Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

Sift flour and salt into a bowl. Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs a little at a time with a spoonful of flour, beating well until eggs are mixed in. Fold in remaining flour alternately with the milk.

Grease and base-line a pudding basin, add the jam to the bottom. Spoon over the pudding mix up to ¾ full. Cover with buttered greaseproof paper, and secure with string. Using extra string to make a handle for ease of removal.

Steam for 1 ½ to 2 hours in a covered pan of boiling water, keeping water topped up to half way up the pudding bowl sides, until a wooden skewer comes out clean at centre. Allow to stand for 3 minutes before turning out.

Delicious with custard or cream.

8

‘Morning, ladies.’

‘Hello, Tom,’ answered Jill from behind the Pantry’s wooden counter.

‘Hi …’ Rachel answered with a slight blush, remembering yesterday’s conversation. He was right on time for his elevenses.

‘Coffee and a bacon roll, is it?’ Jill anticipated.

‘Yes,’ replied Tom with a grin. ‘Though I may well have a little extra something on the side this morning.’ He gave Rachel a very cheeky glance.

‘And what might that be?’ Rachel asked leadingly.

‘Hmm, now then, maybe a … flapjack.’

‘Coming right up,’ Jill replied.

Rachel and Tom then burst into a fit of the giggles, leaving Jill bemused. Shaking her head at the giddy pair, she headed to the fridge for some bacon rashers, saying, ‘What on earth has got into you two?’

They were still grinning like loons, with the odd splutter from Rachel as she tried to focus on making Tom’s coffee, barista-style.

‘Ah, young love,’ Jill muttered at the griddle pan.

Tom leaned across the counter to whisper in Rachel’s ear, ‘I might even have a little crumble waiting for you later on, if I can tempt you away from your chores.’

‘Oh, but my paperwork mountain awaits,’ replied Rachel matter-of-factly, vowing to keep her promise to herself to get the farm’s piling admin sorted, though her body was telling her to ditch it – feeling tinglingly aroused.

‘Crikey, my charm must be failing fast – I’ve never been rejected for a pile of paperwork before.’

‘Sorry … soon, okay,’ she whispered. ‘Hang in there.’

‘I’ll try.’ He pulled a hang-dog face.

With that, Frank’s tut-tutting car could be heard coming up the lane, and the old gentleman was shortly making his way through the barn door.

‘Morning, Frank,’ greeted Tom first, as the two ladies then chorused, ‘Hello, Frank.’

‘How are you doing, pet?’ asked Jill.

‘Not too bad at all, thank you. All the better for seeing your smiling faces.’

That made the women’s smiles even wider.

‘And morning, young Tom. Farming going well?’

‘Yes thanks, Frank. Bit quieter at this time of year, now the harvest’s all in, and the cattle haven’t yet been brought in for the winter. Can’t complain.’

‘More time to see this lovely young lady, then,’ added Frank with a wink. The news had been out for a while around the village that they were formally an item.

‘So you’d think,’ answered Tom with a wry smile, followed by a meaningful glance at Rachel. ‘She’s one busy lady.’

Jill handed Tom his warm bacon roll. He opened the bap, and added a dollop of Brown Sauce on top of the bacon, then tucked in hungrily. ‘It’s been a long while since breakfast.’

‘What can we get for you today, Frank? Coffee, as per usual?’ asked Jill. ‘Oh, and I’ve just made a blackberry and cream roulade this morning, you might want to try a slice of that.’

‘That sounds just grand, and coffee it is. I’ll just settle myself at my usual table.’ He liked the one beside the arch-shaped window that looked out across the valley.

‘Yes do, and we’ll bring it all across in two ticks for you,’ added Rachel.

Frank liked to read the weekly local paper – of which Rachel kept a copy for the Pantry guests – and he often brought in his own copy of The Times to peruse over his hot drink and cake.

‘Right, I’d better be on my way,’ announced Tom, soon afterwards. ‘We’ve got some cattle tags to put back in today; they keep losing them out in the fields, so I need to get the cattle herded down to the yard to meet up with my farmhand, Jack.’

‘Well, have a good day,’ said Rachel.

‘Will do.’ His tone was ironic. ‘It won’t be nearly as exciting as your paperwork mountain.’

‘Nearly, but not quite.’ Rachel pulled a wry face.

‘Hah, I might even have to have a look at my own paperwork tonight. Seeing as there’s nothing else happening …’

‘Well, you know what they say, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.’

