Short Story - Apples for Alpacas

Apples for Alpacas By Jackie Brewster

“Leave some for the rest of us,” Joyce called shrilly at the woman outside the rectory gate. Joyce had walked past the basket of windfall apples every day that week. How kind of Reverend Tiller to offer the apples for free. They’d clearly been stored in a shed over winter and looked a little worse for wear but she took the best of the bunch just to display in a bowl. She was not fond of eating apples, they were too much work. The young woman paused when she heard Joyce, “They’re not for me,” she laughed. Joyce saw that she’d nearly filled a whole bucket. “They’re for the alpacas.” “I beg your pardon?” Joyce had never heard anything like it. These apples were for people, not animals. “But they’ve not been put out for that purpose.” “I’m sorry,” the woman blushed. “The sign said “Free apples, help yourself”- I didn’t realise they were yours”. “They’re not mine; I’m at number 42.” Joyce felt she could speak for the vicar. “But they’re not for animal consumption.” “Don’t worry, it won’t do them any harm,” the woman assured her. “Alpacas love apples.” “That’s not the point.” Joyce felt quite exasperated. “When a sign says help yourself, it means only for people, not animals.” “But that’s just your interpretation.” The woman continued filling the bucket. “These apples have been here for days, so clearly I’m not taking them away from anyone who wants them.” “Well, I might want them,” Joyce said. She didn’t, but she couldn’t bear to see them wasted on alpacas. “I’ve decided to make an apple crumble for every house on the street.” The words slipped out before she had chance to stop them. The woman sighed. “Really?” She gave Joyce a rueful glare before handing her the bucket. “In that case, they’re all yours.” Joyce took the bucket, confident in her victory. When she glanced at its contents, she realised most of the apples were only fit for the compost heap. Reverend Tiller waved as he crunched down the drive towards them. “Hello ladies!” he said heartily. “Nice to see you helping yourselves to the apples.” “Yes.” The woman grinned. “This lady has volunteered to make crumble for the whole street.” Joyce could have kicked her. “What a lovely gesture.” Reverend Tiller smiled. “You’ll have your work cut out for you; these apples are quite bruised.” “But they’re far too good for animal feed aren’t they?” Joyce looked slyly at the other woman. “Animals?” He shook his head. “What animals?” “She wanted to feed them to alpacas!” Joyce said. She liked to think that the vicar and her saw eye to eye on most things. “Alpacas?” the vicar cried. “That will never do.” “That’s just what I said.” Joyce nodded emphatically. “I’ve got some far nicer apples for the alpacas.” He turned and trotted back up the drive. “Come with me, Madam, we’ll fetch the barrow.” “I’m at number 54,” the woman called back to Joyce, “so you’ll know where to bring my crumble.”