Page 63 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

They took a few steps forward, and then Maisy stopped again, her arms folded. ‘Don’t want to go,’ was her parting shot.

Rachel knew not to push the conversation any further right now. Sometimes you needed a little time to get your head around things. Change was hard enough to deal with at twenty-six, never mind six.

33

EVE

Eve tried to clear her head on the journey home from the exhibition. The feeling of guilt prickled over her skin like a rash. She also felt as if she’d been slightly duped. Had Aiden asked her to go early, before the main event, so they would have some time alone? Or, was she just trying to distract from her own guilt with excuses? She had known full well what she was doing, after all. She had allowed him to hold her … enjoyed that moment in his arms … the kiss.

But this was serious, she wasn’t free to do any of that. This could really hurt her family. Could destroy her relationship with Ben. She felt sickened by her actions.

No one could ever know. She’d go home … act as normally as she could. And try so hard to put things right with Ben. Confessing would be no good, would it? If he knew the truth, he might not be able to forgive or forget. She had to think of Amelia in all of this too. Why, oh why had she put them all in jeopardy? If she could turn back the clock … could have made some excuse to Aiden and just stayed at home. But what was done, was done. And, maybe in time, when things had moved on, it wouldn’t have the power to hurt them anymore.

It was just a stupid crush. She saw it for what it was now … laid bare in a barrel of guilt. Just a silly crush. And Aiden, yes, he was attractive and creative, but he really didn’t seem the type to want to be tied down with a woman with a six-year-old in tow. He was a free spirit, an artist. She’d let herself get drawn in, be flattered. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Life wasn’t all glamour and passion. Love wasn’t all kisses and romance. You had to work at relationships, and yes, you could get stuck in a rut, but did she still love Ben? Yes, a voice in her heart spoke out. Even with his Game of Thrones addiction, three sugars in his coffee, and dirty socks strewn across the bedroom floor. Hah, and no wonder they were bloody stuck in a rut. She couldn’t think of when they’d had any real alone time since they’d had Amelia. And yes she’d tried, and failed, to rekindle things the other night. But they’d just have to try harder – she’d have to show Ben that they were worth fighting for.

The drive passed in a tumble of thoughts, and promises to herself that she’d do better from now on. She passed the entrance to Rachel’s farm – whoa, what would her friend think if she knew? – and carried on up the lane to arrive outside their cottage, where Ben would most likely be sitting in the lounge watching TV, totally oblivious to her misdemeanours.

She felt a gut-churn of fear as she undid her seat belt and gazed at her cottage, her home. Take a deep breath. Steel yourself. Try and behave like normal. Ben could never find out.

Walking up the path. Opening the door. Amelia would be upstairs in bed asleep by now, for sure. So, she dropped down her handbag in the hall and gathered herself, before opening the sitting-room door and popping her head around.

‘Hi, Ben. I’m home.’

Yes, there was Ben lounging on the sofa with a packet of crisps to hand and an episode of Game of Thrones going on in full noisy battle. He paused it and turned to her with a small smile. ‘Hiya … go okay? You’re a bit earlier than I thought you’d be.’

‘Ah, yeah. It was fine … Some great paintings.’ She felt her cheeks burn. Hoped Ben didn’t notice.

‘So, did you get to meet any good contacts? For your own crafts?’

‘Oh … well, the people there just seemed a bit more highbrow, like owners of proper art galleries.’ The white lie spilled out.

‘Ah, right okay. Well, this episode is brilliant. You wanna watch it with me or catch up later?’ He didn’t seem keen to chat about her evening further, and that suited Eve just fine.

‘Yeah, I’ll come and watch. Just let me get a cuppa. Can I get you anything?’

‘Nah, I’m fine, thanks.’

Eve felt like a bloody stiff drink, never mind a cup of tea. But raiding the drinks cupboard for a large gin and tonic was not the answer.

‘Amelia been fine?’

‘Yeah, sound. We’ve been playing Connect 4. Can’t believe she beat me twice, too. I wasn’t even trying to lose.’ He was grinning.

He’d always been a good dad, Eve realised, even if the two of them had drifted in the wrong direction of late. Her mind drifted back to the day Amelia was born, all pink and scrawny with her battle cry of a hello to the world. Whilst Eve had lain on the hospital bed being stitched up, she had looked across at Ben gently holding their brand-new little girl and he’d smiled at Eve with tears in his eyes, saying how proud he was of both of them. Oh … family life suddenly seemed so precious.

‘Well, I won’t be a minute.’ Eve needed a moment to gather herself.

She stepped out into the welcome coolness of the hallway. She then clicked on the kettle in the galley kitchen, and couldn’t resist making her way upstairs to look in on her daughter. She opened the doorway just a fraction and peeped in. She looked so small and innocent, sleeping soundly there. Tears crowded Eve’s eyes as she gazed down. Stupid idiot, Eve. She brushed away the teardrops with the back of her hand and then went and stood in the bathroom for a few seconds, catching her reflection in the mirror, before splashing her eyes with cold water. Who was this woman?

She went back downstairs, trying to avoid the creaky steps, so as not to disturb Amelia. She took her mug through, taking a slow, steadying breath at the threshold to the lounge, and went to sit with her husband … the husband she had just betrayed.

34

The sweet smell of freshly cut hay wafted across the fields towards the yard of Primrose Farm. Rachel had heard the hum of the tractor from the Pantry, signalling that Tom was now at work on her meadows, having cut his own yesterday.

‘Is it okay if I bob out to see Tom and take him a bite of lunch?’ Rachel asked Jill. It was past one thirty now and had got slightly quieter at the Pantry.