The Village Fete

Jack always came first in the vegetable section of the village fete competition and this year was no different. Rob walked up and down the cloth covered trestle tables sighing and tutting at the array of red 1^st rosettes against his rival’s name. He looked ceiling ward, it was a warm day in June and the marquee roof ruffled slightly in the breeze. He would LOVE to know Jack’s secret. Rob walked up and down again, the best he had done was in the tomato section, getting a third. Of course, Jacks tomatoes stole the show, and the first in category! Plump juicy, perfectly red and not a blemish in sight.

Rob really thought his green beans were winners, that was until Jack placed his on the table! They were about three times longer and perfectly formed. Don’t even talk about the marrows thought Rob where his had once again failed miserably in comparison. It wasn’t like Rob didn’t try, he spent ages choosing the best seeds and nurtured them like babies, all to no avail. Even if he thought he had a winner you could bet your last pound that Jack Turner would trump him at every turn.

Rob watched as people slapped Jack on the back and shook his hand, he would surely lift the trophy for most overall points again. Annoyed he left the tent, passing rows of handmade jams, cakes, bread, knitted garments and arrangements of flowers. He could smell the sweet scent of summer roses as he passed.

Outside he found a spot on the grass to watch the dog show, laughing along with the crowd at one particularly disobedient collie who was insisting on going the total opposite way to his owner. At the close of the day Rob didn’t bother going back to the tent to collect his entries, he didn’t want to stand and watch Jack lift the cup once again. He could hear cheering as Jack’s name was announced and that was quite enough for him. He went home, making his way across the playing field to the little alleyway that came out in the main village street. A few yards up from the alley he unlocked the door to his cottage and made himself a cup of tea. His black cat Suki greeted him with a meow and watched him with large yellow eyes as he settled into an armchair with his newspaper. Since his wife died five years ago Rob spent most of his days on the allotment tending to his vegetables. He had been entering the Andoversfield fete for many years, it was something he and his wife had done together. Helen had been a baking whizz, and no one could beat her Victoria sandwich and fruit tarts. Meanwhile Rob would clean up with his vegetable entries, until Jack arrived that was.  Rob was determined to find out Jack’s secret formula, he needed have a game plan so he could regain the cup that was rightfully his!

Summer disappeared in a flash and when the autumn winds whipped up vividly coloured leaves into swirling piles Rob retreated to his shed on the allotment, his head buried in gardening books. He even surfed the internet looking for answers, something he wasn’t entirely at ease with, he much preferred a good book that he could peruse at his own speed. But try as he might, he still was no more confident that he would beat Jack next summer.

Rob poked his head out of the shed, a light misty rain was falling in the wind and there was a nip in the air, the smell of soil and decaying leaves hit his nostrils. If he craned his neck a little further, he could just see Jack’s allotment patch right at the back of the plot. It was neat and tidy, with a small wooden shed painted dark brown at one edge along with a small greenhouse. Raised wooden boxes held onions and garlic and neat furrowed ridges of soil awaited new planting.

For some reason, Rob thought it would be a good idea to go and have a poke about on Jack’s plot. The light was fading, but Rob cursed under his breath as he saw everything was pin neat, even the various ceramic pots were placed in size order rows. He peered into the greenhouse, a few seedlings in tiny black plastic pots stood on the staging. A watering can and some bottles of fertiliser were underneath along with more pots. Definitely no clues about success to be seen there.  

Rob approached the shed, he put his hand against the glass of the window his breath misting the pane. To his annoyance he realised that there was board blocking the inside view, just one tiny edge was missing, and he attempted to squint into the space desperately rubbing against the glass with his fist.

Suddenly the shed door burst open and there stood Jack. Rob stumbled backwards with shock and immediately felt embarrassed. ‘Er… I’m sorry Jack, I was er… looking for you’ he stuttered.

‘Were you?’ said Jack, he had an amused smile on his clean-shaven face. Rob realised he was kind of hard to put an age on, he wasn’t young but somehow, he didn’t look old either.

