Script quote along the ankle

You will say I am being fanciful, so I will say it plainly and you can tease me about it at Christmas. The pickers have finished the Bramleys, and the Discovery trees are dropping fruit onto the grass faster than Mr Pryce can gather it. Every evening, when the light goes gold through the rows, I walk the long lane down to the bottom orchard with the bucket on my hip, and I hear someone keeping pace with me on the far side of the hedge. Two steps behind, always, the way Dad walked when his knee was bad.

Mrs Pryce says it is only the wind in the sloe bushes. Perhaps it is. But on Tuesday I stopped by the old quince tree where we carved our initials, and the gap in the hedge was full of the sound of boots on windfalls. I heard myself say out loud, "Go on then, I'm not frightened," which is the sort of thing a person says when she is.

Here is what I have decided. I am not leaving the orchard until the last load is in the barn. I will not ring you to talk me out of it. I will finish the picking, take my money from Pryce, and when the first frost comes I will go to the station with my suitcase and the thermos you gave me. He can walk me to the gate. That is as far as he is allowed.

Write soon, and tell Tom not to eat all the jam.

Love, Bea