Page 47 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

20

In the Pudding Pantry the next morning, a far-from-lazy Sunday, Maisy piped up, ‘Mummy, we need a tree with lights and sparkle and pretty things on. They’ve got one at school now, in the hall.’

Rachel and Jill hadn’t got around to putting up a Christmas tree in the Pantry as yet, though Rachel had been wanting to. Time seemed to be flying, it was already the second week in November, so it really was a good time to up the ante with the festive decorations in the barn. This, she realised, would also be an ideal diversionary activity for Maisy, who was already asking when she’d next see her daddy, and what was he doing today. Soft toy Olaf had gone to bed with her last night, and was sitting on the counter at the Pantry right now.

‘That sounds a brilliant idea, Maisy. In fact, I think we should head out this morning and see if we can find the perfect tree. What do you reckon?’

‘Yes!’ Maisy clapped her hands together with delight.

Having a farm and land of your own meant you didn’t have to go out and buy a tree at a garden centre or such like. Oh no, you went out armed with your saw to your very own copse and found a pine tree of the desired height and general look, then you cut it down. It certainly made it much more fun, and it was an annual ritual that Rachel used to love doing with her dad.

After explaining they were about to go on Mission Christmas Tree and checking that Jill was happy to cover the Pantry for a while, the two of them wrapped up warm in coats, hats and scarves, and set off walking in their wellingtons across two fields – Rachel carrying the necessary tools. Moss was happy to be part of the expedition too and the trio headed to the copse on the hill.

It was a crisp, frosty day, with a sky of baby-blue, the grass a little ice-crunchy underfoot and their breath was misting as they strolled. This morning there’d been a thick layer of ice on the water troughs around the farm and Rachel had had to go around cracking it with a heavy stone, so the animals could get a drink. Winter was upon then.

It was the first time Rachel had taken Maisy with her to choose the tree. Last year, Rachel had gone quickly and without much ado on her own to cut down a small fir for their living room, letting Maisy help to decorate it, trying to muster a little Christmas spirit. The year before they were really struggling with the prospect of Christmas and hadn’t got around to having a tree at all, with it being the first Christmas after her father’s tragic death.

Rachel climbed the fence that enclosed the small wooded area, then lifted Maisy over. Moss managed an agile leap to join them. Then the pair of them stood looking up, scanning the Christmas tree candidates.

‘Now, we can’t have one that’s too big, Maisy. It has to fit in the barn without touching the roof and remember that we also have to be able to pull it home.’

‘It has to be a prickly one, doesn’t it, Mummy?’

‘Yes, they call it a pine tree, that’s right.’

And prickly was too damned true – the garden centre ones were specially grown so that the needles were much softer on the skin. A wild pine, however, was lethal – as she’d learnt as a child. Rachel had brought her heavy-duty gloves and made sure Maisy had her woollen ones on so they were armed and ready for the mission.

‘Hmm …’ Maisy was contemplating the various trees above them seriously.

‘Let’s have a little walk about and check carefully, so we get the best one,’ suggested Rachel.

Ten minutes later, they’d scoured the small copse. It had a mix of deciduous and pine trees of varying shapes and sizes. Walking and looking up at the same time had made them both a bit giddy, so they paused for a few seconds. Moss lay down by Rachel’s feet.

‘Soooo, decision time. Which one do you think?’ Rachel asked.

Maisy dashed forward, past a small pine tree and pointed at the next one that stood behind it. It was somewhat taller than Rachel had anticipated – the ones they’d taken for the farmhouse in the past had been around seven feet high and this one must be nearer to ten. But, Rachel mused, the barn was tall, and the tree would certainly make an impact. Why not? It would please Maisy to have her first choice.

‘Okay, yes. That one looks pretty good.’

On closer inspection, one side was a little bushier than the other, but that was often the case with a natural tree.

‘Mummy, does it hurt the tree?’ Maisy asked as Rachel got her saw to hand, ready to start cutting.

‘No, no, it can’t feel it, petal. This one won’t be able to live any more, once it’s cut down, but we can always plant another one, and sometimes the extra space means the other trees near to it will get more light and air and they will get to grow better.’

‘Okay.’ She nodded happily, appeased.

‘Right then, I need you to stand out of the way, just over here by the fence with Moss.’

Rachel began to saw low down into the trunk, the jaggy needles of the lower branches digging uncomfortably into her face as she worked. The air was filled with the smell of fresh, zingy pine, suddenly reminding her of Christmases past – standing watching her dad fell the tree she had chosen, with her excitement mounting at the thought of all the festive decorations and Christmas yet to come. She had never imagined back then that he wouldn’t be here with her still.

She took a deep breath of the cold air and made herself concentrate on the task to hand. The sap was sticky on her glove as she gripped the trunk with one hand. After a short while she could feel the trunk begin to give, and she called out to Maisy, ‘Stay right there!’ There was a little creak as it gave way, and ‘Woo hoo! Timber!’ called Rachel, then it fell, bouncing with a blast of fresh pine aromas to the ground.

‘Yay!’ shouted Maisy.

‘Okay, so we’ll get it back, and we’ll need to find a crate or pot to put it in, and then we’ll go and fetch all the Christmas decorations and make it pretty.’ The decorations were stored up in the loft of the farmhouse somewhere – there’d be a mix of old and new. ‘Hmm, maybe we can get Auntie Eve to bring across some of her lovely handmade decorations to put on it to sell at the Pantry, too.’

‘Ooh, can Amelia come and help put all the sparkly things on?’