SECRETS

by Rhona Gorringe April 2020

            “It was a tough decision but this is the winner.”   The judge spoke slowly and his hands circled the air, “She’s a perfect shape, beautiful colour, see! not a trace of neck rot, lovely to touch  and a record breaking weight.” He pointed to a glistening trophy, “Now if the exhibitor would like to come forward for his prize,” he turned over the exhibitor’s card, “Ted Jennings.”   There was a ripple of applause and a photographer stood up.   Ted stepped forward for the Sturon Cup.   As he stood beside the table holding his cup he cast a sideways look at his neighbour, Jack Treadgold.   Jack looked downcast.   His own entry had a blue second place card.

            “Over here, Mr. Jennings, please” flash bulbs popped and the photographer thrust a microphone under Ted’s nose, “This is a truly magnificent specimen, biggest onion I have ever seen.   Make a lot of gravy, I should think or d’you have it with tripe?” the photographer quipped.   Ted blushed and felt beads of sweat on his forehead.   “Have you any tips for us or are they top secret?” the photographer persisted.   Ted mumbled and extricated himself as quickly as he could.   He had what he wanted, first prize, photo in the local paper and he had beaten Jack.  Now he wanted to get home and fast.

            Clutching his trophy and the heavy onion he went straight to the kitchen.   He needed a cup of tea or, better idea, something stronger.   He found a bottle of port in the sideboard and, trembling,  poured himself a large glass.   ‘What if, what if’ kept going round in his head.   He knew what he had done but did anyone else know or could they guess?   Jack was bound to ask.   They had been mates for years and worked their vegetable plots together, swapped tips and ideas.   Whatever would he say if Jack asked or even suspected something?   Ted poured himself another glass.   He  had stopped trembling but he felt cold and clammy.   Calm Down.   No one would, could, ever find out he told himself nor even suspect that he, Ted Jennings, church sidesman, secretary of the Rotary Club had cheated in the Flower and Produce show.  

            He went to bed early, tired by the anxiety of planning for the show.   He woke feeling better and couldn’t help a satisfied wide smile when he placed his trophy in the front window, prime position for all to see.  

            There was a knock on the door.   Jack stood there.   “Many Congratulations, to you, Ted.   Well Done.   You disappeared rather smartly yesterday afternoon.”   He smiled at Ted’s trophy, “By the way, have you got any of that Polyfilla left I let you have last week for your window frame?”

            Ted gulped.   “Er, No, used it all up.   There was more rot that I thought.   I’m going out soon, will get you another packet.”

            Jack gave Ted a quizzical look,“Are you all right, mate?   You look pale.”