Page 5 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

In autumn, Rachel used to pick the apples with Dad from the big old gnarled tree in their garden. He’d lift her up in his strong arms so she could reach the fruit, and they’d fill a wicker basket with the large Bramley cooking apples. Mum would keep some to use straight away for her crumbles and apple sauce, the rest they’d lay out on the big kitchen table, the very same table they had now, and wrap them in old newspaper ready to store in boxes under the bottom shelf in the walk-in larder.

Toffee Apple Crumble:

450g/1lb cooking apples

75g/3oz soft brown sugar

60g butter

½tsp cinnamon

For the crumble:

175g/6oz flour

75g/3oz butter, cubed

25g/1oz caster sugar and 75g/1oz demerara sugar

Dice the apples into large chunks and place in a pan with the butter, sugar and cinnamon. Cook gently until the apples just start to soften but are still mostly whole. Remove apples from the pan with slotted spoon and place into baking dish. Pop the pan back on the heat and reduce liquid by half, stirring with a wooden spoon, and pour over the apples.

To make the crumble, sift flour into a bowl, rub the butter into flour until it resembles breadcrumbs. Stir in sugar keeping a heaped tablespoon of demerara to sprinkle over the top. Sprinkle crumble thickly and evenly over the fruit and press down lightly with the palm of your hand to smooth.

Bake at 180°C Mark 4 for 30–40 minutes until the fruit is bubbling and the crumble golden.

Serve with cream, custard or ice cream!

3

‘So, do you think you can make it over?’ Tom’s toffee-warm voice came through on Rachel’s mobile, as she parked the Land Rover outside the farmhouse, making her stomach flutter.

‘Hey, Tom, hi. Well, we’re still to have supper here. But yes, once Maisy’s all tucked up in bed … then I’ll scoot across.’ In fact, Rachel had yet to check with Jill, but her mum hadn’t mentioned that she was going out.

‘Great, can’t wait,’ Tom said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘So, how’s the rest of your day been?’ he continued.

‘Yeah, not bad. The usual on the farm, and steady away at the Pantry … Look, we’re just heading in for supper and I’ve got Maisy with me, so we’ll catch up later, yeah?’ She was aware of Maisy listening in beside her and Jill was no doubt waiting inside with their meal prepared, having slaved away at the Aga again.

‘Ah, okay.’

She could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. She wished they could speak for longer too, but it wasn’t easy balancing Maisy and her mum’s needs with her own.

While remaining cool on the outside, Rachel’s heart was already giving little leaps at the thought of spending the evening with Tom – and whatever that might bring. Their budding relationship was still so new and still so exciting that it felt very fragile, like butterfly wings. And, even though they were getting on really, really well, Rachel was afraid they might yet break at any point. She pushed that thought aside – just because things had gone wrong with her relationships in the past, it didn’t automatically mean they would now. Not all men were unreliable and selfish like Jake, her crazy first love and Maisy’s absent and irresponsible dad, she told herself.

This, with Tom? This was built on friendship, on a steady base of caring and support. They’d known each other for years as neighbours, as farmers – since they were kids, in fact. But it had all changed very recently into something so much more than friends, and that, at times, was hard to comprehend.

‘Great, so I’ll see you later, then,’ Tom added, taking her out of her reverie.

‘Yes, that’ll be lovely. I’ll send a text when I’m about to leave, but it’ll probably be around seven thirty, once Maisy’s settled.’

‘No problem. See you then.’

‘Bye, Tom.’

‘Bye.’

Maisy was already out of the vehicle and pulling off her wellington boots at the farmhouse porch.

‘Was that Tom, Mummy?’ she asked, with a serious face.