Page 69 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Good.’

‘So, are we going to have a look around this farm of yours? I’m sure there’s lots you can show me, sweetheart.’

‘Yes, o-kay.’ Rachel heard the touch of hesitancy in her daughter’s voice.

It was all so new, this fragile relationship. Was it going to blossom or burn? Rachel couldn’t help but wonder. But she had to stand back and let them both try. It was only fair.

‘Just stay near the farmyard area, Maisy, okay. You can go and see if Pete’s about in the Low Field, just call him at the gate though. Pete’s her pet lamb, who’s all grown up now,’ she explained to Jake. ‘Then, there’s the chickens to see. You can take Moss with you, give him a bit of a walk. I think he’s bored with us being in the barn so much lately and he’s not allowed in.’

‘Yes, all right, Mummy.’

‘Then when you’re all done come back to the Pudding Pantry. You can come and have some lunch there, the two of you.’

‘Ah cheers, Rach. That sounds cool, Maisy. And, we get to try out the food in there.’

‘It’s good. Tom loves the sticky toffee pudding, doesn’t he, Mummy?’ Maisy was just being her usual chatty self, but Jake’s eyebrows rose sharply at the mention of Tom.

‘Does he now?’ was all he uttered in a slightly disgruntled tone.

‘Yep,’ Rachel said matter-of-factly. What was it to him who Tom was, or if there was anything between them? Jake had fled their lives years ago. ‘Okay then, get your wellies on ready, Maisy, and have a nice time.’

Maisy got off her chair and headed for the porch. ‘Come on then, Ja …’ She stopped short, still unsure what to call him. ‘I’ll show you the chickens first. There’s this really funny one with fluffy bits around her legs. She never stops clucking. We call her Clucky.’ There was Maisy chatting away, so innocently.

Rachel and Granny shared a look as Maisy led him out by the hand. They both knew there were risks, but Maisy was still on home ground – for now at least.

At eleven minutes past eleven – Rachel knew the exact time as she had been watching the clock in the barn avidly – their first official Pudding Pantry customer arrived.

An old but well-cared-for Fiat Punto parked up in the yard and in came Frank, a pleasant old chap who Rachel recognised. He was a local, living nearby in Kirkton.

‘Morning ladies,’ he said, doffing his flat cap. He had a mop of thick white hair, and a friendly sparkle about his blue eyes.

‘Welcome Frank, take a seat,’ said Jill with a warm smile. ‘And what can we get for you? Or would you like a few moments to take a look at the menu?’

‘Well, I’d love a cup of coffee to start, and I’ll take a little look to see what there is to tempt me.’ He picked up the cream card menu that was propped next to the jam-jar vase of sweet peas in the middle of the table.

‘There’s lots on display in the counter too, Frank. There might be something there that takes your fancy,’ Rachel added.

‘Thank you.’

‘White coffee, Frank?’ Jill asked, ready to get to grips with the coffee machine.

‘Yes, please. With hot milk.’

‘I’ll make you a nice frothy one then. Here goes,’ she added as an aside to Rachel, pouring milk into a small stainless-steel jug. She was getting the hang of it already.

They let Frank have a few minutes to study the menu, then Rachel walked across to see if he wanted to order some food.

‘Hey, it’s done out lovely in here, mind. You’ve done a grand job, girls. Brenda was telling me all about it down in the village. Thought I’d take a trip up and see for myself.’

Good old Brenda, spreading the word for them.

‘I’ve had one of your chocolate puddings from there too. Lovely jubbly. Just like my Mary used to make. And all I had to do was warm it in the oven, and I found a tin of custard I had to go with it. Delicious.’ His wife, Mary had died several years ago now. Rachel remembered them as being a sweet couple; they always went everywhere together. It must be so hard losing someone you’ve been with all those years, whether you had reached old age together, or were younger like Mum and Dad. Loss was all around them. But it hadn’t stopped them, had it? Here they were, at the start of their brave new venture. And here was Frank out and about, taking small bold steps in his new life without Mary.

‘Here’s your coffee, Frank.’ Mum looked so proud that she’d fathomed out the machine all by herself this time, and the cup of frothy coffee did look barista standard.

Rachel grinned and swelled with pride. ‘Anything else?’

‘Well then, I think I might have to try some jam roly-poly with custard. Brings back memories, that does. Takes me right back to being at home as a small boy. Sunday tea-time treat that was. My mam’s special.’