Rachel’s Pudding Pantry. Caroline Roberts
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Название: Rachel’s Pudding Pantry
Автор: Caroline Roberts
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Pudding Pantry
isbn: 9780008327668
isbn:
‘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.
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