Page 47 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

Chapter 20

A DISASTROUS DATE PUDDING

Friday swung around, and Carl had been working all afternoon on the barn’s electrics. The builders had left at lunchtime, happy to start the weekend early and let the electrician get on with his tasks. Rachel had popped in now and again to take Carl a coffee and see how things were going, finding him singing along to the portable radio he’d brought with him. He seemed cheerful and chatty, occasionally flashing what seemed to be his trademark smile.

As early evening set in, he knocked on the farmhouse door and asked if Rachel and Jill would come across to the barn. He talked them through his handiwork, and it certainly looked like a neat job.

‘That’s brilliant. Thank you,’ said Rachel, as she walked around, feeling a buzz of excitement that things were really starting to take shape here.

‘Yes, you’ve been wonderful, Carl. Thank you,’ added Jill.

‘Right, well that’s me about done then. I just need to tidy up my tools, then I’m away. I’ll send on the invoice for this by email, if that’s okay, yeah?’

‘Yes, that’s fine,’ Rachel replied.

Rachel tried not to worry too much about the money. Mum’s savings pot was dwindling fast but the grants they’d applied for should hopefully come in soon – well, if they were accepted; things were still a bit tense.

‘Umm, I’ve still got a night booked up this way in my digs.’ Carl looked at Rachel with a cheeky smile. ‘What would you say to coming out with me for a drink this evening?’

‘Oh, I’m …’ Was she being asked on a date, or was it just a friendly chat and a drink? She was sooo out of this game, she was floundering, badly.

Before she could say any more, however, Jill chipped in. ‘Yes, go on love. I’m happy to look after Maisy. It’s no bother, I’m at home anyhow. You go out and have some fun for a change.’

‘Well, okay then.’ Why not? It wasn’t every day a good-looking guy asked you out for a drink, and he seemed friendly enough.

‘Great, I’ll pick you up around seven-thirty then. That’ll give me a chance to get back to my digs and take a shower.’

‘Great.’ Rachel’s voice came out slightly high-pitched, as a sudden unbidden image of Carl in a shower sprang to mind. It was certainly not appropriate thinking-matter with her mother stood beside her.

Just at that moment, to make things even more embarrassing, Maisy skipped around the corner into the barn. She’d been playing out in the garden, enjoying the freedom of a warm June evening after school. She screwed up her nose. ‘Don’t like it in here, Mummy. It doesn’t look very nice. It’s all dug up and horrid. And, it smells funny.’

‘Oh, it’s not ready yet, Maisy,’ soothed Rachel. ‘There’s loads of work to do here yet. Give it a few weeks and it’ll all be so different.’

‘Good. No-one would want to eat pudding in here.’ She scowled with her whole face screwed up, as only a five-year-old can.

Carl finished packing up his tool box and was soon heading for the barn door. ‘Right, well that’s me done then, ladies. See you later, Rachel.’ He ignored Maisy as he flashed a wide grin at Rachel, adding a brief, ‘Bye then,’ that was directed at Jill.

‘Why’s he seeing you later?’ Maisy demanded as Carl left the barn.

‘Oh, I’m going out for a chat and a drink, that’s all. Grandma’s looking after you.’

‘Oh.’ Maisy looked slightly put out, but said no more on the matter, instead running around the barn getting dust and debris all over her school shoes, much to Rachel’s dismay. When she finally came back to them with a slowing skip, she crossed her arms and announced indignantly how it had looked so much better when it was her party, which – of course – it had.

What to wear? Rachel hadn’t bought anything new for so long – she generally lived in jeans, T-shirts, fleeces, and often an old green boiler suit for grubby jobs around the farm. But she ought to look like she’d made a bit of an effort for this evening at least. She dug through her clothes rail in the pine wardrobe of her double bedroom, humming along to her favourite country music playing in the background, until she chanced upon a navy floral-print dress, teamed on a hanger with a short-sleeved cardigan. Would it even fit her now?

She seemed to remember the last time she’d worn it was out to a dinner for Mum’s birthday. That must be about three years ago now. Maisy was still in a high chair, she remembered, and yes, Dad was there with them. Back when life was good. They still had their difficulties back then on the farm of course, but none of them had known what was to come. She sighed as she took the dress out; it was summery and pretty, but felt bittersweet.

Right, enough nostalgia, she needed to get changed and ready in fifteen minutes as Carl would soon be here. She pulled the dress on. It wasn’t quite as fitted as she remembered – she must have actually lost some weight in the past couple of years, though she was still by no means thin. She’d always had curves from being a teenager and was a happy size twelve. Jake had always said they were in the right places, though he was often able to pull out the kind of lines that flattered back then. Nowadays, Rachel never really took much note of her body. It was useful, it all worked fine, and it mostly lived under layers of warm and practical clothing.

She gave a quick brush of her thick wavy dark hair – she’d wear it loose tonight, set it free from the ponytail band that usually kept it swept out of the way. It fell with a bounce to just below her shoulders. A flick of mascara, a smear of pink lipstick and a spritz of perfume, and she was ready.

When she got downstairs, Maisy came dashing over to her. ‘Ooh, Mummy, you look lovely.’

‘Ah, thanks, petal.’

‘Yes, you do, love. I always liked you in that dress.’ Jill was smiling with a soft expression on her face. Rachel wondered if the dress brought back memories for her too.

Rachel felt a little nervous, as she heard the crunch of gravel in the yard outside. Carl must have arrived. Okay, she told herself, this wasn’t really a date, just a drink out. Was she okay with that? Or did she want it to be a date? She didn’t have a clue.