He shook his head, yet still managing a small smile. ‘Thanks, Jill. See you soon, folks. Take care, Frank.’

Rachel came out from behind the counter to give Tom a peck on the cheek. ‘Sorry,’ was all she could say, sensing his frustration behind the smile.

‘No worries. See you soon, Rach.’

She’d far rather have a carefree flirty evening with Tom than working away yet again, but there were reports to make, records to complete, government checks to fulfil – and no one else was able to do it for her. Why did life have to be so bloody exasperating?

After their lunchtime customers – all six of them – had left, Rachel mooted, ‘So, Mum, how do you think we can best go forward with the Pudding Club idea?’ She was impatient to move things on quickly, if Jill was in support.

‘Well, I do think we should at least give it a try. I have to say, it’s been whirring around in my head since you mentioned it – a sign of a good idea in my book. It’ll not cost us much to set up, just more of our time. I imagine it’ll be something we’ll need to hold of an evening?’

Yet another night that Rachel would be tied up and would have to think of childcare. But if it had to be done, so be it. ‘Yes, I think that’d work best.’

‘So, what do you think we’d need to charge for this Pudding Club?’

‘I don’t think we should make it too expensive; let’s keep it attractive and inclusive, but of course we’ll need to make a little bit of money out of doing it, or else there’s no point. I’m thinking there are young mums who might want a night out, older people wanting some company, and anyone interested in baking, really. What do you think, say £5 per session? That’d cover a tea or coffee, the puds to taste, and we should come away with a bit of profit for the business too.’

‘Yes, that sounds reasonable. Do we hold a club night fortnightly up until Christmas and see how it goes?’ suggested Jill.

‘So, you’re definitely in?’ Rachel couldn’t help but grin.

‘Of course, I’m in. Sounds a lovely idea.’

‘Really? I thought you seemed a little cool on it at first.’

‘No, I just wanted us both to think it through properly.’

‘Aw, thanks, Mum. You’re the best, you know that? It will mean another evening of work for us, though.’

‘Yes, I realise that, but it does sounds quite sociable. I think we might enjoy it too!’

‘We might have to take turns with who hosts it, or ask Granny Ruth across to help with little Maisy.’

‘Yes, we can organise that, and I’m sure Ruth would enjoy getting involved. In fact, I’ve asked her across for supper later, so we can mention it to her then.’

‘That’s great. Mind you, I have promised Maisy she can come to the first night if the Pudding Club went ahead,’ added Rachel.

‘So, what date shall we start, and what’s the first pudding theme to be?’ Jill was sounding quite animated now.

‘Sooner rather than later. We may as well get going quickly, to hopefully pick up some new customers. So, what’s coming up soon and what puddings can we tie that in with?’ Rachel paused and suddenly thought of Bonfire Night and Jill’s scrumptious crumble. Ooh, yes, something around November Fifth would be ideal. ‘This might work – Guy Fawkes, fireworks, and your …’

‘Toffee Apple Crumble,’ Jill finished the sentence for her, with a smile.

‘Hah! We could make our first Pudding Club go off with a real bang!’ Rachel announced with a huge grin.

Later that day, another autumn beauty with soft sunshine and just a gentle nip of cold, Rachel reached the small row of honeyed-stone cottages where her Granny Ruth had lived since leaving the farmhouse at Primrose Farm herself, when Rachel and her family had moved in, following the long-standing family tradition that the eldest son would eventually take over. She pulled up outside, and walked up the neat front garden path, ready to collect Granny to take her back to the farm for supper with them. The last blooms of a pale-pink rose that climbed the wall beside the cottage door were holding on in the autumn chill. There was a pot of bold deep-purple and yellow winter pansies on the front step to greet any guests. Granny loved her gardening, even though she struggled with arthritis that was particularly bad in her knees.

Rachel knocked on the door and then went on in, knowing that the house would be unlocked and that she was always welcome. ‘Only me, Granny,’ she called.

There was an intense smell of warm sugary fruits as Rachel entered the kitchen. There was Granny, standing stirring the contents of a large steel pan with a wooden spoon. ‘Oh, sorry pet – is that the time? I’m not quite ready for you.’

‘No worries. What delights are you concocting here?’ Rachel leaned over to take a look at the glossy mixture.

‘Jam – blackberry and apple. I’m using those apples you gave me from your tree last week. Thought it might go nice on a fruit scone with some butter.’

