Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

SUMMER AT RACHEL’S PUDDING PANTRY

Caroline Roberts

Copyright

OneMoreChapter an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by One More Chapter 2020

Copyright © Caroline Roberts 2020

Cover design by Holly MacDonald © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Cover illustrations © Hannah George/Meiklejohn

Caroline Roberts asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008401948

Ebook Edition © July 2020 ISBN: 9780008401955

Version: 2020-06-05

Dedication

For Ken and Pam

Epigraph

‘Marriage is not a destination, but a journey.’

Bernard Dsa

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Two Months Later

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5: Eve

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Eve

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18: Eve

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21: Eve

Chapter 22

Chapter 23: Eve

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26: Eve

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31: Eve

Chapter 32

Chapter 33: Eve

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46: Eve

Chapter 47

A Letter from Caroline

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Caroline Roberts

About the Publisher

Something Old

Granny Ruth’s Wedding Cake

Ingredients

350g (12oz) plain flour

1 tsp mixed spice

100g (3½oz) ground almonds

4 medium eggs

225g (8oz) unsalted butter

225g (8oz) caster sugar

225g (8oz) currants

225g (8oz) sultanas

225g (8oz) raisins

100g (3½oz) glacé cherries, halved

100g (3½oz) cut mixed peel

A quality brandy and a nip of whisky

A dash of milk

Method

Macerate the currants, sultanas and raisins in brandy overnight.

Preheat an oven to 150°C/Fan 130°C/Gas mark 2. Grease and line a cake tin, using either a 23-cm (9-inch) round or 20.5-cm (8-inch) square tin. Sieve the flour and mixed spice into a bowl and add the almonds.

Beat the eggs together with a little milk. Soften the butter. Cube and cream the butter together with the sugar. Slowly stir in the flour and then the egg mixture. When completely mixed, add the soaked dried fruit, cherries and mixed peel. Stir until evenly distributed. Place the mixture into the prepared tin and protect the top with baking parchment paper.

Bake for about 3¼ to 4 hours. Remove from the oven and allow to cool slightly. Turn onto a wire rack. Pour a small amount of brandy and a nip of whisky over the cake whilst warm.

Allow to cool thoroughly. Wrap in greaseproof paper and then tinfoil, store in an airtight container. Store for at least six weeks before use, feeding once a week with a tablespoon of brandy. Decorate as required using an apricot glaze, marzipan and white icing.

For a larger, wedding-style cake, depending on the size of tins, make double or triple the mixture.

1

‘Oh my … that is just beautiful, Rachel.’ A tear crowded Jill’s eye as she watched her daughter step out from the changing room.

A slow smile spread across Rachel’s face. ‘I like it too.’

It did feel strange though, being in a ‘frock’, as Granny Ruth would have called it, and not just any old frock – an off-white, gorgeous, lace-detailed, to-the-floor wedding frock. It had a hint of boho chic about it, just perfect for her countryside summer wedding. Rachel did a small twirl in the middle of the shop, then caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror, and paused. Hah, she hardly looked like herself at all; she was usually dressed in old jeans and wellies and could even sometimes be found out on the farm in a practical green boiler suit, which was highly glamorous. Ooh, it was a lovely feeling to be wearing something so special, but strange too.

‘I think we might’ve found the one, Mum.’ She had a lump in her throat as she spoke.

‘I think so too, love.’ Her mum nodded with a proud and happy look on her face.

Rachel had also found the one in Tom Watson. Just thinking about him and their impending marriage made her heart swell, yet there was still a trace of disbelief that all this had happened to her over the past few months. Tom was her long-time friend and neighbour; their relationship had blossomed into something so much more, taking them both rather by storm, a most beautiful, soul-drenching storm.

‘Gosh, your dad would be so proud if he could see you now, Rachel.’

‘Oh Mum, it’ll be so strange not having him there on my special day, won’t it?’

‘I know, love, but he’d want you to enjoy it … to be happy. And he was always very fond of Tom, even before you and he got together. I’m sure he’d have approved.’

‘Yeah … I think he would have. But he won’t be there to walk me down the aisle, will he …?’ There would be such an empty space beside her on the day, as well as the one that she always carried inside.

‘No, love.’

Rachel sighed, then gazed at herself in the shop’s full-length mirror, her dark wavy hair falling loose down to her shoulders, her green eyes catching the light. There she was, standing in the prettiest of gowns, which hung and clung in just the right places, as if it had been made for her. The only problem was the price tag. Her mum had persuaded her to give it a try when it had caught her eye, even though it was somewhat over budget, along with a few other gowns that she’d discovered on the sale rack. She’d tried the reduced ones on first, being mindful that this was very much a wedding on a budget. They were very nice, but not quite right.

