‘That’s good. Glad it all worked out for you all. And … you deserved a bit of a break.’
‘We missed you, Mummy.’
‘Yeah, we did,’ Ben agreed, raising a warm smile, with a reassuring glimmer of his old self back. They’d seemed sadly distant of late. ‘Right, great. So, what’s for tea?’
Ah, back to normal then, thought Eve.
Echoes of Kirsty’s domestic complaints rattled through Eve’s mind, mocking her.
‘Oh …’ she hadn’t even thought. Mealtimes and cooking were usually her domain, but after her long journey and busy weekend, she had kind of hoped that Ben might have come up with something for her arrival supper himself.
‘Well, I have been cooking all weekend,’ he began.
That wasn’t strictly true, as she knew they’d been over to his parents for dinner last night, and she’d left that lasagne in the fridge. Warming up a frozen pizza and serving ice cream for the girls didn’t exactly take all evening or make him MasterChef material. But she bit her tongue; she’d had her wonderful, if slightly emotional, weekend away after all.
‘Right, well, I’ll have a look in the freezer, there’s bound to be something there,’ Eve mumbled, wracking her brain. There might be some breaded fish, oven chips, peas? So, there she was, straight back to it. Reality hitting home already.
And there they were, slipping back into tired roles, family life. Everything back to normal … or so it seemed. Tea time. Popping Amelia in the bath for some splash-filled fun and more chatter. Bedtime routine: a book and a hug, and a tender kiss on her strawberry-soap-smelling cheek. An evening for two in front of the television. Comfortable, uninspiring. Time to turn in themselves.
Once they were in bed, Eve turned to her husband to snuggle up. She knew she needed to make more of an effort herself. Things weren’t so bad at home; she just needed to try a bit harder, that was all. For all their sakes. They were a family.
She’d made her own wedding vows six years ago, till death do us part, and she had meant every word as she’d spoken them in the church that day. She and Ben could get back to how they used to be, surely. But as she leaned against him, brushing a hand over his chest, with fingertips that used to make his skin quiver under her touch, she realised his breathing had slowed. A snort of a snore emitted from his mouth.
She rolled away to the coolness of the other side of the bed, feeling the moisture of a tear brush her lashes, wondering how life – how they – had changed so much.
9
A shaft of warm sunlight fell on Rachel’s face. She got up to open the curtains on a glorious gold-flecked morning. The sky an azure blue with mere puffs of candyfloss cloud. Summer was here at last.
After a breakfast of toast spread thickly with Ruth’s bramble jelly, and having seen Maisy off on the school bus, Rachel headed across the sun-dappled farmyard to the Pudding Pantry, where she and Jill were back on duty. The May sunshine warmed the honeyed-stone walls, and danced off the white wooden tables where little posies of pink roses, plucked from their garden and mixed with sprigs of delicate white gypsophila, sat in mini milk bottles.
The coffee machine was gurgling. Elderly yet spritely Frank, one of their regulars, was seated at his favourite window table, overlooking the valley, with his newspaper propped up before him. ‘Nice to see you back, ladies.’ He gave them a smile.
‘Nice to be back, Frank,’ replied Rachel warmly, ‘though we did have a lovely time, I must say.’ Rachel was standing in the little kitchen area behind the counter, spooning creamy cheesecake mix on top of buttery biscuit crumbs for a summery lemon dessert. The zingy citrus smell was delightful.
‘Fabulous, it was, Frank. We had our own wooden lodge right by a lake,’ added Jill, as she lifted a batch of freshly baked scones out of the oven, ready to put out for cream teas – it most definitely was that time of the year. She’d already baked two halves of a Victoria sponge in the farmhouse Aga earlier this morning, ready to sandwich together with whipped cream and strawberries.
‘Sounds delightful. Oh, and has Tom had his stag do yet, then?’ enquired Frank. ‘You young ones seem to do all sorts of exciting things these days. Mine was a few drinks down at The Black Bull with my pals. In fact,’ he gave a chuckle, ‘I remember ending up a little worse for wear, and my mother being extremely cross with me when I finally staggered home. I do believe I might have been a tad poorly in one of the front garden flower beds.’
‘Hah, those were the days, Frank, hey,’ chipped in Jill.
