‘Miss you.’ She traced her fingers once more along the cool grey marble, and then sat herself down on the grass beside him. ‘To the moon and back …’ Bedtime stories of Nutbrown Hare filled her mind … her dad sitting beside her on her duvet back home. She found herself fighting back tears, and then she realised she didn’t have to. It was just her and Dad, and a brown and red robin perched on the stone wall a few metres away. The tears began to flow, and then finally to slow again.
It’s all right, our lass … Dad’s voice, strong in her mind. It’s all right to move on, to let yourself be happy.
‘And Tom? What a mess that is right now …’
He’ll come around. But you two need to keep talking.
Like you didn’t, she thought, ironically. Her dad had never opened up about his depression, those heavy burdens, and it had killed him. Rachel would never forget that, nor the day that they found him. Her poor, poor dad.
Exactly, lass … Like I didn’t … and look where that got me.
Rachel’s gaze drifted across to the old stone church. Gosh, they’d be here for the wedding in just a few weeks, with Rachel walking down the church aisle. Well, they had better be … She needed to make sure she and Tom worked through this horrid glitch. It was true, hiding from your problems never made them any better.
The earth beneath her legs and bottom felt solid, grounding. She was alive, and she too needed to find a way to move forward. She felt the warmth of the sun on her face, through her clothes, the mossy grass soft and pleasant beneath her, and she closed her eyes for a few mellow seconds. The birdsong of a blackbird trilling nearby, leaves rustling in a gentle breeze. Life was still sweet, even if it did keep throwing up these damned curveballs at her. She just needed to find her way through them.
‘Love you, Dad.’
I love you too, sweetheart.
It was time to head back to Primrose Farm.
18
EVE
Eve was sitting at her sewing machine at her dining-room table. Heaped before her was a mini mountain of craft items: scraps of material, felt, buttons, cotton thread in all colours.
She was currently working on some more bunting to decorate the tipi for Rachel’s wedding – they’d need plenty to cover the large space. Eve had chosen pretty offcuts of materials in vintage spots, stripes and florals to complement the wedding colour scheme. She was now stitching the gorgeous flags onto a thin white band, ready for hanging. Despite her own troubles, she couldn’t help but smile; she was so looking forward to being maid of honour for her best friend. It was going to be such a special day.
There was also a big craft fair coming up very soon, at which Eve had booked herself a stall. It was to be held at a village hall at a popular spot on the coast, and last year she’d done well there. She needed to make lots more of her felt soft toys, some extra knits – cute little children’s jumpers and cardigans. The pressure was on and she needed to make sure she had plenty of stock ready.
There were other pressures on her too. She had heard that a certain someone else was going to be exhibiting there too … and though she kept trying to put him to the back of her mind, or out of it altogether, that was proving nigh on impossible. In fact, her stomach was a tangle of nerves and – she had to admit – also bubbling with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.
They had exchanged a few short chatty texts over the past couple of weeks, mentioning that they were booked into this craft event. Aiden had said he was looking forward to seeing her again, which made her heart give a little leap when she read it, and she noted the one little ‘x’ that came after that. It was all fairly innocent, she told herself, just friends with a shared interest in arts and crafts. She’d even left the texts on her phone. But why the hell did it feel so much more than that? Why was she getting all churned up about it, if it was just friends? And why did his face, his striking blue eyes, and handsomely scruffy dark-blond hair keep appearing in her mind? Just thinking about him now left a tremble in her fingertips, and her sewing went skewwhiff, with the next bunting flag sewn on wonkily, dammit. She paused, took a slow breath, and looked up and out of the window for a while at the drifting summer clouds in the sky.
Aiden was a local artist who painted seascapes, mostly in oils. Bold, dramatic and moody paintings that captured the stormy north coast seas. She glanced at the picture that she had recently hung on the wall across from her work station; Aiden’s painting. It captured, uniquely, the arc of the waves, the sea spray. It was as if she was there watching the waves crash to shore. She’d bought it at the last craft fair they had both attended. A small treat for herself. She hadn’t told Ben how much it had cost, or anything about the artist behind the image. She felt a flash of guilt. This man had certainly put a storm in Eve’s heart, and she wondered where all these crazy new feelings were taking her.