She looked at the price tag once more, with a sigh. How could she be selfish and go ahead and get this one? It would mean a cut in the wedding budget somewhere else. Maisy, her daughter, and Maisy’s best friend Amelia, the cutest of flower girls, deserved lovely dresses, as did Eve (maid of honour) and Charlotte (her bridesmaid). There were flowers to buy, some kind of marquee or tent to organise in case of rain. They could of course do much of the buffet themselves, and they really wanted to be able to invite all their family and friends from the village and local farming community to share this happy occasion. So many people had supported them through such difficult times over the years, it’d be a wonderful way to show their appreciation. Rachel really didn’t want to have to cut the guest list.

The shop assistant stepped forward from her position near the counter. ‘Oh, that looks stunning on you, really.’ She was smiling softly, the hint of a tear in her eye. ‘I see lots of dresses come on and off and sometimes you can just see when it’s the perfect gown for the bride-to-be.’

‘But I can’t …’ Rachel began.

‘Can’t what?’ asked Jill.

‘I can’t get it … I’m sorry, Mum, I shouldn’t have tried it on. We were being silly, thinking we could stretch to this. The others were in the sale, this one isn’t. There’s so much else we need to pay out on.’

‘But I’m sure we could manage, with a bit of careful budgeting … if this is the right dress for you. It is your wedding day, after all. A once-in-a-lifetime occasion.’

‘Yes, but there’s no need for it to make us stony-broke. And I want everyone to enjoy it, not just me.’

‘Oh, I suppose … but what a shame, love.’

‘It’s fine … There’ll be another dress to catch my eye somewhere, I’m sure.’ Rachel rallied, despite the nip of disappointment, as she headed back into the changing room. She took one last longing glance at this gorgeous dress before the assistant stepped in to help undo the rear zip, ready for her to step out of it.

‘I know it’s a long shot … I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a discount on this one?’ Rachel ventured. Well, if you didn’t ask …

‘Oh, I’m sorry, madam, but we can’t reduce this one. It’s the new season’s range, just come in, and we always try to price our dresses competitively as it is. The others you tried were the remaining few from last year’s stock, that’s why we could discount them. I’m sorry.’

Rachel gave the dress one last look, the delicate flowers appliquéd on the draped tulle skirt catching her eye, as the assistant began to place it carefully back on the hanger. Ah well, a chance to dream.

‘Are you sure?’ Jill asked, as she emerged from the changing room.

‘Yes, I’m sure. It’s lovely, but it’s just too expensive. It’s not about the dress at the end of the day, it’s about me and Tom, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ her mum sighed and nodded. ‘Come on then, I don’t know about you, but all this dress shopping has just about done me in. I spotted a coffee shop over the road. Shall we go and recharge with a cappuccino?’

‘Great idea.’

Settled at a wooden table by the window of the café, Rachel could see the assistant tidying the little wedding shop after their visit. Her dress was placed back on the rail, ready for someone else to try on.

‘We’d manage somehow, you know love …’ Jill’s voice trailed off, as if she was a little disappointed too.

‘No, it wouldn’t feel right – even if it looked right – if I blew the budget already. I’m sure I can find something else that’ll do just fine.’

How Jill wished she had some secret savings stash she could dig into right now – she’d so love to make her daughter’s day. Maybe there was a way she still could?

Whilst Rachel nipped to the bathroom, Jill sketched what she could remember of the dress on a white paper napkin, while it was fresh in her mind: the simple yet flattering bodice with its V front and back, the fine tulle of the skirt with its gorgeous appliqué flower design. She then popped the drawing into her handbag. Well, you never knew …

2

TWO MONTHS LATER

‘Have you remembered to put the hiking boots in, Mum?’

‘Yes, both our pairs are in.’ Jill was trailing a couple of all-weather anoraks to the Land Rover. Well, you had to be prepared for all eventualities in Scotland, rain or shine, even in May and at the supposed start of summer.

‘Prosecco?’

‘Yep, got the essentials packed, of course. The box of six is in the boot.’

‘Perfect … and I’ve got the sticky toffee puddings and the Tupperware box of meringues from Granny Ruth right here.’ Rachel perused the back of the truck. Cases in, yep, the cool bag of provisions, yes … hmm. Rachel had a mental check list but she was sure she was going to forget something. She knew she should have written it all down last night, but she’d been far too busy getting everything ready for Maisy’s next two days at school and for staying over at Amelia’s. She’d also been flat out organising everything on the farm ready to hand over to their farmhand, Simon, and Tom – her lovely, gorgeous Tom – who were taking the reins whilst she was away for her hen do. A hen do, she could barely believe it.

