Читать книгу Rachel’s Pudding Pantry - Caroline Roberts - Страница 16

The next morning Rachel had been checking the boundary fences and was trying to repair a bolt-hole that the lambs were escaping from.

‘Want a coffee?’

Rachel jumped. Eve’s head popped over the hedgerow.

‘Jeez, Eve, you frightened the life out of me!’

‘Sorry, hun. I spotted the quad, knew you’d be about somewhere. I was on my way back from Kirkton, been getting a few groceries.’

‘Let me just finish securing this fence here – the lambs have been making a bid for freedom.’ She was weaving a mesh of chicken wire through the existing fencing to stop the gap.

‘Okay, call up at the cottage when you’re ready. Be nice to have a catch-up.’

‘Yes, I’ll do that. Thanks.’

When she got to Eve’s ten minutes later, there was a cafetière of coffee ready on the kitchen side along with a plate of chocolate brownies – the room was smelling of cocoa-coffee gorgeousness.

‘Shall we take it outside?’ Eve suggested. ‘It’s nice and sunny.’

‘Sounds divine, coffee and a view.’

Eve picked up a tray and loaded the goodies onto it, along with a couple of mugs. ‘To be honest, the dining room and lounge are covered in my craft stuff just now. There’s not a lot of space left in the cottage. It’s driving Ben crazy, but I need to keep it all somewhere handy, especially when I’m mid project.’

They settled at a slightly rickety table-for-two, on a flagstone patio to the rear of Eve’s cottage. Their stone two-bedroomed cottage was rented from grumpy Mr Macintosh, whose farm bordered Primrose Farm on the opposite side from Tom. The farmer didn’t keep the cottage in the best state of repair for them but the young family did their best with it and always kept the garden tidy. The cottage itself, though pretty, was tired-looking, with its white wooden window sills in need of a re-paint, but it was still full of character and Eve was happy there.

‘So, what are you making just now?’ Rachel took a sip of rich, delicious coffee.

‘Children’s toys … knitted and felt mice, rabbits, a fox, sheep, teddy bears. Hang on, I’ll fetch one to show you.’ Eve stood up to go back into the house.

‘The kids at the party loved those finger puppets by the way. Thanks again for doing that,’ said Rachel, whilst she was still in earshot.

‘You’re welcome, glad I could help you out with the entertainment.’

Eve went on into the cottage and came back a couple of minutes later with some extremely cute knits.

‘Aw, these are so sweet,’ Rachel exclaimed.

‘I’m selling them as a set of three online. Like a friendship group.’

‘They’re brilliant. You are so clever.’

Knitting and delicate craft work had never been Rachel’s thing. She just about knew how to sew a button back on, but it wouldn’t be too neat a job. She was far better handling real animals or driving the tractor. She had always been a bit of a tomboy and relished getting stuck in around the farm. It was her dad who had taught her how to drive the tractor, just slowly around the yard to start, at the age of fourteen. She’d been watching and learning for years up until that point though – right beside him in the warmth of the cab. Oh yes, she could still remember his voice from that first lesson. ‘This is one powerful and heavy machine, mind, lass. You treat her with respect,’ he’d said in his warm but cautionary tone. She’d felt so proud sat there at the wheel, with a beaming smile. She’d be happier with a spanner and screwdriver than a needle and thread any day. But, hey, each to their own.

‘So, it’s going well so far, the Etsy thing?’ Rachel asked with interest.

‘Yes, I’ve got a few orders already. I’m so glad I made that leap.’

‘That’s great … Actually, we’re thinking of setting up something of our own from the farm, me and Mum.’ Rachel felt it was time to share her idea. It would be good to get some honest feedback.

‘Ooh, I’m all ears. So, what’s the plan?’

Eve was her closest friend, and the truth spilled out. ‘Between you and me, we’re struggling a bit. Finances are really tight and we need to think of other ways to make a living and support the farm.’ It was actually a relief to speak to someone about this, other than her mum. She knew she could trust Eve to be discreet.

‘Well, if there’s anything at all that me and Ben can do to help …’

Aw, bless her. They didn’t have a lot to spare for themselves. And, putting money into Primrose Farm at the moment would be like donating to a black hole, Rachel feared.