Bloody hell, she needed to get a grip. She spotted the family photo of the three of them there on the mantlepiece, down at the beach a year or two ago, a happy, sunny picture of better days. She was a married woman. Her relationship with Ben was okay, really. It was fine, mostly calm, but it was just so predictable – boring, even. Ben watching football on a Saturday after work, followed by a takeaway for two in front of the telly. And then, to top it all, whilst she had been hoovering the other day, she’d found a heap of his toenail clippings on the floor by his side of the bed … really. How was that the most exciting thing that had happened in their bedroom of late?
Their marriage was a safe haven, no doubt. But why did it feel almost too safe; as if they were going through the motions most of the time. Crikey, they hadn’t even kissed in months, not a proper passionate kiss. And sex, well it had become infrequent and, to be honest, pretty uninspiring. Her mind drifted then; how might it feel to make love with Aiden? She felt a mix of yearning and guilt swirl in her stomach just letting her imagination stray like that.
She slammed the thought down. What was she even thinking? She was married to Ben, for goodness’ sake. She had a gorgeous little girl to think of – their Amelia. She wasn’t the sort of woman to have a fling, to hurt them all, not on some selfish whim. But the guilt sat tinged with curiosity, the ‘what ifs’, the ‘grass might be greeners’. Perhaps it was laced with a yearning for a different kind of life.
Okay, okay … stop these stupid, crazy notions. She had work to do, bunting to finish. Felt toys to make. This dithering was helping no one. She only had an hour and a half left before Amelia was due to be dropped off from the school bus. She put the strand of slightly wonky bunting to one side and started to cut out the felt pattern for her Mr Fox, who was to wear a smart tweed waistcoat, and another for Sammy Squirrel with his red spotted bow tie.
A message pinged onto her phone. She pulled it across from its position on the table top, wondering if it might be Aiden:
Hi Eve. Everything okay with you? It was Rachel, of course it was.
Yeah, not bad. How about you? She remembered Rachel had been wrestling with the ‘where to live post-wedding’ scenario the last time they had talked.
Okay.
Even by text the word sounded flat.
And Tom?
A pause and then: Things are a bit difficult, to be honest. He’s a right Mr Grumpy just now.
Oh, sorry hun. Do you want to call round? x
Can’t just now. Heading back to work at the Pantry. x
Okay, I’ll catch you soon then. Why don’t you pop round when you get a few mins later on?
Thanks. Might do that. x
Eve went back to her crafting with a sigh. She wasn’t the only one with troubles on her mind, by the sounds of it. She hoped her friend was all right. And suddenly she felt awful, for there she had been mooching on about some other guy, when all this was going on with Rachel and Tom. The two of them shouldn’t be arguing, no, they should be all excited about their upcoming wedding, and feeling well and truly loved-up right now, with just over three weeks to go. Poor Rachel; she’d sounded worried. It wasn’
t like her to send a message like that – she was no drama queen. Eve well knew that her friend would rather keep things to herself most of the time.
She put down the material for the small waistcoat. She’d go and see Rachel right now, find out what was wrong and cheer her up. Maybe she could go and see Tom herself, too, and help iron things out between them. She took their friendship and her maid-of-honour role seriously, and it was time to spring into action. She packed away her materials and popped the cover over her trusted Singer sewing machine that her mother had passed on to her. She’d come back later and crack on again, maybe work late into the evening if needs be to get some more of the toys done, but right now her friend needed her, and some things were more important.
She hopped into her little hatchback car, wondering if anything further might have happened to make Rachel feel down. It was probably just a misunderstanding or some pre-wedding tension building up – but really, those two were so made for each other.
