Rachel's Pudding Pantry

by Caroline Roberts

  ‘Tell you what, after an early start on the farm, I’d love to call in for a bacon sarnie for elevenses.’

  ‘That’s it. We could use the home-cured bacon from Glendale Farm, on thick slices of Kirkton Bakery fresh bread. Wow, I think we’re nearly there.’ Rachel sounded animated. ‘I can type all this up on a Word doc, once we’ve set the prices, and then print it off on some nice cream-coloured card. One for each table and another for the counter top.’

  ‘Right then, I’d call that a success. Anyone for more flapjack?’ Jill passed the plate around. ‘I’d better get myself baking again soon then, I’m going to be busy.’

  Rachel smiled across at her mum. She could tell Jill was excited at the prospect of opening the Pudding Pantry and it was lovely to see. There was a spring in her step and a brightness in her smile that hadn’t been there for such a long while. It was brilliant that their family and friends were involved too, here around the table at the start of something special. Her wonderful support group was there rooting for her and Jill, straight from the off, and Rachel felt blessed to have them – her lovely Pudding Pantry team!

  Chapter 25

  PUDDING PREPARATIONS

  Invites had been sent and flyers posted around Kirkton village. Friday the 12th July was officially going to be the big day for opening, with the launch for the local community the day before. It was all hands on deck getting the Pudding Pantry ready. They’d be a little pushed to have it all done in time, but they didn’t want to delay any further and miss the peak summer trading weeks.

  It was now Wednesday, oh yes, the day before the launch, and the builders were still in situ in the barn, much to Rachel’s concern. They’d said it would only take a few hours but they had a few final tasks to tick off.

  Jill was busy baking an army’s worth of food in the farmhouse kitchen. ‘So, I’m making brownies this afternoon and first thing tomorrow morning I’ve got to finish off all the mini puds and meringues. I’ve also got some mini cake moulds to make individual Victoria sponges for the launch party too – they’ll look lovely with a swirl of fresh cream and a strawberry on the top, don’t you think?’

  Rachel noticed that Jill was talking at a thousand miles an hour. She had a dab of flour on her cheek and big streaks of chocolate sauce on her apron, which looked a little skew-whiff.

  ‘Oh yes, they’ll look very summery. Are you okay, Mum? You’ve been running around like a whirling dervish! And I’ve never seen someone mix so quickly – you’ll be setting a world record soon enough.’

  ‘Oh I’m grand, don’t worry, I’m well and truly in the baking zone!’

  ‘Well, as long as you’re giving yourself little breaks. Oh, and I do hope the weather holds, Mum. How many are coming now?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘It was going to be a small gathering but I think it’s growing by the day,’ Jill said, smiling as though she really didn’t mind.

  ‘Oh well, it’ll be good for promotion, and you do seem to be baking enough for the whole village.’

  ‘Hah, probably, I can’t help myself. There’s at least twenty or so definites that I know of, and then we put a general flyer out, didn’t we, so who knows who else might decide to turn up. So, there’s Brenda from the Deli with her husband, the journalist lady from the Alnwick newspaper, plus that chap from the tourist information, a few of our farming friends, Jan, oh and I’ve asked Tom’s parents, saw them in the Co-op yesterday, then there’s Eve and family, Charlotte and her Sam, the two builder chaps … I asked them earlier this morning, said they’d love to come.’ Mum had started to tally up the numbers on her fingers, but she’d run out of digits.

  ‘And I mentioned it to a couple of the mums from school who said they’d pop along … oh, plus Tom, of course,’ Rachel added. ‘And I imagine Granny Ruth’s coming over?’

  ‘Of course, she wouldn’t want to miss out on something like this. Crikey, that’s probably well over twenty already, isn’t it? Hmm,’ Jill confessed, ‘I think I may have also mentioned it at the last Kirkton WI meeting too – a sort of open invitation.’

  ‘Mu-um.’

  ‘It’ll be fine, the more the merrier. It’ll spread the word about the Pudding Pantry and that’s what we want, isn’t it?’

  Gosh, it was going to end up costing them quite a bit, but if it got into the local press as a feature, then that would really help publicity and hopefully increase interest in the coming weeks anyhow.

