Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

Rachel toured the shed, making a check of the livestock. The ewes waiting to lamb were penned together in a large section and the majority seemed fine just now. There were mostly Cheviot Sheep on the farm – a hardy breed ideal for the hilly landscape. One Cheviot was showing signs of being close to giving birth. Also, one of the Texels – a larger, stocky breed of sheep that they only had a few of – was circling in a separate pen and seemed restless. Rachel would keep a close eye on those two.

The new mums and lambs in their individual pens seemed happy as Rachel made her way around the shed. She checked the teats of number 98 – there was still no milk coming on the one side. She’d make up the evening feed soon and help these two new lambs out, as well as bottle-feed the three smaller pet lambs – including the famous Pete – then she’d need to fill the teat trough for the four others that were bigger.

After doing the feeds and a further check of the sheep, Rachel settled down on a straw bale with a warming mug of tea from her flask. There was a sense of calm in the lambing shed, especially as night began to fall, when you were the only person there. Moss settled himself at her feet. She could mull over her day, think of her plans for the coming weeks, her sketchy ideas for the farm still prominent in her mind, or try to grab a few precious moments of stillness. It had been a lovely sunny day and the evening felt mild. Spring had definitely sprung in Northumberland, which was good news for the lambing – the ewes and lambs suffered in the wet and cold, especially if the bad weather was prolonged. Memories of a recent winter that had lasted far too long came bleakly to mind, and she gave an involuntary shiver. Sometimes, in Rachel’s heart, it felt as cold as ice looking back to that time. Spring, though uplifting, could also be a bittersweet time for Rachel.

She swiftly shifted her thoughts back to the here and now and pulled out a paperback from her pocket. She settled to read for a while, losing herself in a world of tearooms and tangled love affairs. It was a pleasant escape in a world of troubles.

In the early hours of the morning, the Cheviot ewe she’d spotted earlier began to give birth; the sac was showing and the lamb presenting. Rachel watched closely. It was straightforward and the mother sheep managed well on her own – the second lamb appearing a short while after the first, and the ewe licking them clean. Both lambs were up on their legs within minutes, and soon began suckling. Nature was an amazing thing. It was still a mini miracle to Rachel every single time – watching new life blossom.

Rachel was well aware that farmers could sometimes be viewed as hard, but it was more a case of having to be practical. She cared for every single animal at the farm and its livelihood. Yes, the farm was a business, of course, and financially at times a very tough one – the animals were reared to be sold on at the end of the day – but farming was so much more than that. These sheep, their predecessors, and the small herd of cows they kept, had been here with them for many years. She was guardian of the land too. From being a little girl, this farm and its valley had a huge piece of her heart.

Rachel felt her tummy rumble as she did another tour of the animals. One Texel was still up and down and circling a bit, but nothing seemed imminent, so Rachel decided to have her sandwiches and some more hot tea. It was beginning to get chillier now, she could see her breath misting, but with her thermal layers, double socks, woollen jumper and coat, she stayed warm. She unwrapped the foil package her mum had made for her. The ham was thick and tasty and the fresh wholemeal bread was spread with a touch of honey-grain mustard. Delicious. She gave Moss a crust and sipped her tea. An owl hooted outside, then all was quiet again. The brightness of the shed a beacon in the still of the night.

An hour or so later, the Texel was beginning to show properly. She seemed agitated, not wanting to lie down for long. Rachel perched on some bales nearer to the Texel’s pen – there were just twelve of them on the farm. Two had already lambed successfully a couple of days ago and were already out in the field. Within another half hour, all the signs were pointing to an imminent birth, but she seemed to be struggling, and a panicked sheep running around with a lamb about to be born was not a good thing. Rachel put her sheep-wrestling technique into action and dived onto the back of the ewe – the Texels were a large, muscular sheep and needed some force to tackle them down to the ground. The ewe could then be turned on her side. It would make it easier for both ewe and lamb.

Damn it, Rachel was on the sheep’s back but the ewe was still fighting it, thrashing her legs about, so Rachel used an old shepherd’s tip handed down from her dad and grandad and pulled off her coat, placing it over the ewe’s head. The creature did settle somewhat, thank heavens, enough that Rachel could check her rear and see the lamb’s nose and feet there. It could well be a large lamb. The birth might just take a while, but Rachel also knew that you couldn’t afford to leave it too long without intervention.

