Page 87 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

Eve helped arrange Rachel’s dress and tweaked her hair. And then a hush descended as the bridesmaids lined up behind Rachel, even the little ones going quiet – a sense that something momentous was about to happen.

As Rachel stepped through the narrow wooden churchyard gate, with Ruth by her side, her eyes were drawn to a grassy, shady area at the far end of the grounds where her dad’s headstone lay. ‘Love you, Dad,’ she whispered, sending up a silent heartfelt message.

Life and death and love, centred here in this sacred place, next to the ancient stone walls she was about to step within. Where the journey of life and family were marked. A place of celebration and commiseration, of love and of loss. But today was about celebration, and her relationship with Tom, and she couldn’t wait to see him – waiting for her. She hoped upon hope that he was there.

At the big wooden church door, she took a moment to pause and smile at Granny, who gave her a firm reassuring nod and a proud smile back. Chords of music struck up on the church’s old and slightly cranky organ. The slow walk began, Ruth’s stick echoing on the stone flags. Rachel’s heart was so full as she stepped into that aisle. And there was Tom …

He was dressed in a smart black jacket, crisp white shirt, bow tie and … a black-and-white checked kilt. Ooh, he’d kept that a secret. Rachel felt her grin widen. She’d never seen Tom in a kilt before – it kind of suited him, she had to admit.

There was a sea of smiling faces from the pews at each side of the aisle, and as she took slow steps, Rachel could feel their gaze on her, but the only face she concentrated on was that of her fiancé. He had a gorgeous kind of awed look, a look of love warming his broad smile. And she knew that she would remember it for the rest of her life.

As she reached the altar, coming to stand beside the man she couldn’t wait to marry, Tom whispered, ‘You look so beautiful. Thanks for stopping by.’

Her smile answered all of his hopes and dreams.

The service began with the female vicar welcoming them all and saying some heartfelt words. The congregation sang, Charlotte read out a heart-warming poem that Tom and Rachel had chosen, and then it was time to make their vows, promising to love and cherish each other, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. And then came the moment for the rings to be exchanged. The vicar asked for the ring bearer to come forward. At that point, Rachel turned to look down the aisle and beamed as she saw her dad’s faithful dog there ready as planned with Simon. ‘Here Moss!’

Sporting a smart bow-tie collar with a sprig of pink rose and gypsophila tucked into it, Moss came bounding down the aisle, stopping to lie down beside the couple. A roll of mirth spread through the audience. Under Moss’s collar was attached a velvet ring box, where two very precious rings were nestled together. Ben, as best man, stepped forward to detach it, and passed the first ring to Tom.

‘I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage. With my body I honour you, all that I am I give to you …’ Tom’s voice was loud and clear and filled the church with its honesty. His hand was trembling a little, and Rachel stilled it with her smile as he placed the ring on her finger. As his jacket arm lifted, she saw the silver tractor cufflink in place and her heart skipped a beautiful beat.

Rachel then made her own vows, carefully positioning the platinum band on Tom’s left hand. And then there was the gorgeous moment of joy and relief when the vicar pronounced them ‘man and wife’, with Tom and Rachel holding hands. And, at the words, ‘You may now kiss the bride’, a joyful whoop went up from the bridesmaids.

‘Come here then, you,’ Tom grinned. They shared a tender kiss before their friends and family, finding themselves a little overwhelmed, happy tears in their eyes. Moss, who’d stayed at Rachel’s side throughout, gave a bark. It was time to sign the register, followed by a final prayer, and the couple then made their way down the aisle, holding hands and grinning broadly, with the church bells ringing out.

Rose-petal confetti like scented snowflakes was thrown over the two of them by the gathering outside, catching in eyelashes and scattering over Rachel’s hair and gown. Photographs, giggling, chatter; appraisals on the dress and the service; a dash for cars. And a massive green tractor pulled up outside the church gate, with balloons, ribbons, and – for good measure – a few noisy tin cans trailing from it on strings. In the back window of the cab there was a handwritten sign that read ‘Just Married’. Mark stepped down from it, dressed in his smart suit; he’d dashed round to fetch it, having parked it out of sight before the service.

‘Well, I knew you were only after my tractor, really,’ Tom said wryly.

‘Absolutely.’ Rachel laughed out loud.

Rachel’s wellies were there ready by the church door, and she made a quick switch, Eve taking her fancy wedding shoes from her. Tom hauled her up in his arms as she giggled away, her dress splaying out in gorgeous tulle folds, and carried her to their wedding car – country-style. With a kiss on the lips and a beep of the horn, Tom and Rachel, Mr and Mrs Watson, set off for their wedding reception.

45

Arriving back at Primrose Farm in the wedding tractor, the newlywed couple found the Pantry barn doors open wide, with bunting flying gaily above them and two large metal milk urns filled with beautiful countryside flowers set each side of the entrance. Jan, Eileen and Christine from the WI were in position with beaming smiles and ‘Congratulations’, ready to serve drinks. Fairy lights had been strung up over the counter, and trays of lemon gin fizz cocktails and zingy lemon sodas were set out to welcome the guests. Platters of mini lemon meringue pies and bitesize raspberry meringues were passed around – perfect pudding canapés.

Cars arrived, guests spilled out, and Maisy and Amelia, along with Jill and Ruth, had a wonderful lift back on the pony and trap. Still wearing wellies that were peeking out under her wedding dress, Rachel greeted the wedding guests at the doors to the Pudding Pantry, with Tom right beside her.

‘Congratulations, guys!’ Eve came up with a big hug for Rachel, as Ben shook Tom’s hand, ‘Well done, mate.’

‘You okay?’ Rachel whispered in Eve’s ear, as Ben stepped aside to help himself to a drink.

‘Yeah, don’t worry, hun.’ Rachel could see her friend was putting a brave face on it. Eve swiftly moved the conversation on. ‘Oh, and so many people have made such lovely comments about the dress. I feel right proud to have made it.’

‘And so you should; it’s just stunning.’ Jill, who was now helping to pass around the nibbles, beamed at her.

So many people arrived, with smiles and gifts, all looking forward to the celebrations to come. With the beautiful ceremony now over, Rachel felt ready to let her hair down a little and go with the flow. She sipped the fragrant gin cocktail, and clinked her glass in a brief private moment with Tom.

‘Cheers, my love.’

‘Cheers, Mrs Watson.’

Across at the tipi, final touches were being put in place by a team of fabulous helpers and wedding attendees – with Rachel blissfully unaware. After the drinks reception, the guests made their way across the farmyard and into the grassy field where the tipi was set up, leaving Rachel and Tom for a few quiet moments.

Tom took Rachel’s hands in his, standing within the old stone walls of the Pudding Pantry, those most special tearooms, which she and Jill had created in the barn from the seed of a dream. And now another dream had come to life.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.