Page 13 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘Not sure yet …’ answered Eve, struggling.

‘You don’t happen to have a full schedule of activities planned for today, do you hun? No bungee jumping or anything lined up?’ Rachel said wryly.

‘No …’ Thank the Lord.

‘That’s good to know.’ Rachel managed a chuckle.

‘Definitely a day for us all to chill out then,’ Jill chipped in.

‘Absolutely.’

‘Hmmm …’ The power of speech was failing Eve.

‘Right, well, you two just take your time.’ Jill’s voice was chirpy, far too chirpy. ‘Me and Hannah are up, but we’re more than happy out on the deck enjoying the sunshine and having a natter over a cuppa. The other two are still in the land of nod.’

Eve heard footsteps retreating, uttered a groan-like ‘thanks’, and then buried herself back under the duvet. She most definitely wasn’t ready to face the day just yet. As she sank back into the pillows, something else was niggling at her too. Something besides her hangover. Her emotions had been pretty wobbly over the past few weeks … a certain worry keeping her awake at night. Normally, she’d share her concerns with her best friend, but it was a bit trickier than that. She went through a mental check list of all the reasons to keep schtum:

a) She really didn’t want to air her silly worries now, and spoil what should be a fab hen party for them all.

b) She could hardly make any sense of it herself just yet.

c) Telling someone might make it all the more real. At the moment, she could just leave well alone, pretend nothing at all had happened, and just carry on with life as normal. Right?

The only trouble was that it wasn’t leaving her alone, and it was starting to do her head in, as well as leaving her heart wallowing in a weird, splodgy puddle.

Eve let out a long, slow sigh. Just thinking about her dilemma made her head pound even more. She fumbled on the bedside table for the paracetamol packet, managed to push two of the pills out and glugged them down with a slurp of tea. Urgh, they tasted foul as they lodged in her throat.

Why did life have to be so bloody complicated?

A long, leisurely soak in the Jacuzzi soothed them all that afternoon – warm and bubbly, with good company and relaxed chatter. Bliss. It was certainly just what Eve needed.

When early evening swung around, Rachel and Hannah nipped out to the town to buy some treats for an easy supper. As soon as they left, Eve ran into the middle of the living room and called the fellow hens over.

‘Right, ladies, it’s go time! Let’s get transforming!’ she shouted, rallying the troops as they started to turn the lodge into a DIY SOS-style hen-do decoration zone. Pearlised pink and silver balloons were blown up and hung from the ceiling, streamers were draped artistically, along with bunting that Eve had made especially for the wedding and brought with her from home. The ‘Team Bride’ sashes were back out, and the girls even set up a cardboard ‘photo booth’ picture frame you could stand behind with lots of fun props – spectacles, hats, feather boas, and more.

When Rachel and Hannah arrived back thirty minutes later, they were surprised by a blast of party poppers and hooters, their friends leaping out at them as they came through the cabin door.

‘Well you lot have certainly perked up!’ Rachel grinned, looking around her at the transformation. ‘Aw, this is amazing, you guys.’

‘Well, we couldn’t let the last night pass without a bit of a bang,’ exclaimed Charlotte.

Jill approached from the kitchen with a tray of freshly frosted, salted caramel cupcakes. ‘I think it’s time we popped open the prosecco again then, girls.’

Eve’s tummy gave a gurgle of protest at the mere thought of alcohol. ‘I’ll pass on the prosecco just now, Jill,’ she gulped. ‘But I might well have to try one of those.’

They ate the cupcakes as dessert first, followed by a platter of local breads, cheeses, and pâtés. They sipped their prosecco, bar Eve who opted for fizzy water, and then settled down for a night of hen-do fun. A proper Girls’ Night In.

The photo booth proved a great hit, and lots of silly, smiley photos were taken. Games were played, including an ‘interesting’ hen-do version of what might be known as ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’, which produced much hilarity, especially when a blindfolded and blushing Jill managed to place the ‘tail’ appendage slap-bang in the middle of the cartoon man’s face.

It was getting late when Kirsty suggested a quick-fire game of ‘Truth or Dare’, along with an Irish cream nightcap. Kirsty nominated herself as question master – a sneaky move, the others agreed, giggling. They’d have to think of a humdinger of a group question for her as a grand finale.

It came to Jill’s turn.

‘Truth or Dare?’

‘Truth. Go on, I’ve nothing to hide.’

‘Be careful of the question here, Kirst,’ Rachel piped up. ‘Remember it’s my mother you’re asking. There are certain things I really don’t want to hear.’