Twenty minutes later, and nothing had changed, so Rachel attached her lambing cord and began trying to help the little creature out, heaving back against the prop of a straw bale. This was like the bloody enormous turnip of Maisy’s bedtime stories; nothing was giving, and the ewe was trying to get up again, panting and bleating. Rachel knew that the situation would soon be life-threatening for both sheep and lamb. She needed to call someone right now, someone experienced and stronger than herself. Think, think. Simon lived over fifteen minutes’ drive away. Next door was Tom’s farm – he’d no doubt be busy with his own sheep, but as he had a bigger farm she knew he had two farmhands, so one of them might well be on duty with him. With no time to waste, she pulled her mobile phone from her pocket, still trying to keep the ewe wedged to the ground as she made the call.

The dialling tone rang four or five times, then – finally – he picked up.

‘Tom.’

‘Rachel, is that you … is everything okay?’ He sounded rather bleary, he must have been sleeping.

‘Not really, I’ve a Texel in trouble. The lamb seems to be stuck.’

‘Right.’ Instantly, he sounded alert. ‘I’ll come straight over.’ They both knew the seriousness of the situation.

Rachel put her phone back in her pocket and stayed with the ewe, trying her best to keep the creature calm and grounded.

The welcome sounds of a quad rolling up outside came a short while after. Tom arrived with a brief ‘Hi’ and then went straight into action. Rachel stayed at the ewe’s head, whilst Tom got to work below, having to use the cords himself. He was tall and strong, but even then, he had to heave with his back set against the straw bales. At last, after much effort, the lamb came free. It was large, with a mass of mucus around it … and it didn’t move. Tom carefully wiped the mucus away from its mouth and gave its body a firm rub. Still no movement – the poor thing seemed lifeless. He blew into its mouth, once, twice.

‘Come on lad, you can do it.’

And there was a flicker of life, a twitch of a leg initially, then it lifted its damp woolly head, raised itself to a tentative stand and shook itself down – shocked at its arrival into the world. The mother sheep shifted across instinctively to lick it.

‘Thank you, Tom.’ Rachel found herself feeling a little emotional. Fatigue and the stress of the situation suddenly crashed in.

‘Hey, you’re welcome. Good call getting me out.’ Tom smiled.

‘I know. I was struggling. I need some stronger muscles.’ It was frustrating at times not having the physical strength that was required for the more challenging jobs on the farm.

‘Hah, now we don’t want you looking like the Hulk or anything,’ Tom joked, his dark brown eyes shining.

‘Hi, little chap.’ Rachel moved across to see the new-born lamb, who thankfully seemed fine after his ordeal coming into the world. She’d let him and his mum settle for a few minutes together and then she’d do her checks on the lamb. But just now, they all needed a breather.

‘Would you like a tea, Tom? And … I’ve got some of Mum’s sticky toffee pudding here.’

‘Now you’re talking. Well, that’s certainly worth getting up at 3 a.m. for.’ He grinned.

Rachel poured out his drink from the flask, passing over the now communal tin mug. Tom took it, his forearm smeared with muck and blood, but neither were worried about dirt and grime; it was par for the course in the lambing shed.

They sat together side by side on a straw bale.

‘God, I really appreciate you coming over.’ The relief began flooding through Rachel.

‘No worries. You know I’m here to help … any time. I’ve always said that.’ He gave her an earnest look.

‘Thanks. You’ve been so good to us.’ He was such a great family friend – had helped see them through the toughest of times. In fact, sometimes she worried he’d think they were a bit of a pain – the women from the farm next door. They tried not to pester too much, doing their best to remain self-sufficient at Primrose Farm, but tonight really had been an emergency situation.

Tom was a little older in his mid-thirties. They had known each other since childhood, though Tom had been a teenager, whizzing up and down the lane on his quad bike, when Rachel was just a small girl. He’d lived on the family farm next door virtually all his life, except when he’d got married and moved away. Then, when his father’s arthritis hit hard several years ago, his parents had moved out to a bungalow in Kirkton, allowing Tom to take over the main farmhouse and the running of the farm with his then-wife, Caitlin. They’d divorced three years ago – pretty acrimoniously, so Rachel heard – and he’d been living there as a single man ever since. They saw a lot of each other on the road and out and about, being neighbours.

‘So, how long are you on till?’ Tom asked.

