‘Your mam said you wanted lamb backstraps.’ He held out the packages in white paper.
‘No, I want braising steak and kidneys,’ said Rachel.
‘Your mam didn’t tell me that.’
‘I’m telling you now,’ said Rachel, feeling stronger than she should. ‘I will take these for tomorrow but if you have any steak and kidney I would appreciate it. I can pay you cash.’
There were so many options to make for the bakery and tearooms and without Mother telling her to buy the cheapest cuts and put the plainest sweet items on the menu, she felt as though she could finally use her skills in the kitchen.
She knew people thought she was stupid; she wasn’t, but fear of being hurt made her quiet. Taught her how to hold her tongue, taught her how to turn away at the last minute so the back of her head caught the slap so it wouldn’t leave a mark.
‘Actually, can you return the lamb back to me minced, and I’ll make cottage pies with it, and bring me the steak and kidneys, Joe? I’m sorry if it’s a lot of trouble,’ she said politely. She hated the way her mother had spoken to people who she deemed were beneath her, which was everyone but herself.
‘Mum not around today?’ he asked, peering over her shoulder into the kitchen.
‘She’s in hospital. She hurt her leg,’ was all the information she offered.
Joe nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and went back to his van to drive to the next town to fill her order and bring it back.
Rachel set about finishing the tarts and then carefully writing on the blackboard outside the bakery, telling everyone who passed the specials in-store. Before her mother had not bothered with the blackboard but Rachel thought it was a lovely chance to wish everyone a good day, so she went and checked the weather and then came back and carefully added the weather forecast and wrote:
Have a wonderful day.
She stood back and smiled at the sign, pleased with her work.
It was entirely too exciting, she thought as she placed the cakes and tarts into the glass cabinet. It felt like she was starting a new life.
Joe returned with her order and she had the cottage pies in the oven in no time. Soon they were browning beautifully and ready to be served with the special tomato chutney she had from last summer, all labelled and preserved in the pantry.
The bakery opened at midday but Rachel was ready twenty minutes before, so she opened it anyway, ready for the customers she hoped would come.
She had even brought Mother’s radio downstairs and put it on in the tearoom, playing classical music that Dad used to play before he died.
She remembered the music about the planets. Jupiter and something else. She would ask Clara, she would know. Clara knew everything.
Rachel picked up the phone in the bakery and dialled Clara’s number and heard it go through to voicemail so hung up again.
She didn’t want to leave a message. What would she say? Call me back about some music my dad used to play?
The sound of the bell above the door stirred her from her worrying about messages and music and there stood a woman and what looked to be her elderly father.
‘Hello,’ said Rachel brightly. ‘Can I help you?’
‘We would like some tea and an early lunch,’ said the woman.
Rachel seated them, glad for the soft shoes she wore instead of the laced-up ones Mother insisted she wear and talked them through the soups, and pie options.
With an order of pea and ham soup and a steak and kidney pie, and a pot of tea stewing, Rachel thought she couldn’t be happier.
As the afternoon wore on, she was busy and sold everything but two cottage pies and a steak and kidney and two carrot cakes.
She had over-catered but perhaps she had meant to, and when she closed the shop at just after three and cleaned up, she saw the hospital had called four times.
Instead of calling them back, Rachel packed up the food, put it into the basket on her bike and rode up to Clara’s cottage.
Clara was in the garden when she arrived, Henry was on the roof pulling down the thatching in one area, and Pansy was running on the lawn with dolls set up in a row as though to watch her.
She rang the bell on her bike as she jumped off. ‘Hello,’ she called.
Clara looked up from pulling weeds and smiled as Henry waved and Pansy greeted her with a cartwheel.
The three of them smiling and looking so happy made her heart sing. There was something about this she loved but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It felt like everything was right with the world.
When she had visited Acorn Cottage in her teens, this was what she had hoped for but now, it all made sense. That was when she realised she had to make Henry and Pansy stay and Henry simply had to fall in love with Clara.
‘I brought some things from the shop to say thank you,’ she said standing outside the gate, holding the package.
She noticed the sign on the front had been painted and looked fresh compared to the rest of the cottage. Henry must have done it, she thought.
‘Come in,’ called Clara, pushing up from the ground and stretching. She was so pretty with her dark bob and her large blue eyes. She looked like Snow White, so it was perfect she lived in a cottage.
Rachel unsnapped the gate and stepped inside.
‘Did you bring cake?’ Pansy asked as she ran towards her. ‘I love cake, it’s my favourite.’
Rachel laughed at Pansy. ‘I did, I brought carrot cake.’
‘Carrot cake? It sounds like it’s cake for rabbits.’ Pansy made a face.
‘Pansy, don’t be rude. Say sorry to Rachel.’ Henry sighed.
‘Sorry for being rude about your rabbit cake,’
