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.
Chapter 11
FULL STEAM AHEAD
A couple of days later, Rachel made her way back into the warmth of the farmhouse for some lunch after being out in the tractor spreading fertiliser
on the Low Pasture, preparing it for growing grass to make hay. She was quite happy driving the tractor, with her country music on her iPod to keep her company, her favourite at the moment being Colbie Caillat’s ‘Try’. And at least she’d had a dry and comfy seat for the morning.
As Rachel slid off her wellies at the porch, the sweet, warming smells of home baking once again greeted her. She opened the kitchen door to find Jill humming away to the radio, with Moss lying down quietly by her side, and an array of ingredients, bowls and baking trays around her.
Rachel smiled to herself. Her mum looked so content there in her baking haven; it was a scene that warmed Rachel’s heart like nothing else, she could stand there and watch her forever. The family Baking Bible was open beside her, and Jill was concentrating on the page, her reading glasses propped on the end of her nose. She then weighed out some glacé cherries before taking a can of pineapple rings to hand.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Oh Rachel, hello love.’
‘You look busy.’
‘Oh, I was making some cherry scones just before, and then I thought about my mother’s old recipe for pineapple upside-down pudding. I thought we might have a can of pineapple rings in the cupboard to go with the spare cherries and, hey presto, here we go. I found the recipe written out here, in her lovely loopy handwriting. Yes,’ Jill smiled to herself, remembering, ‘Granny Isabel always used to make this as a bit of a treat. Pineapple was rather decadent back in the day. So, I thought it might be an idea to treat ourselves today, too. It’s high time there was a bit more light in our lives.’
‘Absolutely.’ It was wonderful to see Mum happier, with glimpses of her old self shining through, and she was evidently enjoying her baking. Could Rachel chance mentioning the pudding business idea again? It seemed the ideal time to broach it, and time was beginning to run short on their nose-diving finances – as yet, there had been no interest in the two fields they’d put up for sale.
‘Mum, look, I don’t want to pile the pressure on or anything, but did you get a chance to think about the pudding idea? Of trying to sell some? You’re so talented, and I know everyone’s been raving about your chocolate puddings since Maisy’s party.’ There had indeed been some thank-you texts from parents gushing about how delicious they were.
Rachel spotted the tell-tale frown straight away. Damn, she’d broken the lovely spell that her mum’s baking had cast over the kitchen.
‘Well, selling them to paying customers is a bit different than offering some puds around at a party.’ Jill sounded unsure of herself, nervous in fact.
‘I’m sure people would buy them! I’ve heard so many “yum”, “scrumptious”, and “divine” compliments being thrown around whilst collecting Maisy after school, and if that’s anything to go by, well, they’ll be queuing up.’ Rachel grinned at her mum.
‘Oh, I really don’t know, love,’ Jill answered honestly. ‘I do like my baking, but it’s more for pleasure, for us as a family. It was … well, it was always about Dad coming home to a hearty meal and a lovely pudding to look forward to, about you and Maisy tucking in. About Grandma Isabel and Granny Ruth, and all those recipes handed down from the generations before. I don’t know if making it into a business would spoil all that. Like it might lose its heart somehow …’ She gave a small sigh.
‘But, maybe, you could share all that with lots more people. Give them a taste of a hearty farmhouse pudding, one made with love, instead of some packet mix or one off the supermarket shelf loaded with preservatives and such like.’ She paused, her tone then becoming serious. ‘We need to try something new to help the farm, Mum.’ Rachel stopped talking, feeling that she had pushed far enough.
Jill was nodding, but her look was of concern, of wariness. ‘Oh, Rachel, love, I’m just not sure.’
Jill was notably quieter than usual for the rest of that afternoon and evening, and Rachel felt saddened that she had spoilt her mum’s magical baking moment. So, late the next morning, after coming in from her farm chores and with it all still mulling over in her mind, Rachel felt an apology was called for. She caught up with Jill collecting eggs at the hen house.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I shouldn’t have pushed you yesterday about the baking business. I’d just got excited about the idea. But if it’s not for you …’
Jill looked up, wicker basket in hand, with several chickens clucking happily around her feet. ‘No, you were right, I need a little shaking up. I’ve had my head stuck in the sand about the farm’s finances for too long now, hoping it would all somehow magically improve. I don’t think I felt I could cope with any more bad news … So, I have been thinking, in fact, more than that … I’ve called in and spoken with Brenda when I went into town this morning … at the Deli in Kirkton. She really liked the idea of selling some of our puddings, especially as they’d be locally made. With the busier summer season coming up, she said she’d be happy to try a few there should we decide to go ahead.’
