Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘You’re right. Thanks, Mum. We can only do our best, can’t we.’

‘Indeed. And, today was a pretty good shot at a super birthday party for her.’

‘It was. Well then, I don’t think I’ll need any help getting off to sleep tonight.’ Rachel gave in to another yawn.

‘Nor me.’

They spent a few quiet moments sat in the kitchen, Rachel looking out of the window at the view; the fields with their white woolly sheep dotted about and the valley below – all green and lush, and rather beautiful. The gentle foothills of the Cheviots which cradled their lovely farmhouse. Rachel gave a tired, yet contented sigh. It was lovely to stop for a second and take in the scene – sometimes you were so busy you forgot to look.

Later that evening, Rachel carried Maisy upstairs and, after a nice warm bath, they started reading Tom’s birthday book, all about magical adventures at a fairy glen – a good choice.

Maisy’s head was heavy on the pillow.

‘Night, night, Maisy. Happy birthday, my love.’

‘Night, Mummy.’ Maisy went quiet for a second and looked thoughtful. ‘Mummy … do you think … maybe Tom could be my daddy?’ she said sleepily.

‘Oh, Maisy. It doesn’t quite work like that, sweetheart.’ Rachel kissed her little girl gently on the forehead. ‘Night, night, petal. Sweet dreams.’

If only life was that simple.

Chapter 9

COFFEE, CHAT AND CHOCOLATE BROWNIES

A few days after the party, reality was hitting home all too hard for Rachel. With lambing over and birthday dreams delivered, the cold hard facts of the farm’s ever deepening financial woes were impossible to avoid. Rachel could no longer shield Jill from the truth, as leaving their heads in the sand any longer would lead to far bigger issues – and the chance that they might lose the farm altogether. That was one thing Rachel could not risk.

The time had come to face the music. Maisy was at school, Rachel had done the morning’s farm checks and she and Jill were pottering around in the farmhouse kitchen.

Rachel took a deep breath. ‘Mum, we need to talk.’

‘Okay, right. What about … you sound awfully serious?’

‘Well, it is.’

‘Does it warrant a cup of tea?’

‘Yes, I think maybe a gin actually.’

‘Ah …’

Jill quickly put the kettle on and set about making a pot of tea, placing a small milk jug and two cups in the centre of the pine table.

‘It’s the farm. We’re struggling, Mum.’ Rachel found herself all choked up just saying the words aloud. Yes, she’d known it herself for some time, but telling her mum made it all much more real. She was incredibly worried about how it would affect her.

‘Oh … Well, it’s always been a bit of a juggling act, love. Even years back.’ Mum’s tone was light.

Rachel realised that she’d not quite grasped the seriousness of the situation. How very wrong it had all gone since Dad’s death.

‘It’s getting harder and harder to earn a living, Mum. I didn’t want to have to involve you, I hoped we might see a turnaround, but the prices for sheep aren’t looking too good for when we come to market, and our costs are forever rising. We are already struggling with an overdraft now and if things carry on the way they are, in a few months’ time we’ll hit rock bottom – the farm’s subsidy payment for this year is already nearly used up.’ Most of it had disappeared into the black hole of the farm’s overdraft straight away.

‘It’s gone already?’ Jill looked shocked.

‘Yes, I’m sorry, Mum.’

In fact, at any point the bank might pull the plug on them and that would be it. Rachel held back from voicing that last hammer blow.

‘Oh dear …’ Jill grasped the edge of the table. ‘Well, it’s not your fault, pet. It’s the way things are, have been, for a long time. Your dad …’ Jill couldn’t finish that sentence. Instead, she stirred the teapot and poured out the tea on autopilot.

There were a few seconds of heartfelt silence between them.

Jill took a deep breath. ‘So, what do we do?’

Rachel had already been thinking so much about this. ‘Okay, one, I think we have to sell some land. Just one or two fields for now, to get some extra income in to keep us afloat.’ It wasn’t ideal and was very much a last resort. Losing land was heart-breaking and there was always a sense of shame within the farming community somehow, in letting it get to that. But sod it, they had already been through enough, who gave a stuff about rural tittle-tattle? If it meant keeping the rest of the farm together, giving them time to find some way out of this, then so be it.

Jill couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips. There were a few seconds before she said pragmatically, ‘All right, if needs must. But that still won’t solve the long-term income problems, will it?’

