Forbidden Fruit.

After the long summer the orchards all were heavy with ripe fruit, Halls farm had a large apple orchard where the pigs were allowed to snuffle about and gorge themselves on all the wind falls. The piglets from last spring were destined to be roast pork for Christmas and they soon started to look round and fat feeding on all the sweet ripe apples. I knew of an orchard that had no pigs in at the back of the vicarage. 

I was eight years old and I knew I shouldn’t go into the vicars garden because he would send me down to hell if he caught me. On the way home from school in my best school jumper and clean school shorts I had to pass where our Nissen hut had been on Nelson road, it had been a naval air station remember, and the vicarage was at the back of the hut.

 I climbed over the sand stone wall and dropped into a crouch to make sure that no-one had seen me. As I looked around I could see the kitchen window looking out over the lawn and then the orchard. There were apple and pear trees heavy bowed with enormous fruit. I reached up and picked a big golden apple and took a bite, the juice squirted out and dribbled down my chin. I wiped all the sticky fluid on my sleeve and took another huge bite. This was the best apple I had ever tasted maybe because it was forbidden fruit. I thought that my Mum would enjoy some on these and decide to take some home. I pulled my jumper out and made a large pocket in the front of it. I reached up again and picked six or seven of the lower apples.

Carefully carrying the fruit so as not to bruise them I climbed over the wall dropping to the ground.

 “Gotcha” was what I heard as I felt a leather gloved hand grab me by  the collar.

“And what do you think you are doing Stephen Hart.”

It was the local police sergeant and he had caught me red handed.

“Nothing Sir” and I felt the slap of his other empty glove on the back of my head. I then let go of my jumper to hold the back of my head and I could feel a tear starting to come but I was not going to cry. The apples bounced on to the floor in front of me and I looked up at the six foot  two inch tall sergeant, I would have a crick in my neck if I had to lean back much farther.

“ Get yourself off home and just you wait till I tell your DAD”.

I ran so fast I was home before the usual time, I ran upstairs and into my room because I did not want my Mum to see me and start asking questions. When my Dad got  home the first thing I heard was the back door slam and him asking Mum “Where is he?” “who?” she asked. “Stephen who else?” I hid under the eider down knowing that I was in for a belting. I got a smacked bottom and sent to bed with no tea, not for getting caught scrumping apples but for getting him called out of his office at the sawmill by the local police sergeant and being  told to keep his child under control in future. 

Dad had to go out later to work his second job at the local pub, he worked part time as a bar man in the Royal hotel, Mum came upstairs when he had gone to  give me a cuddle, I told her I only wanted to bring her some apples and she went and got me a cup of hot milk and a jam butty.