with a grin. ‘Though I may well have a little extra something on the side this morning.’ He gave Rachel a very cheeky glance.
‘And what might that be?’ Rachel asked leadingly.
‘Hmm, now then, maybe a … flapjack.’
‘Coming right up,’ Jill replied.
Rachel and Tom then burst into a fit of the giggles, leaving Jill bemused. Shaking her head at the giddy pair, she headed to the fridge for some bacon rashers, saying, ‘What on earth has got into you two?’
They were still grinning like loons, with the odd splutter from Rachel as she tried to focus on making Tom’s coffee, barista-style.
‘Ah, young love,’ Jill muttered at the griddle pan.
Tom leaned across the counter to whisper in Rachel’s ear, ‘I might even have a little crumble waiting for you later on, if I can tempt you away from your chores.’
‘Oh, but my paperwork mountain awaits,’ replied Rachel matter-of-factly, vowing to keep her promise to herself to get the farm’s piling admin sorted, though her body was telling her to ditch it – feeling tinglingly aroused.
‘Crikey, my charm must be failing fast – I’ve never been rejected for a pile of paperwork before.’
‘Sorry … soon, okay,’ she whispered. ‘Hang in there.’
‘I’ll try.’ He pulled a hang-dog face.
With that, Frank’s tut-tutting car could be heard coming up the lane, and the old gentleman was shortly making his way through the barn door.
‘Morning, Frank,’ greeted Tom first, as the two ladies then chorused, ‘Hello, Frank.’
‘How are you doing, pet?’ asked Jill.
‘Not too bad at all, thank you. All the better for seeing your smiling faces.’
That made the women’s smiles even wider.
‘And morning, young Tom. Farming going well?’
‘Yes thanks, Frank. Bit quieter at this time of year, now the harvest’s all in, and the cattle haven’t yet been brought in for the winter. Can’t complain.’
‘More time to see this lovely young lady, then,’ added Frank with a wink. The news had been out for a while around the village that they were formally an item.
‘So you’d think,’ answered Tom with a wry smile, followed by a meaningful glance at Rachel. ‘She’s one busy lady.’
Jill handed Tom his warm bacon roll. He opened the bap, and added a dollop of Brown Sauce on top of the bacon, then tucked in hungrily. ‘It’s been a long while since breakfast.’
‘What can we get for you today, Frank? Coffee, as per usual?’ asked Jill. ‘Oh, and I’ve just made a blackberry and cream roulade this morning, you might want to try a slice of that.’
‘That sounds just grand, and coffee it is. I’ll just settle myself at my usual table.’ He liked the one beside the arch-shaped window that looked out across the valley.
‘Yes do, and we’ll bring it all across in two ticks for you,’ added Rachel.
Frank liked to read the weekly local paper – of which Rachel kept a copy for the Pantry guests – and he often brought in his own copy of The Times to peruse over his hot drink and cake.
‘Right, I’d better be on my way,’ announced Tom, soon afterwards. ‘We’ve got some cattle tags to put back in today; they keep losing them out in the fields, so I need to get the cattle herded down to the yard to meet up with my farmhand, Jack.’
‘Well, have a good day,’ said Rachel.
‘Will do.’ His tone was ironic. ‘It won’t be nearly as exciting as your paperwork mountain.’
‘Nearly, but not quite.’ Rachel pulled a wry face.
‘Hah, I might even have to have a look at my own paperwork tonight. Seeing as there’s nothing else happening …’
‘Well, you know what they say, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.’
He shook his head, yet still managing a small smile. ‘Thanks, Jill. See you soon, folks. Take care, Frank.’
Rachel came out from behind the counter to give Tom a peck on the cheek. ‘Sorry,’ was all she could say, sensing his frustration behind the smile.
‘No worries. See you soon, Rach.’
She’d far rather have a carefree flirty evening with Tom than working away yet again, but there were reports to make, records to complete, government checks to fulfil – and no one else was able to do it for her. Why did life have to be so bloody exasperating?
After their lunchtime customers – all six of them – had left, Rachel mooted, ‘So, Mum, how do you think we can best go forward with the Pudding Club idea?’ She was impatient to move things on quickly, if Jill was in support.
‘Well, I do think we should at least give it a try. I have to say, it’s been whirring around in my head since you mentioned it – a sign of a good idea in my book. It’ll not cost us much to set up, just more of our time. I imagine it’ll be something we’ll need to hold of an evening?’
Yet another night that Rachel would be tied up and would have to think of childcare. But if it had to be done, so be it. ‘Yes, I think that’d work best.’
‘So, what do you think we’d need to charge for this Pudding Club?’
‘I don’t think we should make it too expensive; let’s keep it attractive and inclusive, but of course we’ll need to make a little bit of money out of doing it, or else there’s no point. I’m thinking there are young mums who might want a night out, older people wanting some company, and anyone interested in baking, really. What do you think, say £5 per session? That’d cover a tea or coffee, the puds to taste, and we should come away with a bit of profit for the business too.’
‘Yes, that sounds reasonable. Do we hold a club night fortnightly up until Christmas and see how it goes?’ suggested Jill.
‘So, you’re definitely in?’ Rachel couldn’t help but grin.
‘Of course, I’m in. Sounds a lovely idea.’
‘Really? I thought you seemed a little cool on it at first.’
‘No, I just wanted us both to think it through properly.’
‘Aw, thanks, Mum. You’re the best, you know that? It will mean another evening of work for us, though.’
‘Yes, I realise that, but it does sounds quite sociable. I think we might enjoy it too!’
‘We might have to take turns with who hosts it, or ask Granny Ruth across to help with little Maisy.’
‘Yes, we can organise