‘Tom’s had his stag already,’ Rachel replied. ‘He and his friends went down to Newcastle for a night out. They’re big rugby fans so they tied it in with watching a match there at the Newcastle Falcons.’
‘Ah, right. I bet they had a good time.’
‘No doubt – though I didn’t ask for too many details,’ she laughed. ‘So, do you think we should freshen up the menus, Mum?’ added Rachel, changing tack. ‘Make sure we add some new summery puds?’
‘Oh yes, good idea, love. We’ll need something for the gluten-free range too. Oh, and let’s make a new selection for our mini pudding platters. What about a small rhubarb and vanilla pudding, with a slice of your lemon cheesecake and a bite-size strawberry meringue, and then something chocolatey, perhaps?’
‘A mini brownie, maybe?’
Frank, who’d been listening in, called out, ‘Yes, please. I’ll be your taste-tester if you like.’
‘Of course, you can be the first to try it out, Frank,’ replied Jill with a grin.
A couple arrived, whose rugged footwear and practical clothing suggested they’d been out hiking. They asked for two coffees whilst browsing the glass counter with wide eyes as they discovered the delicious selection.
‘How to choose?’ The man raised his eyebrows.
‘I know,’ agreed the woman. ‘Everything looks so delicious.’
‘Well, you can always have a couple of things and share,’ suggested Rachel.
‘Or, they do a fabulous pudding platter,’ chipped in Frank with a wink. ‘Why just have one or two things when you can taste three or four,’ he added naughtily. ‘The new summer selection sounds divine.’
‘Well, we’d better have one of those then,’ the gentleman said in a lilting Yorkshire accent. ‘Just the thing after a bracing walk in the hills.’
‘Oh, it’ll have been lovely up there this morning,’ commented Rachel.
‘It was indeed; the views were stunning,’ his partner added, as they settled down at a nearby table.
As Jill went to serve the pudding platter a few minutes later, Rachel stopped her in her tracks. ‘Wait, that looks amazing, Mum. Let me take a quick pic, and I’ll pop it straight on to our Instagram and Facebook pages. The puddings look sooo pretty.’
‘And delicious too,’ Frank chipped in.
‘Yes,’ Rachel continued, ‘seeing a picture of that summer selection might well help entice a few more customers in.’
Rachel liked to keep their social media pages updated, and with images like that going online, their followers’ mouths would soon be watering.
A bustling half-hour followed, with several more customers turning up. Then they had space for a quick breather and a cup of tea for themselves.
‘We need to have a proper think about the food for the wedding, Mum. It’s less than seven weeks away now. We did say we’d make all the puddings ourselves … and we need to create some kind of savoury buffet for the afternoon reception, as well as the hog roast that Tom has got organised for the evening.’
Costs for the wedding had already been mounting. If they made the buffet themselves it would certainly save them some much-needed funds, but they were well aware it would be a lot of extra work. ‘We’ll need to decide exactly what we’ll be baking,’ Rachel continued, starting to spiral a little, ‘or it’ll creep up on us all too fast. And … there’s so much else to think of too.’ Rachel had to admit it was beginning to feel a bit overwhelming. They were still to finalise the flowers, tabl
e decorations, favours, some thank you gifts … the list went on. Thank goodness the dress at least was sorted. ‘So, we’ll need to be organised as far ahead as we can.’
‘Puddings for a wedding … Hmm, I’ll get my Queen of the Pudding Pantry thinking cap on.’ With a broad smile, Jill raised the bespoke mug that Rachel had bought her last Christmas. ‘Don’t you worry, Rachel. It’ll all work out wonderfully, I’m sure.’
Rachel hoped they’d manage to pull it all together in the end. But organising a wedding, her own wedding, on top of the farming chores and looking after Maisy seemed a big ask right now. She hated being the centre of attention at the best of times, and she now wondered if inviting what felt like the whole of the small town of Kirkton had been wise.
After a further busy spell over the lunch time, Tom appeared in his farming gear. ‘Afternoon, ladies.’
‘We missed you this morning,’ said Jill. You could set your watch by Tom’s bacon sandwich at elevenses.
