Early on Sunday morning, Jack took advantage of the peace and quiet to inspect the orchard more thoroughly.
He was more excited than he cared to admit to himself about making cider, or even just pulping the apples. Finally, he felt as if he were creating something new and hopefully special.
The morning air was cool but the blue sky above promised another warm autumn day as he pushed open the rickety wooden gate into the orchard.
Last time he had been there, there had been exploding sheds and Lily plus her grandfather to take care of. This time, he had the luxury of the place to himself.
The trees were set out in orderly rows, their branches laden with leaves and fruit. He did a quick count of the rows and thought that there were about seventy-five trees in total. A soft breeze wafted over the orchard, causing the drying leaves to rustle and the branches to creak.
He reached out and picked a ripe apple from the nearest tree. Inspecting it, it looked healthy and tempting. Unable to resist, he took a bite.
‘Good, aren’t they?’ said a voice nearby.
Jack looked up to find Bert walking towards him. He hastily wiped the apple juice from his chin.
‘Really good,’ he replied. ‘Did you hear about your granddaughter’s idea?’
‘Seems like a good one to me.’
Jack looked at the trees. ‘Any idea what variety the apples are?’
Bert shook his head. ‘The trees are pretty ancient. I guess it’s one of the traditional types.’
‘They’re certainly not bitter to taste,’ said Jack, before taking another bite.
‘Did you want to see the press?’ asked Bert.
‘Yes, please. If you’ve got the time.’
Bert smiled. ‘No rush here. That’s the joy of working in a place like this.’
Jack had to agree that he had enjoyed the past few weeks working at Willow Tree Hall. Before then, he had been either on the road, in the office or in meetings. He felt so much better for being outside in the fresh air.
As they walked between the rows of apples, he could hear the bees buzzing as they found a few damaged fruits that had already fallen to the ground.
‘You’ll need to get a move on with the harvest,’ said Bert, nodding at the fallen fruit. ‘Apples need picking whilst it’s still warm, and the weather’s on the turn next week, apparently.’
They carried on towards a small shed at the end of the orchard.
‘Haven’t been in here for many a year,’ said Bert.
Jack pulled open the wooden door, which came off in his hand. He quickly glanced over the roof and walls and, hoping it was relatively safe, went inside.
The smell of dust and rotten wood was the first thing he registered. The second was that the majority of the small space was taken up by something that was cloaked in a heavy cloth in the centre of the room.
Jack pulled off the cloth, causing a cloud of dust to fill the air. Once the air had settled, he could see a metal and wooden contraption in front of him. It looked like a sort of table, with an iron bucket on the top, a wheel on the side and a bucket underneath.
‘How does it work?’ asked Jack.
Bert stepped forward. ‘Let me try and remember. Ah, that’s right. Well, you place your apples in here.’ He pointed at the funnel on the top. ‘Then you turn the crank, that’s the wheel, to cut up the apples.’
However, the wheel wouldn’t turn, no matter how much effort and muscle Jack tried to use.
‘Probably sat here for at least thirty years,’ Bert told him.
‘Maybe some grease would help,’ said Jack.
Bert nodded. ‘Aye. It might well do. If you can get the crank going, the cut apple pieces will drop into that bucket underneath.’
Jack peered down. ‘It appears to have lots of gaps in the side.’
‘That’s right. That’s for the juice to run out and into something underneath.’ Bert frowned. ‘There should be a pole, which is placed on the top and then turned to work the press.’
Jack realised that there was a small press underneath the funnel.
‘I think it’s missing a couple of pieces,’ he said.
‘More than likely,’ Bert told him.
‘OK, so once it’s fixed up it may do a lot of the heavy pulping for us,’ said Jack, thinking out loud.
‘You’ll still need a hand collecting all those apples,’ Bert reminded him.
‘You’re right. I’ll have to get on to that.’
‘Well, you’ve picked the right week for it.’
Jack looked at him. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Because it’s the harvest moon this week,’ said Bert.
Jack was nonplussed. ‘The what?’
Bert rolled his eyes. ‘I thought you were from the country, lad. It’s a full moon for the next few nights. But, because of the time of year, the moonrise comes soon after sunset. Therefore, it’s a much brighter moon than normal. Used to help farmers harvesting their summer-grown crops in the olden times.’
‘Which is why it’s the harvest moon,’ said Jack, nodding thoughtfully.
‘You might need all the light you can get with that many apples to pick,’ said Bert, as they headed back into the September sunshine. ‘But I’m sure you can do it, son.’
‘Thanks,’ said Jack, pleased that Lily’s grandad seemed to approve of him. He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve got an appointment I’d better keep.’
‘I’ll see you later,’ said Bert, walking off in the direction of the vegetable garden.
Jack took one final glance at the apple press. It had potential but he definitely needed a hand with fixing it.
He smiled to himself at the idea that was beginning to form in his mind. The apple press certainly needed fixing, and in a hurry.
Perhaps he could help out two family members that day, he thought. And, with that, he set off towards the main house, hoping that Lily would keep her promise.