Page 60 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

She held the pullover tight, felt its woolly softness against her cheek, then closed her eyes. And the tears flowed … She’d been bottling so much up of late. At the best of times, she found it hard to share her emotions; even allowing herself to feel this deeply made her so uncomfortable. Emotions scared her. She was the one who kept things together, who fought for the family and the farm. But every now and then it had to find a way out, and here by herself, just for this short time, she could allow the tears to come.

‘I’ll do it for you, Dad. We’ll show ’em. The farm will come good again, and the Pudding Pantry. I’ll not let Mum and Granny and Maisy down.’

It was a heartfelt promise.

When Jill got back from dropping off Ruth, she seemed a little quiet, as though something was on her mind.

‘You okay, Mum?’

‘Oh yes, fine pet. It was a good night, wasn’t it, and a really nice bunch of people that come along. I really look forward to seeing our club members now.’ She looked a little thoughtful and quickly switched the conversation. ‘Well, let’s hope Ruth can shift that nasty cough of hers. She really isn’t herself just now, is she? Though she did a fabulous job taking the helm tonight. She’s a natural, a local Mary Berry for sure.’

‘The Christmas Pudding Queen,’ added Rachel with a grin.

They both chuckled.

26

It was a week later when strange things started to happen. Jill had taken several orders over the telephone for Granny Ruth’s ‘special’ Christmas Puddings. She’d been using Granny’s recipe and had made a dozen of the Whisky and Orange ones since the Pudding Club night, which had already sold, but there were now orders coming in thick and fast for them.

That morning, with another batch made, a couple arrived for coffee and cake, insisting they take home two of the special Christmas Puddings they’d heard so much about. Jill thought perhaps it was Pamela and Nigel, the Pudding Club attendees, who had told them about it, as they lived in that neck of the woods too. But within a half hour there were yet more orders coming in on the phone. Jill decided she’d have to get cracking making a further batch later that afternoon to try and keep up.

‘It’s odd, isn’t it, all this sudden interest in Ruth’s Christmas Puddings?’ Rachel commented.

‘Well, we won’t complain,’ replied Jill.

‘Absolutely. But do you think she’s been talent spotted and they’ve had her doing a cameo on Saturday Kitchen or something?’ Rachel jested.

‘Who knows, with Ruth – she’s always been a bit of a character.’

They gave Granny a quick call late that morning, to see how she was feeling and mentioned what was going on with all the orders. The old lady swore she knew nothing about it; what with her cough, she had hardly left the house since the Pudding Club night.

Oh well, it was all to the good. Perhaps word had got out about how nice they were and maybe it had coincided with people getting organised in time for Christmas, Rachel mused.

A further three calls that afternoon, and that was it, supplies were all out. Now they found themselves taking future orders for collection as soon as they were ready.

‘It is odd,’ Jill said to Rachel that evening, over a production line of dried fruits and whisky and orange zest. ‘I’m not sure what’s going on, but word has got out about Granny Ruth’s Christmas Puddings, and they seem to be the “in” thing. I’ve not known anything like this from our first few months of trading. Brenda’s told me she’s even had people calling in at the Deli today, asking for the “award-winning” Christmas Pudding made by Ruth.’

‘Maybe it’s just a pre-Christmas thing. We haven’t had this time of year yet to compare with, have we? Might just be seasonal.’ Rachel was trying to reason it out. ‘But hey, long may it last. Our takings are way up this week.’

‘Well, that’s brilliant. I just hope I can keep up with all these orders.’

‘Here, let me help,’ offered Rachel. ‘What do you need doing next? Can I weigh out the flour and sugar for you, or something?’

And they worked together, celebrating the six steaming pans of Christmas Puddings in the making with a well-earned cup of tea thereafter.

The root of the mystery came to light the very next day. Frank was in the Pantry as usual, catching up on the week’s papers.

‘Have you seen this, ladies?’ He suddenly shot up out of his seat, with the local Gazette still in his hands. ‘Look! You’ve won.’ He seemed delighted.

‘Won what?’ Rachel, standing behind the counter with Jill, was completely baffled.

‘The Christmas Pudding Tasting Panel. Here in the paper. Yes, look, Granny Ruth’s Whisky and Orange Pudding has come out tops. You’ve won the award for best Christmas Pudding. Didn’t you know?’

‘No! No idea, I’ve not had chance to look at the paper this week. I’ve been too busy making Christmas Puddings, in fact.’ Jill started chuckling, the penny dropping.

‘And it’s been all go on the farm,’ added Rachel. ‘Let’s see then, hand it over.’ She was eager to check this out.

She and Jill laid out the paper on the countertop and peered closely at the newsprint. There was a picture of Granny Ruth’s Pudding, all wrapped in Eve’s latest design; a holly print material with the Pudding Pantry tags on and red silk ribbon, and then the panel’s description: ‘Deliciously moist, with zingy orange and a warmth of whisky running through it. Particularly enjoyed the syrupy walnut and cranberry topping. Ideal for Christmas day!’ And nine out of ten was awarded (yippee!), the next one was marked as an eight and two more came out at only five and six, one of them being a leading supermarket brand.