Page 64 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Hah – except for Vanessa moaning about my cake.’

‘Ah, don’t worry yourself about her. She’d not be happy if she didn’t have something to moan about. Has a face like a Rottweiler on her, that woman.’

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh at that.

Heavy grey clouds soon began to darken the sky, and as a few spots of rain started to fall, everyone made a dash for the barn to take shelter. It really was a typical English summer’s day, filled with a mix of sunshine and showers, but it hadn’t spoilt the event in any way – nothing could, in fact.

Now the remaining guests were sheltering in the barn together, Eve rapped a dessert spoon onto the wooden counter top, to get everyone’s attention.

‘Excuse me. Hello … I just have a little something to say and a presentation to make.’

Ooh, Rachel didn’t know anything about this. What was Eve up to? Was it something to do with her crafts, she mused. She looked across at her mum who shrugged her shoulders. They were both evidently in the dark on this.

‘Okay,’ Eve started, ‘so, we all know that life has been very hard for these two lovely ladies lately, and I just want to say that as well as being my absolute best friends, they are a true inspiration. What they’ve done here on the farm, keeping it all going, and now this, creating this gorgeous Pudding Pantry despite everything, it’s … well, it’s just amazing. You two have achieved so much in such a short space of time.’

There were lots of ‘Hear hears’ and a round of applause went up.

Rachel found herself welling up. She knew she should have put on the waterproof mascara this morning. She looked at her mum who was definitely a bit teary too.

‘Well, several of us here have got together as we wanted to give you a little gift to help you on your way … So, without further ado, here you are.’ Eve’s husband Ben made his way through the group carrying a largish box, followed by Tom with another of the same size.

‘Careful,’ Eve warned. ‘It’s breakable.’

The lads put the boxes down on the floor in front of Jill and Rachel who knelt down and started to open a box each, both of them smiling and curious. As Rachel pulled open the cardboard lid, all was suddenly apparent. Crystal glass in teardrop shapes caught the light … the chandeliers. OMG. She gasped, then had a little blub, and needed a tissue passing to her.

‘Oh Eve … everyone, oh my, they are just perfect. But … how did you know which ones?’ She had taken one of the lights out carefully now.

Eve was smiling broadly. ‘I made a mental note, then found and saved the image you’d showed me on Instagram. Just in case, you know.’

‘But they were so expensive,’ Rachel continued.

‘Not when we shared the costs between a few of us.’

Rachel looked around at the others there, who were now grinning broadly – friends, parents from school, guests from the farming community, Brenda, Granny Ruth, Tom …

‘Thank you. Thank you all so much. I can hardly believe it.’ Rachel felt almost giddy.

‘We thought it’d give the Pudding Pantry that little extra sparkle, that final touch,’ added Eve. ‘Not that it really needs it, mind, as it looks gorgeous already.’

‘What a wonderful gift,’ said Jill, clutching her own tissue. ‘Thank you all so much.’

‘Wow … well then,’ Rachel announced. ‘Let’s carry on with the celebrations. Cheers folks.’

More puddings and pavlovas were passed around. There was still some Pimm’s left. The teapot was refilled, and their friends chatted, some sat at the tables inside whilst others ventured back out again with the sun peeping through once more. Maisy and Amelia and some of the other children were happily playing in the garden, sliding bottoms on raindrops down the slide and giggling away.

With a few happy stragglers remaining, mostly close friends and family, Rachel and Jill started to clear away the debris. It was now after 6 p.m., blimey how the time had flown. As she came out of the barn bearing a stack of plates to be returned to the farmhouse kitchen, Rachel didn’t hear the van pull up at the edge of the yard.

‘Rachel.’

The voice stopped her in her tracks. The plates in her hands wobbled precariously. It was a voice from the past. A shock.

‘Oh …’ Rachel froze for a moment, taking in the sandy-blond hair, the frame that was shorter than she remembered, the cool blue eyes.

Just then Maisy, curious at a new arrival, skipped up to her mum’s side.

‘Who are you?’ she asked, ready to go and fetch more cake for the newcomer at the party.

‘Hi Maisy, I’m your daddy.’

From the stunned look on Maisy’s face, if she had been carrying a plate it would definitely have dropped to the ground right then.