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After a promising morning, the Pantry was disappointingly bare by the time lunchtime swung around.
The slowing of trade nagged at Rachel. ‘It’s gone so quiet here these past few weeks, Mum, hasn’t it?’ She stifled a sigh. It had cost so much in money, time and energy to get the Pudding Pantry up and running; they really couldn’t afford for it to belly-flop so soon. There was no magic pot of savings to bail them out, no stash of money in the bank. This was it – every last penny was invested in this project. Their livelihoods and future, in fact the whole farm, depended on it.
‘I know, love. It is a concern. I don’t suppose the takings have been much to speak of, either.’
‘No, I doubt we’ve even covered our costs these past few weeks, to be honest.’
‘Now then …’ Jill placed a reassuring hand on Rachel’s shoulder, ‘let’s not get too despondent, love. Like I said the other day, it’s a quiet time of the year for most businesses around here. The tourists are fewer just now. We’ll just have to be patient. I’m sure things will pick up again before Christmas.’
Mother and daughter looked about them; there wasn’t a soul in the tearooms. It was hard not to feel downcast about it.
‘But yes,’ Jill continued pragmatically, ‘maybe, we do need to get our thinking caps on just now and drum up a bit of interest.’
‘No time like the present, then,’ Rachel rallied, determined to lift their mood and take some action. ‘I’ll make us a pot of tea and grab a pad and a pen. Let’s smash out some ideas, Mum.’
Sitting down at one of the white wooden tables just a few minutes later, Jill kick-started the brainstorm, ‘Well, the Kirkton Country Show, where we had the stall back in the summer, that went off really well … so what about finding out about any other shows, or local Christmas Fayres and such like, that might be coming up soon?’
‘Good thinking. I’ll do some research. Eve might know of any craft events coming up in the area. And, of course, we absolutely need to make the most of the build-up to Christmas here at the Pantry.’ Rachel doodled a holly leaf, and a Christmas tree on her pad as she wrote ‘Christmas Fayres’ down. ‘Yes, we can feature a feast of festive flavours, Christmas puddings, mince pies …’
‘That Gingerbread Pudding went down well with Frank the other day, and oh, what did I used to make for you when you were small? Yes, those little meringue snowmen. They might go down well with the children.’
‘They sound good. You used to make reindeer cupcakes too. I remember the noses were chocolate buttons,’ said Rachel.
‘Hah, yes so I did. Chocolate sponge ones.’
‘I used to love those.’ Mum’s Christmas bakes were legendary. They were a tradition that came out annually along with the decorations. ‘Oh, and we can have a festive facelift with our displays on the dressers, with Eve’s Christmas decorations and toys for sale. She’s already mentioned that she’s busy making lots of new things.’
‘Great. And I agree, we can really up the ante with our Christmas goodies too; I can make Christmas cakes and puddings for people to take away. I’m sure Brenda at the deli would take some to sell too. I could make up packs of shortbread and those reindeer cupcakes – in fact, there could be all sorts of festive foodie gifts and treats to take away. Folk are busy enough as it is over Christmas, without having all that extra baking to do.’
‘Yes, that’d be brilliant. Some great ideas there, Mum. But … hmm … it’s still not much good if we can’t get the people here to start with.’ Rachel was looking around the empty barn once more. ‘We need to step up our promotion and advertising, remind people that we’re here. It’s like the initial buzz has gone. Though that’ll cost, of course.’ Rachel took a sip of tea. ‘I could design some new flyers. And, maybe we could get a bit of free editorial in the Gazette, if I make it newsworthy enough and ask Amanda there nicely.’
‘Perhaps we could drop by the newspaper office with a sticky toffee pudding or two, or even better a Christmas Pudding to try?’ Jill suggested.
‘Hah, that sounds like bribery to me, but it’s definitely worth a try.’ Rachel smiled at her mother’s wily ways.
‘Well, at least we have a few ideas to be going on with,’ added Jill.
‘It’s all good, but I just feel like we need something else, something a little different, to make us stand out from the crowd … something unique that only we can do.’
‘But what, love?’
