‘Okay, I understand. Promise you’ll at least consider it, yeah?’
‘I will, pet.’
‘And tomorrow, I’d better make that call to the land agent,’ Rachel stated, facing up to the worst of it.
Jill placed her hand gently over her daughter’s on the table top, then nodded her acquiescence sadly.
A week later, there was a large wooden sign mounted on a post by the farm gate. It read ‘Land for Sale’ and it tugged at Rachel’s heartstrings every time she saw it.
One evening soon after the sign went up, Jill went along to the local WI meeting for a talk on jewellery making. She’d come home deflated, telling of the hassle she’d had from a certain Vanessa Palmer-Pilkington there. ‘Honestly, that woman was probing so much. Wheedling for information. Was it the whole farm up for sale? She was so sorry to hear it, blah, blah, bloody blah. She wasn’t sorry at all, just wanted some juicy gossip to tell her neighbours and the village.’
‘Oh dear, doesn’t sound like it was the best of nights for you, Mum.’ That was such a shame too, as Jill had still been a bit reclusive of late. Rachel had hoped that getting out and about more would do her good.
‘Bloody woman was like a vulture at the end of the talk circling me, looking for every juicy scrap of information. Pretending to be concerned, when all she wanted was some tittle-tattle.’
‘Well, don’t worry about her, Mum.’ Rachel knew the woman was a bit of a nightmare. ‘Some people have nothing better to do with their lives. I bet the others there were supportive.’
‘Oh yes, I do have some nice friends there, of course. And all the farming folk know the tough issues we face every day in this business. Anyway, I was getting fed up with Vanessa’s constant wheedling, so I told her we were using the money from the sale of the fields to build a new indoor swimming pool. Well, you should have seen her face. It was a picture.’
‘Hah, I love it. Go, Mum.’
‘Well, that shut her up. She moved off swiftly then. And Jan, who was there beside me, nearly choked on her tea and biscuits. We couldn’t stop chuckling.’
‘Good for you, Mum.’
It was never easy in such a small community where everybody knew everybody’s business – or at least they thought they did.
‘So, what was the jewellery talk like?’
‘Good, actually. Very informative. She’d brought some really pretty examples too. It was just the end with old V.P.P. that spoilt the night a bit, that was all.’
‘Well, I think you handled it brilliantly. We stand tall and we fight back, Mum. We can hold our heads high. I, for one, am proud that we’re trying to keep things going here, whatever that takes. We can only do our best.’
‘I know, I know that, love. I just wish certain people would mind their own bloody business.’
‘Yes. I know. So, why don’t we rename her? V.P.P.: Visible Panty-line Palmer – has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Then every time we see her, it’ll make us smile.’
Jill spluttered on her tea. ‘Hah, that’s genius!’
For all her fighting talk, Rachel had to admit that she was desperately worried too. What if the land didn’t sell soon? Or what if it did but the money they received didn’t make enough of a difference in the long term?
She swallowed down her fears and managed to smile across at her mum. ‘We’ll be okay, Mum. Together, we’ll find a way.’
The next day, after the heart-to-heart with Mum, puddings were very much on Rachel’s mind. Not just that she could eat a very generous portion of some left-over lemon pudding that she knew was still in the fridge right now, but also, and more-so, that there might actually be something in this pudding-making business idea. Thinking back to Maisy’s party last week, the parents had raved about Jill’s sticky chocolate pudding – and Charlotte wouldn’t go home without the recipe. Rachel was desperate to dig a little deeper, and find out what her mum was really thinking, but knew she’d asked for some time – and it was only fair to give her that space.
Of course, Jill would have to be fully behind the idea to make it work, as they’d be relying heavily on her commitment as well as her baking skills. But they could start small, Rachel mused, test the waters. Sign up for their health and hygiene course together and trial a few sales locally. There were bound to be some nearby shops who’d be interested in stocking local farmhouse-made puddings, or perhaps they could even try a stall at the local farmers’ market.
Rachel had given herself a headache looking at their accounts again this morning and yes, whilst they were still just about okay, their heads above water for now, they’d need money to keep the farm going until the first lambs were ready for market and beyond. There were wormers and medicines to buy, machinery to keep going, their farmhand to pay, the household bills to cover too. The list could go on … and on.
It was when the land agent had come around to value the fields that reality had really hit home. He’d pushed them to make a larger acreage available, suggesting that three or four fields might be more saleable, but Jill and Rachel hadn’t been ready to give up too much land. They’d compromised at two, understanding that something had to be done, but he’d warned them that unless it was a local farmer or someone wanting a field or two for a pony to graze, it might not be snapped up that quickly. They’d have to see, but neither of them had felt ready to allow too much of the farm to go just yet. There must be some other way … if they could just think creatively.
Yes, she’d have to do lots more research on this pudding business idea, find out if there were any grants available for such things to help them get set up, and she really needed to talk over this idea properly with her mum. Without the Queen of Primrose Farm Puddings by her side, it was a non-starter.
The next morning Rachel had been checking the boundary fences and was trying to repair a bolt-hole that the lambs were escaping from.
‘Want a coffee?’
Rachel jumped. Eve’s head popped over the hedgerow.
‘Jeez, Eve, you frightened the life out of me!’
‘Sorry, hun. I spotted the quad, knew you’d be about somewhere. I was on my way back from Kirkton, been getting a few groceries.’
‘Let me just finish securing this fence here – the lambs have been making a bid for freedom.’ She was weaving a mesh of chicken wire through the existing fencing to stop the gap.
‘Okay, call up at the cottage when you’re ready. Be nice to have a catch-up.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that. Thanks.’
When she got to Eve’s ten minutes later, there was a cafetière of coffee ready on the kitchen side along with a plate of chocolate brownies – the room was smelling of cocoa-coffee gorgeousness.
‘Shall we take it outside?’ Eve suggested. ‘It’s nice and sunny.’
‘Sounds divine, coffee and a view.’
Eve picked up a tray and loaded the goodies onto it, along with a couple of mugs. ‘To be honest, the dining room and lounge are covered in my craft stuff just now. There’s not a lot of space left in the cottage. It’s driving Ben crazy, but I need to keep it all somewhere handy, especially when I’m mid project.’
They settled at a slightly