‘No … but …’ Maybe it was time for Rachel to share her pudding business ideas. Sow the thought that they might be able to do things differently. She didn’t have much else up her sleeve. ‘Look, Mum, I’ve been doing some research. We need to do something new, to diversify.’

Jill was nodding, listening.

‘So hear me out. I’m thinking … puddings,’ Rachel continued. ‘A pudding business. Something we can do from here. I think it might have legs.’

‘Oh, blimey. So, how do you see it working?’

‘Well, you’re great at baking. And you really enjoy it, don’t you?’ Rachel felt nervous broaching the idea.

‘Well yes, but … a business … I’m sure there’s a darn sight more to it than just enjoying baking, love.’

‘Of course. I know that. But what if we made the farm kitchen our base? We can do the qualifications like health and hygiene we might need, both of us, and just start small, give it a try. Make some puddings to sell. Just have a think about it, yeah … And in the meanwhile, I’ll look into it some more.’ Rachel was trying to gauge her mum’s reaction, but Jill’s face was hard to read. ‘So, what do you think?’

‘It’s a lot to take on board, pet. I’ll need a little time.’

Rachel didn’t like to say that time was one thing they didn’t have on their side. But she knew her mum needed a bit of space to get her head around all this. And that was fair enough. After all, Rachel herself had been mulling it over for several weeks now.

‘Okay, I understand. Promise you’ll at least consider it, yeah?’

‘I will, pet.’

‘And tomorrow, I’d better make that call to the land agent,’ Rachel stated, facing up to the worst of it.

Jill placed her hand gently over her daughter’s on the table top, then nodded her acquiescence sadly.

A week later, there was a large wooden sign mounted on a post by the farm gate. It read ‘Land for Sale’ and it tugged at Rachel’s heartstrings every time she saw it.

One evening soon after the sign went up, Jill went along to the local WI meeting for a talk on jewellery making. She’d come home deflated, telling of the hassle she’d had from a certain Vanessa Palmer-Pilkington there. ‘Honestly, that woman was probing so much. Wheedling for information. Was it the whole farm up for sale? She was so sorry to hear it, blah, blah, bloody blah. She wasn’t sorry at all, just wanted some juicy gossip to tell her neighbours and the village.’

‘Oh dear, doesn’t sound like it was the best of nights for you, Mum.’ That was such a shame too, as Jill had still been a bit reclusive of late. Rachel had hoped that getting out and about more would do her good.

‘Bloody woman was like a vulture at the end of the talk circling me, looking for every juicy scrap of information. Pretending to be concerned, when all she wanted was some tittle-tattle.’

‘Well, don’t worry about her, Mum.’ Rachel knew the woman was a bit of a nightmare. ‘Some people have nothing better to do with their lives. I bet the others there were supportive.’

‘Oh yes, I do have some nice friends there, of course. And all the farming folk know the tough issues we face every day in this business. Anyway, I was getting fed up with Vanessa’s constant wheedling, so I told her we were using the money from the sale of the fields to build a new indoor swimming pool. Well, you should have seen her face. It was a picture.’

‘Hah, I love it. Go, Mum.’

‘Well, that shut her up. She moved off swiftly then. And Jan, who was there beside me, nearly choked on her tea and biscuits. We couldn’t stop chuckling.’

‘Good for you, Mum.’

It was never easy in such a small community where everybody knew everybody’s business – or at least they thought they did.

‘So, what was the jewellery talk like?’

‘Good, actually. Very informative. She’d brought some really pretty examples too. It was just the end with old V.P.P. that spoilt the night a bit, that was all.’

‘Well, I think you handled it brilliantly. We stand tall and we fight back, Mum. We can hold our heads high. I, for one, am proud that we’re trying to keep things going here, whatever that takes. We can only do our best.’

‘I know, I know that, love. I just wish certain people would mind their own bloody business.’

‘Yes. I know. So, why don’t we rename her? V.P.P.: Visible Panty-line Palmer – has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Then every time we see her, it’ll make us smile.’

Jill spluttered on her tea. ‘Hah, that’s genius!’

For all her fighting talk, Rachel had to admit that she was desperately worried too. What if the land didn’t sell soon? Or what if it did but the money they received didn’t make enough of a difference in the long term?

