Blackberry Pie

“Here let me hold that bit down for you” said Charles as he reversed his walking stick, hooked the branch and brought it down to within easy reach. “You’ll strain your back stretching up and over like that.”

“Thanks” Mavis said before dropping half-a-dozen blackberries into her plastic carrier bag.

“You’re welcome” was the response. “Haven’t done this for years, not since my poor wife Mildred passed away, in fact.”

“Oh I know” she said “we used to come out here too. Every last Sunday in July for years, but it isn’t quite the same on your own, is it?”

“No, not at all.”

“Ah well”. Would you like a bag to fill for yourself?” she said, reaching into her jacket pocket “I bought a couple of spares with me.”

“That’s very kind” he said, “but I would be just as happy helping you to fill yours.”

“It’ll make your fingers rather sore, I’m afraid. And they’ll get rather stained, but the juice does wash off OK.”

“Ha! I’m well used to that!” he said.

”Here, take some anyway” she said opening up a spare bag and transferring a handful of berries to it. “They make splendid pies, especially if you add a little apple.”

“Well I’ve got apples on a tree but I’m not much of a baker” he said. “I can do housework, gardening, ironing and a bit of cooking. I even learnt how to change a nappy when our first grandchild was born. But I’ve never learnt how to bake pies!”

“Well I’ll do one for you” she said – “it’ll be a pleasure”. If you’d like to bring me half a dozen apples from your tree I’ll bake one for you. I’ll make some custard and we can sit in the sun and eat it together in my garden, if you like. But for now why don’t you take a few to have on your breakfast cereal tomorrow?”

“Oh, that’d be good, thanks. You live locally, then?”

“Yes, in a little close just over the other side of the main road. Been there years. Before it became a main road, in fact. Where do you hail from?”

“Moved down from Oxfordshire for the job twenty or so years ago. Retired now, of course.”

“And what sort of work did you do?”

“MD of a printing company, while it lasted. Home computers and printers did for that business I’m afraid.”

“Hmmm. Computers are everywhere now, it seems. Taking over the world. Can’t even do a paper  Tax Return or buy Premium Bonds at the Post Office any more now, you have to go online to do all that.”

“No good will come of it, you mark my words. Too much reliance on technology now if you ask me, and if that ever crashes in a big way………”

“Not to mention all the online scams and frauds that happens these days, if the papers are anything to go by.”

“And all the young people walking about with plastic in their ears, staring at their screens like zombies and bumping into things. World’s gone mad.”

“Indeed it is. Well I must be getting back, Evensong starts in under an hour.”

“Oh you don’t subscribe to all that mumbo-jumbo, do you? I’ve no time for religion, especially when the pub is about to open and I can have a pint or two and chat with my chums.”

“Notwithstanding your insulting tone and very bad manners my views on Christianity, in fact my views on any religion are no concern of yours. I sing in the choir, as it happens. We are grossly short of choristers and I lend my support so that other parishioners, including perhaps those more devout than myself can participate in and enjoy Evensong once a week. It seems to me that perhaps your own time could be better spent engaged in an occupation to the good of your fellowmen rather than waste away your time in self-indulgent, drunken idleness. And I’ll thank you to keep your impertinent observations to yourself in future.”

“Oh! I didn’t mean………”

“Well I don’t have the time, let alone any inclination to stand here and bandy words with you, so if you’ll excuse me…….…” and off she stalked without looking back.

Charles stood rooted to the spot, feeling a bit of a fool and watched her as she marched towards the main road. What a very spiky woman he thought, and with a shrug picked up his white plastic bag and turned to make his way home along the footpath, but in the opposite direction.

A hot shower having done nothing to temper her mood she was still walking very energetically and fuming as she made her way to the church.

The vicar’s droning sermon, however, delivered in his usual soporific manner calmed her down and she subconsciously blocked his words out as her thoughts drifted back to the blackberry bush. What a shame!  He had seemed such a thoughtful, kind man when he first arrived but soon showed himself up as a crass, arrogant, self-opinionated bore. Men!

Coming to with start she realised that the sermon had finished and the congregation were now on their knees, and kneeling immediately she glanced around guiltily to see if anyone else had noticed her mental absence.

Perhaps I was too hard on him, she thought.

Entering the small supermarket the following Thursday, his preferred day for the weekly shop he was mentally running through his list of requirements when he was startled to see an assortment of coins rolling across the floor in his direction. After stooping to retrieve them he straightened only to find himself staring directly into her face, and, noting her open purse he held out his handful of gathered coins and stuttered “are these yours?”

“Oh, thank you” she said as she held out her hand. After passing the coins across they just stood still, looking at one another as irritated shoppers squeezed past them.

“Erm – I was just going to get a cup of coffee next door” he said hesitatingly “would you like to join me?”

“Yes, why not” she shot back, very aware that any undue hesitation on her part might see the opportunity quickly disappearing across the horizon.

Communication thus re-established, their conversation was guarded, if not exactly stilted but they both enjoyed their coffees, Danish pastries and, more significantly, each other’s company.

Charles brought all his verbal skills to bear to steer the conversation to the necessity harvesting his apples soon, and she writing her ‘phone number on the back of an old supermarket till receipt signified her acceptance of his advances.

So that autumn and throughout the next winter they both enjoyed jointly-produced blackberry pies. He still hasn’t learnt how to make pastry but does go the Evensong every now and again, and her face brightens and her voice lifts every time she sees him in the congregation.