Page 10 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

A round of gin and tonics and a juice for Jill, who’d offered to drive them back, went down rather well in the old-fashioned, black-beamed Scottish pub, accompanied by lots of chatter and laughter. It was soon time to head on to the bistro, which they discovered in a cute spot on the seafront. The owner had reserved them the large front table with a great harbour view.

A supper of local scallops, chilli prawns, steak burgers and freshly made fish and chips followed. The desserts were a triumph – it had to be done, of course – with raspberry cranachan coming out the firm favourite, followed closely by a velvety chocolate mousse made with whisky and orange.

Proseccos were poured, and the chatter continued, as they finished their gorgeous meal. After thanking the staff and owners, and leaving a generous tip, they headed out into the cooling evening air. It had been a real treat, one which admittedly Rachel and Jill couldn’t afford to do often, but this was a special weekend, after all.

‘Okay ladies, one last pub stop, and then we’ll head back to the lodge, yes?’ suggested Kirsty.

‘Are you okay with that, Mum?’ Rachel checked, aware that Jill was driving.

‘Of course, love. It’s great seeing you all enjoying yourselves.’

And so it was that they ended up in The Lobster Pot, further along the seafront. They all crammed around a small table in a corner near the bustling bar, large glasses of wine in hand, and Eve dug something out of her handbag – six sparkly pink sashes that read, ‘Team Bride’, and one that said ‘Bride-to-Be’, along with a twinkly plastic tiara. And, as a grand finale, a pair of silver deely boppers.

Rachel looked aghast. ‘You’re kidding … I said no fuss, and absolutely no deely boppers!’

‘Argh, come on Rach, you only get married once … well, hopefully,’ Kirsty gave a cheeky grin.

‘Let’s do this thing; look, we’re all in it together.’ Eve started passing around the sashes and Jill, who was totally sober, bless her, put hers straight on.

‘It is your hen do, after all,’ Charlotte cajoled.

‘Ah, okay, this pub only, all right. And I’m only doing it to please you lot …’

Of course, nearing the bottom of her glass and realising she needed the bathroom, Rachel had totally forgotten she was wearing her sash, tiara and deely boppers as she tootled off to the toilet. She wondered why she was getting several stares and a wolf-whistle as she passed the blokes at the bar. On the way back, an old guy started singing, ‘I’m getting married in the morning’, at which there was a flash of a camera from Kirsty – oh damn, there’d be photographic evidence – and the hen do party collapsed into fits of giggles.

Rachel blushed pink and began tugging at her tiara, just as a tall, good-looking bloke stepped forward from the bar.

‘Hey, haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’ He gave a cheeky grin and then gestured across to their table.

What a line, Rachel thought, rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t think s—’ She was keen to make her getaway.

‘No, really, I’m not one to forget a pretty face.’Cheesy or what? ‘You and two of your friends there, you were at the service station near Glasgow.’

Oh blimey … She took in the sandy-blond hair, the broad chest. It was him. Coca-Cola T-shirt Man. He walked across with her back to their table. ‘Good evening, ladies.’

‘Hell-ooo.’ ‘Hi.’ ‘Hi, there’ came a chorus of chirpy responses accompanied by broad smiles.

‘It’s T-shirt Man,’ Rachel mouthed to Eve, over his shoulder.

‘Nice to see you again.’ He smiled directly at Eve.

‘Yeah, apparently this, er, gentleman, remembers us from the service station. What are the chances, hey Eve?’

Eve’s mouth dropped open. ‘Gosh, yes. Hah.’

‘So, you lot know each other?’ quizzed Hannah.

‘I wouldn’t say that. We just happened to be getting out of our cars at the same time at the service station yesterday,’ said Rachel.

‘It’s Ross, by the way.’ He introduced himself to the group.

‘Hi, Ross.’

‘So, you girls were on your way to a hen do then? Your hen do, in fact.’ His hand was now resting on Rachel’s shoulder. It felt like a friendly gesture, nothing more.

‘Yep.’

‘One lucky guy.’