She swallowed down her fears and managed to smile across at her mum. ‘We’ll be okay, Mum. Together, we’ll find a way.’

The next day, after the heart-to-heart with Mum, puddings were very much on Rachel’s mind. Not just that she could eat a very generous portion of some left-over lemon pudding that she knew was still in the fridge right now, but also, and more-so, that there might actually be something in this pudding-making business idea. Thinking back to Maisy’s party last week, the parents had raved about Jill’s sticky chocolate pudding – and Charlotte wouldn’t go home without the recipe. Rachel was desperate to dig a little deeper, and find out what her mum was really thinking, but knew she’d asked for some time – and it was only fair to give her that space.

Of course, Jill would have to be fully behind the idea to make it work, as they’d be relying heavily on her commitment as well as her baking skills. But they could start small, Rachel mused, test the waters. Sign up for their health and hygiene course together and trial a few sales locally. There were bound to be some nearby shops who’d be interested in stocking local farmhouse-made puddings, or perhaps they could even try a stall at the local farmers’ market.

Rachel had given herself a headache looking at their accounts again this morning and yes, whilst they were still just about okay, their heads above water for now, they’d need money to keep the farm going until the first lambs were ready for market and beyond. There were wormers and medicines to buy, machinery to keep going, their farmhand to pay, the household bills to cover too. The list could go on … and on.

It was when the land agent had come around to value the fields that reality had really hit home. He’d pushed them to make a larger acreage available, suggesting that three or four fields might be more saleable, but Jill and Rachel hadn’t been ready to give up too much land. They’d compromised at two, understanding that something had to be done, but he’d warned them that unless it was a local farmer or someone wanting a field or two for a pony to graze, it might not be snapped up that quickly. They’d have to see, but neither of them had felt ready to allow too much of the farm to go just yet. There must be some other way … if they could just think creatively.

Yes, she’d have to do lots more research on this pudding business idea, find out if there were any grants available for such things to help them get set up, and she really needed to talk over this idea properly with her mum. Without the Queen of Primrose Farm Puddings by her side, it was a non-starter.

Chapter 10

COFFEE, BROWNIES AND CHAT

The next morning Rachel had been checking the boundary fences and was trying to repair a bolt-hole that the lambs were escaping from.

‘Want a coffee?’

Rachel jumped. Eve’s head popped over the hedgerow.

‘Jeez, Eve, you frightened the life out of me!’

‘Sorry, hun. I spotted the quad, knew you’d be about somewhere. I was on my way back from Kirkton, been getting a few groceries.’

‘Let me just finish securing this fence here – the lambs have been making a bid for freedom.’ She was weaving a mesh of chicken wire through the existing fencing to stop the gap.

‘Okay, call up at the cottage when you’re ready. Be nice to have a catch-up.’

‘Yes, I’ll do that. Thanks.’

When she got to Eve’s ten minutes later, there was a cafetière of coffee ready on the kitchen side along with a plate of chocolate brownies – the room was smelling of cocoa-coffee gorgeousness.

‘Shall we take it outside?’ Eve suggested. ‘It’s nice and sunny.’

‘Sounds divine, coffee and a view.’

Eve picked up a tray and loaded the goodies onto it, along with a couple of mugs. ‘To be honest, the dining room and lounge are covered in my craft stuff just now. There’s not a lot of space left in the cottage. It’s driving Ben crazy, but I need to keep it all somewhere handy, especially when I’m mid project.’

They settled at a slightly rickety table-for-two, on a flagstone patio to the rear of Eve’s cottage. Their stone two-bedroomed cottage was rented from grumpy Mr Macintosh, whose farm bordered Primrose Farm on the opposite side from Tom. The farmer didn’t keep the cottage in the best state of repair for them but the young family did their best with it and always kept the garden tidy. The cottage itself, though pretty, was tired-looking, with its white wooden window sills in need of a re-paint, but it was still full of character and Eve was happy there.

‘So, what are you making just now?’ Rachel took a sip of rich, delicious coffee.

‘Children’s toys … knitted and felt mice, rabbits, a fox, sheep, teddy bears. Hang on, I’ll fetch one to show you.’ Eve stood up to go back into the house.

‘The kids at the party loved those finger puppets by the way. Thanks again for doing that,’ said Rachel, whilst she was still in earshot.

