Purple Apples

She took my arm and guided me to the midnight sofa. Next to the sofa was a brown wooden side table. On the top of the table was a book covered in plum-coloured velvet with gold embroidery writing, which read Photographs. ‘You sit there, my dear; I’ll just cook us a treat. Help yourself to anything you see, and be sure to look at my photographs—you may get a few giggles.’

As I sat there, with my stomach full of sandwiches that Mum had left, I took the attractive-looking book and propped it on my lap.

I opened the front cover. The first picture was of a little baby with hair the colour of night and skin as white as clouds. The baby wore an aubergine-coloured dress whilst lying on a bed of deep red roses.

‘Do you know!’ she shouted at me as she stirred the bubbling pot that roared with heat. ‘I have carried that book with me my whole life! I never go anywhere without it! It’s all about my family!’

As lovely as the book seemed, I did not really have any desire to look at photographs of this lady and her family. I turned to the next page briefly—and I dropped the book suddenly.

She swung around. ‘My girl, don’t let that picture frighten you!’ She turned back to her cooking.

I looked back at the book on the floor, which was open to that picture. It was a picture of eyes. Not just any eyes—purple eyes. Like evil grapes peering at me. I picked up the book and closed it.

‘Come, come, dear!’ she hollered. ‘Here is your treat!’ In her hand she carried a black plate, which contained a purple fruit. It was a familiar-looking purple fruit. It was shaped like an apple, had a stalk like an apple did, and even stood proud and macho like an apple—but it was purple.

‘What is it?’

‘An apple, of course!’ she giggled. ‘A purple apple! I have a special syrup I ma—buy, and I warm it up in my big metal pot, pop apples into it, and eat! They are divine! Once you have one of my purple apples, you’ll never want a normal one again!’

It did look lovely but, indeed, unusual. What if it gave me food poisoning? ‘You know what? I really think I should be going.’

She stopped smiling and began to pout her lips. ‘Well, I can’t stop you, can I? If you want to go, you can go, but I just want to help, dear. That’s all.’ She turned round and headed toward the kitchen unit, still holding the purple apple and plate.

‘Help?’ I asked. ‘Help what?’

‘You and your family. I want you to live comfortably again. I want you and your mother to stop crying at night. I want your brother to speak up, because he is dying inside without his father.’

‘How do you know?’ I was stunned.

Formats

Softcover

£10.96

Softcover

£10.96