‘Yes, I was...’ said Rob finally gathering his thoughts. ‘I was wondering if you had any tips for me, you know, given that you grow such wonderful vegetables and all?’ There, he had said it. He surprised himself with his own honesty and cheek!

Jack chuckled. A deep throaty chuckle. ‘Rob, my dear fellow, I COULD tell you’ he said as he slipped from behind the shed door and shut it firmly. ‘But,’ he said, pulling a silver key from his pocket and locking the padlock ‘I am afraid I would have to kill you!’ Then he laughed and winked at Rob and wandered off down the path to the allotment gates.

Rob stood for a minute, half angry, half bemused and still a little embarrassed. He watched Jack disappear into the gloom. The rain was setting in for the night, so he turned his collar up on his old wax jacket and went home. He was greeted by an angry Suki, he was late with her dinner, she meowed furiously until he slipped some biscuits into her bowl and then sat far away from him in silent protest at her untimely wait.

Rob spoke to his daughter Katie on the phone that evening, she liked to keep an eye on him since her mum had died but living many miles away that was reduced to occasional visits and weekly phone calls. He recounted his spying tale to much tutting and giggling from her. ‘Dad, you are obsessed!’ she remarked. ‘Yes’, replied Rob in agreement ‘I think I probably am!’

Autumn slipped into winter; Rob was surprised by the light covering of snow as he emerged from his shed late one afternoon. The sky promised more as it glowered heavily from above the horizon. It was not a day to linger on the allotment, it was time to go home to his log burner and a nice pint of real ale thought Rob as he locked his shed. Just as he was about to leave, he saw a flickering light coming from Jacks shed and not one but two, sets of prints leading to the door. Rob frowned, he felt he should go and investigate, what if Jacks shed was being broken in to? He was a little reluctant though, after his last encounter with Jack! As he hesitated, he thought he heard a cry, just a faint one and that made him spring into action. His heart was pounding as he reached the shed. ‘Hello? Jack?’ he said loudly not feeling anywhere as brave as his voice sounded. There was a muffled thump from inside the shed followed by a scrabbling at the door.

Jack appeared from within the shed, he barely disguised his anger this time. ‘You again!! God damn it man, what is your problem?’ he said, his hair looked a little wild as if he had been involved in a scuffle. Rob noticed that he was also a little drawn and pale and not as confident and self-assured as he normally seemed.

‘I…I thought I heard something...’ faltered Rob, staring Jack squarely in the face. ‘I mean I saw the prints in the snow I thought you’d been broken into or…’

He stopped as Jack drew himself up to his full height. He literally towered over Rob making him feel small, which at just under six foot he was not. Jack’s gaze was stern, but then, something changed, and he softened a little.

‘Nothing going on here, my friend’ stated Jack flinging the shed door wide. ‘Just me, my radio and a bottle of red, that sound you heard was probably the murder mystery I was listening to’

‘Oh…’ said Rob, as he took in the interior of the shed. It was probably the most luxurious allotment shed he had ever seen; he felt a flash of envy. Was there nothing this man could not do he thought as he took everything in.

The back of the shed had shelving with an array of books, Rob was too far away to see the book titles, but he imagined it would all be gardening related. A comfortable wingback armchair held a plump richly embroidered cushion in reds and golds and a small side table sat to the left of it. On the table was indeed a wine bottle and a glass of red, a notebook bound in leather and a small battery powered lamp. A red patterned rug sat underneath the chair and table looking for all the world as if it belonged in a stately home.

The back of the shed was dark apart from a solitary light over the bookcase Rob noticed. ‘Solar powered’ said Jack seeing him squinting up at it. He creaked the door open slightly more. ‘Come in, join me, although I can’t promise to reveal ALL my darkest secrets!’

Stepping into the shed Rob could see even more detail. An old-fashioned radio was playing some sort of inaudible dialogue, he couldn’t quite catch what was being said. Once the door was shut, he became aware that the shed was warm and cosy, to his amazement there was a small wood burner pushing out a fair amount of heat on this cold winter’s day. It was like a palace in there, or more like a Tardis he thought as he stared at everything in utter disbelief.