‘Well, it certainly smells delicious.’

‘I’ve finished one batch of blackberry and raspberry, already. Thought that’d go nicely in the next Jam Roly-Poly I make.’

Rachel was impressed. Despite being in her eighties, her grandmother still loved to cook and nurture. Baking was such a strong influence from both sides of Rachel’s family – no wonder she had got the bug.

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Well, next week, I’ll make one of those for you all, too. I know it’s one of Maisy’s favourites.’

‘That’d be lovely, Granny. Just perfect with lashings of creamy custard.’

‘Right, well, this just needs to cool a little and then we can pour it into the jars here.’

A row of squeaky-clean jam jars was waiting on the kitchen side. Beside them were squares of red gingham muslin and thin elastic bands ready to cover the lids.

‘I’ll just nip upstairs and get my things together. I’ll not be long; I’ve already packed an overnight bag.’

‘I’ll help fill these if you like, while you finish getting ready.’

‘Thank you, pet, that’d be grand.’

The old lady came back down just as her granddaughter was placing the material squares over each metal lid.

‘Take some back with you, lass, and you can use them in the Pantry.’

‘Will do, thanks Granny. I’m sure they’ll go down a treat.’

‘So, how are you, pet? And how are things going with that nice young man of yours?’ Ruth was gathering her coat and shoes.

‘Good, thanks …’ Rachel’s voice trailed a little.

‘Rightio – but you sound a little disheartened, lass.’ Granny Ruth could pick up on Rachel’s mood like no one else.

‘Oh, Granny! It’s just life getting in the way. I’m so busy right now, and me and Tom, well, we get on so well, and it’s been lovely, but we don’t get an awful lot of time to see each other really. Well, not on our own. I can’t keep upping and leaving Maisy and Mum and the farm.’

Granny was nodding, listening.

‘I’m worried he might be getting a bit fed up with it all …’

‘Ah, and have you spoken with him about it?’ asked Ruth in a gentle tone.

‘Well, not properly, no. It should be pretty obvious how busy I am, though.’

‘Hmm, well in any relationship, you need to start by being honest with each other. You’ve got to be a team. Me and your granda didn’t always see eye to eye, but we learnt to talk things through, to come to understand each other. And life’s always going to be busy for you with the farm and everything else, Rachel, but if this relationship with Tom is worth it, maybe you need to make some time, don’t you think?’

‘Maybe …’ Rachel breathed out with a small sigh. ‘Thanks, Granny.’

‘He seems a good man, Tom. I like him, and it’s obvious that he cares for you. Nothing like that waste-of-space Jake you paired up with.’

Rachel grimaced; it was no secret that the intuitive Granny Ruth was far from Jake’s biggest fan – not that she’d say anything in front of Maisy.

‘And don’t be afraid to ask for help, pet. Me and your mum are always happy to help out with Maisy, and where we can on the farm. Don’t pile too much on yourself, you’re not Wonder Woman.’

‘Hah,’ Rachel smiled. ‘I rather hoped I might be. It’d mean I could get things done a bit quicker. And she does wear one hell of an outfit,’ Rachel quipped.

‘Well, I’m ready when you are, lass. Shall we head over to the farm?’

‘Of course. Mum’ll be wondering where we’ve got to otherwise.’

‘Right then, I’ll just pop my shoes on. I’ll need a seat for that. Here we go, just give me a second.’ She sat down stiffly on one of her kitchen chairs. Her body might be struggling, but her mind was still sharp as a tack. She was one of the few people who said it how it was. Rachel admired her for it, even if, at times, the truth was a bit too close for comfort.

Rachel was towel-drying Maisy after her bath that evening when her mobile rang. She glanced at the caller ID: Jake. She gave an inward groan. How did he always manage to pick a bad time? She was trying to settle Maisy, ready for bedtime on a school night. But of course, Maisy’s dad would hardly be aware of her routine. Living so far away, he was never really there for her, was he? But, she supposed, at least he was phoning and his promised ‘weekly’ call could be hit and miss at the best of times.

Rachel wrapped the towel tightly around her daughter to keep her warm, then answered with a gritting of her teeth. ‘Hi, Jake.’

‘Hey, there. Where’s my gorgeous girl? Is Maisy about?’

‘Ah, yes, but can you just give us five minutes and I’ll call you back? She’s just out of the bath and I need to dry her and pop her pyjamas on.’

