Rachel’s Pudding Pantry. Caroline Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ the delectable Tom. Your dishy next-door farmer.’ There was no hiding that Eve, despite being happily married to Ben, had had a bit of a crush on Tom for several years now, which always amused Rachel. Eve hadn’t batted an eyelid when their childhood friend Tom had moved away to the city – largely under influence, or so Rachel heard, from his new wife Caitlin – but ever since he’d arrived back at the farm, newly single, Eve had seen him with new eyes. ‘I still haven’t worked out how he hasn’t been snapped up,’ she continued dreamily. ‘His divorce was ages ago.’

      ‘Hmm, maybe once bitten twice shy.’ Rachel knew that feeling well. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why you’re gushing on – you’re already taken. And, he’s at least ten years older than us pair.’ The two girlfriends had been a year apart at school, Eve being the older, but they had always lived nearby and been good friends, sharing the ups and downs of their teenage years. They were now the grand old age of twenty-four and twenty-five respectively – though after ten days of lambing and hardly any sleep Rachel felt about sixty-four.

      ‘Eight years older than me, actually. He’s thirty-three.’

      ‘Is he now, and how do you know that?’

      ‘It was his birthday a few weeks ago. He happened to mention it to Ben down in the pub.’

      Tom was a nice-looking chap, Rachel supposed, but he’d always been a family friend. She’d known him as a neighbour from being a little girl. However much Eve had a crush on him, Rachel found she couldn’t even begin to contemplate him in that way.

      ‘So, what are you up to today?’ Rachel asked, happy to change the subject.

      ‘Well, I have a new project actually. I’m quite excited about it. You know how I love making things …’

      Eve was the most talented craftsperson Rachel knew, making the most gorgeous felt soft-toy animals, and her knits were fabulous – her cute tractor design jumpers were a triumph – as well as bootees, children’s cardigans, hats and scarfs. At Christmas and birthdays, she usually turned up with a lovely handmade present. She also turned her hand to making gift cards, doing woodwork, needlecraft, you name it. Rachel had named her the bunting queen of the valley after she’d made a gorgeous strand for Maisy’s birthday party last year. It was so pretty, with flags of pastel spots and stripes and vintage roses.

      ‘Yes … come on, tell me all about it then.’

      ‘I’m looking into starting a little craft business and joining Etsy,’ Eve continued. ‘So I can start selling some of my stuff online. As always, we could do with a bit more cash in the household, but it’s hard finding a job that fits around school hours and isn’t too far away. But the best thing is, I can do all this from home, other than nipping to the post office for organising the postage. So, what do you think?’

      ‘That sounds a brilliant idea. I imagine you’ve done your research and looked into everything, and yeah why not. It looks a great platform. I’ve bought the odd thing from there myself. Hey, good for you.’ Rachel then had to stifle a yawn. ‘Sorry, that’s nothing to do with your project. I haven’t slept since yesterday afternoon, and even then, it was only for a couple of hours.’

      ‘Oh crikey, hun. Well you’d better get yourself off to bed. Is it night shift again tonight for you?’

      ‘Yep, no rest for the wicked.’

      ‘Or farmers.’

      ‘Too true. And, hey, good luck with the crafting, Eve. Once the lambing’s over I will resurface and join the real world again, I promise. We’ll have to have a coffee and a proper catch-up.’

      ‘We will, indeed. Or maybe a drink in the pub. I’m missing my mate. Bye, Rach.’

      ‘See you, Eve.’

      ‘Sweet dreams, hun.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      Walking back up the road, Rachel thought how great it was that Eve was starting her own business. Little seeds had also been sown in Rachel’s mind. They really needed to think of something else they could do at the farm. A new direction. Diversification. Something that fitted in with their farming lives, and with Maisy of course, that had the potential to improve their income. But what, was the million-dollar question.

      Oh yesss, the bliss as her head hit the pillows. Rachel snuggled down under a soft duvet with the bedroom curtains closed against the brightness of the early spring day. The sounds of the birds tweeting away outside soon began to fade as Rachel drifted into much-needed sleep.

      When she came to, a tractor was droning in the distance and the birds were still singing. A glance at her wristwatch told Rachel it was almost 2 p.m. Goodness, she’d been asleep for nearly five hours. It felt like five minutes! She yawned and stretched. She’d better get up, give her mum a hand, and then go and see how Simon was getting on. Crikey, it was only another hour until the school minibus would be making its way back up the lane and Maisy would be home.

      Rachel pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt, popping an old fleece over the top. The farmhouse was never that warm, except in the kitchen by the Aga, as the thick stone walls kept it cool. Her father had been born within these walls. And, being brought up here as a little girl, Rachel remembered seeking out the kitchen and its warmth, standing on a little stool and watching Jill press out a batch of scones that would bake with the most enticing aroma, ready to dollop with jam and cream later, or helping to stir a batter mix for lemon and sugar sprinkled pancakes which would sizzle in the pan.

      ‘Hello love, welcome back to the land of the living,’ Jill greeted her as she came through into the kitchen. ‘There’s some soup on the stove, and some crusty bread I’ve been baking.’

      ‘Oh, thanks Mum, excellent.’ Rachel lifted the lid on the pan – leek and potato – yum, her favourite. It was steaming away, hot and ready. Her mum must have kept it simmering for her. Jill was a star, like the cogs in the wheel, keeping the family fed and watered, as well as taking an active role in the farm. Rachel counted her blessings for having such a supportive parent. She admired how Jill had kept going so stoically, especially considering the circumstances; the three of them often struggling to find their way in this new uncharted landscape. Maybe keeping busy was the only way to keep afloat.

      ‘Oh, I popped out to the shops for a few essentials while you were sleeping, happened to see Tom on my way back, so I’ve asked him across for Sunday lunch. He seemed delighted. Goodness knows what he cooks for himself, a man there on his own all the time.’

      ‘Hah, I’m sure he can cook, Mum. It’s not the dark ages. And I bet he pops across to Jim and Barbara’s often too.’ His parents only lived a few miles away, after all.

      ‘Yes, but still, I’m sure he’ll enjoy being looked after. It’s a busy enough time on the farm. And, you don’t tend to cook a roast dinner for one, do you now.’

      ‘No, I suppose not. Thanks for asking him.’ It would be a lovely way of thanking him for his help and support last night, not to mention the past months.

      ‘Be nice to have some company here, too,’ Jill added.

      It was true that farm life could be quite isolating at times, especially out in rural North Northumberland. Yes, it was beautiful and quiet and such a special place, but that also meant you were quite some way from towns, cities, cinemas, airports. Mostly you didn’t think about it, just got on with it. But often it was СКАЧАТЬ