance of escape, even if it was only for a half-hour or so. ‘Is it okay if I nip out for a short while? Everybody’s served and happy just now. It’s just I’ve noticed the milk’s running a bit low and I – er – need to pick up some fresh fruit for Maisy’s packed lunches.’
‘Yes, that’ll be fine, love.’
‘Anything else we need at all?’
‘Hmm, I’m nearly out of baking powder, so perhaps a tub of that.’
‘No problem. I won’t be long.’
Rachel’s idea of getting a little space to clear her head backfired in the queue at the village stores.
‘Oh, hello Rachel. Not long now until you tie the knot. I’m so looking forward to it … even
bought a new hat,’ said Susan Davenport, one of her mum’s acquaintances, who had crept up behind her. Blimey, they were even sneaking up on her in the shop.
And then at the till: ‘Hi Rach, how are the wedding plans going? I bet you’re all excited now!’
‘Thrilled,’ she answered on autopilot, passing over her bag of apples, satsumas and a large carton of milk, and feeling distinctly cornered.
She needed a place to go, somewhere quiet, somewhere nearby, just to gather her thoughts. But where? And then it dawned on her … At the same time, she spotted the bucket of fresh flowers placed beside the till. A bunch of cheerful yellow roses called out to her. ‘I’ll take these, too.’
Yellow roses, yes, how fitting. The very same colour that Granny Ruth had chosen for her wedding day.
‘Thank you.’ And off she set on her way.
Dappled sunlight and shade, the soothing twitter of birdsong, the smell of recently mowed grass. Rachel made her way through the churchyard, knowing just where she was headed.
She found the marble headstone and brushed a hand gently along the top of it. It felt cool beneath her touch. ‘Hello, Dad.’
Of course, he wasn’t really here, not any more. If anything, the essence of him was there on the farm still, up high in the hills, lingering in the yard, and in the valley. The places he loved so much … But occasionally she was drawn to come here too; it was always calm, a place to chat unhindered. She tidied the grave, pulling out some tufts of grass that had rooted amongst the granite stones. Then she took the roses from their wrapper and laid them there; immediately they gave the sombre space a splash of colour.
‘Just me,’ she continued softly, ‘Feeling a bit cheesed off really, Dad … if you must know.’ And her thoughts took over: Tom, Eve, Mum and Daniel … oh, that seemed a bit weird thinking of the two of them here. She uttered a silent, ‘Sorry, Dad.’ But she had to face up to all that was happening of late, and for Mum and the others it sometimes felt as though life was moving on, Dad left in the past.
Summer at Rachel's Pudding Pantry Page 10