‘Oh wow! That’s great news, Mum.’ And so wonderful that Jill had come on board with the idea.
‘So,’ added Jill animatedly, having evidently been thinking more on the project herself, ‘which flavours do you think we should try first?’
‘Oooh, now then, your sticky toffee is the bee’s knees and my all-time favourite, so that’s a must, and the sticky chocolate from the party was really popular. What about just keeping it simple while we start out and do those two to begin with?’
‘Hmm, we can always add more pudding varieties later, I suppose.’ Jill stood, framed by the stone outbuildings of the farmyard with the rolling hills behind, the warm April sunlight giving her a golden glow.
‘Exactly, this is great, Mum. I love the new enthusiasm. You seem excited about the idea. What’s changed?’
‘I’ve just been thinking about it, that’s all. And, I did bump into Jan on the high street this morning too and we got chatting.’ Jan was also a farmer’s wife, and understood their lifestyle and situation all too well. She had been Jill’s close friend over many years. ‘We ended up going for coffee and she was telling me all about how the Glen-Robertsons have set up their jam and chutney business at their farm. It seems to be going really well. So, I thought, you know, why not. We can at least give it a try. So, I thought right, let’s do this thing, and I popped right on into the Deli.’
‘Oh, that’s brilliant, Mum. I’m so pleased you’re excited about all this. Life’s too short to not give it a go, hey.’ And didn’t they know that. ‘In fact, I think we need to book on to our hygiene courses as quickly as poss. I’ve found out that we can do them online, so we can study together over the next few evenings when Maisy’s in bed. It’ll be like old times … do you remember when you kept me going through my exam revision, up until midnight with a constant supply of cocoa and flapjacks?’
‘I’d better get baking some supplies then.’ Jill smiled warmly.
Oh yes, there was no time like the present. Rachel felt a buzz of hope fizzing through her.
She phoned Eve that same afternoon to continue their chat about the pudding idea, and also to ask if she’d think about designing some packaging for them. She was imagining something pretty with an old-fashioned, country feel.
‘So, you’re going to give it a try. How fabulous,’ Eve said cheerily. ‘Oh yes, Primrose Farm Puddings. Sounds great, doesn’t it.’
Rachel hadn’t got as far as a name yet, but yes, that was simple and ideal. ‘Brilliant! Yes! I like it.’
‘Hmm …’ Eve started, ‘I suppose the puds will have to be made in something like a metal foil tray with a lid, so I’m thinking traditional muslin or maybe a pretty cotton print tied with a ribbon bow as packaging, and a card label.’
‘Love it already. Yes, the two puds we are starting with are both baked, so that sounds about right. I knew you’d come up with something great. Your mind is a well of craft genius.’
‘Hah, not sure about that … So, sticky toffee and chocolate flavours, you say.’
�
�Yep, that’s it. To start with, anyhow.’
‘Ooh, so there could be a whole range of puddings soon? Scrummy, I can’t wait to try them.’
‘There might well be, in time, but we’ll just take it slowly to begin with. One step at a time, Eve. I don’t want to put too much pressure on Mum, either. She was nervous about it all initially, though she does seem really on board with the idea now, which is great. But I do hope she’s not just going along with it for my sake. So, back to the packaging, if you can come up with a few ideas and samples for us to have a look at – we’d pay you for the designs of course – then that’d be brilliant.’
‘Sounds great. I’ll do some trial ones to start, see what you and Jill think of them first. Ooh, I love a new challenge and this is right up my street,’ Eve enthused. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got some ready. It’ll probs take me a day or two, as I’ve got a couple of Etsy orders to make up.’
‘Oh, that’ll be fine, Eve. We’ve got to pass our hygiene certificates and there’s a check to be made on the kitchen facilities by the council before we can actually make anything to sell, so a few days is no problem at all. And, it’s great that you’re all up and running with your Etsy now too. Well done you. Well, aren’t we the entrepreneurs,’ said Rachel, smiling, feeling the frisson of excitement between them. ‘How’s it been going?’
‘Well, just a few orders so far. Some of the knitted toys and a couple of jumpers – the tractor one seems popular. But it’s a good start.’
‘I’m delighted for you.’
‘Thanks, and like I say, give me a day or so, and I’ll get some packaging designs made up for the puddings. Then you and your mum can come over and see what you think.’
‘Perfect, thank you.’ Rachel found herself with a big grin on her face.
Team Primrose Farm Puddings was coming together.
Rachel had gone straight online after the call and booked the two courses for health and hygiene. She didn’t want to waste time getting started on this, and to be honest they couldn’t afford to financially either. In the back of her mind, she also wanted to make sure her mum didn’t have second thoughts and waver.
Rachel's Pudding Pantry Page 7
