Page 82 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Really? And don’t you mean a waiter, Maisy?’

‘Ah, yes that.’

‘He’d called in for his bacon roll this morning,’ Jill explained. ‘And then several people came in all at once. I’d told him you were in bed with the flu, so he just got stuck in for a half hour and served.’

‘He was good, wasn’t he, Grandma?’

‘He was indeed.’

Aw, bless him, Rachel thought. It was a bit different from handling cattle, sheep and driving the tractor, she mused.

‘Here’s your toast, Mummy. Grandma has the tea as it’s hot. And when you’ve had that, I’m coming back to tell you a bedtime story.’

There was no point arguing, Maisy had her bossy tone on and had obviously set her mind to it. She was taking charge and looking after her mummy, and that was sweet. So, ten minutes later, Rachel was listening to a half-made-up version of the fairy glen book, with Maisy adding her own details when the words got a bit too tricky. There were wishes granted and magical spells. Rachel particularly liked the bit when the boy fairy became a waiter for that evening’s fairy supper of sparkly cupcakes, a pure fabrication from the original story on Maisy’s part, but it did make Rachel smile.

As Maisy kissed her goodnight, even though it was still early evening, and whispered ‘Sweet dreams’ to her, Rachel found her eyelids feeling so heavy. There must actually be something in the soothing tones of a bedtime story, as she slept like a baby after that.

Rachel was back on form and on Pudding Pantry duty a couple of days later, giving her mum a few well-earned hours off after juggling a thousand jobs. She was going to spend some time with Maisy, and pop into Kirkton with a few top-up puddings for Brenda at the Deli.

There was a steady flow of customers that morning, including a rather handsome farmer who came in for his coffee and bacon roll elevenses, which sent Rachel’s heart a-fluttering.

‘Good to see you back,’ Tom grinned. ‘Feeling better?’

‘Just about. It was a rotten do though. Knocked me for six.’

‘I knew you must be bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have a morning off, let alone a day or two. It’s not often a farmer doesn’t get out of his or her bed.’

‘Ah, I was rough all right. Glad to get rid of it and be back on my feet again. Poor old Simon’s been doing all the farm work and Mum’s been trying to keep things going here and with Maisy. She looks knackered, bless her. Oh, and thanks for helping out the other day, by the way. Maisy tells me you made a rather lovely waitress.’ Rachel smiled cheekily, picturing Tom in a frilly baking apron.

‘Hah, I did indeed. Well, it was only right to lend a hand where I could, and it meant I got my bacon roll a bit quicker that way. Actually, I know you’ve all had a lot on, so,’ he suddenly sounded a little nervous, which wasn’t like Tom, ‘I was wondering if you’d like to come around to mine for supper one night … the three of you, I mean. Bring Maisy and your mum too.’

‘Oh well, that sounds great, yes. We’d love to.’ She broke into a smile. Someone else cooking their tea and, she had to admit, a chance to spend some time with Tom did sound rather good.

‘Don’t expect anything fancy, mind,’ he warned, with a grin. ‘I’m not the best cook. But I’m sure I’ll be able to rustle up something. Just see what day suits and let me know, I’m busy Friday night, but any other day through the week would be fine.’

‘Okay, great, I’ll let you know.’

Rachel could feel the blush spreading on her cheeks. What was the matter with her? Lingering flu symptoms, that was all. It was nothing to do with Tom’s unexpected invite, or the quick hammering of her heart …