It felt weird packing up the truck, ready to pick up her best friend and maid of honour, Eve. It was going to be a weekend to remember, Eve had boasted, though she still hadn’t spilled on all the details. Rachel was so excited but there were a few nervous butterflies in her stomach too; as a single parent she hadn’t had a night away since Maisy had been born five years ago, and with her father’s tragic death nearly three years past, and the devastation they had endured in the aftermath, the family hadn’t been in the frame of mind to take a holiday.

Dad … memories of packing for holidays in years gone by suddenly flooded over her. Long weekends piled into a static caravan near Scarborough on the Yorkshire Coast, fish and chips sitting on the harbour at Whitby, with donkey rides on the golden sands at Filey Bay. Dad’s strong hand holding her own as they splashed up to their knees in icy-cold waves that took their breath away, laughing even as they shivered. God, she missed him. Her thoughts turned to her own little girl, Maisy, who had given her an extra big hug at the minibus pick-up that morning before school. Rachel had been left with a solid lump in her throat as she watched the bus pull away, with Maisy waving animatedly out of the window. It felt so strange to be leaving her child behind, even though she was looking forward to these few days of fun and freedom. She’d left a check list for Amelia’s dad, Ben, on top of the small overnight case she’d packed with her daughter’s favourite outfits, pyjamas and wash bag, and her comforting soft toy sheep. Maisy would be fine, she told herself.

A couple of friends, Kirsty and Hannah, were going to make their own way to the accommodation in Oban and join them there later today, as they had younger children and were sorting out timings with grandparents and dads who were working. Close friend and bridesmaid, Charlotte, was taking a train up after work tomorrow; the best she could manage was an early finish from her Friday classroom shift at the primary school. Honestly, between her and Eve, it had needed military-style strategies to arrange this getaway.

‘Right then, Moss is in his kennel, isn’t he?’

Moss, their faithful Border collie, herder of sheep and tail-wagger extraordinaire, was going to be looked after by farmhand Simon, and then Granny Ruth when she came over to stay with Maisy for the Saturday night of the weekend shift.

‘Yep, and the Pudding Pantry is in safe hands with Jan and Daniel, so it’s time to go, love,’ rallied Jill.

With that, Dan appeared on the threshold of the Pantry ready to wave them off, calling out, ‘Have a wonderful time, ladies.’

Jill gave a small sigh and waved back, looking slightly emotional herself.

Oh gosh, they really were getting fond of each other, Rachel mused. It was still strange to think her mum had a new man on the scene, even if the romance was in its fledgling stages. It was lovely to see her mum with a spring in her step once again. But Rachel couldn’t deny it was still hard to balance that against her father’s absence. How could anybody possibly step into her father’s shoes? But, she conceded, it was so good of Dan to offer to help out at their beloved Pudding Pantry business, and for the next few days he’d certainly be a godsend. He wasn’t a bad baker himself, either, and was already getting a name for his cheese and chive triangle scones.

‘O-kay then.’ Rachel took up the driving seat of their old and slightly battered Land Rover. As she started the engine, she gave a silent prayer that it would make the four-hour journey across the border. She gazed up at the stone farmhouse as she pulled away, feeling a tug in her heartstrings. As they made their way down the farm track, the valley nestled around them, green and lush with fields of sheep happily grazing, she saw little Petie, Maisy’s now extremely big pet lamb, munching away. They passed their herd of cattle, Morag and Iona looking over the hawthorn hedge at the departing vehicle with seemingly sad, deep brown eyes. ‘Won’t be long, ladies,’ Rachel called out.

Three whole days away at a cosy wooden lodge near Oban – with her mum Jill, best friend Eve, and close mates Charlotte, Kirsty and Hannah by her side. The lodge had looked so lovely from the images on the internet, with log fires, old beams, all set in woodland beside a small lake. It even had an outside Jacuzzi with a view across the water: very chic.

Pulling up outside Eve’s cottage five minutes later, and seeing her friend come bounding out of the front door, Rachel found herself feeling an unfamiliar buzz of freedom.

‘Hi, Eve. Are you road-trip ready?’ She stuck her head out of the window and beeped the horn excitedly.

‘Just about, hun. I’ll go fetch my suitcase. Hi, Jill.’ She gave a merry wave.

Out she came a few minutes later with a large case – it was big enough for a fortnight, never mind three nights. Rachel hoisted it into the back of the Land Rover. ‘Blimey, how long do you think you are going for? What on earth have you got in there, the kitchen sink?’ she jested.

‘Hmm … just a few bits.’

‘Hah, are you intending to elope or something?’

