Page 29 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

Chapter 13

A VERY GORGEOUS APPLE CRUMBLE

They were brainstorming over beer. Well, cider in Rachel’s case.

The promised post-lambing-shed night out had finally materialised, so Eve, Rachel and their close friend Charlotte were having an evening out at … wait for it … The Black Bull Inn in Kirkton. Okay, so it wasn’t anything plush – the hour’s travelling to either Newcastle or Edinburgh and a certain lack of finances had put them off going further afield. And, so it was that the three of them had ended up in their local pub; the best of the two in the village. It was cosy and friendly, with dark wood furniture, a well-worn deep-red tartan carpet, some quirky examples of farming memorabilia and some scary-looking tools – Rachel daren’t think what they did with those in the olden days. There was a hearty choice of lagers and ciders, and the usual round-up of locals at the bar.

The girls were sitting chatting away at a table near one of the pub’s front windows.

‘Ah, it’s so nice to get out. Just for an evening, child-free,’ Eve said, then couldn’t help but yawn.

‘Hah, well, you’re looking lively. We want you up dancing on the tables in an hour or so.’ Rachel laughed, giving Eve a friendly nudge.

‘I might be sleeping under the table at this rate. Sorry girls, life’s just so busy at the mo. What with all my crafting and keeping up with Amelia and stuff at home.’

‘Well, I don’t have a child of my own, but put yourselves in front of a class of twenty-five seven-year-olds daily and see how that feels.’ Charlotte was a primary school teacher in the local town of Alnwick.

‘Hmm, think I’d actually prefer life in the lambing shed than a class full of children to cope with.’ Rachel grinned. ‘It never stops though, does it. There’s always so much going on. It’s the same at the farm. Full on with the sheep, it’ll be calving any time, and now we’re trying to set up the pudding business.’

‘Ooh yes, so come on Rach, tell me all about this scrummy-sounding pudding business you’re planning,’ Charlotte enthused. ‘And please, tell me your mum is making that divine chocolate stuff that we had at Maisy’s party.’

‘Well, progress is being made. We’ve now set aside an official area in the farmhouse kitchen as Mum’s special baking zone. Poor old Moss is allowed nowhere near it, bless him. He’s very put out. We’ve passed our health and hygiene certs, ta-dah.’ Yes, she and Jill had sat and studied together over the past few evenings and passed with flying colours, much to their relief. So, another step in the right direction. ‘We’ve bought in all the ingredients to make a start and I have a fab packaging design, care of my trusty assistant here …’ Rachel smiled, gesturing at Eve, who gave a mock bow. ‘And, we have our first retailer all ready to go, the lovely Brenda at the Kirkton Deli.’

Yes, it was all coming together. And with Jill about to make her first official batch of puddings tomorrow, it would be a reality very soon.

‘Wow, that all sounds great. I hope it goes well for you and your mum, Rach,’ said Charlotte. ‘You so deserve this.’

‘Thanks Charlotte, that means a lot.’

‘It’s such a brilliant idea, isn’t it,’ agreed Eve. ‘Now then,’ she added with a cheeky glint in her eye, ‘if your delectable neighbour Tom was a pudding, which one would he be?’

‘Ooh … now you’re talking,’ Charlotte answered. ‘Hmm, I reckon ginger. Yes, a bit spicy and strong, but all soft and gooey on the inside.’

‘I think he’d have to be the most delicious and moist chocolate brownie – all that dark hair, tanned skin and intense eyes.’ Eve added her opinion with a doe-eyed smile. ‘What do you think, Rachel?’

Did she really have to play this game?Two sets of eyes were looking at her, waiting. ‘Okay, well he’s really sweet … so maybe …’

‘Sweet? Sweet? That man is hot, with more sauce than I can possibly imagine,’ declared Charlotte.

Eve hooted with laughter at that point. ‘Oh, I might change my mind,’ Eve said. ‘Maybe sticky toffee then, all over his body.’ The white wine was definitely getting to her now; she didn’t drink much generally. But Rachel knew she was all bark and no bite, just fantasising a little. She really was happily married to hubbie Ben, just letting off a little night-out-with-the-girls steam.

‘Well then?’ Charlotte was waiting for Rachel’s answer.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Rachel felt herself blushing and came out with the first pudding that came to mind. ‘A nice crumble. Comforting.’

With that, the pub door opened and in strolled the man himself. There was Tom, dressed casually in a red-checked shirt and jeans, looking clean and fresh (not always a given in the farming community), and, by the look of his still-damp hair, he’d just made it out of the shower. Eve’s eyes lit up instantly. Rachel cringed – what if he’d heard them as he came in?

Eve and Charlotte were suddenly giggling like a pair of teenagers beside her. Tom spotted their little huddle, smiling quizzically at all the hilarity. Rachel was not about to enlighten him on the subject of their conversation and merely said a brief ‘Hello’ with an awkward wave as he passed their table. He made his way to the bar where he started chatting with some of the other local lads.

‘Ooh, your sexy crumble of a neighbour appears,’ said Charlotte, not that discreetly.

‘Behave.’ Rachel shook her head, exasperated. ‘I thought Eve was bad enough.’

‘Just window shopping,’ commented Eve coyly. ‘Shame we can’t handle the goods though.’

‘Eve, shush.’ But Rachel couldn’t help but giggle, especially when Tom looked over at them, no doubt wondering what they were so amused about.

Charlotte got another round of drinks in, and the evening flowed nicely with chat and more laughter, the girls talking about what was going on in their lives now as well as reminiscing over stories from their youth. It was great for Rachel to let her hair down a little – sometimes she forgot how young she still was, only in her mid-twenties. With a child and a farm and her mum to look after, at times she felt more like forty-four than twenty-four. Just a few years ago, when her friends had been out nightclubbing, being carefree and chatting up the lads, Rachel had had a young baby in tow, and was leading a life of nappy changes and feeds. She never wished she hadn’t had Maisy, that wasn’t it. But life for a young, rural-based single mum was often isolating, even though her mum and dad had always been a great support. At nineteen, she’d had responsibilities at a time when her friends were living totally different, carefree lives.