‘You’re welcome, glad I could help you out with the entertainment.’

Eve went on into the cottage and came back a couple of minutes later with some extremely cute knits.

‘Aw, these are so sweet,’ Rachel exclaimed.

‘I’m selling them as a set of three online. Like a friendship group.’

‘They’re brilliant. You are so clever.’

Knitting and delicate craft work had never been Rachel’s thing. She just about knew how to sew a button back on, but it wouldn’t be too neat a job. She was far better handling real animals or driving the tractor. She had always been a bit of a tomboy and relished getting stuck in around the farm. It was her dad who had taught her how to drive the tractor, just slowly around the yard to start, at the age of fourteen. She’d been watching and learning for years up until that point though – right beside him in the warmth of the cab. Oh yes, she could still remember his voice from that first lesson. ‘This is one powerful and heavy machine, mind, lass. You treat her with respect,’ he’d said in his warm but cautionary tone. She’d felt so proud sat there at the wheel, with a beaming smile. She’d be happier with a spanner and screwdriver than a needle and thread any day. But, hey, each to their own.

‘So, it’s going well so far, the Etsy thing?’ Rachel asked with interest.

‘Yes, I’ve got a few orders already. I’m so glad I made that leap.’

‘That’s great … Actually, we’re thinking of setting up something of our own from the farm, me and Mum.’ Rachel felt it was time to share her idea. It would be good to get some honest feedback.

‘Ooh, I’m all ears. So, what’s the plan?’

Eve was her closest friend, and the truth spilled out. ‘Between you and me, we’re struggling a bit. Finances are really tight and we need to think of other ways to make a living and support the farm.’ It was actually a relief to speak to someone about this, other than her mum. She knew she could trust Eve to be discreet.

‘Well, if there’s anything at all that me and Ben can do to help …’

Aw, bless her. They didn’t have a lot to spare for themselves. And, putting money into Primrose Farm at the moment would be like donating to a black hole, Rachel feared.

‘Thanks Eve, I really appreciate the offer but we’ll be fine. We just need to think creatively and out of the box on this. Then we can shore things up a bit, that’s all.’

‘So, what’s your idea then, hun?’

‘Okay, so what’s the one thing guaranteed to put a smile on your face when you come into Primrose Farm?’

‘That’s easy, Jill’s amazing cooking. I always leave about two stone heavier whenever she’s been baking away in the kitchen.’

‘Exactly! So, that’s the nub of it, I keep coming back to the idea of Mum’s puddings.’

‘Ooh, interesting. Well, you know that I’m a big fan. They are just divine. I still remember that strawberry and passionfruit pavlova she made for the barbecue we had here last summer. And her sticky toffee pud on a cold winter’s night … mmmnn.’

‘Ah yes, that’s always been one of my favourites.’

‘So, you’re thinking of selling puddings then? That’s such a great idea. Where and when can I buy some?’ Eve clapped her hands together enthusiastically.

‘Well, we’re still thinking about outlets. I wondered if maybe the Kirkton Deli would be good to try, what do you think? It’s on our doorstep and Mum knows Brenda there pretty well.’

‘Yeah, that sounds a great place to start. No harm in asking anyway.’

‘Yes, I’m feeling really positive about it, but I just get the feeling that Mum’s a little reluctant just now, despite her being a brilliant cook. I’m looking into everything in detail and doing my homework. I’ve said I’ll help Mum as much as I can with the business side, as well as with the cooking too.’

‘Hmm, I see.’

‘I don’t want to push her too hard, but I can see this really working. We need to do something, Eve, I don’t want the farm to get into deeper trouble. We’ve chatted all about the pudding idea, she obviously loves her baking, but then … well, I think she’s really lost her confidence lately.’

‘Oh, Rachel. You’ve all been through so much … it’s no wonder.’

‘I know,’ Rachel’s tone softened.

‘Whatever you decide, we’ll support you. Whatever you need to make this venture work, say the word if we can help. And tell your mum she needn’t worry about whether or not they’ll sell, she makes the best puddings around. They’ll be queuing down Kirkton High Street like it’s the Harrods’ sale.’ Eve grinned.

Rachel felt wrapped in a warm glow of friendship. ‘Thank you.’