‘Ah, Simon’s back at seven. A twelve-hour shift for me. I’ll see Maisy for breakfast time and then I’ll get my head down for a few hours’ sleep once she’s gone off to school.’

‘Ah, a few hours of blessed kip.’

‘Then, I’m back on again tonight.’

‘Relentless, isn’t it – lambing time. Feels never-ending. It’s only around three weeks overall and it seems like a bloody year.’

‘We’ll get there. Same every year. Like a horrid hangover, you come out of it threatening never to rear any more sheep, and then by market time you’ve forgotten how bloody awful it is and you’re tricked back into it again.’

‘Hah, yeah.’

Rachel began rummaging in the rucksack for Jill’s pudding and poured herself another mug of tea.

‘To the hardy Cheviot Hill farmers,’ she said. She raised her tin cup. ‘Cheers.’

She passed Tom a portion of the rich, treacly pudding and a plastic spoon – Mum always thought of everything.

‘And to sticky toffee pudding.’ He smiled, digging a spoon into the sponge. ‘God, this is delicious. Fuel of the hill farmers.’

‘Hah. Absolutely!’

After chatting for a while, Tom headed back to snatch a few more hours’ sleep. As she’d suspected, he had been in bed when she’d called, trying to make the most of a rare night off from the lambing shed. Rachel felt a little guilty for disturbing his night, as he’d have plenty of his own work to do on his farm today.

It wasn’t long until dawn began to break with golden morning light filtering in through the gaps in the shed door. On her own once more, Rachel dealt with another birth – a single healthy lamb who came into the world without a fuss – and soon enough, it was time to head back over to the farmhouse and her family.

Thank goodness it had all worked out in the end for that little Texel. And, looking at the clear sky above her as she walked back across the yard, thank goodness for another warm dry day. The weather this spring was being kind to them. It hadn’t always been so. She walked past the old stone stable building that was no longer used. Remembering that fateful spring morning two years ago, she felt a shudder run through her.

Chapter 4

PET LAMB PATROL

Maisy was already up when Rachel got back to the farmhouse. She and Jill were busy setting out the breakfast things at the large pine kitchen table. Maisy was struggling, carrying two bulky cereal boxes, and dropped them down quickly on the table as her mum appeared.

‘Mumm-eee! How’s Pete?’

‘He’s good, Maisy. He had a great night and is feeding well.’

‘Ooh, can I go feed him?’

‘After school, yes. You’ve got to get ready and have your own breakfast now.’

‘Oh, not fair.’

‘He’s already had his breakfast today, anyhow,’ Rachel added.

‘Cup of tea, love?’ Jill asked, switching the kettle back on, already knowing the answer.

‘Yes, please, I’m desperate for another brew.’

‘Has everything been all right? I thought I heard a vehicle in the early hours?’ Her mum had a frown of concern across her brow.

‘Yeah, I had to call out Tom. One of the Texels was in difficulty.’

‘Oh, did you manage okay?’ As a farmer’s wife, Jill was well aware of the problems you could experience with lambing. She had often helped out herself in the past, but lately shared her time between the lighter farming duties and helping to look after Maisy.

‘The lamb was stuck. It had been going for too long and I was getting a bit worried, so I called Tom in. He did a great job. The ewe and lamb were both fine in the end. It was just a really big lamb.’

‘Ah, well I’m glad everything was okay with the little chap. All’s well that ends well.’

‘Yes, and thank heavens for Tom,’ added Rachel. ‘The poor guy, I think I woke him up. Been trying to catch a few hours’ sleep himself.’

‘Oh, he’s a lovely lad. I’m not sure what we’d do without him next door. He’s been a godsend.’

Lad. It made Rachel smile – he was well into his thirties. Her mum made him sound like he was thirteen. But yes, he had been a great friend to the family and a brilliant support, especially since they’d lost Dad.

‘Can I see Tom, Mummy?’ Maisy piped up, now sat at the table and digging a spoon into a bowl of Rice Krispies.

‘Well, not right now.’ Rachel sat down next to her daughter, cradling her mug of tea. ‘He’s probably either back in bed, or in his own lambing shed. He’s a bit busy just now, Maisy. We’ll give it a week or so, then you can go across and say hello when lambing is over.’

‘Ah, lambing is sooo boring.’

‘What do you mean? You love Pete and the other lambs?’

‘Yeah, but all of the grown-ups are too busy.’

