sensually at her ear.
She smiled broadly, feeling a flip in her belly. ‘I will … but I do need to check.’
She watched him leave, amazed at how this new relationship had even happened, how they’d bridged that gap from neighbours and friends to becoming lovers. Seeing Tom always made her heart soar, and they were getting on so well. But they were at that crucial early stage – where it felt exciting, but also a little bit scary …
The Second Bake of Christmas
Jill’s Toffee Apple Crumble – 1997 and Present Day
In autumn, Rachel used to pick the apples with Dad from the big old gnarled tree in their garden. He’d lift her up in his strong arms so she could reach the fruit, and they’d fill a wicker basket with the large Bramley cooking apples. Mum would keep some to use straight away for her crumbles and apple sauce, the rest they’d lay out on the big kitchen table, the very same table they had now, and wrap them in old newspaper ready to store in boxes under the bottom shelf in the walk-in larder.
Toffee Apple Crumble:
450g/1lb cooking apples
75g/3oz soft brown sugar
60g butter
½tsp cinnamon
For the crumble:
175g/6oz flour
75g/3oz butter, cubed
25g/1oz caster sugar and 75g/1oz demerara sugar
Dice the apples into large chunks and place in a pan with the butter, sugar and cinnamon. Cook gently until the apples just start to soften but are still mostly whole. Remove apples from the pan with slotted spoon and place into baking dish. Pop the pan back on the heat and reduce liquid by half, stirring with a wooden spoon, and pour over the apples.
To make the crumble, sift flour into a bowl, rub the butter into flour until it resembles breadcrumbs. Stir in sugar keeping a heaped tablespoon of demerara to sprinkle over the top. Sprinkle crumble thickly and evenly over the fruit and press down lightly with the palm of your hand to smooth.
Bake at 180°C Mark 4 for 30–40 minutes until the fruit is bubbling and the crumble golden.
Serve with cream, custard or ice cream!
‘So, do you think you can make it over?’ Tom’s toffee-warm voice came through on Rachel’s mobile, as she parked the Land Rover outside the farmhouse, making her stomach flutter.
‘Hey, Tom, hi. Well, we’re still to have supper here. But yes, once Maisy’s all tucked up in bed … then I’ll scoot across.’ In fact, Rachel had yet to check with Jill, but her mum hadn’t mentioned that she was going out.
‘Great, can’t wait,’ Tom said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘So, how’s the rest of your day been?’ he continued.
‘Yeah, not bad. The usual on the farm, and steady away at the Pantry … Look, we’re just heading in for supper and I’ve got Maisy with me, so we’ll catch up later, yeah?’ She was aware of Maisy listening in beside her and Jill was no doubt waiting inside with their meal prepared, having slaved away at the Aga again.
‘Ah, okay.’
She could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. She wished they could speak for longer too, but it wasn’t easy balancing Maisy and her mum’s needs with her own.
While remaining cool on the outside, Rachel’s heart was already giving little leaps at the thought of spending the evening with Tom – and whatever that might bring. Their budding relationship was still so new and still so exciting that it felt very fragile, like butterfly wings. And, even though they were getting on really, really well, Rachel was afraid they might yet break at any point. She pushed that thought aside – just because things had gone wrong with her relationships in the past, it didn’t automatically mean they would now. Not all men were unreliable and selfish like Jake, her crazy first love and Maisy’s absent and irresponsible dad, she told herself.
This, with Tom? This was built on friendship, on a steady base of caring and support. They’d known each other for years as neighbours, as farmers – since they were kids, in fact. But it had all changed very recently into something so much more than friends, and that, at times, was hard to comprehend.
‘Great, so I’ll see you later, then,’ Tom added, taking her out of her reverie.
‘Yes, that’ll be lovely. I’ll send a text when I’m about to leave, but it’ll probably be around seven thirty, once Maisy’s settled.’
‘No problem. See you then.’
‘Bye, Tom.’
‘Bye.’
Maisy was already out of the vehicle and pulling off her wellington boots at the farmhouse porch.
‘Was that Tom, Mummy?’ she asked, with a serious face.
‘Yes, petal, I’m going across to see him tonight.’ She may as well be honest.
‘Oh.’ Maisy paused for a second before adding, ‘Can I come?’ Maisy got on well with Tom and he seemed to have a soft spot for her too.
‘Sorry, not tonight, sweetheart. It’s a school night and you need your sleep. By the time we’ve had supper with Grandma, it’ll be bath and bedtime for you.’
‘Hah – not fair.’ She crossed her arms indignantly.
‘Look, we can pop across on the weekend and you can say “hello” to Tom then, if you like,’ Rachel appeased.
‘Yes!’
‘Okay.’
It was sweet that they got on so well, but yet another reason for Rachel to feel anxious. If this new relationship didn’t last between her and Tom, how would that be for Maisy? She couldn’t risk Maisy getting hurt, couldn’t risk another man her daughter had grown fond of suddenly exiting her life. It was bad enough with Jake living hundreds of miles away and flitting in and out when it pleased him – mostly out. A small sigh escaped Rachel’s lips. Why were relationships always complicated?
She opened the truck’s back door and Moss leapt out, following them into the house, hopeful of a warm place by the Aga before having to go out to his kennel in the yard for the night. Rachel leaned down and gave his back a rub, his black and white coat soft and reassuring under her palm, before taking off her boots.
Nothing says home like the smell of baking and a gorgeous aroma drifted under the kitchen door. It smelt sugary-sweet, of apples and mmm, caramel.
‘Oh Moss, you’re gonna have to stay out here just now, fella.’ The dog was banned from the kitchen during Pudding Pantry cooking hours. Everything