A flush of colour blushed across Eve’s cheeks. ‘Don’t be so daft. It’s just a few clothes, and well, it could be all weathers. And … there’s a few extra things to make sure we have a really nice time. It’s your hen do, after all. Ooh, talking of which, there’s more still to bring from the kitchen …’ Off she dashed again, returning a couple of minutes later with yet another box of prosecco. ‘Essential hen-do supplies,’ she beamed. ‘Well, we are in the middle of nowhere. We can’t be running out of the bubbly stuff.’

‘Eve, we’re only staying a few miles from Oban. We’re not exactly going to the Outer Hebrides.’

‘Oh well, better to be prepared,’ Eve grinned.

‘Exactly,’ called Jill from the cab.

‘Oh, and there’s one last thing, there’s a lasagne all made ready on the kitchen side. If you could bring that out for me, Rach …?’

‘Really? Oh, wow, that sounds delicious.’

‘Well, I was making one for Ben and the girls to have, so I thought I’d double up. So, tonight’s supper in our cosy lodge is sorted.’

‘Aw, that’s brilliant.’

With the back of the Land Rover finally loaded, Eve jumped in, ready for the off.

‘Sorted?’ asked Rachel. ‘Sure you’ve got everything?’ she added wryly.

‘Yep, sorted!’

‘Great stuff, this is exciting isn’t it,’ added Jill with a wide grin.

‘Let’s hit the road,’ announced Rachel from the driver’s seat.

Within twenty minutes, they were over the Scottish border and winding their way along country roads, through rolling hills. The Land Rover climbed and the moorland road peaked to give them a view down over the city of Edinburgh and the wide grey Firth of Forth. The traffic began to get busier as they skirted the city on the bypass heading for Glasgow. The Land Rover was rattling on well – so far so good.

An hour later on the motorway near Glasgow, they saw a services sign.

‘Anyone else ready for a wee stop?’ chirped Eve. ‘I’ve been holding on for a while.’

‘Sounds a good idea. And a nice cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss,’ replied Jill.

‘Oh yes, a latte is calling,’ added Rachel, flicking the indicator on.

The services car park looked busy as they pulled to a stop, with people scurrying in and out of their cars like ants. For a second, Rachel wondered where their varied lives were taking them, what journeys they were making today – the holidays planned, family visits, the trips to work. It was a world away from the peace and quiet of Primrose Farm in the Cheviot Hills.

Jill moved to gather her handbag from the footwell, just as Eve exclaimed, ‘Ooh my, eyes at two o’clock, ladies.’

‘What?’ Rachel looked around frantically. ‘Oh, I see.’ Rachel’s mouth hung open, just as Jill moved quickly to see what the fuss was about, managing to bang her head on the dashboard. The younger girls giggled.

‘Ah …’ Jill had clocked what they were staring at now, taking in the guy in the white van parked opposite them who was removing his T-shirt, oblivious to their ogling. He revealed a rather toned and tanned bare chest.

Jill began rubbing the back of her head. ‘Crikey, I haven’t seen a body like that in a long while.’ She quirked an eyebrow.

‘Mu-um …’

‘What do you mean, Mu-um? You two are thinking the same, I’m sure.’

Actually, Rachel had seen a body like that rather recently, and was very much looking forward to getting married so she could see it every night. Her gorgeous Tom Watson.

The man had now peeled off and discarded one T-shirt to replace it with another.

‘Hmm, well, you don’t get to see that every day,’ added Eve cheekily. ‘It’s a bit like that old Coca-Cola advert, do you remember?’

‘Hah, yes. Probably not PC any more, but guaranteed to put a smile on a girl’s face.’

They grinned, grabbed their bags, and got down out of the Land Rover, at the very same time that Mr T made his exit from his van. He fired them a broad smile across the car park, before strolling towards the services entrance. The girls were happy to follow those long legs and pert buttocks, sneaking a glance at each other and then erupting into a fit of the giggles, suddenly feeling like teenagers again.

‘And so, the hen do begins,’ announced Eve chirpily. ‘Not at all a bad start either, ladies.’

After a quick coffee stop, they climbed back into the truck and tucked into the melt-in-the-mouth caramel brownies that Jill had baked as a surprise.

‘And, that’s not the only secret we have up our sleeves,’ Eve said conspiratorially.

‘Oh, you can’t leave it at that. Come on, spill.’ Rachel hated being left in the dark. Much of the weekend planning had been left to Eve and the other hens. What had they got in mind?

‘Not telling …’ Eve patted the side of her nose. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

It didn’t seem as if Rachel was going to find out just yet, so she turned on the engine, turned up the radio, and concentrated on the road ahead. Rachel and Jill smiled broadly as ‘Islands in the Stream’ came on, one of Dad’s old favourites, and they all sang along at the tops of their voices.

3