‘Yes, that’s ’cos it’s so important. You’ll just have to be patient, petal. It’s our job.’ And, it’s what pays the bills, Rachel added mentally.

‘Maybe we can ask him across for Sunday dinner this weekend as a thank you?’ chipped in Jill. ‘I’m sure he’d be glad of that. Even if it’s just for an hour or so if he’s got a lot on.’

‘That’s a nice idea. I’ll mention it if we cross paths in the next couple of days,’ said Rachel.

Maisy was nodding animatedly, happy with that idea.

Time was slipping on and the school minibus would be arriving at the end of the farm track at 8:20 a.m. sharp. ‘Right Maisy, time to finish your cereal and go up and brush your teeth. Then it’s shoes on, rucksack at the ready, and I’ll walk you to the bus.’

‘I’ll go if you like, Rachel,’ Jill offered. ‘You might want to get off to bed.’

‘No, it’s fine, Mum. I’d like to go.’ However tired she felt, even at lambing time, she liked to spend some time with Maisy before and after school.

‘Well, are you peckish, pet? You haven’t eaten any breakfast yet. Shall I make you some scrambled eggs for when you get back?’

‘That sounds perfect. Thank you.’

They kept a dozen or so of their own hens, who wandered around the farm, pecking away and fluffing their feathers. They were happily free range by day and settled in their coops at night, which kept them safe from any foxes or other prey. Their eggs were delicious with orange-gold yolks – just perfect served scrambled or poached on thick farmhouse toast.

Ten minutes later, Rachel and Maisy had left the house and were out in the yard.

‘Can I see Petie before I go?’ Maisy gave her mum the cutest of smiles.

‘Maisy, you’re in your smart school clothes and best shoes. You’ll get filthy in the shed.’ Rachel did have her wellies on though. Looking at her daughter’s cheeky grin, she caved. ‘Ah okay, a quick one-minute hello. But just look, no touching, as we haven’t got time to go and wash hands again. Come on, I’ll carry you across.’ She hoisted her up onto her hip and headed across to the lambing shed.

The pet lambs were sectioned off in a pen near the front, so Rachel lifted Maisy to look in at them.

‘Hello, Petie boy! See you later!’ Maisy shouted, waving at the little fella.

He looked up and gave a baa in return, then skipped towards them, hopeful of another feed. The other pet lambs were snuggled together beside a large bale of straw. They all seemed to be doing fine, although one – number 34 – was still a lot smaller than the rest. Rachel would have to keep an extra eye on him, but he seemed lively enough just now, getting up to his feet.

They spotted Simon across in the shed and gave him a wave.

‘Have a good day at school, Maisy,’ he called across.

‘Hello, Simon. I will.’

‘Morning, Simon. Everything been okay since I left?’

‘Just grand, lass.’

‘Right, we’d better go, Maisy. Don’t want you missing the bus.’

The two of them made their way down the farm track, hand in hand. Thankfully, Maisy enjoyed school. She’d only started six months ago but had settled in well at Kirkton’s First School, in the small market town that was just three miles from the farm. Maisy was such a sociable girl, she enjoyed seeing her friends as much as the learning.

The lane down to the road was bordered by grassy banks and spring had arrived with a mass of pale-yellow primroses, that nestled beneath the hawthorn hedges each side. At the roadside verge there were clusters of bold yellow daffodils swaying in the breeze, ready to welcome any visitors to the farm. Rachel made sure she kept the grass each side of the farm gate short and well-tended. Her dad had always insisted the entrance was neat and tidy. ‘First impressions, Rachel. First impressions,’ he’d say in his deep, resonant voice. She took a deep breath, feeling that familiar pang of sorrow.

She spotted her good friend Eve, heading down the lane towards them with her little girl, Amelia – Maisy’s bestie. They had walked down from their nearby cottage. It saved the minibus an awkward turnaround in the narrow lane.

‘Hi Eve. Hello, Amelia.’ Rachel gave a cheery wave.

‘Hiya, Rachel. You okay? Surviving lambing?’ Eve asked, pulling a grimace. It was well known in country circles that lambing was the most exhausting time of the farming year.

‘Yes, we’re getting there. Bit of a tense time last night though …’

The bus then arrived, pulling up beside them, and the girls got on with their school bags and packed-lunch-filled rucksacks swinging. The adults hopped on too, saying a quick hello to Ted, the driver, and checking that the girls had everything with them and that their seatbelts were done up. After a kiss and a ‘Have a good day’ each, they got off again, waving as the bus set away.

