Page 76 of Summer at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

She knew the fly argument sounded thin, and was beginning to see how incriminating it might have looked. But at least Tom was finally looking her in the eye. If she wanted him to believe her, though, she had to come clean about the root of the rumours: Eve. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t know what else to say without betraying her best friend. So, she stood there in silence, trying to see a way out of this.

Tom shook his head so very sadly, then turned and walked away.

‘Tom … I … don’t go …’ Her words trailed after him, but he didn’t stop.

She stood frozen. Rachel felt as if her heart was being torn in two: between loyalty to her beautiful friend and the trust and love of her fiancé.

Unaware of any of the dramas that had been unfolding, Ben asked Tom if he fancied a pint after work that evening. He had best-man duties to talk through with him, after all. The Black Bull was pretty low down on the list of places Tom wanted to visit right now after his run-in with Dennis the Menace, and everything that had gone on since, but after the night and day Tom had just put in, a cold drink of beer with a mate in his local did actually sound like a good tonic. After all, Tom resolved, he had nothing to hide. He wasn’t one to shy away from this mess, and if he fancied a pint in his local, why the hell not? It might help take his mind off things for a couple of hours, if nothing else.

Tom walked in at seven o’clock as agreed, finding that Ben wasn’t there yet. And look who was standing at the bar: Jake. Of course, the last person he wanted to see right now. Barfly eyes scanned from Tom to Jake, evidently aware of the rumours that had been going around, and there was an audible hush as Tom stepped up to the counter – as far away from his rival as he could – and ordered a pint of real ale. The landlord, Mick, poured and passed it over the bar a little awkwardly. ‘All right, Tom?’

‘Yep.’ Amazing how one small word could hold a storm inside it.

Mick sensed that perhaps this wasn’t quite the time to mention the up-and-coming wedding. Let a man have his beer in peace, that was one of his lifelong mottos, born from experience. Especially when the customer in question had a face on him like thunder.

Tom stood bristling at the end of the bar. He took a sip of the cold beer. A couple of pints, that’d be all he’d stay for. A quick chat with Ben and then he’d be away home.

Unfortunately, Jake had other plans, sauntering his way across. He even had the cheek to smile at him. ‘Hey, Tom. All right, mate?’

‘I’m not your mate.’

‘Okay, pal. What’s up?’

His tone was too damned flippant for Tom’s liking.

‘What’s up? What’s up is how you’ve been loitering around the farm, pestering Rachel, getting way too close to my fiancée. Making a nuisance of yourself …’

Jake didn’t much like his accusatory tone or the bullish look on his face. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate. I’ve only been there to visit my daughter. I have rights, you know.’

‘You’ve been doing a sight more than that, you slimy little toerag.’ Tom’s fist was primed now, but he wasn’t the sort to get physical.

‘Dunno what you’re talking about.’

‘You and Rachel …’

‘Well, I haven’t been there for a few years now … but boy she was a good ’un.’ Jake’s tone was lechy after a few pints on an empty stomach.

With that, the prickling in Tom’s fist took over. Just looking at Jake’s smug face was enough to tip him over …

Ben walked into the Bull to see Tom land a punch right on Jake’s face. Ouch.

And Jake struck back, landing a fist on Tom’s cheekbone. Ooh.

‘Right lads, enough.’ Mick swiftly broke up the fight. ‘Not in my bar, you don’t! Take it outside if you have to.’

Ben moved in to hustle Tom to one side, holding his friend back before he did something he really regretted. ‘Woah Tom, take it easy now, let’s calm down yeah?’ Both Jake and Tom were ushered out of the door and onto the street. Tom stood breathing heavily, rubbing his knuckles. Jesus, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d thrown a punch. But he didn’t feel elated, far from it. Jake was standing beside him, rubbing his cheek. ‘What the hell was that all about?’ he muttered. ‘Can’t a man enjoy a quiet pint? You should be getting excited for your wedding, mate, not starting fights. Bloody hell.’

Jake was clearly in denial, like the lying cheat he was, Tom mused. Yet Jake, he could understand … Rachel, however, he had thought he knew her better than that. He had thought she was better than that. His own cheek began throbbing. But a mere punch in the face was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside. Tom found he no longer had the heart to fight … suddenly he didn’t have the heart for anything anymore.

41

Rachel did what she always did in times of trouble and got on with life and stuck into her work.

The farm animals still needed her care; they didn’t know that her heart was breaking. The Pantry needed her puddings, and what energy she could muster to serve, and … if she could work all this out with Tom, there was still a wedding to prepare for. The tipi was being put up in the field beside the farmhouse right now – she could hear the hammering across the valley – and she, Mum and Daniel were set to move chairs and tables across there as soon as the Pantry closed for business.

She’d tried to speak with Tom again last night, a call that went unanswered. She had no option but to leave a voicemail, pleading with him to believe her.

After a blast of fresh air out on the quad with Moss – ears flapping – at her side, she headed back down the valley to Primrose Farm, catching sight of Tom’s farm there beside hers. They were meant to be together. It had to work out, it just had to. But she knew Tom needed a bit of space right now. This was all such a mess. And the wedding was a mere day away, or – at least – it was supposed to be. Right now, she really didn’t know if he was going to turn up or not.