‘Hah, I wish I knew! I’ll have a think on it whilst I’m sorting out the cattle shed this afternoon. Can you handle the rush in here?’ Rachel added ironically, the reality of the pretty but empty space bringing it all gloomily home once more. Empty chairs and empty tables …
‘I’m sure I’ll manage,’ Jill answered drily.
‘Right, well, I’ll be back in time to collect Maisy from the school bus.’
‘Okay, pet.’
Rachel finished off her cup of tea and stood up to leave.
‘Rachel?’ Jill stopped her in her tracks. ‘Chin up, love. We’ll find a way.’
Oh how her mum’s encouragement brought a lump to her throat. Over the past couple of years, it had been Rachel who’d stood strong, Rachel the one to rally Jill, especially through the dark days they’d had, but lately Rachel’s own fears were beginning to get to her. There was so much at stake. The future of the farm and their lives here were tied up with the Pudding Pantry. The pressure was really on for it to do well.
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Rachel nodded, appreciating that prop of support and finding a grain of hope.
No stupendous brainwave hit in the cattle shed, unfortunately. The only thing that came like a bolt from the blue was a large male pheasant who’d decided to take up residence in there, roosting in the rafters and bursting out with a piercing squawk that frightened Rachel half to death. After taking a breather and waiting for her heart to stop hammering – every day brought a new surprise on the farm – Rachel set about splitting open and spreading huge circular bales of straw, ready to bed down the cattle. The time would soon come for them to come in from the fields.
Something unique – something special for the Pudding Pantry. This manifesto kept rolling along in Rachel’s mind like the ruddy bales. There didn’t seem to be any magic answer, but hey, was there ever?
When Rachel looked at the farm’s accounts later that evening, it was obvious that they were still sliding down that slippery slope of debt. Her mood felt black and a headache hung over her right eye. What was it all for? All that hard work, the never-ending routine of getting up at dawn, working with the sheep, the cattle, feeding, tending, mucking out, filling in mountains of paperwork – and that was before all the things she needed to do at the Pantry, as well as looking after Maisy. Life was more than a juggle right now; it was a big struggle.
She sighed and took a sip of her coffee. The Pudding Pantry was meant to be the thing that turned it all around and saved them. What if it ended up being the thing that pulled them under?
‘Is everything all right, love, you seem a bit quiet tonight?’ Jill asked kindly once they’d finished having dinner later that evening.
‘Ah, I’m just tired, that’s all.’
‘Of course.’ Jill paused, giving Rachel the chance to talk more if she wanted.
‘Oh, Mum, sometimes I just feel like I’m on a hamster wheel, working so damned hard and juggling it all, on the farm, the Pantry, and getting nowhere.’
‘It’s been a hard couple of years, love. And you’ve got so much to carry on your shoulders just with the farm. It’s no wonder you feel the pressure of it sometimes. We’ve all been thrown in at the deep end.’
Yes, farm life could be hard, but like most farmers, a bit of hard work had never bothered the Swinton family. It was losing Dad in such a devastatingly tragic way that had left a gaping hole in all their hearts. Much as she’d wanted to, Rachel couldn’t just curl up in a ball of grief after it happened, she’d had to keep going for Mum and Maisy, for the farm. And the aftershocks kept rolling with them, like waves.
They had all got up one early spring morning, had breakfast together around the kitchen table, expecting life on the farm to drift along in much the same way as it always had. But that day life was smashed like a raw egg, and their world had been shattered. They were still struggling to find their way.
Rachel gazed absently into the flickering flames of the cosy fire in the living room, her mind elsewhere for a while, taking her back to her childhood days here on the farm, memories of working with her dad, learning the ways of the farm and of the animals. Her voice when she finally spoke was soft, yet filled with emotion. ‘It’s not just a job though, is it? When I go and stand on the hill above the farm – our hill, our farm – and I look around at the valley and see our animals … Well, this is it, this is everything. It’s where my heart is.’
‘I know. Mine too.’ Jill’s voice was tinged with sorrow as well as love.
