Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry. Caroline Roberts

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      Rachel was teetering up a ladder with a strand of fairy lights in her hand.

      ‘Just a touch more to the left, love, that’ll even up the loops.’ Jill, her mother, was poised at the base of the ladder, keeping it steady and giving directions.

      ‘Okay …’

      ‘Careful, now.’

      ‘I’m all right.’ Rachel leaned from her perch to give them a tweak. She was used to doing far riskier things out on the farm, not that she would have enlightened her mum about that.

      Rachel was fixing the twinkly white lights to the guttering of the old barn, ready to give the Pudding Pantry – their new business venture – a festive facelift and a touch of winter magic. From her vantage point, Rachel could see down across the yard and into the farmhouse kitchen window, glimpsing the large pine table and chairs that had been there for as long as she could remember. Memories of Christmases past suddenly came flooding back.

       Sitting there on her father’s knee, aged about six, the scrumptious turkey dinner now eaten, festive crackers snapped, corny jokes read out and Robert, still wearing his bright red paper hat – now a little skewwhiff – bouncing her up and down boisterously, while singing ‘Jingle Bells’ loudly. Granny Ruth and Grandad Ken, as well as Grandma Isabel, were sitting there at the table, looking on merrily, with Mum busy at the Aga preparing pudding, scolding him with a smile on her face, telling him that all that bouncing about would make Rachel feel sick after her big meal.

       Jill was busy steaming her Christmas pudding ready for dessert, and Rachel, who as a little girl wasn’t that keen on the rich fruity pud, was looking forward to a slice of the treat made especially for her and, ready on the side, a Chocolate Yule Log, with thick cocoa frosting covering a rolled chocolate sponge. Rachel loved the little robin that was brought out annually to pop on the top as decoration along with some sugar paste holly leaves.

      Smiles and laughter, festive fun and full tummies. Gifts had been given, nothing too lavish but always much wanted – hmm, that might have been the year when she’d got her Jessie doll; the feisty, smart cowgirl from the Toy Story films. That was the only doll she’d ever asked for, preferring model tractors and farm toys in the main, and soon after, the real things. Jessie was still there upstairs in her room somewhere.

       Oh yes, Christmas at the farmhouse, she remembered the warmth of the Aga, and the warmth of their hearts: the family together.

      ‘Rachel … are you all right up there?’ Mum’s voice broke her reverie.

      ‘Ah … yes, fine.’

      Life had changed so very much, and Christmas had felt empty these past two years, as though they were just going through the motions. Her father’s death had cast a dark shadow over them all, but it was time to recapture some of that festive magic for her daughter Maisy’s sake – in fact, for all their sakes.

      Life had shifted in ways they could never have imagined, and just this summer they had transformed the derelict stone barn into a gorgeous little tearoom where puddings were very much their ‘thing’. Stepping inside the Pudding Pantry, you’d find a counter filled with a mouthwatering selection of Sticky Toffee, Chocolate, Ginger and steamed Syrup Puddings, crumbles galore, lusciously moist Carrot Cake, an Autumn Berry Pavlova, gluten-free banana cake and a selection