  And you know what, it was something to celebrate! They’d put in two of the hardest and saddest years of their lives. This was a new start, a new venture and finally something to be positive about.

  Despite the earlier assurances of the builders, it was five past five on the Wednesday evening when Ian and Dan put a final rub of Dutch Oil over the Pudding Pantry’s new oak counter top, packed up their tools in the barn, and put their equipment away in their white Transit van. They knocked on the farmhouse door for a quick farewell chat with a slightly disgruntled Rachel and Jill, who were desperate to get into the barn and start setting things up.

  ‘That’s it all done,’ said Ian.

  ‘Nothing like taking us to the wire, chaps,’ Rachel commented wryly, but with good humour.

  ‘Come across and take a look then, before we head off. We want to be sure it’s all as it should be.’

  Rachel had been popping in throughout the day, but with all the tools, dustsheets and gear around them it was hard to gauge the finished job. As she walked in, along with Maisy and Jill, her mouth dropped. It was like time stood still for a few seconds as they looked about them. The Pudding Pantry was a reality, with its old stone walls all repointed and a warm-honey colour under the soft lighting, its kitchen area with the new white and grey tiles above the cooker and the glass refrigerated counter that Jill had sourced at a bargain price from an auction up in Berwick-upon-Tweed, next to the oak counter top.

  Wow, look, they’d even moved the seating and furniture back in from the shed, where they’d been since she and Eve had painted them white, as well as the two dressers – one of which had been donated by Granny Ruth, who said it was just gathering dust in her cottage.

  ‘Oh my goodness. It’s just as I hoped. No … it’s even better.’ Rachel had tears in her eyes, as she brushed a hand over the counter top, imagining the puddings and cakes up there in all their glory.

  ‘It’s fabulous,’ said Jill. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Whoop whoop!’ Maisy went dashing around, spreading her arms out like an aeroplane. ‘Now, it’s better than my party day. Can I have another party in here, Mummy?’

  ‘Well, we’ve got a party for everyone here tomorrow, petal.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Yippee!’

  ‘Thank you so much.’ Rachel went across to Ian and Dan to shake their hands warmly. ‘You’ve made our dream a reality.’

  ‘You’re most welcome, ladies. It’s been a delight working for you, though my waistline has suffered terribly,’ Ian jested. ‘And we wish you the best of luck with the new venture.’

  ‘You are coming tomorrow, aren’t you? To join in with the launch?’ Jill asked.

  ‘It’d be great if you can,’ confirmed Rachel.

  ‘We’ll be starting another job, but it’s local.’ Ian looked at Dan who nodded. ‘But yes, we’ll call in at some point for sure. There might be room for one last brownie.’ He patted his tummy as he gave a grin.

  ‘That’s great. Thank you again.’ Jill was beaming.

  ‘Well then, we’ll leave you in peace, ladies.’

  ‘Yes, there’s plenty for us to be getting on with.’

  There was indeed – tonight was going to be all hands on deck!

  After a quick supper of bacon and eggs, Rachel and Jill set to it, cleaning and ferrying everything to the barn like their lives depended on it.

  After popping Maisy to bed, Rachel came downstairs to find Jill back in the farm’s kitchen baking like a Trojan, fearing that the guest numbers might expand and they’d run out of puddings for the taster plates. (The
things most likely to expand, Rachel mused, were the guests’ stomachs, but better too much than too little.)

  It was past eleven o’clock when Jill took the last tray of bakes out of the oven. She turned to Rachel, ‘Do you think there’ll be enough, love?’ She looked tired and anxious, bless her.

  ‘Mum, it’s okay, you’ve done enough. More than enough,’ and Rachel meant everything – not just the baking in these past few months – as she looked proudly across at her brave mother who’d rallied and pulled herself from the depths of her despair.

  The two of them looked around the kitchen at the cakes and bakes and puddings all lined up in mouth-watering rows, and there were even more in the fridge threatening a landslide when the fridge door opened.

  ‘Mum, if a whole army turned up tomorrow, they’d all be well fed.’

  ‘Time for bed then, love, hey. We’ve a busy day ahead.’

  ‘Yes, I think so. Sweet dreams, Mum.’

  ‘You too.’

  And they gave each other a heartfelt hug, holding on just a little longer than their usual goodnight.

  ‘Love you, Mum.’

