Page 56 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Well, best of luck with the barn and the Pudding Pantry. If I can help at all, just give me a shout.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Bye, Maisy. Have fun!’ he called across.

‘I am … but sshh!’ She put her forefinger to her lips pointedly. ‘I’m looking for the fairies’ grotto. I think we might have frightened them away. Moss keeps splashing and barking.’

‘Ah, okay. I’ll drive away slowly, so the quad’s not too noisy then.’

‘Good.’

‘Come on then, Mabel. Up.’ With that the terrier bounded back on the quad behind him. ‘Bye, all.’

‘Bye, Tom.’

After an idyllic picnic and rare evening off, Rachel and Jill knew they had to refocus and get back to preparing for their big opening. There was still an awful lot to do. Yet, the next morning, with only a couple of days’ work left, there was no sign of the builders. Their white Transit van, which had again become a fixture in the yard, was worryingly missing. All was quiet. Too quiet.

Rachel tried ringing Ian’s mobile, which was the only contact number she had, to see what was happening. They were usually there on the farm by 8:30 a.m. – neither of them had mentioned that they might be late for any reason. They had put in half the kitchen units but they still had the main area to finish off and the barn doors to replace with a window arch and a smaller entrance door to give more light.

Finally, a call came in at 9:50 a.m. ‘Hi, it’s Ian. Sorry pet, but we can’t make it today. We’re down at Alnwick. We started this job while we were waiting for your cabinets, and now the tiles they have chosen are in, they need it finished off. It’ll just take a day. We’ve promised the customer.’

What about this bloody customer?Rachel thought with frustration. ‘But won’t that delay the job here? We’re on a tight enough schedule as it is, and I was just about to put out a flyer and some posters around the town to advertise for the opening launch on Thursday of next week.’

‘Aye, well, we’ll be back with you by tomorrow lunchtime.’

‘Lunchtime?’ It got worse.

‘Aye, don’t fret. We’ll be finished by next Thursday for you.’

‘Hmm.’ Rachel wasn’t convinced and gave a sigh. ‘Well, don’t tell me that means you’ll be clearing out on the Wednesday night, as we’ve a hell of a lot of setting up to do.’

‘No worries. It’ll all work out grand, pet.’

He sounded far too laid-back about it all for Rachel’s liking. Grrrr. All she could do was focus on her own tasks, and pray they kept their word.

Damn, the bloomin’ lawnmower was broken now and she was so near to finishing the front gate area too. She needed to keep it tidy, ready for opening. It had chugged to a halt, there was still fuel in it, but she’d pulled the cord several times and it still wasn’t restarting. Hmm, Tom might have one. She decided to quickly pop around to his farm to see. That way she might still get the job done before she finished for the evening.

It was a warm sultry afternoon; the dry spell was continuing. She jumped on the quad, drove down the lane and was soon pulling up outside Tom’s house. It looked like he was about as his truck and the quad were parked outside. As she got closer to the farmhouse, she heard a ‘thwack’ that sounded like it was coming from around the back. She’d head there first. The chances were that Tom was working outside, given the glorious sunshine.

She went in through the little gate and followed the path in and around the side of the house. As she turned the corner, the cause of the thwacking was apparent … very apparent. In fact, it stopped her right in her tracks. There Tom was, chopping logs. His arm raised in the air, bicep bulging, with a small axe in his hand ready to swoop down. His shirt was off and his lean muscular torso bared in all its rather manly glory. There was a glisten of sweat across his chest.

‘Oh my,’ she breathed. She’d never really imagined what might lie beneath those shirts and T-shirts. Tom’s chest was paler than his arms with the typical farmer T-shirt tan, which made her smile to herself. But it all looked very good, very good indeed. She gulped, quickly tearing her eyes away, aware of how badly she was ogling him.

Tom hadn’t yet spotted her, being focused on his task.

Should she call his name? Interrupt him? But she had a feeling she was blushing furiously already, and she didn’t want him to lose concentration and make a mistake with the axe. Mind you, she had totally lost concentration herself. She wasn’t even sure if her voice would work properly at this point.

She decided to give herself just one more second to stay and take in the view. She’d then head back to the quad and let him finish the job. Yes, she’d just have to come back again in the morning and finish that mowing tomorrow. It wouldn’t hurt really. She didn’t think she could set back to work now as it was. Her legs felt oddly jelly-like.

Okay, that was it, enough girl, turn around, retreat!

She felt slightly dazed as she got back to the quad and sat down. Should she just wait a few minutes at the front of his house, then go back, do a re-take and pretend all was fine? She could shout out as she neared the house corner to give him a bit of warning, but then she’d have to try and talk normally whilst facing him, all bare-chested and tanned.

She drove back to Primrose Farm on autopilot – part of her trying not to dwell on the scene she’d just witnessed, telling herself that her reaction was just physical, that was all. God knows she’d been alone and detached for such a long time. Yet, the other half of her was totally wanting to re-live the moment and picture the scene in all its fine detail.

Well, she didn’t see that one coming. But, she couldn’t afford to lose sight of the road ahead – she desperately needed to concentrate on the new business, her mum, Maisy … no, this distraction – whatever it was – wouldn’t do at all …