Page 54 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

Tom sighed once more, ‘Look, I really need to get on with this paperwork, Rach. I’ve a lot to think about right now.’

Did he mean them? Their relationship, their wedding, as well as all the practical stuff?

She swallowed a lump in her throat. ‘Okay, I’ll see you soon, though. Yeah?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ he answered, although his tone was flat.

As Rachel closed the farmhouse door behind her, she found herself shedding a tear. It was less than three weeks until their wedding day, so why was she feeling so sad and lonely?

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Rachel posted a lovely image of Jill’s latest baking masterpiece on both Instagram and the Pantry’s Facebook page – a delicious-looking lemon meringue pie with a piled-high soft meringue top. ‘When life gives you lemons … bake a pie’, she typed. She liked to put up pictures of their puddings on social media to provide a little online cheer and hopefully tempt customers in.

‘Another delicious-looking pud there, Mum. That’ll please the online crowd no end. Right, I’m going to pop into town to pick up a few essentials, I’ll be back before long.’

‘OK, thanks love, I’ll hold the fort here.’

In all honesty, Rachel needed a moment to clear her head. First, she headed to the post office and got in the queue to send off a parcel of ginger pudding. It was for someone who’d called at the Pantry on their holidays, sampled their culinary delights, and wondered if they did a postal service. Rachel was delighted and jumped at the chance to help.

She was four back in the queue, tapping her foot, when she couldn’t help but overhear the conversation at the counter.

‘By the way,’ the well-to-do lady at the front asked, ‘can you recommend anywhere local for a bite of lunch?’

‘Oh, well.’ It was Susan on the counter today. ‘There’s the Cheviot Café here on the high street, and if you’d like somewhere cosy which does lovely food nearby, there’s the Pudding Pantry out at Primrose Farm, just outside the village.’

Ah, bless her for recommending them.

‘Oh … funny you should say that, I did a bit of research just this morning,’ the woman countered, ‘and I saw some poor reviews on that Pantry place …’

Rachel felt herself flush with embarrassment, luckily hidden from view by the tall chap in front of her. How? They generally had such lovely comments and good reviews.

‘Well, I’ve been there myself and had some wonderful food,’ Susan replied. ‘The soup and sandwiches are very nice, and all the cakes and puddings are homemade.’

‘Well, perhaps it’s changed lately,’ said the lady, before bustling out of the post office. She evidently wasn’t keen on giving them the benefit of the doubt.

When it was Rachel’s turn, Susan looked up with a start, ‘Oh, hi Rach,’ she blushed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there in the queue. Did you hear that?’ she added in hushed tones.

‘Yeah, but don’t worry, it’s not your fault. I wonder what these online reviews are, though? I’ve never spotted anything like that.’

‘No, might just be one Minnie Moaner. Can’t be helped sometimes.’

‘No, maybe not. You can’t always please everyone, I suppose.’ But Rachel was desperate to find out what had been said. It could be affecting their trade already.

Rachel sorted the parcel delivery and made her way out to the street. Perhaps there was time for a quick diversion, to check out the competition … She walked towards the Cheviot Café and couldn’t help but hear the teenage waitress chatting away with a local middle-aged lady by the doorway.

‘Oh, and did you see those awful comments on Facebook? About the Pudding Pantry? Think we might be getting more customers coming back here now,’ the young waitress said with a wink.

Rachel’s ears pricked up. She was fiercely protective of her business and their reputation; they worked so bloody hard. She stepped up to the café’s threshold: ‘I’d mind your tongue if I were you, Grace.’ Blimey, bad news certainly did travel fast in this town.

‘Oh, sorry, Rachel. It’s just what I saw on Facebook,’ the young girl floundered, blushing pink.

Rachel just shook her head, then stepped away and carried on walking towards the truck. Hopefully the girl might think twice about gossiping in the future but, in the meantime, Rachel needed to find out for herself what was going on.

Sitting in the truck a few minutes later, Rachel dug out her mobile phone and clicked onto Facebook, her fingers trembling.

There were several ‘likes’ on the lemon meringue image, and a couple of positive comments. And then she read one comment which made her stop, her hands frozen above the phone: ‘The food might look great, but the staff are not friendly in the least. Had a very frosty reception, and a lukewarm coffee. Wouldn’t recommend.’

Oh, it was awful to think someone had had a bad experience with them. Rachel didn’t remember anyone saying the coffee hadn’t been warm enough, or they’d have certainly given them a fresh cup straight away. She’d have to ask Mum if she’d spoken with anyone over the last few days.