The weight of evidence

The Boss didn't much like the look of either of them. The Old Man had arrived very early in the day, anxious to go cropping apples and deliver a weighty load by sundown. But The Boss had told him that it was a job for pairs and as he was alone he would have to wait for another willing hand. Grumpily, The Old Man had slouched in a corner, his huge white whiskers barely concealing a surly look which he seemed to have improved to perfection as the morning wore on.

The shack was worn by time and a thousand feet and gave no comfort to the pickers. The Old Man chewed and stared through the dusty pane to the orchards far in the distance. As the September warmth gave way to October chill, The Boss determined to gather the greatest crop before the winds drew their autumn strength to toss the apples to rot on the ground. Pickers were few in number this year and had only collected about half of the previous year's crop. Weight was all. They went out with empty baskets and returned with them filled to capacity - the more they picked, the greater their wages. The Boss was not a particularly greedy man but he knew what he wanted and so far this year was not what he wanted. He eyed The Old Man ruefully and considered how much he would be able to pick. He surely needed a very able companion as he clearly wasn’t up to much himself. He’d probably sit under the trees and shake them while his poor companion slaved away at the top of the ladder.

The Old Man grunted. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and glowered at The Boss.

“It’s no good, you’ll just have to wait,” The Boss offered, interrupting The Old Man’s thoughts.

“How long? I’ve got places to go, things to do.”  He obviously hadn’t but The Boss indulged him with the faintest of smiles and continued peering into his computer screen.

Another hour passed and no further word was uttered. The Old Man dozed fitfully while The Boss glanced anxiously at the door. Only three pairs of pickers were at work today. He needed more and it was already mid- morning. It was while he was fretting that the bell jangled as someone came in. The Old Man and The Boss looked round at the same time. The newcomer was certainly young, well-built and tanned from endless hours out of doors, for work or pleasure they would never know.

“Come for work. Signs say you need apple pickers,” The Young Man intoned.

The Boss was not slow to show his enthusiasm, though there was something about the newcomer that he didn't like.

“You can start now. We work in pairs. Your companion is…..over there.”

“Him?” The Young Man mocked.

The Old Man either didn’t hear or didn’t want to hear, for he showed no reaction.

“Yes, he’s a good picker. Lots of experience. He can hold the ladder,” The Boss offered hopefully.

The Young Man looked doubtful but, to the surprise of the others, he smiled graciously.

“OK, Old Man, let’s go, there’s money to earn.”

The Boss hurried to a store of baskets in a far corner and brought a number.

“Here, I think you can fill these. Remember you’re paid by weight so the more you pick…” he trailed off.

It was The Old Man’s turn to look doubtful but he took a number of the baskets and smiled at his new companion.

“I’m a bit slow these days, but the thought of money makes me move faster,” he guffawed.

“We’ll take my truck. It’s bigger to bring the full baskets back.”

It wasn’t any bigger than The Old Man’s vehicle but there was no reason to argue so the two clambered in and were off.

“Back by 6,” The Boss shouted, but they hadn’t heard.

They travelled in silence the five miles to the orchards apart from The Old Man attempting to tell his life story as they set off. The Young Man wasn’t interested and told him so. It wasn’t an auspicious beginning but The Old Man knew that his companion would be doing most of the work yet they would be sharing the pay when they returned. It had been worth the wait, he reflected. This young guy was exactly the pair he needed. He couldn’t have asked for better.

The apple trees were laden with some of the best fruit The Old Man had seen in years. It had been a perfect summer for apples, precisely the right balance of sunshine and rain, and at the right times. The Young Man stopped at the first opportunity and jumped out, pulling the baskets behind him.

“Bring the ladder, Old Man,” he called.

The Old Man was initially shocked. Why hadn’t he been asked to take the baskets? They were much lighter to carry.  With great difficulty he pulled the ladder from the vehicle and dragged it across to the first tree, where The Young Man had set down the baskets in a neat line. He started to pull apples from the lowest branches and tossed them into the first basket, so quickly that it was almost full within minutes. The Old Man looked on in delight. This was going to be a very profitable day’s work. As he looked around he realised that The Young Man’s height meant that he could reach the branches very easily, whereas his short stature meant that he couldn’t reach a single apple.

“Climb the ladder, Old Man. Just pick and throw into a basket.”

The Old Man hesitated, too proud to refuse, yet unsure about climbing a ladder which was neither new nor sturdy. In fact, two of the rungs were distinctly loose.

Nevertheless, he set the ladder against the tree and began his ascent. The Young Man was watching from the corner of his eye as he deftly flung another apple over his shoulder into the next basket.

Through the heat of an unusually warm October afternoon the two toiled, or at least The Old Man toiled, up and down the ladder, from tree to tree, dragging a basket, later dragging himself. The sweat poured and the under the breath curses grew. All the while, The Young Man lobbed an occasional apple into a basket, protesting gently that he had done his fair share so would slow down to let The Old Man catch up with his contribution. They were in it together and The Old Man knew he could only reach the highest fruit by climbing yet another tree.

As the sun began to dip The Young Man could be seen lying, dozing, prostrate beneath the furthest tree. The Old Man was exhausted, slowing yet knowing that The Young Man was undoubtedly keeping an eye on his progress. As he thought this, The Young Man seemed to sense The Old Man’s declining enthusiasm.

“You still have one more tree. I’ve filled 6 of the 9 baskets.”

It may have been true but The Old Man was now too tired to care.

“I’ve had enough,” he whispered. But The Young Man heard and his eyes blazed.

“You're just lazy,” he bellowed, striding to where The Old Man was stretching from the highest rung to grasp an apple almost beyond reach.  As The Young Man turned, his foot clipped the ladder and it began to fall, seeming to hover in mid-air. The Old Man was propelled into the blue sky, his eyes as large as saucers, and he tumbled headlong to the ground, where he writhed in agony, clutching a leg and an arm simultaneously.

The Young Man remained calm, not approaching his prostrate companion.

“I’ll get help so don’t worry. Don’t move,” he said, pointlessly.

He picked up each basket and carefully carried its contents to the truck which he had moved alongside.

He climbed in and drove off, smiling.

The Boss was pleased with the trawl though was sufficiently puzzled as to the whereabouts of The Old Man to ask about him as he handed over a fistful of bills to The Young Man.

“Work too hard for him. He ran off. Lazy. Just lazy,” The Young Man replied. “He’s probably lying out there under some tree.”

The Boss laughed as he weighed up the profit he would make on the day.  As The Young Man drove off at speed The Boss did notice that the ladder wasn’t in the truck but he really didn’t care.