Jack offered Rob the armchair, which he perched on somewhat awkwardly. With a flourish Jack produced a fold up chair and a second glass in which he proceeded to pour a large amount of rich red wine that he passed to Rob.

Rob noted that the glass was crystal, his jaw dropped by the minute as the surprises kept coming. The first sip of wine was heady, it had notes he felt he had not experienced before, he rolled it around his mouth while he swirled the glass in his fingers.

‘It’s homemade’ said Jack as he leaned forward on his chair, one hand on his knee and the other clutching his own glass.

The pair chatted for a while, it was mostly small talk about the fete and a little background about each other, although Rob felt Jack was playing his cards remarkably close to his chest. There was no mention of wives or previous partners and no mention of where he lived prior to coming to Andoversfield.

The wine flowed as Jack pulled out a couple of gardening books to show Rob. He called them his ‘bible’, but Rob was unconvinced, he kept glancing at the leatherbound notebook on the table he felt almost certain that the secrets were actually contained in there. He tried and failed to look at it when Jack nipped out for a couple more logs for the wood burner.

The next morning Rob awoke feeling as if he had been hit by a truck. He tried to pick out details from his hazy memory but try as he might he could not remember how he had got home or even got into bed.

He went downstairs passing a mirror on his landing, he looked awful, unshaven, pale and definitely hung over. Clearly, he had managed to feed Suki as she didn’t even meow for food as he came down the stairs. The front door was locked, and the curtains closed. His shoes were neatly lined up on the doormat.

The shrill ring of the phone snapped Rob into focus, it was his daughter. Unable to contact him the previous evening she was checking to make sure he was ok. Rob chuckled ‘I’m not 18 love, you don’t need to worry if I go out!’

Katie laughed and listened to Robs story about Jacks shed in amazement. He left out the bit that he couldn’t remember getting back home as he could sense her disapproval would be at an epic level! He did add that he actually thought Jack was ok, a bit odd, but generally an ok chap.

Once he had put the phone down Rob wandered into the kitchen, he was suddenly aware that it was nearly lunchtime. He opened the fridge and wrinkled his nose; he wasn’t that hungry and not even the thick carved ham and plump juicy tomatoes could tempt him. With a sigh he shut the fridge door as he glanced out of the kitchen window. There was a weak watery sun low in the sky, the snow had melted leaving its traces only in places where the shadows clung. Not knowing what else to do Rob pulled on his coat and a pair of boots and headed to the allotment feeling a need to fill in the blanks from the previous evening.

It was freezing already and the few dead leaves that remained on the pathways were slippery and treacherous, patches of black ice hid in the shadows and Rob had to tread very carefully even with his boots on.

Without even thinking he headed straight to Jacks shed bypassing his own. The light was on, and this time Rob stepped up to the door and knocked firmly, no longer feeling he needed to approach with caution.

If Rob had expected ‘a best buds who had bonded’ kind of welcome, he was very wrong.  Jack opened the door and stared at Rob for a full minute without speaking and then ushered him in almost nervously.

‘You will be needing this’ said Jack pouring two large glasses of his heady wine and handing one to Rob.  Rob opened his mouth to protest, but somehow, he really wanted to feel that warm glow he had experienced the previous evening, before the memory blackout that was!

The shed was not looking its usual self, the battery powered lamp was on its side on the floor, the rug was askew, and books scattered. It looked to all the world, as if there had been a struggle. As Rob sipped his wine, his head cleared, and he continued to take in the scene.

‘Do you remember anything about last night at all?’ Jack asked somewhat hesitantly. Rob shook his head, his brow furrowed in frustration.

Jack looked relieved; Rob was even more puzzled, but his companion was not offering any further explanation much to his annoyance.

It was quite a different atmosphere today and there was a chill in the shed despite the log burner. Jack wandered out to get some more logs cut and Rob picked up the lamp and tried to adjust the rug, but it was caught on something.

