Is there a full moon tonight

“Is there a full moon tonight?” Archie asked.

“Not quite. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Why are you asking?” Stan replied.

“I was cycling down the lane that runs behind the vicarage and out towards the home farm this afternoon. You remember that abandoned house? The one with the long garden with the fence round it?”

Stan nodded silently.

“The Bramley apples are ripe now and they’re falling off the branches that overhand that lane. I thought we could do a bit of scrumping, like we did when we were lads. No-one will see us and I fancy reliving a few childhood memories.”

Archie was grinning by the time he finished speaking, remembering all the times when he and his friends had sneaked into people’s gardens and orchards to help themselves to fruit.

Stan remembered too, but in a less pleasant way. The word “scrumping” instantly brought to mind the occasion when he and his brother had been caught by the village policeman. That was back in the late 1940s, when food was scarce and they were trying to add to their meagre rations. However, even though they were children, they knew that in essence they were stealing and the policeman would return them to their parents for a strong dressing down. The boys tried to escape by leaping over the fence at the end of the garden, forgetting there was a deep ditch on the other side. Stan fell awkwardly, landing heavily on his left arm. He heard a sharp crack and felt the pain shoot up to his shoulder. He tried to climb out and run away but felt a tight grip on his broken arm. The bobby had caught him and marched him home to his disgruntled parents, who were forced to take the village bus into town so Stan’s arm could be x-rayed. Six weeks in plaster and little or no analgesics for the first few, painful days. Stan flinched at the thought.

“Aren’t we getting a bit old for that sort of thing? After all, we are both in our 80s now.” he asked.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll meet you in the pub for a pint at 9.30 and when we’ve drunk it, we’ll go scrumping. Remember to bring a carried bag and a torch.”

Stan wasn’t convinced, but somehow over all the years they had known each other, he had never refused to do anything Archie had suggested.

At 9.30 that night, they were both sitting by the fire in the King’s Arms, each nursing a pint of bitter. Stan sipped his beer slowly, hoping that if he took long enough it would start raining and their expedition to the cottage garden would be abandoned.

Archie glanced at the clock hanging above the bar.

“We’d better get going. I told the wife I’d be home before 10.30 and you know he she frets if I’m late.” He gulped the last mouthful of beer and wiped some froth from his top lip. “Drink up!”

Reluctantly Stan downed the remains of his pint and followed Archie to the door, holding his fingers crossed behind his back in the hope that the weather had changed. The moon disappeared briefly behind the clouds that had gathered since they entered the King’s Arms.

“It’ll be too dark to see what we’re doing,” Stan commented, trying not to sound too cheerful. “Especially in that lane. Remember there are no street-lights on that side of the village.”

“Just as well I came prepared,” Archie replied, pulling a long torch from his coat pocket. “Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout.”

Stan’s heart sank, but he knew there was no point in arguing. He fell into step behind Archie as they crossed the village green and strolled past the vicarage. If anyone were to stop them and ask where they were going, he would let Archie reply.

A downstairs light shone through the curtains of the vicarage, but beyond that lay total darkness. Archie switched on the torch and Stan began walking next to him to gain the benefit of the light. Within minutes they were standing by the fence of the abandoned cottage, their feet surrounded by windfall apples.

“These’ll do fine,” Stan said, “provided we can still bend down to pick them up.”

Archie directed the beam of the torch towards the fence.

“There’s a loose panel there. We can shove it open, go and pick apples off the tree and then replace the panel on our way out. No need to bend over and no-one will realise we’ve even been in the garden. It won’t take long.”

As he spoke, Archie stepped forward and pushed the fence. One section budged slightly, pressing against a shrub on the other side.

“Give me a hand!”

Together they made a gap wide enough for them to slip through and stand on what would once have been a flower bed but was now an overgrown muddy mess. Stan waited, listening for any sound in the enveloping blackness. Nothing.

“The apples are even bigger on this side. Look!”

Archie played the torch across the tree, gasping at the size of the fruit on the topmost branches.

“If only we could reach them!” he said, pointing upwards.

“Not without a ladder and I’m going to fetch one or climb any trees at my age. These are perfectly fine for me.”

Stan stretched out a hand and grasped his first apple, twisting it gently to ensure it was ripe. It snapped off easily from the tree and he stowed it gently in the carrier bag he had hidden in his coat pocket.

“Let’s just get on with it and then we can leave as soon as possible.”

They set to work, selecting the largest, plumpest specimens they could find. Despite his reservations, Stan’s mouth began to water at the thought of the apple pies, crumbles and Eve’s puddings that his wife could make from their harvest. If she asked where they came from, he would simply say a friend gave them to him in the pub. They were so engrossed in their work, that they had stopped listening to what was happening around them: only the sudden snap of a twig alerted them to the presence of someone or something behind them.

Archie turned abruptly and dropped his torch, when its beam glistened on the teeth of a Malinois dog. It barked and lurched forward, only being restrained with effort by its handler.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” the policeman asked sternly.

Stan stared at the ground and remained silent.

“Evening officer,” Archie said breezily. “Just picking a few apples.”

“I can see that and I know they’re not yours!”

“Well the cottage has been empty for ages and it seemed a pity for them to go to waste,” Archie continued.

“And what about the fence? We followed you through the gap you created.” The dog barked again, as if agreeing with its handler.

“Ah, the fence. We’ll push it back into place when we leave, officer. No harm done.”

“I think we’ll leave that to my superior officer to decide. You two are coming to the station. I’m arresting you both on suspicion of criminal damage and attempted theft.” He was on the point of formally cautioning them with his radio burst into life.

“Stay here!” he ordered, then stepped back a few paces to deal with the radio message.

Archie and Stan remained rooted to the spot, afraid to move in case the dog sprang forward and sank its teeth into them. It seemed to be salivating at the thought.

A minute or so later, the policeman ended his call.

“It must be your lucky night. We’re needed on a more serious matter, but before I go, I want your details. Then if I hear of any more break-ins here, I’ll know where to come.”

Archie and Stan told him their full names and addresses.

“Before you go, officer, can you just tell us how you knew we were here?” Archie asked.

“The vicar rang to say he had seen lights in the garden, so he was worried that someone was trying to break into the cottage. If you hadn’t brought that torch, no-one would have noticed you.”

The policeman escorted them out of the garden, through the gap in the hedge and along the path to the village green.

“Go home and stay out of trouble in future!”

“Yes officer,” Stan replied sheepishly.

He turned towards home, followed closely by Archie.

“That was a close one, Stan! If that shout hadn’t come through, we could have ended up with a police record. Never mind, we got away with it and he forgot to confiscate the apples. Do you fancy another pint to calm our nerves?”

Archie had stopped in front of the King’s Arms and was gazing longingly at its open door.

“No and I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough. I just want to go home,” Stan replied as he began walking away from Archie. A few steps further on, he stopped and turned round.

“And next time you want some apples, go and buy them from the greengrocer!”

He walked away, leaving Archie open-mouthed. Stan had never stood up to him before.