Page 48 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Right, I’m off then. Night, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning, as you’ll be all tucked up in bed when I get back.’ She gave her little girl a kiss on the nose. ‘Bye, Mum. Thanks again. I’ll not be late.’

‘It’s fine, love. Me and Maisy are going to have a grand time baking some cupcakes and then we’ll have a nice long story time before bed, won’t we?’

Maisy was nodding happily. ‘Can we do the pink icing ones?’ she asked.

‘Of course.’

‘Okay, bye then. Have a nice evening here.’

Rachel headed out to the porch, just as Carl arrived at the door, smart in dark jeans and a blue shirt.

‘Oh – hi.’ She really was feeling nervous.

‘Hey, you look gorgeous.’ His eyes scanned up and down over her dress and curves, and he flashed a sparkling grin.

‘Ah … thank you, you’ve also scrubbed up well.’

He was standing close and smelt fresh of shower gel and aftershave. His blond hair was still slightly damp from the shower, and his grey-green eyes were smiling at her. Yeah, she had to admit he looked good.

‘Have a nice time,’ Jill poked her head out from the front door.

Maisy stood in her pyjamas beside her. ‘Bye, Mummy.’

‘Bye! See you later Maisy, and be good for Grandma.’ Rachel waved.

Carl also gave them a quick wave as he ducked into the van.

‘Bet you can’t wait to get away,’ he commented, once she was sitting beside him.

‘Ah … well …’ Why was he speaking as though her family were a bit of a hindrance? She couldn’t help but feel a bit put out, but maybe he was nervous too. Nerves were certainly getting the better of her. She started chewing a hangnail on her thumb as they sped off down the farm track, and then stopped herself, knowing that it wouldn’t look particularly attractive or confident. Damn, she was so out of practice with all this stuff. Why had she said yes?

Okay, focus on the music playing on the radio, yes, that was it. They’d set off to the sounds of some kind of club-style dance music, which was probably quite trendy, but she’d never heard it before. She’d always been a bit of a country music fan herself, so she didn’t even feel she could talk about that.

Luckily Carl broke the awkward silence. ‘Love the dress. You look great.’ They then proceeded to chat about the work he’d been doing that afternoon at the grain store. Phew. So far so bumpy … but at least the conversation was starting to pick up.

Rachel was quite relieved when she realised they were driving away from Kirkton, and on to a pub in Milfield, the next village along. It seemed to be just a casual drink that Carl had in mind and that suited Rachel, though she was happy that tongues wouldn’t be wagging quite as much out here as they might have done in her local pub. It couldn’t be helped – she’d lived at Kirkton all her life and it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone.

The evening started okay. Rachel ordered a glass of white wine, trying to appear slightly more sophisticated than having her usual cider. They sat at a corner table and chatted about life at the farm and the plans for the Pudding Pantry, and soon the conversation switched back once more to Carl’s work. He enjoyed telling her all about his latest projects and by the time he’d got on to the story of the hotel conversion he’d completed single-handedly last month, she had the feeling he might just be elaborating a touch on the truth. Were there many five-star hotel resorts on the Northumberland coast? Not to her knowledge. It was probably more like a smallish family-run hotel. But she reined in the negative thinking … maybe he really was the superman of the electrician world?

She bought the next round of drinks in and was quite enjoying the wine for a change. Carl had had a couple of pints of lager. She was glad they were on the English side of the border, as he’d have been way over the limit otherwise. She felt slightly uneasy about the fact that he was driving but he’d probably be fine, he’d hopefully go on to a soft drink next.

His B&B was back in Kirkton, so after chatting for another half hour, he suggested heading back that way and having a further drink back in Rachel’s village. That made sense, though she knew she’d be back to the tongues-wagging-in-the-neighbourhood zone.

When they reached The Black Bull, Carl ordered a pint and another glass of wine for Rachel. The landlord, Mick, gave Carl an intense once-over before saying his hellos, and adding, ‘How are you doing then, Rachel?’

‘I’m fine, Mick, thanks, and you?’

‘Just grand. And how’s the little lass and your mum?’

‘They’re good, thanks. We’re all getting on well just now.’

‘Well, that’s good to hear.’ Of course the villagers all knew of the tough times that the Swinton girls had been through, and their support and goodwill was still evident.

They were soon sitting at a corner table again chatting away. Carl’s arm was resting across the back of Rachel’s chair in a relaxed manner that she didn’t mind, when in came Tom. He spotted her and smiled at first, then his gaze shifted, taking in the man next to her. Rachel put a hand up to wave, but it lingered in the air, apparently unseen, as Tom strode swiftly on to the bar. Rachel felt slightly uneasy without really knowing why.

She and Carl chatted a while longer, talking about TV and music and his favourite films, most of which Rachel had never seen – to be fair, he seemed to be into a lot of action and war-type movies. Then Carl got up to get another round of drinks in, though Rachel was feeling she’d probably had enough by that point – the wine seemed way stronger than the cider she normally had.

‘Oh, I’m not sure …’ she started.