Rob lifted the rug to see why it was catching and saw that fringe was caught in a small square trapdoor, extra storage in this shed no longer surprised Rob at all. He tugged it open to free the rug and that’s when his memory suddenly returned in absolute clarity …

Winter turned to Spring in no time at all, the whole village had been shocked to the core by Jacks sudden departure, curtains twitched and the local shop buzzed with whispered rumours. No one knew where Jack had moved on to, all they knew was that a handwritten letter had been received by Rob asking him to take care of the allotment indefinitely, it contained a single silver key, for the lock on the shed. A few of the single ladies of a certain age were kind of sad. New blood in the village was hard to come by!

Slowly things died down, people stopped asking Rob if he had heard anything and by the summer it was as if Jack had never existed, well almost.

Andoversfield Fete Day dawned once again, and Rob was up at the allotment by 6AM. He’d taken over Jacks allotment and let his own go, it seemed sensible two allotments were hard work to maintain and there was always a waiting list of people eager to obtain one.

It was going to be a hot day, even at 6 in the morning Rob could feel the sun heating up and he pulled his cap on firmly, his bald spot was a little sensitive these days. He loaded two trays with his best vegetables, they looked good, and he felt a little more confident of taking the prizes with Jack gone.

Sure enough he scooped the top spots in pretty much every class and lifted the 1^st prize trophy to much cheering and back slapping. The little plaque proclaimed it was the Jack Turner trophy the only real mention of him in some time.

The trophy looked good on the shelf in Jacks shed thought Rob as he made a space for it. ‘Well, it’s my shed now’ he said out loud, correcting his thoughts. Rob was the only person in the village that knew Jack was never coming home.

The evening that Rob and Jack had spent drinking wine into the early hours had not ended the way either of them had expected. Jack had nipped out for a second time to fetch some logs and Rob had levered himself out of the chair, to look at the rows of books at the back of the shed albeit a little unsteadily.

As he rose to his feet, he could feel a loose floorboard shift under him. ‘Aha!’ exclaimed Rob – he was convinced that Jack was hiding a journal or something, that had his innermost secrets of success inside.

He carefully moved the table and pulled back the rug. To his surprise there was a small square trapdoor, although that feeling didn’t last long after all nothing was surprising when it came to Jack. Chuckling he pulled up the door, at first, he couldn’t see anything but then he spied several bottles of wine. Well, the bottle they were drinking was nearly finished so Rob reached in to grab one.

As he reached down, he leaned forward and realised he was staring into a pair of eyes in a deathly pale face, he immediately knew he was staring at a dead man. The bottle of wine slipped from his grasp, catapulted sideways and broke, the contents spewing across the floor in a steady, dark stain. Rob gasped and tried to stumble unsteadily to his feet, just as he did so he heard the shed door quietly close behind him. He was trapped.

‘Blood’ said Jack quietly ‘That’s my secret, you wanted to know and now you do’ He was standing against the door blocking Robs only way out.

Rob pressed his back into the side of the shed as far from Jack as he was able, he was shaking and his heart was pounding. Most of his memory from there was a little blurred, there was a struggle as he tried to escape, Rob felt as if he had been stabbed in the neck and he promptly passed out.

He vaguely remembered walking home supported by Jack and that was it.

Everything was in order in the house when he awoke but he couldn’t remember anything and that was when he went to confront Jack.

The second time Rob lifted the trapdoor Jack once again appeared and blocked his exit from the shed. Robs mind raced, could he escape down the trapdoor? Judging by the dirt floor it was just a space directly beneath the shed, perhaps there was a way to squeeze out. The thought of the body and perhaps even more horrors stopped him from considering it. Instead, he crumpled helplessly into the armchair.

The two men stared at each other for the longest time, neither dared to break the silence. Then Jack spoke and Rob listened, he had a thousand questions but remained motionless, his hands gripping his knees, knuckles white.

Jack was a vampire, Rob struggled with this news the most. They didn’t exist, did they? For 400 years he had roamed the earth moving on whenever he had to. He could never stay in one place for too long as people around him aged and it would look suspicious that he never did the same. 

