Page 40 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘That’s good to hear. Usual coffee?’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘And can I get you any treats?’

‘Well, what have you got to tempt me with today?’

‘There’s a coffee and walnut cake that Mum’s made fresh this morning, or a spiced plum crumble, the usual selection of scones, shortbread, and a chocolate and cherry pudding. I can recommend that one – I had a taste last night and it was delicious.’

‘Well, I can’t go wrong with that then. Pop a blob of cream on it, pet, won’t you.’

‘I will indeed.’

‘Hmm, it sounds a bit like a black forest gateau. I don’t suppose you remember them … bit of a Seventies thing. My Mary used to make that cake for special occasions. Really lovely it was.’

‘Yes, I have heard of that, actually. I bet it was a real treat back then.’

‘Indeed.’ And he went a little glassy-eyed, no doubt thinking back to those happy times with his wife.

Frank was served and soon settled at his table near the window, newspaper spread out beside him. He put a thumbs-up sign as he took a mouthful of the rich chocolatey pudding. Jill, who was busy in the little kitchen piping swirls of frosting on to vanilla cupcakes, grinned as she spotted him.

‘Another triumph, Jill,’ he called across.

‘Thanks, Frank.’

Although her instincts were telling her to duck behind the Pantry’s counter, Rachel risked a sneaky glance across the barn. The dark-haired woman was still there, giving her yet another cool stare.

Who could it be?

Oh God, she was getting up now. Rachel saw her leave some coins on the table top, presumably enough to cover her coffee bill, and, keeping her head low, she headed towards the exit.

‘Thank you,’ Rachel called after her, to be polite.

There was the smallest nod of the woman’s head as she kept on going – she evidently wasn’t in the mood to chat.

Miss Beret trotted out on her high heels. Oh yes, they were black stiletto ankle boots, no less. She was definitely not from around here; much more practical footwear was needed in the countryside. Stilettos were kept for party nights only, and even then, rarely.

‘Oh, I’d better fetch those cupcakes out of the oven. They must be about done,’ Jill said distractedly, wondering where she’d dropped her oven mitts.

Rachel stood, watching the woman leave. She lowered her voice: ‘She was a bit odd, wasn’t she?’

‘Who, darling?’ Jill looked up. The mitts now in her hands. ‘That woman, the one on her way out … she kept staring at me from the table. Like a bit too much.’

‘Oh, I didn’t really catch that. I was too busy keeping an eye on the timer for my cupcakes.’

They stood and watched the woman step through the barn door, dark hair swishing beneath her hat, stiletto heels clip-clopping into the yard.

‘Hmm, there’s definitely something familiar about her.’

‘Oh, do you think she might have been someone official? You know, like Environmental Health or something, undercover?’ Jill asked with a crease in her brow. ‘Checking us out?’

‘Now, there’s a thought.’ It had definitely seemed like they were being checked out about something.

But the council employee theory didn’t quite ring true with Rachel. The woman just seemed that bit too glamorous.

‘Crikey, I did wash my hands and all that, didn’t I? But maybe I should have had my hairnet on, mixing up those cupcakes.’ Jill had a moment of panic.

‘I wouldn’t worry too much, Mum. Who knows why she was here? Might just have been a simple coffee break, after all. I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out.’