‘So, you were saying? An eventful night?’ Eve asked.

‘Oh yes … life in the lambing shed. A Texel was in trouble, the lamb stuck. But thank heavens it was all fine in the end … with a bit of early-morning help from Tom.’

‘Ah, the delectable Tom. Your dishy next-door farmer.’ There was no hiding that Eve, despite being happily married to Ben, had had a bit of a crush on Tom for several years now, which always amused Rachel. Eve hadn’t batted an eyelid when their childhood friend Tom had moved away to the city – largely under influence, or so Rachel heard, from his new wife Caitlin – but ever since he’d arrived back at the farm, newly single, Eve had seen him with new eyes. ‘I still haven’t worked out how he hasn’t been snapped up,’ she continued dreamily. ‘His divorce was ages ago.’

‘Hmm, maybe once bitten twice shy.’ Rachel knew that feeling well. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why you’re gushing on – you’re already taken. And, he’s at least ten years older than us pair.’ The two girlfriends had been a year apart at school, Eve being the older, but they had always lived nearby and been good friends, sharing the ups and downs of their teenage years. They were now the grand old age of twenty-four and twenty-five respectively – though after ten days of lambing and hardly any sleep Rachel felt about sixty-four.

‘Eight years older than me, actually. He’s thirty-three.’

‘Is he now, and how do you know that?’

‘It was his birthday a few weeks ago. He happened to mention it to Ben down in the pub.’

Tom was a nice-looking chap, Rachel supposed, but he’d always been a family friend. She’d known him as a neighbour from being a little girl. However much Eve had a crush on him, Rachel found she couldn’t even begin to contemplate him in that way.

‘So, what are you up to today?’ Rachel asked, happy to change the subject.

‘Well, I have a new project actually. I’m quite excited about it. You know how I love making things …’

Eve was the most talented craftsperson Rachel knew, making the most gorgeous felt soft-toy animals, and her knits were fabulous – her cute tractor design jumpers were a triumph – as well as bootees, children’s cardigans, hats and scarfs. At Christmas and birthdays, she usually turned up with a lovely handmade present. She also turned her hand to making gift cards, doing woodwork, needlecraft, you name it. Rachel had named her the bunting queen of the valley after she’d made a gorgeous strand for Maisy’s birthday party last year. It was so pretty, with flags of pastel spots and stripes and vintage roses.

‘Yes … come on, tell me all about it then.’

‘I’m looking into starting a little craft business and joining Etsy,’ Eve continued. ‘So I can start selling some of my stuff online. As always, we could do with a bit more cash in the household, but it’s hard finding a job that fits around school hours and isn’t too far away. But the best thing is, I can do all this from home, other than nipping to the post office for organising the postage. So, what do you think?’

‘That sounds a brilliant idea. I imagine you’ve done your research and looked into everything, and yeah why not. It looks a great platform. I’ve bought the odd thing from there myself. Hey, good for you.’ Rachel then had to stifle a yawn. ‘Sorry, that’s nothing to do with your project. I haven’t slept since yesterday afternoon, and even then, it was only for a couple of hours.’

‘Oh crikey, hun. Well you’d better get yourself off to bed. Is it night shift again tonight for you?’

‘Yep, no rest for the wicked.’

‘Or farmers.’

‘Too true. And, hey, good luck with the crafting, Eve. Once the lambing’s over I will resurface and join the real world again, I promise. We’ll have to have a coffee and a proper catch-up.’

‘We will, indeed. Or maybe a drink in the pub. I’m missing my mate. Bye, Rach.’

‘See you, Eve.’

‘Sweet dreams, hun.’

‘Thanks.’

Walking back up the road, Rachel thought how great it was that Eve was starting her own business. Little seeds had also been sown in Rachel’s mind. They really needed to think of something else they could do at the farm. A new direction. Diversification. Something that fitted in with their farming lives, and with Maisy of course, that had the potential to improve their income. But what, was the million-dollar question.

Oh yesss, the bliss as her head hit the pillows. Rachel snuggled down under a soft duvet with the bedroom curtains closed against the brightness of the early spring day. The sounds of the birds tweeting away outside soon began to fade as Rachel drifted into much-needed sleep.