Page 29 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘You okay?’ She looked across at Eve.

‘Of course.’ It came out in a tight cheery tone – a lie?

Maybe she could take ten more minutes … But, with that, Rachel’s phone started buzzing. It was Simon, their farmhand. She’d better answer it. His voice came in an urgent tone. One of their cows, Morag, was sick with what appeared to be mastitis. With such conditions, things could get serious, and quickly. She had a young calf in tow too, and she was already reluctant to feed it.

‘Sorry, hun. I’m going to have to go.’ She took Eve’s hand for a second. ‘Morag’s not well at all.’

Eve also knew the cows at Rachel’s farm by name. ‘It’s fine, I understand. You get on.’

‘We’ll catch up real soon, I promise.’ Rachel sensed there was a lot going on under the surface with Eve just now.

‘Yeah, of course. Go. Go. You’re needed elsewhere.’

The girls shared a quick hug and Eve hopped down out of the truck. Rachel quickly turned the Land Rover in the lane, her heart pulling as she saw her friend linger outside her cottage gate watching her go – her earlier joy in the flower shop now shaded by a look of sadness.

13

The days rolled on, never-ending tasks on the farm occupying Rachel and stopping her mind from drifting towards the dilemma with Tom. And thankfully Morag and her calf made a full recovery. The balmy early June weather broke with a stormy grey sky that turned into pelting summer rain. Typical, as they’d been hoping to start cutting the hay soon.

Rachel had heard from a customer at the Pantry that some of her errant sheep and their lambs had made a bid for freedom; they were now roadside and happily grazing the verges in the lane, apparently. So, she needed to go and herd them back, and check on the pasture’s fencing a.s.a.p. Honestly, keeping the farm’s borders and fence line intact felt like maintaining the Forth Rail Bridge: no sooner had you finished one repair than another turned up. Rachel dashed across to the farmhouse, popped a waterproof mac on, grabbed her wire-repair kit from the shed, and called Moss up to ride on the back ledge of the quad, ready to round up the escapees.

After securing the mischievous Petie – who was most likely the ringleader of the escape team – and his ovine pals back in their field, Rachel discovered the damaged area of fencing and set to work on a repair, crouching beneath a rather prickly row of hawthorns that made up part of the hedge line.

Just as she was concentrating on re-fixing some new wire, she heard a truck slow in the lane, just as another car approached. The vehicles paused. Strange, they didn’t usually get much traffic on the lane at this time of day. Rachel looked up to see the dark grey of Tom’s truck on her side of the lane. She was just about to stand up and call out to him when another voice sounded out.

‘Hey!’ It was Ben, calling to Tom from the other car.

‘Hi, Ben.’ Tom’s toffee-warm tones; Rachel would recognise them anywhere. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘Just popping over to Brenda’s Deli to get a few bits for lunch for the missus. All okay?’

‘Yeah, so so.’ Tom’s voice sounded strangely flat.

‘Hey, anything up, mate?’ asked Ben.

Rachel remained crouched down in the verge. She could easily just spring up and say hello, but something kept her rooted to the spot.

‘No, it’s all okay, honest.’

‘Come on mate, I can read you like a book. A problem shared is a problem halved and all that.’

‘Ah, just women trouble … ex trouble, I mean. Honestly Ben, I don’t know why I’m even thinking of getting married again.’

Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t hear Ben’s response, her heart plummeting like a stone in her chest, a horrid queasiness swirling in her gut. She stopped her work at the fence and slumped to the rain-sodden ground.

Tom … was he having second thoughts? Why was he suddenly questioning everything?

Oh, God.

Yes, she knew how much Tom’s ex-wife, Caitlin, could wind him up. But she was in the past, wasn’t she? And to think he was worried he was about to make another huge mistake … No wonder he hadn’t answered Rachel’s earlier text about them having ‘a talk’. There were obviously other things on his mind.

Wet grass and mud dampened the seat of her jeans. Plops of rain spotted her face like tears. A part of her mind told her to calm down, to put it into context. Maybe he was just letting off steam. It was a throwaway comment. But it didn’t seem throwaway, and it loitered uneasily in her mind.

Tom and Ben must have been talking more, but Rachel heard none of the next few seconds, as she was reeling from Tom’s revelation. She felt panicked, finding it hard to breathe, like she was underwater. Eventually she caught Ben wrapping up the conversation.

‘Well, see you later, mate.’

‘You too, thanks for listening, eh?’ said Tom. ‘I’ll see you about.’