  ‘You too, pet.’ Jill gave an emotional sniff.

  Tomorrow they’d put the final touches to the Pudding Pantry. It would need to look its best to showcase to the world.

  Lying in her bed soon after, telling her busy brain to switch off and get some much-needed sleep, Rachel’s thoughts turned to her dad. She hoped he’d have given his backing for all the changes they were making here at the farm. Of course, she’d never know for sure, but she remembered how he taught her to be brave and bold, to be hard-working, and to be kind. And in her heart, she sensed he’d be cheering them on.

  Chapter 26

  A PROPER PUDDING PARTY

  How do you launch a Pudding Pantry? With puddings of course! In fact, puddings, Pimm’s and prosecco! It was summer, after all.

  The most delightful selection of mini puddings were ready, laid out on blue-and-white china platters, in the barn’s kitchen. There were mini sticky toffee and chocolate, there were mini pavlovas each with a blob of fresh cream and a raspberry on, the strawberry Victoria sponges, squares of moist dark chocolate brownies, some lemon drizzle cupcakes and still-warm slices of jam roly-poly pudding that Granny Ruth had made. She had also made some cheese-and-chive scones as a savoury option. Rachel had baked a large rectangular carrot cake and cut it into small squares to help out. There was probably enough to feed a sweet-toothed army – good thing considering they had at least thirty confirmed guests.

  Maisy and Amelia were ready to help out as waitresses with their pinafores on – though Rachel feared somewhat for the plates and treats as Maisy could be a little accident-prone. But still, it was nice they wanted to be a part of it.

  Eve was a star and had helped out all morning, setting out the wooden spoon table numbers in old-fashioned milk bottles, and her craft goodies were all ready for display on the two wooden dressers. The shelves of cute soft-toy animals, children’s knits, wooden pastel-shaded hearts, stars, plaques with cute and quirky sayings and mini dried-flower bouquets looked rather wonderful. They had also scaled ladders to hang up Eve’s pretty handmade bunting with its floral and polka-dot soft-green print.

  On a quick coffee break earlier, she’d given Rachel and Jill a beautiful wall plaque that she’d crafted herself, as a surprise. It said, ‘Welcome to the Pudding Pantry’ in gorgeous white italics. It was such a thoughtful gift, and it had brought tears to Rachel’s eyes as she unwrapped it from the tissue paper. In fact, it had been a bit of a teary morning all round.

  With just ten minutes to go, Rachel rushed back into the barn, carrying paper napkins and plates. She stopped and looked around, taking in the transformation. There it was again, that lump in her throat. How much they had managed to achieve in such a short space of time, despite the odd hiccup along the way. The kitchen in the barn was ready for action with its pudding platters all lined up, and the newly made wooden counter looked warm and welcoming, ready for its customers. On the side, the mix-and-match selection of crockery was all set out ready for teas and coffee for their guests.

  Out in the sitting area were the white-painted tables and chairs, and on every table were posies of sweet peas from their kitchen garden in pretty jam jars. The bunting was strewn along the walls with its floral and spotted flags. Rachel hadn’t got her dream chandeliers yet, as funds were too tight, so there were just plain lightbulbs from the ceiling for now, but a selection of lampstands brought across from the farmhouse worked well. And with the lovely arched window built around the barn door, there was plenty of natural light anyhow.

  Rachel took a deep breath. This was it, they were as ready as they could be. They had given it all they had to get the Pantry ready on time.

  Jill walked in and stood behind Rachel, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘It looks wonderful, doesn’t it? You’ve done so well, love.’

  ‘We’ve done so well, Mum,’ Rachel corrected her.

  They shared a heartfelt moment – full of joy, pride, and a sense of achievement in all that they’d strived to do. And they knew they were both thinking of Dad right then. Neither voiced this, as they needed to hold it together. And then, beyond today, they knew they had to make this work as a business.

  Neither Rachel nor Jill was able to speak for a few seconds, as they stood gazing at the completed barn.

  The sound of a vehicle rolling up outside jerked them back to the present. In through the barn door came Tom and, oh … he was carrying the most beautiful bouquet of flowers.

  ‘Just the ladies I’m looking for,’ he beamed. ‘Congratulations.’ He passed the bouquet to Jill. ‘For you both.’