‘Thanks Eve, I really appreciate the offer but we’ll be fine. We just need to think creatively and out of the box on this. Then we can shore things up a bit, that’s all.’

‘So, what’s your idea then, hun?’

‘Okay, so what’s the one thing guaranteed to put a smile on your face when you come into Primrose Farm?’

‘That’s easy, Jill’s amazing cooking. I always leave about two stone heavier whenever she’s been baking away in the kitchen.’

‘Exactly! So, that’s the nub of it, I keep coming back to the idea of Mum’s puddings.’

‘Ooh, interesting. Well, you know that I’m a big fan. They are just divine. I still remember that strawberry and passionfruit pavlova she made for the barbecue we had here last summer. And her sticky toffee pud on a cold winter’s night … mmmnn.’

‘Ah yes, that’s always been one of my favourites.’

‘So, you’re thinking of selling puddings then? That’s such a great idea. Where and when can I buy some?’ Eve clapped her hands together enthusiastically.

‘Well, we’re still thinking about outlets. I wondered if maybe the Kirkton Deli would be good to try, what do you think? It’s on our doorstep and Mum knows Brenda there pretty well.’

‘Yeah, that sounds a great place to start. No harm in asking anyway.’

‘Yes, I’m feeling really positive about it, but I just get the feeling that Mum’s a little reluctant just now, despite her being a brilliant cook. I’m looking into everything in detail and doing my homework. I’ve said I’ll help Mum as much as I can with the business side, as well as with the cooking too.’

‘Hmm, I see.’

‘I don’t want to push her too hard, but I can see this really working. We need to do something, Eve, I don’t want the farm to get into deeper trouble. We’ve chatted all about the pudding idea, she obviously loves her baking, but then … well, I think she’s really lost her confidence lately.’

‘Oh, Rachel. You’ve all been through so much … it’s no wonder.’

‘I know,’ Rachel’s tone softened.

‘Whatever you decide, we’ll support you. Whatever you need to make this venture work, say the word if we can help. And tell your mum she needn’t worry about whether or not they’ll sell, she makes the best puddings around. They’ll be queuing down Kirkton High Street like it’s the Harrods’ sale.’ Eve grinned.

Rachel felt wrapped in a warm glow of friendship. ‘Thank you.’

They ate some of the gorgeously-gooey chocolate brownies Eve had made and sipped rich strong coffee, chatting about country life, their girls’ latest antics, a smattering of rural gossip. Apparently Melanie Bates had got engaged, and there’d been sightings of escapee pet rabbits appearing amongst the rural burrows – there’d be a medley of black, white and brown ones soon enough – and there was the drama of a couple on their hiking holiday who’d had a fall on some loose shale further up the valley, resulting in a broken leg and the air ambulance having to be called out.

‘Right, best stop this gossiping, I should get myself away,’ Rachel announced ten minutes later. ‘Mum’ll be wondering where I’ve got to, and I’ve a list of chores still to finish on the farm before school’s out and the whirlwind that is Maisy arrives home.’

‘Yes, I’d better make a few more of these animals to fulfil my orders. It’s been great to catch up. See you soon then.’

Rachel glanced at her watch. ‘Yeah, at the bus stop in about three hours. How does it roll around so quickly? And thanks for the coffee. It’s been really good to chat.’

‘You’re welcome. It’s nice to get you back out from the lambing shed.’

‘Hah, absolutely.’

‘Well, you all take care. Oh, and best of luck with your pudding plans.’

‘Thanks, hun. I’ll keep you posted.’

When Rachel arrived back at the farm, Jill handed her a parcel that the postman had just delivered. Her mum couldn’t disguise the frown that had formed across her brow. Rachel was curious and, as she looked closer, she recognised the scrawled handwriting of Jake, her ex. It was addressed to Maisy. Most likely a late birthday gift, Rachel mused. She turned the parcel over in her hands. He was there loitering on the edges of their lives, unpredictable, unreliable. She wondered how Maisy would feel about this reminder of her dad’s long-distance relationship – if it could in fact be described as a relationship, him being far more absent than present.

Rachel couldn’t help the twist of anger in her gut that he hadn’t even bothered to get a gift to his own daughter on time. It always seemed like Maisy was an afterthought to him. Maisy should never be an afterthought.