Rachel had missed him last night too. Having been away all weekend, she’d stayed home with Maisy for the early evening, and then – just as she’d hoped to call round to Tom’s after putting her little girl to bed – he’d ended up having to dash out to help a farming friend bring a cow and her calf down into their shed; the cow having got herself caught up in some broken wire and in a bit of a state. So, they hadn’t had the evening together they’d hoped for.
‘Ah, I know, I was kept away earlier with a delivery. But, I’ve managed to wangle a couple of free hours this afternoon. So, I was wondering if …’ He raised his eyebrows enquiringly at Rachel. She shrugged her shoulders as she busied herself with the coffee machine. Much as she’d love to escape with Tom, she should really be helping her mum here at the Pantry.
‘Jill, can I possibly steal your daughter for a few hours, do you think? We have important wedding plans to make.’ He gave his warmest smile, the one that always made Rachel melt.
Jill wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Oh, well, I don’t see why not … it’s bound to quieten off a bit now that lunch time’s over. And it’s after-school club for Maisy tonight, isn’t it, Rachel? So, I’m sure I can manage here.’
‘Are you sure, Mum?’
Jill nodded.
‘Well, we could pick Maisy up on the way back, I suppose. That would work, wouldn’t it, Tom?’ Rachel was still feeling a little guilty at leaving her mum in the lurch.
‘Of course. No problem.’
‘Go on then, get yourself away, lass. Before I get a chance to change my mind.’
‘Thank you, Mum.’ Rachel whipped off her apron and leapt around the other side of the counter.
‘Cheers, Jill, we owe you one,’ Tom beamed.
Forty minutes later, strolling the golden sands of Low Newton Bay, with the ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle creating a dramatic backdrop on the far cliffs, and Tom holding her hand, Rachel felt a sense of happy calm. The smell of salt and sea filled the air. The sun glinted in silver bursts off the waves that rolled gently into the shore. They’d made their escape to the coast, and they finally had a little time to themselves.
‘It’s gorgeous here, isn’t it?’ Rachel took in the panoramic seascape.
‘Yeah, don’t know why we don’t try and get down here more often.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Work … the farms … Pudding Pantry to run.’ She pulled at his arm playfully.
‘Well yes, there is all that.’
‘But yes, it’s lovely just to take a bit of time out. I’m getting spoilt, what with a weekend away and now this … Heaven forbid I’ll get used to it. Anyway, what are these wedding plans you needed to discuss so urgently?’ Tom had been happy to let her, Jill, and maid of honour Eve, get on with most of the organising up until now. He’d been firmly in agreement that they should have a big celebration back at Primrose Farm after the church wedding in Kirkton but, as for the finer details, he was grateful for them to take the lead.
‘Ah, well,’ he looked a little sheepish, ‘I have to confess it was just a ploy to get you away early.’
‘Hah, so I’ve been brought here under false pretences,’ she pulled a pretend-grumpy face. ‘Sneaky.’
‘Guilty as charged.’ He grinned.
‘But we probably do have loads of things to catch up on wedding-wise, you know. Like, did you finally sort your suit out and those you need to hire for the best man and ushers?’
‘Of course. All done. I have found the perfect attire for us all, and we’ll look very smart indeed.’ He gave a wink.
‘Those grey suits I pointed out online?’
He pursed his lips and gave a slow nod, looking a little sheepish.
She wasn’t buying it, Tom definitely had something up his sleeve, but she couldn’t work out what.
‘Yeah, so no need to fret, I’ve got everything sorted for us men. We’ll look great, don’t you worry.’
They walked hand in hand, Rachel’s fingers slotted through Tom’s, as if it was where they belonged. Strolling further along the bay, away from the dog walkers, the picnickers and the children building sandcastles, they discovered a sand-filled dip in the dunes, hidden from view of the beach, where they decided to sit for a while and make the most of the sunny afternoon.
‘Ah, bliss.’ Rachel stretched out, the sand warm beneath her, feeling the tingle of the sun on her face.
They were soon lying side by side, holding hands, looking up at the fluffy white clouds slowly scudding across the sky. It was nice just to stop and be still, to take a moment out of their hectic lives. And, it was so very nice to be lying here next to Tom.
‘So, what do you see up there?’ Tom asked, gazing up at the sky.
