Page 27 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

And on she went to the library and the tourist information office, then she popped one on the village noticeboard by the hall where the Toddler Group was in full noisy swing, and another on the Parish news board by the church. A quick drop by at The Cheviot Café was the final stop. In all, a hundred flyers had been distributed. She felt exhausted, but strangely elated too. It felt good to be doing something. And surely somebody would be interested and give it a try.

The Pudding Pantry and the new Pudding Club were also due to get a mention in the local press this week, thanks to Amanda at the Gazette. Rachel had made a Sticky Toffee Pudding ‘special delivery’ to the newspaper offices along with several flyers and a poster. She’d also emailed across some photos of the Pudding Pantry, one with Jill grinning away in welcome behind the counter.

Rachel took a deep breath as she parked back at the farmyard. She looked up at the charming wooden sign Eve had made for their opening all those months ago, when they were starting their new venture, the Pudding Pantry, full of excitement and hope. This was just one more step on the way – the quiet spell hopefully just a seasonal blip – and, a week today, ‘Crumble Night’, was going to mark the start of The Pudding Club. She popped in to the Pantry and had a quick word with Jill, telling her all about the wonderful support she’d received from across the community.

Next, she needed to get on with some farm work and, once again, there were some fencing issues. While she was out and about with the flyers, Jill had taken a phone call from Mr Mac, their neighbouring farmer, grumbling that there were several sheep on the loose out in the lane, and they definitely weren’t his. So, armed with wire, pliers, a hammer and heavy-duty staple gun she drove along the lane, looking for the AWOL sheep. There they were, six ewes, happily munching the grass verge in the lane. She managed to round them up quickly with the help of good old Moss, and got them back into the field.

She scoured the hedgerows and fence to find the weak link that they had escaped from. She soon discovered a trampled area and a gap near the roadside that, on closer inspection, looked unusually like a neat cut in the wires – odd. Rachel started to pull out and cut away the sharp, broken metal threads that would really be quite nasty should a sheep or other animal catch themselves on it, and then worked on rewiring the fencing lines, pulling them taut and stapling them firmly to the posts which should do the trick. All the while, she was pondering on the nature of the damage. Had someone purposely done it? But why?

A warm voice made her start. ‘Hey, there’.

‘Oh, hi!’ She looked up, surprised to find Tom behind her. She had been so focussed on her task, she hadn’t heard him approach.

‘Your mum said I’d find you about here. Trouble with escapee sheep?’

‘You got it. And see the fence here – come and take a look – I think it’s been cut. Usually, if the sheep have trampled it, it just gets pushed down or you find there’s a rotten post or something, don’t you? But this looks different; I’m sure the sheep couldn’t have done that so neatly.’

‘Hmm.’ Tom’s face went serious. ‘Is the gate on this field padlocked?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘Let’s just take a look.’

On closer investigation, it looked as though the gate and the lock had been forced. There were splinters and bashed areas, and the metal chain which roped the two gate sides together had dints in the metal, but evidently neither the padlock nor the gate had given.

‘What do you reckon?’ asked Rachel, feeling distinctly uneasy.

‘This looks like poachers to me – the modern-day sort. Hare coursing and the like for money and so-called sport. It isn’t sport, it’s bloody cruel. Did you hear anything at all last night?’

‘No, nothing unusual, and Moss would have barked if there had been anything near the farm, but I suppose this field’s quite a way from the farmhouse.’

‘Which is, no doubt, exactly why they tried to get into it.’

‘Ah …’ Rachel was well aware of modern-day poaching methods, often the gangs were more interested in hunting down wildlife, such as deer, than in stealing the farm animals. She’d heard it could be quite intimidating if the thugs got onto your land. But they’d never had any issue with it at Primrose Farm, thank heavens. Up until now …

‘Well,’ Tom gave a frown, ‘I heard just this morning that they’ve had some trouble further up the valley at the Dobsons’. Been a gang with several cars out, driving across their land, hare coursing. Poor bloody hares, they chase them until the dogs get them.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of that, cruel bastards. Well, they’ll get short shrift if they turn up again around here.’

‘Listen, Rach, be careful. If there is any bother, don’t do anything gung-ho, and promise you’ll ring me straight away? These people aren’t nice at all.’

‘Okay, will do.’ She was already feeling angry that they’d dared to try to get on to her land, damaging the fences and the gate.

‘No signs of them getting into any of the other fields?’

‘Don’t think so, but I’ll go and have a drive about now and see. All the sheep are accounted for, I’ve already checked.’

‘It wouldn’t be sheep they were after. We’re not in the olden days when poachers were after a rabbit or a trout to help feed their family, or the occasional sheep rustler. No, this is something far more sinister. But at least it looks as if they gave up on it here. Probably drove on up the valley and caused havoc at the Dobsons’ instead.’

‘They’d better not show up here again,’ Rachel warned.

‘Let’s hope not. Right, well, let me help you finish off here. I’ll hold the wire taut while you staple it to the post there,’ Tom offered.

Together, they finished the job.

‘What’s brought you out here, anyhow?’ Rachel asked. ‘Were you passing?’

‘I came to see you, actually.’ He looked slightly awkward. ‘Well, “if the mountain will not come to Muhammed”,’ he quoted wryly, ‘“then Muhammed must go to the mountain”.’