Stepping into the Pudding Pantry, Eve smiled supportively across at Rachel who was serving behind the counter. A smile that said: ‘I’m here for you.’ She stood to one side for a few moments, allowing a couple to finish ordering.
‘Hey, what are you doing here? I thought today was a full-on craft-making day?’
‘It is … well, it was. Thought I’d come and say “Hi”, take a quick break and see how you are?’ Eve tried to keep her tone light, realising it would be hard for Rachel to share details of her private life whilst at work.
‘Ah, well, I’m okay. And, it’s been pretty busy here. All go.’ Rachel was on fake-cheery autopilot, and Eve suddenly felt a bit daft having turned up to save the day, when Rachel clearly wouldn’t be able to talk about what had been going on right now.
‘Umm, well, I’ll have a coffee please. Actually, can you make that a cappuccino,’ Eve said, adding quietly, ‘And if you manage to get a couple of minutes free, come across.’
‘Okay.’ Rachel managed a brief, keep-your-chin-up smile.
Eve headed for the table that was tucked away in the far corner; a place where it might be safe for the friends to talk for a minute or two, should chance allow it. ‘I’ll just be over here,’ she said breezily. She sat for a few moments, taking in the cosy ambience of the Pantry. With the fine weather, the barn door was flung open welcomingly. Sunlight shafted in, making the stone walls glow a warm, buttery shade of cream. Customers were chatting away whilst sipping their drinks, with ice creams and brownies, strawberry scones and an array of delightful puddings before them. Heavenly scents of cake, cocoa, butterscotch, rich coffee and fragrant tea filled the air.
Rachel bustled around for a while, and then just as Eve was nearing the bottom inch of coffee, she saw her friend wander over, her tea towel slung over her shoulder.
‘Are you okay, hun?’ Eve uttered in hushed tones. ‘After that text, I’ve been a bit worried about you.’
Rachel looked around her and then took up a seat. ‘Oh Eve,’ she whispered, ‘I’m feeling a bit calmer now, honest. I went to see Dad at the churchyard and, well, aired some things. But … I’m just so worried that Tom might be thinking of calling the whole thing off.’
‘What? The wedding?’ Eve’s mouth dropped open.
‘Yeah.’ Rachel looked gutted.
‘You’re kidding. You two are like … well, cheese and biscuits. Ant and Dec. Crumble and custard. You’re made to be together.’
‘Yeah, well, try telling that to Tom right now, will you.’
With that, an old lady a couple of tables across coughed, catching Rachel’s eye, then asking sweetly if she could have a refill of coffee.
‘Yes, of course, no problem. I’ll bring one across straight away.’ Rachel got up, duty calling again. ‘Maybe we can catch up later, yeah?’
Eve’s head was still spinning with the news, and she went back to sipping the last of her cappuccino, trying to maintain a semblance of normality.
The two friends were so busy pretending to the tearoom clients that everything was fine, that neither of them had spotted Tom walking in through the door. He was heading for the counter. Rachel had her back to him, busying herself at the coffee machine. Jill was at the till, blissfully unaware of any of the previous day’s dramas. Rachel hadn’t yet broached the latest living arrangements with her, wanting it all to be settled with Tom first.
‘Hello Tom, love. What can I get for you?’ greeted Jill.
Eve looked up, startled, and saw Rachel freeze instantly.
‘Ah, I’m actually here to see Rachel.’ He sounded rather awkward.
Rachel turned and Eve could see her face was a shade paler than usual. ‘It’s really busy here just now, Tom. I’m in the middle of serving,’ Rachel said brusquely.
‘It’s all right. I can wait.’ He moved to stand near the open doorway, looking out.
Rachel stomped about pouring coffee into a cup, her eyes fixed firmly downwards, intent on the task in hand. She headed off down the barn towards the elderly customer, without glancing further at him.
Tom stepped gently into her path as she walked back. ‘Look, I just came to say sorry … I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.’
‘No, you shouldn’t have.’ Tom’s words had cut deep, and Rachel looked so down. ‘Look, Tom, this really isn’t the time or the place.’ Several customers were already looking up, curious as to the developments near the counter.
