Page 71 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

The rumour wagon was well and truly trundling away down in Kirkton, and what a load of tosh it was. But Rachel was suddenly hit with a scary thought out on the street. What if Tom had heard any of this? How would he be feeling?

What Vanessa had started with a simple, ‘Oh, you’ll never guess what I heard on the high street yesterday …’ had rolled on to become the talk of the town.

Should she text him, warn him? But would that just stir up the hornets’ nest even more? No, she wouldn’t even give it airtime. It was a load of crap, and surely Tom would never believe it even if he did hear anything. Tom had enough on his plate right now, what with the impending court case.

Even so, it left a queasy feeling in her stomach. Jake was always bad news as far as Tom was concerned – even if the latest was very much fake news.

It was six thirty p.m., and Tom had just come out of a long and stressful meeting with his accountant. He decided to stop for a quick pint at the Black Bull on his way home to let off a bit of steam.

The landlord, Mick, served him a frothy-headed pint of real ale that was delightfully cool and refreshing. Ah, bliss. But all too soon, Dennis Jones, who was already a few pints down the line, sidled up next to him.

‘All right, mate,’ he slapped him on the back.

‘Hey Dennis, all good thanks.’ He’d rather have had a quiet pint, but hey, that was always unlikely with the characters in the Bull.

‘Here drowning your sorrows, are you? Heard the news, sorry about that mate.’

‘What news?’

The barflies’ heads lifted in unison, and Mick seemed to hold his breath.

‘About your missus, Rachel. Not the kind of thing you want to be hearing about just before your wedding day …’

‘What are you on about?’ Tom stood up tall beside him.

Mick was wiping a glass rather furiously with a tea towel. The air in the pub felt static.

‘Well, they say first love never dies and all that …’ Dennis droned on, with a slight slur. ‘Yeah, your Rachel has been spotted having a sneaky kiss – down at the seaside – with old flame Jake, as rumour has it.’

‘That’s enough, Dennis,’ Mick intervened.

‘It’s all right Mick,’ Tom cut in. ‘Looks like Jonesy’s just had a few too many jars this evening.’

Tom was irked, but he didn’t actually believe the story, no way. He was more annoyed about this stupid tosspot spreading ridiculous gossip.

Tom downed the rest of his pint, needing to get out of there – the company was no longer appealing and the beer tasted sour.

‘Sorry, Tom.’ One of his farming mates stood up from his bar stool in support. But as Tom walked away, he couldn’t be sure if his friend was apologising for daft Dennis, or if he was sorry about the rumours …

There was no way it could be true. Just no way, Rachel couldn’t stand Jake.

But … as he got into his truck, the tiniest seed of doubt was trying to lodge itself in his mind. He’d already been hurt and let down by one woman; could it all be happening again? And Rachel and Jake had definitely been getting on better during his last visit. They’d been playing happy families, getting closer …

No, he knew Rachel. He trusted her. After these precious months, and the wonderful evening they had spent together only last night, there was no way he could doubt her. He wouldn’t believe the village gossip; heaven knows it had caused enough troubles for them both in the past. Things got twisted and retold on the Kirkton grapevine, bearing no resemblance to the grain of truth. There was no way he was going to listen to a scumbag like Jonesy.

He swatted the rumours away like flies. So why did they keep buzzing around his head?

38

Rachel stepped into her wedding dress. Each time she tried it on, she felt transformed. Eve had made such a beautiful job of it, and she’d now finished all the appliqué flowers which fell gently like a floral waterfall from her waist to the floor on the ivory tulle skirt. After a few busy days on the farm and a flurry of one-week-to-go wedding preparations, it was the final dress fitting.

‘Eve … this is so stunning. It’s beautiful. You must have spent hours.’

Rachel looked in the full-length mirror. It just didn’t look like her … more like some fairy-tale princess from a storybook or film.

‘Just a few …’ Her best friend smiled, as though she’d been more than happy to do it.

‘Sorry if I’ve given you even more work to do, hun.’