Page 13 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

He and Rachel shared a look of amusement.

‘Of course, Maisy,’ he answered in a serious tone. ‘So, which little guy is he then?’

‘This one.’ She pointed, peering over the metal railing. ‘Come on, Petie boy.’ The little lamb perked up, seeming to know his name, and trotted towards them, followed by the others. ‘Mum, can we feed him?’

‘Yes, I don’t see why not. I’ll make sure Simon knows he’s had his tea, when he comes in.’ She was having a night off tonight herself – oh yes, that would be bliss. A hot bath and cosy bed were calling her name already.

Rachel scooped out the lamb. His short wool was soft and curly-ridged under her hands. ‘I’d better go and mix up some milk feed for him and the others.’ She passed him to Tom, who knelt down so Maisy could stroke Petie. ‘Won’t be a sec.’

When she came back a few minutes later, Maisy and Tom were deep in conversation about the lambs that had been born the night before. He then told her about the Texel he’d had to help out with a few days back, and she was fascinated.

‘You had to use a rope, Mummy?’ Her little girl’s eyes were like saucers now.

‘Hah, suddenly lambing’s not so boring then, Maisy.’

It was lovely seeing them chatting away though. Tom able to bring the drama and the magic of the lambing shed alive for her little girl. It reminded her of times with her own father for a moment, whisking her back to being a little girl on this very farm …

‘Quick, Rachel lass. This one’s about to give birth.’ Her dad grasped her arm firmly but kindly with his strong farmer hands, guiding her towards the pen. ‘We’ll leave her be and just watch from here, quietly now. She’s doing a grand job by herself by the looks of it.’

And they sat together on a straw bale, overlooking the pen. The ewe was panting heavily, as she lay on her side. There was a show of some whitish sticky stuff, and … oh … wow … two little black-and-white hooves pushing through. Then, all of a sudden, out it all came in some weird balloon-looking thing. The mum was soon up and licking her baby … a whole new lamb … a whole new life.

Nearly twenty years ago and Rachel had been allowed to stay up late for a few precious hours with her dad in the lambing shed.

She was just five years old. But she’d never forget that special day – some memories lasted a lifetime.

Rachel was jerked back to the present as Pete the lamb kicked out hungrily, spotting the bottle in her grasp.

She realised with embarrassment that her eyes had misted with tears, and she turned away for a second to compose herself. Breathe.

‘Better get this little one fed then, Maisy. You take the bottle now,’ Tom said.

‘I’ve done it before. You do it like this.’ She tilted the angle just right, as the lamb made jerking sucks on the teat.

‘Great, you’ve got it down to a fine art, I see,’ said Tom.

Once the milk was emptied, which didn’t take Pete long at all, Tom stood up to put him back in the pen. ‘Sorry folks, but I’d better go.’

‘Aw.’ Maisy pulled a face.

‘Come on Maisy, Tom’s already stayed later to see Pete.’ Rachel looked across at Tom. ‘I bet you’ve got loads to do too.’

‘Certainly have. A farmer’s work is never done.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Bye, Tom,’ Maisy said reluctantly, hugging his leg.

‘Bye, Maisy. Be a good girl for your mum now.’

‘O-kay.’

Rachel watched him as he walked to his pick-up truck and set off along the drive with a wave and a toot especially for Maisy. She had a warm feeling she couldn’t quite explain as she watched Tom go. He was great to have as a neighbour. It felt like they had someone on their side.