‘Yeah, no worries – although ah, I’m going out in ten, but yeah, if you’re quick.’

Hah, ever the doting father.

‘Daddy?’ Maisy asked, looking excited, bless her. Bloody hell, he did so little, yet Maisy couldn’t help that buzz of excitement at hearing from him. His last visit had been back in July, three months ago now, and there was a promised visit for August that had never materialised, much to Maisy’s disappointment. Just thinking about the consequences of that day still made Rachel mad.

‘Okay, I’ll call back straight away,’ answered Rachel tersely and she put down the phone. ‘Come on then, petal, let’s get those PJs on,’ her voice softened.

In Maisy’s room a few minutes later, with her little girl now dressed in her nightclothes and sat expectantly on the bed, Rachel called Jake back. After saying a brief hello, she passed the phone over to her daughter. Having put the phone on loudspeaker, she sat quietly beside her, monitoring the conversation. Maisy was happily telling him all about school, and her gym club, and about Amelia coming for fireworks night next week with her mummy and daddy for hot dogs. Jake, in turn, said how busy he’d been at work, helping to build people’s houses.

Rachel then heard him say that he was missing her. But hey, it was all too easy to say that from two hundred miles away, and then not bother to come and see her. And all too soon Jake said his goodbyes, with an excuse that he was about to go out.

She watched her little girl’s sunny face begin to fall as the conversation rolled to a close. It was painful to watch.

‘Daddy’s got to go now,’ Maisy explained to Rachel. Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper. She passed the phone back across.

‘Okay, sweetheart.’ Rachel placed the mobile to her own ear. ‘Hi, it’s me.’ Her tone was cool.

‘Yeah, got to dash. Meeting a mate.’

‘Right … and don’t forget to call Maisy again next week. And, a little earlier might help, not right at bedtime; it can be unsettling for her.’

‘Okay. Slapped hands again.’ He still managed to sound like a stroppy teenager.

Rachel didn’t even bother to respond to that comment.

‘See you then, Rach.’

‘Yeah. Bye, Jake.’ Rachel sighed as she switched off her mobile. Then she turned with an encouraging smile to her little girl. She couldn’t let her exasperation show in front of her. ‘Let’s get you all tucked up in bed then, petal. Shall we have a story?’

‘O-kay.’ Maisy sounded reluctant, and a frown had formed across her brow. And, just as Rachel had thought, here was her little girl unsettled and upset for bedtime.

‘Mummy, when’s Daddy coming to see me again?’ Maisy was hugging her soft toy sheep that Grandma Jill had given her several years ago – it was still a favourite.

Rachel knew she could only be honest; false promises and lies would only hurt more in the long-run. ‘I don’t know, petal.’

It broke Rachel’s heart to see the look of disappointment that fell across Maisy’s face. She gave her daughter a hug and a kiss, before going to the pine bookcase to find her Floss book, hoping the sheepdog’s story might help cheer her little girl up.

This unpredictable relationship with her dad was so hard for Maisy, and for Rachel. How she wished she could protect her daughter, wrap her fragile heart up in cotton wool, and keep her safe from disappointment. But sometimes, even the love of a mother couldn’t do that.

9

It was mid-afternoon, the Northumberland sky softening to a watery blue-grey above the rolling hills. Rachel had just set Hamish, her stocky Scottish Texel ram, out in the field with the Texel ewes. He looked very pleased with himself, given this new freedom. With hormones running high within the flocks, the three Primrose Farm tups had been kept in the sheep shed for the past week to keep them out of mischief. Hamish was now more than happy to find himself in this large grassy area with his very own flock, and he was soon nestling up beside one of his ladies.

The farmhand, Simon, had just set off on the quad to check how Edward and Chevy, the two Cheviot rams, were getting on higher up the valley in the other field, where they had been released earlier that morning. The two flocks had been purposely set well apart to avoid any interbreeding accidents.

Rachel was just having a quick breather, gazing out across the beautiful valley, when her mobile vibrated in her pocket. ‘Hello?’

‘Rach, hey, you haven’t phoned me! It’s been days since you dropped Amelia off.’ It was Eve, and by the sounds of it, yet someone else irked by her absence. ‘So, I’ve made some cookies, anyhow. You must call in and have some while they’re fresh. You are at risk of becoming a farmyard recluse, hun. So, is it coffee-break time, yet?’