‘Some clouds and blue sky.’
‘Hah, practical as always. Look again, do you see that boat moving out of the cloud mass over there, and oh, the face of a wolf in that one? Two pointy ears and a sharp nose.’
‘Yeah, I can just about make that out.’
He should have been playing this game with Maisy, Rachel mused. She had the imagination; she’d have spotted a full zoo and more by now. Rachel was just happy seeing a lovely blue sky, and having this gorgeous man by her side. She gave a contented sigh. Tom had slotted into her and Maisy’s lives so well. She’d been anxious at first about bringing a new father figure into her daughter’s life, but he had moved slowly and thoughtfully into that role. Tom didn’t have any children from his previous marriage – his relationship with the infamous Caitlin had ended in a rather bitter divorce five years ago – but, despite never having had a child of his own, he seemed a natural.
She rolled towards him, quickly checking that there didn’t seem to be anyone around in this part of the dunes. ‘I do think I might just have to block your view, however.’ She grinned cheekily as she climbed on board, until she was flat out over him, legs to legs, chest to chest, face to face. She smiled foxily as she dipped her chin, edging her mouth towards his, their lips meeting in a gorgeously sexy kiss. Her body tingling from top to toe, feeling so alive. Tom’s arms tightened around her back, holding her closer still.
‘Shame there are people about, just down there …’ sighed Tom, as he drew away to take a breath.
‘Hmm, but I’m sure they haven’t banned kissing in public quite yet, and we are fully clothed.’
‘I know. But … it’s killing me. It’s like revving up the engine and not being able to go anywhere.’ He gave a frustrated grin.
Rachel laughed, then moved in for kiss number two – such glorious and heart-warming seconds, enjoying the feeling of his cheeky erection beneath her.
‘Well, you’ll just have to wait, Mr Watson.’ She smiled, then nibbled his ear lobe ever so gently.
‘Nope, no, no. That’ll send me over the edge, you minx.’
Rachel leapt up from him, laughing, ‘Okay then, last one down to the sea’s a ninny.’
Tom scrambled after her.
She could feel the thud of his feet in the sand just behind her as she ran full pelt down the
dune bank and away to the shore, pulling off her trainers in the final few metres before dashing right up to her knees in the chilly water.
Tom swept her up in his arms, about to dunk her into the waves.
‘So, I’m a ninny, am I?’
‘Yes!’
With one swift movement, he dipped her body until her head touched the cold sea froth.
‘No, no, no!’
They were both laughing. He dipped her once more, enough to dampen her hair.
‘No, stop, I’ll end up all curls,’ she giggled.
‘I love your curls.’ He dipped her again.
‘Ooo-kay, no more. I surrender, I’ll get brain freeze!’
The legs of Tom’s jeans were soaked through; as he deposited Rachel back on the sands, they both looked down at his sodden legs, grinning.
‘Do you think they’ll still let us in the pub? I fancy a quick pint,’ said Tom.
‘Yeah, course. It is the beach, after all. We might manage to bag a seat outside anyhow.’
‘Have you eaten?’
‘Nah, I was too busy serving at lunch time,’ answered Rachel. ‘I’d forgotten. Hmm, I am feeling a bit peckish …’
‘Right then, to the pub it is.’
They were soon perched on a wooden bench outside the Ship Inn, tucking in to fresh crab sandwiches and a bowl of homemade chips, all salt and vinegary – delicious. They chatted as they ate, Rachel sipping a glass of chilled white wine while Tom enjoyed a half-pint of the local ale, soaking up the atmosphere of a sunny afternoon by the sea.
All too soon, it was time to head back. Maisy’s after-school gym club would be finishing in half an hour, and they’d have to be there in time to collect her. Back to mum mode, back to reality.
‘Time to go …’ Rachel admitted reluctantly.
‘Yep, it is indeed. I’ve got a few things to finish up on the farm too.’
‘It’s been lovely, Tom. Thank you for whisking me away.’
‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ answered Tom.
He gathered their glasses and took them back inside to the bar, whilst Rachel took a last look at the rippling blue of the sea. It had been a gorgeous afternoon.
Summer at Rachel's Pudding Pantry Page 6
