she hadn’t seen for herself that the farm animals were all fine and settled for the night.
Up at the Top Field Rachel’s mobile buzzed into life. She stopped the quad.
‘Hi, Rach.’ It was Tom.
‘Oh hi, you okay?’
‘Yep. Look, when do I get to see you again? It was great in the woods at the weekend with Maisy, but I’d love some time just for us too. Can you make tonight? The other evening was pretty special.’
‘Yes, it was really lovely.’ Her mind wandered back to that sensual night by the fireside at Tom’s house. But she’d already promised to go back tonight and chat further with Mum about the Pudding Club idea; they couldn’t afford to rest on their laurels with the Pudding Pantry. It had needed energy and a huge commitment to get this business off the ground, and would need even more to make it a success.
‘Oh, Tom, much as I’d love to, I can’t see you tonight, sorry.’
‘Tomorrow?’ He wasn’t one to give up easily.
The following night was set aside for the mammoth pile of farming paperwork she hadn’t managed to get around to today.
‘Umm, look, I’ll see you at your elevenses.’
‘Is that it? I can’t make love to you over a bacon sandwich in the middle of the Pudding Pantry.’
Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Oh, why on earth not?’ She was trying to keep her tone deadpan.
‘For a start, Frank’s false teeth might fall out with the shock, and I don’t think your mother would approve.’
‘Hah, maybe not.’
‘I’m serious though, Rach.’ His voice softened, sounding so earnest. ‘I’d love to see you again soon.’
God, she wanted to see him, to be with him, too, not be stuck under a pile of paperwork, but that wasn’t going to keep the farm afloat. Her life seemed to be a never-ending To Do list right now. It was no wonder it was hard to find time to be together. She wasn’t young, free and single, like other girls her age might be. Well, she might still be young – twenty-four was hardly ancient – but she was a mother, and tied to a farm and a business. Would Tom prefer a no-strings-attached kind of girl, where every night could be date night? That thought made her feel uneasy.
‘Just give me a day or two to get things straight, okay, and then I’ll try and free up an evening. I’ll see if Mum’s all right to look after Maisy, or maybe Eve will step in. We could go out for a drink or something. Or just stay in?’
‘All right, I suppose I’ll just have to wait. And don’t forget our rendezvous at elevenses,’ he added more chirpily.
‘How could I?’
‘See you then’.
‘Bye.’ She turned off the mobile, and found herself smiling. Amid all the To Dos, the chores, paperwork and bills, Tom Watson was a warm beacon of light. She just prayed he’d manage to stay aglow for her.
‘So, come on, tell me more about this Pudding Club idea, then?’ Jill asked, as the three of them were sat around the kitchen table with plates loaded with mince, dumplings, carrots and cabbage, fresh from their vegetable patch.
‘Okay, so I’m thinking that the Pudding Pantry is already a lovely cosy place to meet up. So, the Pudding Club will have to be a bit different. A chance to come in, make new friends, and learn something. It’ll be about all things pudding and baking, with ideas and recipes, and tastings … Ooh yes, we’ll have to have a little taster of something delicious from the Pantry to try.’
‘We can taste cupcakes!’ came Maisy’s suggestion with a big grin.
‘Hmm, it does sound interesting. So, do we charge for customers to come in? How would it work? We’d have to cover our costs and make a little bit extra ourselves, to make it worthwhile.’
‘Of course, we’ll have to think about the price. And we’d need to decide on a theme for each week or fortnight, or however often we decide to hold it.’
‘Weekly might prove a bit hard to come up with enough rolling ideas, but twice a month might work well,’ Jill pondered.
‘So, fortnightly then,’ Rachel continued, ‘with a pudding to taste – something that fits with that session’s theme. It’d be great to have a festive one in the lead-up to Christmas, and maybe a recipe to hand out and chat about.’
‘Oh well, we can’t be giving away all the Baking Bible secrets, you know.’ Jill looked rather affronted.
‘I know, but just one example, or a twist on one of your classics. Look, say it was Crumble Night or something, then the group could chat about favourite crumble recipes and flavours. We’d have one or two to taste, and of course,’ Rachel gave a little wink, ‘some more ready to buy to take away at the counter.’ Rachel’s business mind was firing up now.
‘Yes … I can see how that might work.’
‘Well, I think we should have an ice-cream night,’ Maisy added her thoughts on the matter, beaming.
‘Oh, now then,’ Rachel smiled across at her little girl, ‘that might work well. Hmm, “which ice-cream flavours go best with our puddings”? That’s a great idea, Maisy.’
‘Well done, Maisy. A pudding pairing session.’ Jill was smiling too, evidently warming to the idea.
‘We could invite someone from the local dairy along for that, and later on we could have other guest speakers.’ Rachel was thinking out loud. ‘Doing that will give us lots more ideas for the future and pair us with other local businesses too. I like it.’
Maisy beamed proudly, then took up a forkful of tasty carrots.
‘Though I do think the ice-cream evening might be something to keep up our sleeve for next spring or summer, when the weather’s a bit warmer,’ added Jill. ‘But, it’s a really great idea, Maisy.’
‘Hey, what a team!’ Rachel made a high-five in the air, and Maisy leaned across to clap it with her palm. ‘Well then, we’ll think a bit more on it yet, and I’ll make sure to cost it out, but I think the Pudding Club has legs, don’t you?’
‘It’s certainly food for thought, love.’
‘Yeah … well, let’s sleep on it and we’ll chat more about it at the Pantry tomorrow.’
‘Yes, that sounds good. So, young lady, how was your day at school today?’ asked Jill, moving things on. ‘All you’ve talked about was gym club since you got back. What else have you been up to then?’
‘Umm, we made pictures from leaves. Crunchy ones like we found in the woods, Mummy, and we painted them, then pressed them on to paper so the colour came off.’
‘Like a leaf print,’ said Rachel.
‘Yes. They looked really pretty. We’re going to put them up on the class wall.’
‘That sounds good,’ added Jill.
‘Oh! And,’ Maisy started pulling an oh-my-gosh face, ‘Matthew Timpson wasn’t feeling very well. And guess what, Grandma? He was sick in the playground.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘All over Sarah Scott’s shoes! It was yucky and lumpy and yellow and Sarah screamed so loud.’
‘Ah, okay, Maisy. Not really suitable dinner table conversation,’ Rachel warned, though secretly she was chuckling to herself, imagining the chaotic scene in the playground.
‘Poor Matthew,’ said Jill.
‘Hah, well I’d be really cross if he was sick on my shoes,’ Maisy said huffily.
‘Yes, but he couldn’t have helped it,’