‘Yes, I know this isn’t ideal … but it couldn’t wait.’
They stood silently for a second or two. ‘Look, I’ll come back later, when you’re finished here. We need to talk, Rach.’
Eve stood up and found herself swiftly heading for the counter, ready for action. ‘It’s okay Rachel, I’ll help out here for a while; looks like you two might need a bit of time.’
Rachel seemed to falter. ‘Umm.’
‘Go on,’ Eve encouraged, thinking that if Tom was here apologising, then they could surely sort out their differences, whatever had gone on before.
‘Okay.’ Rachel took a slow breath, as if bracing herself.
Eve watched as the pair of them walked out of the barn and across to the farmhouse. She hoped to goodness they’d be able to put things right. Having her own relationship crumbling was bad enough, but she wouldn’t stand by and see these two getting in a mess too.
19
‘So …’ Rachel stood in the middle of the farmhouse kitchen with her hands on her hips, bracing herself for what Tom was about to say.
‘Okay, I spoke out of turn yesterday. I didn’t mean it to come out like that …’ Tom looked sheepish.
Rachel took a deep breath. She needed to know what was really going on with her fiancé, however hard it might be to take. ‘If you’re having doubts, then you need to be honest with me, Tom. Right here, right now. No more messing about. We’ve been friends for so long. The least we can be is honest with each other.’ She felt sick as she waited for his response. Were all her dreams, her hopes, her new belief in romance after the past traumas with Jake – this new romance that was solid and truthful and passionate – about to be shattered once more?
‘I know. That’s why I’m here, Rach.’ His voice was warm yet seemed to be tinged with sadness. Was he trying to let her down gently? Oh, God.
She grabbed the kettle from the hob, needing something to do, and began to fill it at the sink. Tom walked to stand behind her and, slowly, with his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him.
‘Rachel, it’s so hard for me to let my real feelings show after all I’ve been through with Caitlin. It’s been so hard to trust again … to love again.’ He paused.
Rachel felt a tear crowd her eye, and gulped back a knot in her throat.
‘Look, I didn’t want you to find out before the wedding … I thought I could keep it to myself, to save us both the stress. I thought that’d be best.’
There was a stark silence as the two of them held each other’s gaze, Rachel wondering where on earth this was going.
&n
bsp; ‘What?’ Rachel asked firmly, yet dreading his words to come.
‘Caitlin has pursued the claim against me, the farm. There’s a case coming up … soon. Very soon.’
‘Oh Tom, why didn’t you tell me all this …?’ Although this was dreadful, Rachel also felt a jolt of relief. If this was it, the crux of the problem, there was hope for them. Yet, there still might be more to this …
‘When’s the case?’
‘On the first of July.’
‘The first?’
‘I’m afraid so, yep.’ Tom’s brow furrowed.
What bloody shit timing. ‘But, that’s three days before our wedding!’ Rachel suddenly had a sinking feeling that it was timed to perfection as far as Caitlin was concerned, as if she’d planned to stir up as much mischief as she could.
‘Umm, yes … Caitlin always did have a knack of choosing the worst possible timings for things,’ Tom answered drily.
‘Could you postpone the hearing? Contest it?’ Rachel quizzed.
‘I did think about that. But it will still be hanging over me … and I’ve been advised that the only way to contest it is to be there in court and tell them my side of the story. I’m sorry, Rach, but I just want it done and dusted, even if it is just before the wedding. Then maybe I can get on and finally relax, and we can enjoy our big day like we should.’
He was talking as if their wedding was still on. Rachel felt a rush of relief. Oh, thank heavens. But … would all this with Caitlin serve to remind him just how disastrous some marriages could be? His words from the lane were still taunting her.
‘And you’ve been keeping all this to yourself?’ Rachel tried not to spiral, focusing on the problem right in front of them for now.
Summer at Rachel's Pudding Pantry Page 11