Page 78 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

With that, Rachel’s mobile phone buzzed in her pocket: Tom. Their recent row still burned in her mind. She answered, feeling a little hesitant.

‘I’m out on the hill.’ The line was poor and she could hear the rush of the wind. ‘Some of my sheep are already stuck. I’ll come and help you with yours next. It’ll be better with two of us. The farm lads can’t come out, the roads are thick with snow and hard to pass already.’ He was being pragmatic, the farmer instinct taking over despite their argument. There were bigger issues afoot here right now.

‘Okay, well, I’m just ready to come out myself. Where are you? I could come and help you first?’

‘I’ve taken the tractor up the Top Bank. If you go steady, it’s okay getting up. You’ll need your shovel and a long stick with you, though.’ The line went a bit crackly then.

‘Okay, I’m on my way.’

She took a few more glugs of hot coffee, located her gloves, hat and some rope, popped her waterproofs on over her clothes and grabbed the keys for the Land Rover – the quads were no good in this weather, sinking easily. The Land Rover was sturdy and she’d been out in thick snow in it before.

‘Be careful, Rachel.’ Jill was anxious, but trying her best to hide it from Maisy.

‘I will.’

Rachel gave Maisy a quick peck on her forehead.

‘Make sure Petie’s okay, Mummy.’

‘Will do. And Mum, it’d be great if you can have some nice warm soup ready for when I get in.’ She knew Jill would feel better having a task to do.

‘Of course. I’ll get making some right now, we’ve plenty of vegetables in. Maisy, you can help me.’

‘Then can we make some cupcakes, Grandma?’

‘Yes, why not? That sounds a good idea.’

They were meant to be opening the Pantry today, but there was no way anyone was going to make it in, not without a snow plough, so a bit of baking wouldn’t go amiss – help keep the spirits up.

‘Right, I’m away.’ Rachel was keen to get out there and face the elements.

‘Don’t take any chances out there.’ Jill gave Rachel’s arm a gentle pat.

‘I won’t,’ Rachel replied, but she also knew she needed to do whatever it would take to save her flock and the farm’s livelihood. ‘I’ve got my mobile with me, but the signal may not be that great with a storm blowing, so try not to worry. I’ve got Tom with me, remember. We’ll be fine.’

‘Take Moss too, he might be able to help. He used to go with your dad …’ Jill’s voice trailed away.

‘Come on then, Mossie. Let’s go, boy.’ The sheepdog was up and off the mat by the Aga in a second, bless him.

Rachel grabbed her wellingtons then braced herself as she opened the farmhouse’s door. The snow blew almost horizontal at her, icily blasting her bare cheeks. Blimey, a balaclava might have been more suitable. She climbed into the Land Rover with Moss leaping in beside her, and set off stoically into the storm, realising too late that she’d forgotten the flask of coffee. Well, she wasn’t going back for it.

With the windscreen wipers on full, she headed off down the farm track, making her way to Tom’s land. Visibility was poor and with a sudden shunt of snow from the roof of the Land Rover covering the whole screen, for a second or two she couldn’t see a thing. She braked gently, took a slow breath, and then set off once more. The road was already thick with snow, maybe a foot or more deep, but the vehicle kept going, and thank heavens for the hawthorn hedges which marked the route.

Rachel knew there was a track to follow up the bank to where Tom had told her he was working, but on reaching the field as she turned off from the lane, it was evident that the track had disappeared under a blanket of snow. She just hoped her trusty Land Rover could cope with the incline through the snowfall. The good thing was that it wasn’t too icy, and in the main, except for where it had drifted, it wasn’t yet too deep. The Land Rover whirred on and thankfully had enough traction to keep going steadily forward up the bank.

Dad’s voice was coming through loud and clear in her mind as she concentrated on driving: ‘Treat her gently in the snow, now, lass. Handle her properly and she’ll come through for you. Imagine there’s a bucket of water you don’t want to spill in your passenger footwell, so no harsh breaking or accelerating.’ Dad had taught her to drive all the farm vehicles – his calm, steady tuition with her still. In snow like this, she knew she had to keep the momentum up to maintain the climb as the bank steepened.

And there, ahead of her, through the constant flurry of snowflakes battering the windscreen, was a glimpse of the blue of Tom’s parked tractor. Rachel pulled up slowly alongside and gently braked. She jumped out, grabbed a shovel and her long, flexible stick, already knowing that the task in hand might be a grim one.

There was Tom in a hi-vis yellow jacket, carefully working away with a shovel and his hands at a drift that had formed against the hedge.

‘Tom.’ The word was stolen by the rush of the wind up there, a biting easterly. ‘Tom!’ she raised her voice.

‘Hey, I think there’s several under here. I’m missing twenty in all. I’ve already dug out a couple.’

Rachel started to shovel away beside him. Moss was soon on the case a bit further along the drift, suddenly digging with his paws frantically, and sure enough, when Rachel came across and pushed her stick gently down at that spot, it touched a firm but giving object.

‘Over here, Tom.’