‘I never kill good people’ Jack said earnestly, like that made it ok. Rob just raised his eyebrows; he didn’t think anything more could shock him. ‘Made the mistake of killing someone innocent about 300 years ago, took me a good 50 years to get over it…’

Jack explained that he spent his days scouring local newspapers for court reports of villains, thieves and generally bad people. They had to be loners with no family to speak of. He would befriend them and lure them to the allotment or wherever he was staying at the time. He thrived on blood being undead (obviously!) but by happy accident he had discovered that so did plants, especially vegetables. So, said Jack chuckling in an unsettling way, ‘Its one glass of my special brew for me and one for the vegetables and the bodies make fantastic fertiliser which is a bonus!’

Rob studied Jack in stony faced silence. This was not what he had expected of vampires, if he’d even had any expectations of them! Jack didn’t flit about as a bat at night, he didn’t shrivel up in sunlight, he walked about in the daylight, although he confessed, he did tend to stick to the shade where possible. Hell, he even grew garlic, and he had a reflection in glass and mirrors!

‘That brings us to you...’ said Jack with a sigh as he folded his arms and leant against the shed door. ‘400 years is a long time, never being able to put down roots properly, always moving on to avoid suspicion. I’m tired Rob, so very tired’

‘What do I have to do with it?’ Asked Rob holding his hands up.

‘I said if I told you my secrets, I would have to kill you, but I like you, Rob. I don’t want to kill you’ Jack said quietly. ‘Instead, I have given you the gift of eternal life and now I need you to kill me!’

‘Oh no, no, no, NO!!’ Shouted Rob angrily as he jumped up from the chair.

‘I’ve had enough, I’m leaving’ he tried to push past Jack, but to no avail.

‘It’s too late Rob, your fate was sealed last night when you found my little friend Richie under my floorboards’ Jack said, his eyes dark and soulless. ‘I bit you last night and drained a little blood, not enough to kill you but enough to infect you. Pretty soon you will crave the sweet nectar of warm human blood, the bottled stuff dulls the cravings but only for a while. You too will have to kill, eventually’

A good couple of hours passed before Rob, defeated, accepted his fate. The first hour they argued back and forth until Jack forced Rob to look at the puncture marks on his neck in a small hand mirror he pulled from a drawer. Rob not only saw the wound, but he saw his own ghostly pale face staring back at him and he knew everything Jack had told him was true.

The second hour and several glasses of ‘wine’ later Jack brought Rob up to speed on life as a vampire. He even gave Rob the name of his next intended victim ‘A head start’ Jack called it! Rob learned that the leather-bound journal was indeed a bible, although not the one he could ever have imagined. It contained tips on body dissection and vampire lore and how to mature and bottle the blood for maximum freshness. Finally, and unbelievably, Rob seemed somehow to be almost at ease with what was going to be his life for an eternity.

With a sad but resigned look Jack pulled a small chest decorated with winged skulls and a tiny cross from one of the shelves. It was a vampire hunters kit complete with wooden stakes. With a beautiful fountain pen he wrote a final letter to give to Rob asking him to look after his allotment.

Four months passed, although time didn’t have a great deal of meaning any more. Rob stood outside his shed carefully raking leaves into a heap ready for an early autumnal fire. Jacks end had been swift once Rob had pierced his chest with the stakes he reflected. He really hadn’t known what to expect but thankfully it was quiet and surprisingly fast, and he disintegrated away to a pile of ashes within a few minutes. That made life so much easier for Rob on the disposal front. He was able to dig most of it into the vegetable patches and would put the last of it on this fire.

He had several bottles of blood maturing nicely under the floorboards along with the body of ‘Jimmy’ an ex-convict and thoroughly nasty chap. All in all, things were running pretty smoothly.

It made him sad to think he would have to leave his daughter at some point and fake his own death. He was already considering where he would go to next. Maybe Europe ….

‘What IS your secret to such a fine allotment?’ a voice behind him said, making him jump slightly.

Rob turned and squinted into the low sun, shielding his eyes. It was George, the young and enthusiastic vegetarian and new arrival in Andoversfield. He had a plot a few rows over from Robs.

Rob laughed and held out his hand to shake Georges. ‘I could tell you ‘He said with a grin ‘But I’d have to kill you…!’

 

Sarah Russell 2021