Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry. Caroline Roberts
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Название: Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry
Автор: Caroline Roberts
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9780008327682
isbn:
‘Okay, I’ll call back straight away,’ answered Rachel tersely and she put down the phone. ‘Come on then, petal, let’s get those PJs on,’ her voice softened.
In Maisy’s room a few minutes later, with her little girl now dressed in her nightclothes and sat expectantly on the bed, Rachel called Jake back. After saying a brief hello, she passed the phone over to her daughter. Having put the phone on loudspeaker, she sat quietly beside her, monitoring the conversation. Maisy was happily telling him all about school, and her gym club, and about Amelia coming for fireworks night next week with her mummy and daddy for hot dogs. Jake, in turn, said how busy he’d been at work, helping to build people’s houses.
Rachel then heard him say that he was missing her. But hey, it was all too easy to say that from two hundred miles away, and then not bother to come and see her. And all too soon Jake said his goodbyes, with an excuse that he was about to go out.
She watched her little girl’s sunny face begin to fall as the conversation rolled to a close. It was painful to watch.
‘Daddy’s got to go now,’ Maisy explained to Rachel. Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper. She passed the phone back across.
‘Okay, sweetheart.’ Rachel placed the mobile to her own ear. ‘Hi, it’s me.’ Her tone was cool.
‘Yeah, got to dash. Meeting a mate.’
‘Right … and don’t forget to call Maisy again next week. And, a little earlier might help, not right at bedtime; it can be unsettling for her.’
‘Okay. Slapped hands again.’ He still managed to sound like a stroppy teenager.
Rachel didn’t even bother to respond to that comment.
‘See you then, Rach.’
‘Yeah. Bye, Jake.’ Rachel sighed as she switched off her mobile. Then she turned with an encouraging smile to her little girl. She couldn’t let her exasperation show in front of her. ‘Let’s get you all tucked up in bed then, petal. Shall we have a story?’
‘O-kay.’ Maisy sounded reluctant, and a frown had formed across her brow. And, just as Rachel had thought, here was her little girl unsettled and upset for bedtime.
‘Mummy, when’s Daddy coming to see me again?’ Maisy was hugging her soft toy sheep that Grandma Jill had given her several years ago – it was still a favourite.
Rachel knew she could only be honest; false promises and lies would only hurt more in the long-run. ‘I don’t know, petal.’
It broke Rachel’s heart to see the look of disappointment that fell across Maisy’s face. She gave her daughter a hug and a kiss, before going to the pine bookcase to find her Floss book, hoping the sheepdog’s story might help cheer her little girl up.
This unpredictable relationship with her dad was so hard for Maisy, and for Rachel. How she wished she could protect her daughter, wrap her fragile heart up in cotton wool, and keep her safe from disappointment. But sometimes, even the love of a mother couldn’t do that.
It was mid-afternoon, the Northumberland sky softening to a watery blue-grey above the rolling hills. Rachel had just set Hamish, her stocky Scottish Texel ram, out in the field with the Texel ewes. He looked very pleased with himself, given this new freedom. With hormones running high within the flocks, the three Primrose Farm tups had been kept in the sheep shed for the past week to keep them out of mischief. Hamish was now more than happy to find himself in this large grassy area with his very own flock, and he was soon nestling up beside one of his ladies.
The farmhand, Simon, had just set off on the quad to check how Edward and Chevy, the two Cheviot rams, were getting on higher up the valley in the other field, where they had been released earlier that morning. The two flocks had been purposely set well apart to avoid any interbreeding accidents.
Rachel was just having a quick breather, gazing out across the beautiful valley, when her mobile vibrated in her pocket. ‘Hello?’
‘Rach, hey, you haven’t phoned me! It’s been days since you dropped Amelia off.’ It was Eve, and by the sounds of it, yet someone else irked by her absence. ‘So, I’ve made some cookies, anyhow. You must call in and have some while they’re fresh. You are at risk of becoming a farmyard recluse, hun. So, is it coffee-break time, yet?’
‘Ah … Well, I’ve just finished putting the tups out so I suppose it can be. It’ll have to be a quick one, mind, I still have lots to do.’
‘No problem, that’s great. I’ll see you soon then. And afterwards we can walk down and collect the girls from the school bus together.’
Crikey, was it that time already? The days seemed to just fly by. ‘Okay, thanks, I’ll see you shortly.’
It would be lovely to see Eve, Rachel realised, even if it was only for a snatched coffee break. It was weeks since the friends had met up properly. It wasn’t just Tom she hadn’t had much time to see lately.
Fifteen minutes later, after a quick catch up with Simon who confirmed all was well with the sheep and rams, Rachel headed across to her friend’s cottage.
‘Come on in, I’m in the kitchen,’ Eve sang out. ‘It’s the only place with a seat not covered in wool or craft materials just now. It’s driving Ben nuts.’ Her friend carried on chatting loudly, as Rachel made her way down the narrow hallway. ‘I’m on a pre-Christmas craft-making bonanza.’
‘That sounds great – hard work though.’ Rachel popped her head around the kitchen door, to find her friend dressed in denim dungarees, with a bright flower-patterned long-sleeved tee, her auburn curly hair piled high in a ponytail. Eve was pouring water from the kettle into a cafetière. The aroma of fresh coffee filling the air. Rachel also caught a whiff of the cookies that were smelling divinely chocolatey and looked delightful, stacked on a plate on the side.
‘Oh, wow, they look good. And, can I have a peek at what you’re making craft-wise? Then I can get some ideas of what we can display for you at The Pudding Pantry for the run up to Christmas. The dressers need restocking and some new and festive things would be fabulous.’
Eve led her through to the dining room while the coffee was brewing. There were piles of grey-painted wooden hearts and stars, and the prettiest dainty wooden angels, strung ready to hang on a Christmas tree. Cute soft-toy animals sat in rows – the hedgehog was particularly adorable – with little Santa hats on and festive bow ties. There were mini Christmas jumpers for babies and toddlers; chunky knits adorned with red-breasted robins, red-nosed reindeers, charming snowmen and sparkly snowflakes.
‘Eve, this is brilliant. You’re so talented. These must take ages to make,’ Rachel enthused, holding up a felt fox dressed in a fabulous waistcoat with holly patterns on.
‘Ah, not that long, really. It’s just the volumes I need to do to keep up with my online orders that takes the time, and I still need to make a load more for a couple of craft fairs СКАЧАТЬ