Page 53 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Da-ad?’

He’d been away for ages. Rachel had already driven across all their fields on the quad and still no sign of him. He’d missed supper now, and that was really unusual. She’d phoned Tom and Mr Mac next door to see if Dad had had to go and help them out with anything, but they hadn’t seen him all day.

Mum said they hadn’t had a row or anything. She’d just mentioned that he’d been a bit quiet earlier, that was all, then he’d gone out, saying he was checking on what was left of their flock.

They’d had a nightmare a couple of weeks before, with heavy snows coming in early March. They’d lost forty of their pregnant ewes in the snowdrifts – the animals huddling for shelter against the hedgerows, exactly where the drifts had formed overnight. Dad had taken Simon with him that next morning and they’d tried to dig and pull them out, but many had already perished. Today, by contrast, was a fine spring day with the sun shining brightly – the weather belying its previous menace.

Mum was getting Maisy ready for bed in the farmhouse, so Rachel had offered to go out and have another look. It was seven o’clock and daylight was clinging on. Dad might just be caught up on a job that had taken longer in a further corner of the farm, or maybe he’d found one of their animals in trouble. Perhaps he’d even gone to the vets? And where was Moss, come to think of it? Oh well, she’d find them both soon enough.

She’d already checked in the lambing shed. She’d even looked in the old stone barn, and no sign of him. One place she hadn’t been in yet was the old stable next to that, but no-one ever went in there nowadays. It was rarely used, only for storage, not since her childhood pony had passed away several years ago now.

But it was worth a peek in. Then, she heard Moss, and his bark had an unusual strain to it, like he was distressed. He was there in his kennel. Dad must have shut him in earlier. Strange, as they usually went everywhere together. Rachel let him out.

The dog ran to the old stable door, scratching frantically at the earth and stones beneath it, trying to get in. Her hackles rose. ‘It’s okay, Moss. It’s okay,’ she said soothingly, trying to ignore the cold feeling creeping down her spine.

The bolt was already undone. The wooden door heavy as she dragged it open.

‘Da-ad?’ She felt a prickle of fear.

Light shafted in through the open door, and that was when her world and everything in it came tumbling down.

‘Dad. No!’ she cried out. ‘No … no … no.’ The shout reducing to a murmur – she didn’t want Mum and Maisy to hear and come running across. There was no way they could see this.

She ran towards him. Couldn’t reach him other than his feet at first. Tried and failed to prop them up. Saw the stool, discarded. Had he kicked it away in that moment of utter desperation? There might still be a chance. There had to be. If she could get on the stool. Hold him up. She felt dizzy with fear but knew she had to focus.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was real. She needed to act quickly. She got the stool back in place, climbed up and with all her strength lifted, then held onto him. Her father, who’d hanged himself from the rafters of the stable.

His body felt stiff, so heavy, there was no give or warmth in it. She knew she needed help desperately but there was no way Mum and Maisy could witness this. With one arm still wrapped around her father’s legs she fumbled for her phone, somehow managing to call Tom.

He had come straight away. Helped her bring her father down. Stayed with her until the ambulance came.

Too late. They had all been too late.

Back in the hay field, Rachel felt herself shiver despite the glow of the summer sun. Tom put a reassuring arm around her. She leant in, finding herself resting her head against his chest, grateful for his warmth, his comfort. In that instant something shifted; this physicality between them, this sense of need, togetherness, it felt far more than simple friendship. Under his cotton T-shirt, which was soft against her face, she could hear the steady beat of his heart. The sensation reassuring and unnerving all at once.

It was because she was upset, she told herself, nothing more. There’d never been that kind of attraction between them. Let her girlfriends, Eve and Charlotte, have their fantasies on that front. Rachel pushed these weird feelings aside, sitting upright, telling herself they were inappropriate, misdirected, the results of her heightened emotions, their shared grief. Tom was a friend, a neighbour who’d been a great help, that was all.

But as she raised her head, he gave her a look, just for a second or two, that held so many emotions. Was he feeling something too?

Her eyes connected with his, but then confusion and fear descended. ‘Ah, I’d better be getting back,’ she spluttered. She was already rising to her feet. ‘I’ll leave you with the packed lunch. It’ll keep you going for later.’

He looked somewhat surprised at her haste to get away, at the sudden change in the atmosphere. ‘Okay, well … The lunch has been great. Thanks for bringing it across. Take care, Rachel.’

‘Will do. Catch you soon.’

She was on the quad and driving away before her emotions could take any more crazy turns. She didn’t know quite what was going on, but it could damn well stop before it started. Life was confusing enough as it was.