‘Well, then, we battle on, until we’ve given it every last shot,’ Rachel resolved. ‘I know I’ve just got to do my best with the farm work. But we’ll try not to be blinkered about it; and if it all gets too much and we’re about to go under financially, then …’ She sighed deeply and looked down at her hands in her lap. ‘We’ll have to be realistic and look to sell up. But until then, we give it everything we’ve got, yeah?’
‘Yes, absolutely. And it’s understandable that you’re tired, pet, it’s been hectic and you haven’t stopped for months. Heaven knows, the farm work’s enough on its own. And, even now with the Pantry being slower, you’re still on the go, looking for ways to boost business. You need to look after yourself too.’
‘I suppose.’
‘I know.’ Jill gave her a stern look.
‘Hah, “Your mother is always right”,’ Rachel quipped.
‘Too true.’ Jill quirked an eyebrow. ‘And Rachel,’ her mum’s tone became serious, ‘don’t keep it all in, will you? If it feels like things are getting too much, talk to me, love, tell me. We’ll face things together.’ They both knew what Jill was referring to; the dreadful circumstances surrounding her father’s death. ‘It’s good that we’re talking tonight, but don’t feel you’ve got to carry the load on your own. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for help.’
‘Of course, Mum, and I promise.’
‘So, we won’t be giving up cowpats, boiler suits and baking aprons any time soon then,’ Jill said, resolutely.
‘Of course not – and oh, the glamour, hey?’
They both raised a smile, as they gazed into the flickering fire.
6 (#ulink_c1644b65-44ec-58c2-9f67-9399a8f74c7a)
The weekend rolled around and it was one of those picture-perfect autumn days with golden and russet trees glowing against the fresh, blue backdrop of sky, which was streaked with soft wisps of cloud.
Maisy was helping out around the Pantry. She had her own little pink apron on, with white polka dots, that matched her grandma’s, and she seemed happy enough wrapping up knives and forks in napkins. Rachel did worry that her little girl spent far too much time with them working at the Pantry or on the farm. Yet, they didn’t have a lot of choice. Yes, Eve would have her sometimes or Granny Ruth might stop by, but otherwise, where else was she going to go?
As elevenses time swung around, Tom stopped by for his Saturday morning coffee break.
‘Good morning, ladies. It’s a beauty out there, isn’t it?’ His sunny smile lit the room, as well as Rachel’s heart.
‘Too right. Morning, Tom.’
‘Hi, Tom.’
‘Hi, Maisy. I see you’re doing a grand job there. I bet you’re a star helper.’
‘She is indeed,’ agreed Grandma Jill.
‘Hey, Maisy,’ Tom grinned, ‘what do you say to a cow if it’s in your way?’
‘Ah … Don’t know?’
‘You tell it to Mooooove!’ He gave her a wink.
Maisy started giggling, then repeated the phrase exaggeratedly, ‘MOOOOVE – that’s funny, Tom. I’m going to tell that to Granny Ruth and my friend Amelia.’
‘So, what’s on today then, folks?’
‘Well, it’s just another day here at the Pantry for us,’ answered Rachel, ‘and we’ll just have to see how many people we get in.’
‘Ah, well, I have a couple of hours to spare and I wondered if I might whisk you off somewhere, actually.’
‘Oh, I’m not sure …’ Rachel glanced across at her mum.
Jill was quick to respond. ‘Go on, get yourself away. Look how quiet it’s been; I’ll manage just fine.’
True, there was only one couple in, sitting having a shared pudding platter with a pot of tea.
‘But, what about Maisy?’
‘Well, Maisy can come along too. The more the merrier. Hey, Maisy what do you think?’ asked Tom.
‘Yay! Where are we going?’ She was skipping across the room towards Tom already.
‘Well, why don’t you choose? I was thinking maybe a walk and then a lunch out, somewhere not too far away. So, what about the woods and a pub lunch, or there’s always the beach. What do you fancy, young lady?’
‘Can we take Moss?’
‘Yeah, why not, and Mabel can come too.’
‘Good. Well, we were doing the squirrels at school. We could go and see their houses in the woods.’
‘Sounds good to me. Rachel?’