‘Ah … Well, I’ve just finished putting the tups out so I suppose it can be. It’ll have to be a quick one, mind, I still have lots to do.’

‘No problem, that’s great. I’ll see you soon then. And afterwards we can walk down and collect the girls from the school bus together.’

Crikey, was it that time already? The days seemed to just fly by. ‘Okay, thanks, I’ll see you shortly.’

It would be lovely to see Eve, Rachel realised, even if it was only for a snatched coffee break. It was weeks since the friends had met up properly. It wasn’t just Tom she hadn’t had much time to see lately.

Fifteen minutes later, after a quick catch up with Simon who confirmed all was well with the sheep and rams, Rachel headed across to her friend’s cottage.

‘Come on in, I’m in the kitchen,’ Eve sang out. ‘It’s the only place with a seat not covered in wool or craft materials just now. It’s driving Ben nuts.’ Her friend carried on chatting loudly, as Rachel made her way down the narrow hallway. ‘I’m on a pre-Christmas craft-making bonanza.’

‘That sounds great – hard work though.’ Rachel popped her head around the kitchen door, to find her friend dressed in denim dungarees, with a bright flower-patterned long-sleeved tee, her auburn curly hair piled high in a ponytail. Eve was pouring water from the kettle into a cafetière. The aroma of fresh coffee filling the air. Rachel also caught a whiff of the cookies that were smelling divinely chocolatey and looked delightful, stacked on a plate on the side.

‘Oh, wow, they look good. And, can I have a peek at what you’re making craft-wise? Then I can get some ideas of what we can display for you at The Pudding Pantry for the run up to Christmas. The dressers need restocking and some new and festive things would be fabulous.’

Eve led her through to the dining room while the coffee was brewing. There were piles of grey-painted wooden hearts and stars, and the prettiest dainty wooden angels, strung ready to hang on a Christmas tree. Cute soft-toy animals sat in rows – the hedgehog was particularly adorable – with little Santa hats on and festive bow ties. There were mini Christmas jumpers for babies and toddlers; chunky knits adorned with red-breasted robins, red-nosed reindeers, charming snowmen and sparkly snowflakes.

‘Eve, this is brilliant. You’re so talented. These must take ages to make,’ Rachel enthused, holding up a felt fox dressed in a fabulous waistcoat with holly patterns on.

‘Ah, not that long, really. It’s just the volumes I need to do to keep up with my online orders that takes the time, and I still need to make a load more for a couple of craft fairs I’ve got coming up.’

‘Well, the Christmas soft toys would look gorgeous on the shelves of the dressers in the Pantry, and those tree decorations would be great. I just love the angels. I was thinking of getting a Christmas tree up in the barn fairly soon actually, we’re nearly into November after all. Set the scene for the run up to Christmas. What do you think?’

‘Oh yes, that’d be lovely. I can just picture it there, with fairy lights twinkling away.’

‘So, can you make some extra crafts for us too? Sorry, it sounds like you’re super-busy as it is, but I’m sure we’ll get some sales for you.’

‘Of course, and I’ve still got more festive goodies yet to make. There’ll be wooden coasters with Christmas messages on and pretty tealight holders too. I was even thinking of making some fir wreaths with red tartan gingham ribbons nearer to Christmas.’

‘Ooh, they sound lovely. Put us down for one of those. I can just picture it hanging so pretty there on the barn door.’

‘Aw, thanks. Right then, coffee time. I’ve had enough of all this craft stuff for today. My fingers are aching, and my brain’s gone to mush concentrating on all the small detail.’

The two friends were soon sitting on stools at the breakfast bar in Eve’s galley kitchen with a cafetière between them, two glass mugs ready to fill, and the plate of warm cookies.

‘So, where have you been hiding, Rach? You’ve disappeared, except for the school run, and even then, you always seem to be dashing off.’

Rachel looked down at her hands and shifted uncomfortably on the stool. ‘Life’s just pretty hectic right now.’

‘Yeah, it must be pretty tough, what with the farm and everything to keep going. You have such a full-on life, Rachel, even more so than mine. But, if there’s anything you ever want to chat about, I’m here. You can always talk to me, that’s what friends are for.’

‘Ah,’ Rachel sighed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Should she share how the Pantry was running into difficulties? She didn’t want the local community knowing how slow things were. Sometimes that just encouraged the downward spiral. But this was Eve, and Eve was no gossip. Eve had shared her hopes, fears and dreams from as far back as primary school.