Page 26 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

A photo – he needs a frigging photo to recognise his own child!

Send her my love and a big hug.

Cheers,

Jake x

Rachel felt all churned up. Her fingers were trembling on the laptop’s keyboard. Hah – so he thought he could flit in and out of Maisy’s life, just like that? But, if she mentioned to her daughter that he was planning a visit, he still might not even turn up – given his past track record. Rachel had heard it all before. There was no way she’d be telling Maisy that her dad might be coming up this summer – she couldn’t raise her little girl’s hopes just for them to be dashed. No, Rachel would hold strong and wait and see.

She didn’t even know how to answer the message. Hearing from Jake always sent her into a bit of a spin. The implications for Maisy were complicated, and there was always the fear that maybe one day he’d want to come back up this way for good, perhaps even look for custody of Maisy – just the thought of that made Rachel feel sick. Maisy hardly knew her dad. And the one thing Rachel was sure of was that he was in no way reliable. Argh, she’d reply later. A polite response, but nothing overly friendly.

It was many a year ago now since she’d fallen head over heels for that lad, taken in by a handsome face, a cheeky smile and a host of false promises, when she’d been a naïve teenager herself. The first time she’d met Jake was at sixth form, when he’d turned up in the autumn term as the good-looking new lad who’d grown up near London. His life before his arrival in Kirkton sounded so exciting, with trips to the big city, party nights, and a host of cool friends. All the girls in her year were totally into him, with his blond hair, that flash of a smile and easy chat. She knew he was a bit of a charmer, but that was just him. He was so much more confident than the other lads at school who suddenly seemed so much younger, naïve. Jake was fresh, interesting and very different from the local farming lads. And the crazy thing was that he seemed to like Rachel too, and would single her out to chat with at break-time; about music, life here in Kirkton, and his plans for travelling. And then, when he asked her to go along with him to the local nightclub over in Berwick, just after he’d passed his driving test, well, she almost hyperventilated.

Dad hadn’t been so sure about this, of course. When he heard of the planned night out he said that they were too young to go out drinking and clubbing. But Rachel argued that anybody who was anybody went, even if they weren’t quite eighteen. And Dad didn’t know, but she’d already sourced a fake ID to get into the club. Dad insisted he needed to meet this lad who was showing an interest in his daughter, and Jake was promptly invited to Sunday dinner. Sat around the farmhouse kitchen table, it was the first time Rachel had seen Jake looking distinctly uncomfortable, as he was being quizzed on his plans for the future, which he seemed rather vague about. Well, who the hell knew what they wanted to do with their lives at seventeen years of age, anyhow? That’s what Rachel had thought back then, that her dad was being old-fashioned, had forgotten what it was like to be young and carefree. The world was their oyster, they didn’t need to have it all mapped out. But hey, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Weeks of schoolyard kisses, parties, dancing, drinking and fun, falling in love and first sex. And then there was Maisy, just a bud of life within her.

The thing was, Rachel had had to grow up and fast. And Jake hadn’t.

Rachel was thrown back to the present by the phone ringing. She was the only one in the farmhouse as Jill had popped to Kirkton to do some food shopping.

‘Hello, Primrose Farm.’

‘Hi, is that Rachel? It’s Nick from the land agents.’

‘Oh, hi. Yes, it’s Rachel speaking.’ Had something happened with the two fields they had put up for sale? Perhaps there was some interest at last.

‘So, do you want the good news or the bad news?’

‘Umm …’ Rachel faltered.

‘Well, the good news is we’ve had an offer in.’

‘Wow, great.’

‘The bad news is … it’s substantially below your asking price and the valuation.’

‘Oh, so how much exactly?’

‘It’s an offer of five hundred pounds an acre.’

‘Blimey, that’s just taking the mickey. That land is worth at least fifteen hundred pounds an acre. Can I ask who the bidder is?’

‘Yes, it’s a Mr Macintosh, a neighbouring farmer of yours, I believe.’

Ah … typical. The tight-fisted miserable old bugger. That was akin to stealing at that price. Oh yes, he’d know they were in financial straits. Could see the gain for himself by buying the land at way below the commercial value. He’d be rubbing his hands with glee, no doubt. Well, she wouldn’t give him the pleasure. They’d rather keep the land at Primrose Farm and struggle on somehow than sell it for that.

Rachel’s hackles were up, thinking of how their neighbour was ready to prey on their misfortune. ‘Well then, you can go back and tell good old Mr Macintosh that it’s an insult of an offer. There’s no way I’d consider selling at that price.’

‘Yes, I did think that your answer might be along those lines.’

‘No other interest so far?’ Rachel asked, trying to remain hopeful.

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Oh well, we’ll just have to wait and see.’

‘Yes, of course, you’ll have to give it time. Unless, you’re thinking of adding more land to the sale? That might create more interest.’

‘Not just yet, but I understand what you’re saying.’ Rachel really wasn’t ready to give up more of the farm, everything her father had worked for and her heritage – not just yet, not until she had exhausted every other avenue. Unfortunately, time really wasn’t on their side …