Tom turned to face her, his dark brown eyes catching hers with a warmth that made her insides melt. She answered with a broad grin. A little break would be bliss, and with all her recent worries, it might be just what she needed. She felt a tad guilty leaving Mum to manage on her own with the tearoom, but Jill seemed happy to help, and Rachel could always offer to help her mum out another day to give her some time out too.
‘Thanks, Mum. I’ll make sure we’re not out too long.’
‘It’s no problem, now go off and enjoy yourselves.’
Half an hour later, they were strolling through the woods at Kirkton Burn. They meandered along a slightly muddy path beside a stream which was lined by beech, oak and ash trees. Leaves had been tossed down by the autumn breeze and swept into heaps of gold, copper and bronze. Burnished bracken tumbled in crisp feathery strands alongside.
‘Wheee!’ Maisy was off, kicking up the crisp piles of leaves with her wellington boots, revealing the soggier heaps that lay beneath. Musky, earthy smells filled the air. And the leaves fell once more around the three of them like autumn-gold confetti.
‘Hah, bet I can kick up more than you,’ said Tom, challenging Maisy with a grin.
And the three of them started a welly-boot-lifting leaf fight and even Moss and Mabel joined in, dashing around them in daft circles, barking, with Moss trying to catch the odd one in his mouth. Maisy was giggling, and Tom and Rachel leaned against each other, slightly out of breath, at the end of it. Rachel couldn’t ignore the burst of happiness spreading in her chest.
They began to walk once more, Maisy moving in close beside Tom and taking his hand. Rachel had to smile, watching them; they were so easy and natural together. Maisy looked up at the trees and asked Tom what a squirrel’s nest would look like.
‘Well, I know it’s called a drey,’ Tom answered, ‘and it’s made out of lots of twigs with moss and such like, and they’ll be up high in the branches. I think they’re about the size of a football.’
‘What about that one?’ Maisy was pointing up towards a fork in the branches.
Sure enough, there was indeed a nest in the tree above them. The three of them paused to look up.
‘Good spot, Maisy. It might well be, yes. But I’m no expert. It could be a squirrel’s nest, or perhaps a bird’s.’
‘Well, I think it’s a squirrel’s,’ proclaimed Maisy, with a smile. ‘I wonder if there are any babies in there.’
‘I doubt if there would be at this time of year. It’ll be getting a bit cold for them to have little ones. Most likely in the spring.’
‘Ah, okay.’ Her little girl was taking it all in.
Unlike her real and mostly absent father, Jake, having Maisy about didn’t seem to be a chore for Tom. It lifted Rachel’s spirits seeing the pair of them happy together. Tom would make a great dad. An image of her and Tom and Maisy as a family filtered unexpectedly into her mind. Dare she hope that could ever work out one day? But it was all too soon. A little daydream. She’d just enjoy the moment and see where life took them for now.
They enjoyed their pub lunch out at the Black Bull Inn in the little town of Kirkton on their way back. Rachel and Tom tucked into a meal of steak pie with vegetables, while Maisy had a tasty-looking homemade fish finger sandwich. By a cosy log fire, with a glass of red wine to hand and good company, Rachel hadn’t felt so content in a long while.
She felt so comfortable with Tom, and seeing Maisy so happy with him warmed her soul. But all too soon it was time to get back – she’d need to help Mum out at the Pantry before going to do the dusk checks on the animals and the farm. Tom had mentioned he had some chores to do too.
Back at Primrose Farm, they unbuckled their seat belts, ready to get out. Rachel really didn’t want the magic of the afternoon to end, but life and work had a way of taking over again. Maisy had already skipped down out of the jeep, and was heading into the barn to tell Jill all about her leaf walk in the woods – she’d brought home a few special ones in her coat pocket to show her grandma – and their lunch out, including her chocolate ice cream for pudding.
Tom leaned across the cab of the truck towards Rachel. His kiss was warm and tender and loving, and she so wished she could carry this on somewhere else, somewhere very private indeed. But that wasn’t to be. Not tonight.
Reluctantly, she drew away, her lips missing his already. ‘Thank you so much, Tom. It’s been a wonderful afternoon, and I know Maisy loved it too.’
