Competition Thirty-Two Shortlisted: The Pledge by Julie Roxburgh

Her plums were not as good as mine; no-one with eyes to see could have thought so. One of them had a huge bruise. And she’d polished them; there was a whiff of Pledge in the air. I told the judges, but the perfect Molly Danville cast the deciding vote and gave the prize to Miss Bruised Fruit.

I am a twenty-year veteran of Shapley Agricultural Show. My fruits have been major prize-winners more than once. Even Miss Moody, CBE, consults me, confidentially, naturally. I don’t like to boast, mother used to twist our ears if she thought we were getting uppity, but there you have it.

Mrs Finchley-Pike knew I deserved to win. With her hand on my shoulder and using my first name, she said there would be other years and wasn’t it nice that a newer gardener was being encouraged. I struggled with that. One is either the best or not. Miss Bruised Fruit was not.

Naturally, I stayed behind to help clear up. On the way out I tripped over Alice Warburton’s Hanging Gardens and landed on my knees in front of Miss Bruised Fruit. When she reached out to help me, I snapped. I gave her my back and left her standing, glossy little mouth agape.

When I got home Trevor was working in the study, the door locked as usual, aids concentration, apparently. I told him about the cheating trollop and the stupid judge. He said what did it matter and that I was a laughingstock. Another betrayal.

I prepared dinner. Three hours later I heard Trevor retching while I watched the news. I turned the volume up. The following night I added less. The results were quite satisfactory. I don’t do it every night.

There’s a bake stall at the WRI on Saturday.

Julie Roxburgh is a Scottish writer whose fiction grows out of nature, memory, and the quiet details of everyday life. A lifelong journal keeper, she draws on lived experience and close observation to create reflective, character-driven stories about solitude, resilience, and the hidden emotional worlds of women. She writes both short and flash fiction.

Image – Mamala via goodfon.ru/art

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