  ‘Oh Tom, they’re beautiful,’ Jill said, beaming.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ added Rachel, finding that she couldn’t quite meet his eye. ‘And I know just the spot where they can go. Just there on the counter top, don’t you think, Mum?’

  ‘Oh yes. Pride of place. Thank you, Tom. That’s so very kind.’

  ‘Well, it’s an important day. How’s it all going? Ready for the off?’

  ‘I think so,’ answered Jill. ‘It’s all a bit nerve-wracking, but we’ve done all we can, haven’t we pet? I’ll just go pop these in a vase.’

  Tom looked around at the new interior. ‘Wow, you’ve done a great job here. So, how many have you got coming?’

  ‘Well, we think about thirty, though Mum’s been a bit free and easy with her invites so that’s a ballpark figure. We’ll see.’

  ‘Can I help with anything?’ Tom offered.

  ‘Um, I think we’re about there. But perhaps you could keep an eye that everyone’s glasses are topped up once we’re up and running. There’s prosecco and Eve’s making Pimm’s over in the farm kitchen, so there will be a spare jug left made up in there. Just in case I get caught up chatting or something.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s fine, no worries. I’ll be chief Pimm’s pourer. I’ve had much worse jobs in my time.’

  ‘Hah, I bet you have.’ Farming was renowned for being a messy business.

  Maisy came running in then. ‘Tom, I’m chief waitress. I’ve got an apron and everything and Amelia is my helper. Can I start yet, Mummy? Can I have the cakes to carry?’

  ‘We’ll just wait a few more minutes, Maisy, until some other guests get here. If Tom doesn’t mind, that is?’

  ‘I suppose I’ll just have to wait.’ He pulled a face, pretending to be upset. ‘No, that’s fine. We’d better hang on Maisy, and do as we’re told.’ He winked. ‘That’s a very pretty dress, by the way,’ he added.

  ‘Thanks, Tom!’ she said, performing a curtsy like a princess. She skipped off again with Moss and Amelia in her wake to find some other important party mission to help with.

  Jill came back with the flowers in a glass vase and stood them on the oak counter top. They looked gorgeous there. The final touch.

  Rachel’s gut felt tight with tension as the first guests started to arrive. Eve brought
out a large tray of Pimm’s. She wasn’t chancing the girls carrying those, even though Maisy and Amelia were clearly taking their serving role very seriously, balancing the pudding platters with expressions of deep concentration on their faces as they walked slowly between the guests.

  The sun had come out, after a brief shower earlier. Some visitors were in the barn looking around the interior and praising the new developments, whilst others spilled out into the yard. With the WI ladies turning up en masse in four cars, it suddenly got a lot busier and Tom was soon on hand with the second jug of Pimm’s, which raised several wide smiles and ‘Yes, pleases’ from the group.

  Everything seemed to be going swimmingly so far, thank heavens, and the lady from the local press had even arrived, with her camera slung promisingly around her neck. The only dampener was the arrival of Vanessa Palmer-Pilkington, who was standing with a lady from the WI and sampling Rachel’s very own carrot cake in the barn. The ghastly woman screwed up her pale, rather long nose exaggeratedly. ‘Oh, I must say it’s not as moist as it might be, is it Clara?’

  ‘Oh, well, I think it’s rather good.’

  Rachel had to admit her baking wasn’t quite up to her mother’s super-duper standards, but still, the nerve!

  ‘Nothing like my carrot cake,’ Vanessa said loudly.

  ‘No, nothing like yours,’ Clara said ironically, which seemed to sail over Vanessa’s head. But Rachel caught on and couldn’t resist a tiny smirk as she went on her way behind the kitchen counter area to make another pot of tea.

  Maisy was skipping about more confidently now with the trays of puddings, and a tale-tale smudge of sticky toffee sauce and lemon frosting around her mouth. ‘Any more? This one’s chocolate brownies and roly-poly.’

  Some of the guests had spotted Eve’s gorgeous crafts and Rachel was proud to see that her friend had had a couple of sales already.

  An hour passed by in the blink of an eye. The photographer, Amanda, had been taking lots of snaps, which she’d said she’d get into Saturday’s paper with an editorial feature on the Pudding Pantry – which was brilliant.