Page 6 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Ah, a few hours of blessed kip.’

‘Then, I’m back on again tonight.’

‘Relentless, isn’t it – lambing time. Feels never-ending. It’s only around three weeks overall and it seems like a bloody year.’

‘We’ll get there. Same every year. Like a horrid hangover, you come out of it threatening never to rear any more sheep, and then by market time you’ve forgotten how bloody awful it is and you’re tricked back into it again.’

‘Hah, yeah.’

Rachel began rummaging in the rucksack for Jill’s pudding and poured herself another mug of tea.

‘To the hardy Cheviot Hill farmers,’ she said. She raised her tin cup. ‘Cheers.’

She passed Tom a portion of the rich, treacly pudding and a plastic spoon – Mum always thought of everything.

‘And to sticky toffee pudding.’ He smiled, digging a spoon into the sponge. ‘God, this is delicious. Fuel of the hill farmers.’

‘Hah. Absolutely!’

After chatting for a while, Tom headed back to snatch a few more hours’ sleep. As she’d suspected, he had been in bed when she’d called, trying to make the most of a rare night off from the lambing shed. Rachel felt a little guilty for disturbing his night, as he’d have plenty of his own work to do on his farm today.

It wasn’t long until dawn began to break with golden morning light filtering in through the gaps in the shed door. On her own once more, Rachel dealt with another birth – a single healthy lamb who came into the world without a fuss – and soon enough, it was time to head back over to the farmhouse and her family.

Thank goodness it had all worked out in the end for that little Texel. And, looking at the clear sky above her as she walked back across the yard, thank goodness for another warm dry day. The weather this spring was being kind to them. It hadn’t always been so. She walked past the old stone stable building that was no longer used. Remembering that fateful spring morning two years ago, she felt a shudder run through her.