They ate some of the gorgeously-gooey chocolate brownies Eve had made and sipped rich strong coffee, chatting about country life, their girls’ latest antics, a smattering of rural gossip. Apparently Melanie Bates had got engaged, and there’d been sightings of escapee pet rabbits appearing amongst the rural burrows – there’d be a medley of black, white and brown ones soon enough – and there was the drama of a couple on their hiking holiday who’d had a fall on some loose shale further up the valley, resulting in a broken leg and the air ambulance having to be called out.

‘Right, best stop this gossiping, I should get myself away,’ Rachel announced ten minutes later. ‘Mum’ll be wondering where I’ve got to, and I’ve a list of chores still to finish on the farm before school’s out and the whirlwind that is Maisy arrives home.’

‘Yes, I’d better make a few more of these animals to fulfil my orders. It’s been great to catch up. See you soon then.’

Rachel glanced at her watch. ‘Yeah, at the bus stop in about three hours. How does it roll around so quickly? And thanks for the coffee. It’s been really good to chat.’

‘You’re welcome. It’s nice to get you back out from the lambing shed.’

‘Hah, absolutely.’

‘Well, you all take care. Oh, and best of luck with your pudding plans.’

‘Thanks, hun. I’ll keep you posted.’

When Rachel arrived back at the farm, Jill handed her a parcel that the postman had just delivered. Her mum couldn’t disguise the frown that had formed across her brow. Rachel was curious and, as she looked closer, she recognised the scrawled handwriting of Jake, her ex. It was addressed to Maisy. Most likely a late birthday gift, Rachel mused. She turned the parcel over in her hands. He was there loitering on the edges of their lives, unpredictable, unreliable. She wondered how Maisy would feel about this reminder of her dad’s long-distance relationship – if it could in fact be described as a relationship, him being far more absent than present.

Rachel couldn’t help the twist of anger in her gut that he hadn’t even bothered to get a gift to his own daughter on time. It always seemed like Maisy was an afterthought to him. Maisy should never be an afterthought.

Chapter 11

FULL STEAM AHEAD

A couple of days later, Rachel made her way back into the warmth of the farmhouse for some lunch after being out in the tractor spreading fertiliser on the Low Pasture, preparing it for growing grass to make hay. She was quite happy driving the tractor, with her country music on her iPod to keep her company, her favourite at the moment being Colbie Caillat’s ‘Try’. And at least she’d had a dry and comfy seat for the morning.

As Rachel slid off her wellies at the porch, the sweet, warming smells of home baking once again greeted her. She opened the kitchen door to find Jill humming away to the radio, with Moss lying down quietly by her side, and an array of ingredients, bowls and baking trays around her.

Rachel smiled to herself. Her mum looked so content there in her baking haven; it was a scene that warmed Rachel’s heart like nothing else, she could stand there and watch her forever. The family Baking Bible was open beside her, and Jill was concentrating on the page, her reading glasses propped on the end of her nose. She then weighed out some glacé cherries before taking a can of pineapple rings to hand.

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Oh Rachel, hello love.’

‘You look busy.’

‘Oh, I was making some cherry scones just before, and then I thought about my mother’s old recipe for pineapple upside-down pudding. I thought we might have a can of pineapple rings in the cupboard to go with the spare cherries and, hey presto, here we go. I found the recipe written out here, in her lovely loopy handwriting. Yes,’ Jill smiled to herself, remembering, ‘Granny Isabel always used to make this as a bit of a treat. Pineapple was rather decadent back in the day. So, I thought it might be an idea to treat ourselves today, too. It’s high time there was a bit more light in our lives.’

‘Absolutely.’ It was wonderful to see Mum happier, with glimpses of her old self shining through, and she was evidently enjoying her baking. Could Rachel chance mentioning the pudding business idea again? It seemed the ideal time to broach it, and time was beginning to run short on their nose-diving finances – as yet, there had been no interest in the two fields they’d put up for sale.

‘Mum, look, I don’t want to pile the pressure on or anything, but did you get a chance to think about the pudding idea? Of trying to sell some? You’re so talented, and I know everyone’s been raving about your chocolate puddings since Maisy’s party.’ There had indeed been some thank-you texts from parents gushing about how delicious they were.

Rachel spotted the tell-tale frown straight away. Damn, she’d broken the lovely spell that her mum’s baking had cast over the kitchen.