Page 83 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Wow. And lots of cake?’

‘Absolutely tons of cake.’

Hmm, except for the trashed wedding cake, that was. But hey ho, they’d make a pretty impressive stack of Jill’s cupcakes on a cake stand, and once they’d added a few of the wedding flowers, it would look fine. The most important thing, after all the twists and turns of the past couple of weeks, was that she would be getting married to Tom. Today they were about to start a wonderful journey as man and wife, with gorgeous Maisy by their side.

‘Good,’ declared Maisy.

Rachel started to sing ‘I Gotta Feeling’ as they skipped out of the bedroom holding hands, whilst Eve buried herself back under the covers for just a while longer.

Rachel arrived in the kitchen to find an array of mini muffins and pretty cupcakes on display. Aw, Jill had stayed up baking even more last night, bless her. After a pick-me-up cup of tea, with Jill’s and Eve’s cuppas delivered bedside as a thank you, there was a Maisy-style special breakfast of homemade pancakes stacked with strawberries and chocolate sauce.

And then, Primrose Farm turned into a swarm of frenetic activity. The flowers arrived with Wendy, who began to turn the tipi and Pantry into a floral wonderland; cakes, pastries and scones were delivered en masse by the Pudding Clubbers and the fabulous WI-ers, a team who’d also agreed to dash back from the church service and get it all plated ready for the afternoon tea wedding reception.

Farmhands Simon and Mark were now setting out bales of hay as outdoor seating areas, and Mick, the landlord from the Black Bull, was positioning table stands that were cleverly converted from wooden kegs of beer. Jake was even giving a hand setting out large feed buckets, ready to add ice so that the bottled beers for later could be chilled. Tom had texted Rachel to say he’d apologised to Jake, so at least they were on steadier ground. She just hoped there’d be no more fisticuffs once the beer keg was running.

Eve and Charlotte were up ladders, festooning the tipi with Eve’s handmade bunting, while Hannah and Kirsty were setting out white tablecloths, vintage teacups and saucers and tea plates – some from the Pantry and some borrowed from the WI – along with Emma’s mini boxes of chocolate favours. With the bridesmaids and her friends sporting shorts and T-shirts with a pair of wellingtons, it looked as though they’d turned up at some fabulous countryside festival.

It really was a community affair, and as Rachel went out with a tray of teas, coffees and choc-chip cookies to keep the workers going, she stood for a second or two taking it all in. Ooh, she had a bit of a moment then, watching the villagers, her friends, rallying like an army of ants. She knew full well that her dad would have been out there among them, proud and practical, helping to get everything set up for his daughter’s big day. He was going to be sorely missed.

The grass was still dewy beneath her wellingtons, but the sun was warm as it rose higher into an azure sky, with the odd puff of cotton-wool cloud. It looked to be a lovely day, though the forecast said there was a chance of showers this afternoon. But hey ho, they could cope with that: a little rain never hurt anyone. With Tom now back firmly by her side, and her family and friends all round, nothing was going to spoil their big day.

Maisy dashed up, happy among the hubbub. ‘It looks like magic, Mummy, like a unicorn palace tent.’

‘Hah, yes, sweetheart. Well then, let’s give out these drinks and biscuits, and we’ll see if anyone needs a hand.’

Drinks delivered, Maisy took Rachel’s hand and tugged her across to the far side of the tipi. ‘Look, have you seen the pretty flowers, Mummy? Me and ’Melia have got special baskets to hold. Come on … I’ll show you.’

Florist Wendy was high up a ladder, twisting ivy and delicate white gypsophila around the wooden support posts of the tipi. In a shaded area of the tent nearby, in large cardboard boxes, lay the wedding bouquets and two little baskets. Maisy gingerly took up one of the baskets, holding it in front of her. Rachel picked up her own bouquet; it was beautiful, a gorgeous circular posy with all the colours she had asked for. It looked like a countryside summer, circled with a pale cornflower-blue satin bow and a thin twist of hessian twine, and it smelt delicately divine.

‘Yours is pretty too, Mummy,’ Maisy shouted out. ‘When’s Amelia coming? I want to show her hers.’

‘Not quite yet.’ Rachel checked the time, almost ten a.m. With the wedding service at twelve noon at Kirkton Church, just a five-minute drive away, the two girls were going to get ready much nearer to the wedding time when there would be less chance of spoiling their dresses. Ben was due at ten thirty with Amelia, and Rachel well knew that Eve would be feeling a little nervous about her husband’s arrival. Eve was holding it together well this morning, though, bless her.

‘Wendy, these are just beautiful, thank you,’ Rachel called out, still clutching her bouquet.

‘Oh, I’m so glad you like them, pet. They do look pretty. I loved making them up this morning.’ Wendy smiled down from her perch. ‘And I’m sure they’ll go wonderfully with your dress that I’ve heard so much about.’

It was all coming together beautifully, and Rachel felt a mounting sense of excitement. After the wedding vows were made in church, what a party they were going to have!

With the tipi and the field next to the farmhouse mid-transformation, it was time for Rachel to go and get a bit of prepping and pampering herself. Eve was to do her hair, and Hannah her make-up. It was all happening ‘in-house’ to help with the budget, but she trusted her friends to do a great job. They knew that she wanted a natural look, and they’d had a practice run with prosecco just over a week ago – she’d been delighted with the results.

‘Rachel, time to get out of the shorts and T, hun!’ Eve called across, stepping down from her bunting and fairy-lights mission. ‘We need to turn you into a wedding belle. Much as he loves you, I don’t think Tom will want you turning up to the church like that.’

‘He might not mind, knowing Tom. But, o-kay.’

Maisy came skipping up. ‘Mummy, when is Amelia here? We need to put our pretty dresses on, too.’

‘Not long now, petal.’

After a last check on all the arrangements, Rachel, Eve, Charlotte and Maisy were ready to head back across to the farmhouse. Just as they set off, Ben rolled up, walking across the field towards them, holding hands with a beaming Amelia.

‘Hey, this all looks fantastic.’ He glanced around the reception venue. ‘And I’ve got one very excited little lady to deliver to you.’

‘Hi, Ben. Hi, Amelia,’ Rachel greeted them.

‘Hi … you two.’ Eve smiled at her family, fragile emotions coming to the surface.

Rachel saw her friend take a breath, her body tense. Little Amelia was there beside her, giggling with Maisy. Now was certainly not the time to take this forward. And Rachel knew Eve too well; she’d not put her own desire to get things off her chest above Rachel’s happy day.