Northern Spirit (17 page)

‘Have you enjoyed it then?’ Alan broke the silence.

She took his arm again and squeezed it. ‘It’s been wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful! I’m sure this break’s already done me good. You were
right . . . I think I did need to get away from the farm.’

‘Try not to think of the farm, Kathy. Not just yet.’

‘I know . . . Davey will be doing a good job,’ she said with a hint of
sadness in her heart.

As he left her at the hotel room, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Alan waited expectantly, but Kathy was more cautious. ‘Good night Alan. And
thank you,’ and he knew she had made a wise decision.

He’d already let his guard down in declaring his love for her and for
the cautious bachelor he was, that was an embarrassment. But he was happy she
understood how he really felt and he wanted to be ready when the right time
came.

Alan found this parting harder than expected and didn’t go straight
back to his room, but went for a walk through the night. He hoped the darkness
and the anonymity would hide his disappointment. He’d told Kathy something he
knew was true and what he had often thought; something he’d never told another
woman. He found comfort in the neon lights and the street bars, illuminating
green, red, and blue streaks, as they reflected on the damp roads and
pavements, as he walked the busy streets of Paris, alone.

9

THE NARCISSUS

The kitchen table which was normally strewn with children’s toys and
piles of ironing, was bare. There was no aroma of coffee, no teatime smells of
roasting meat or cooked vegetables. The fire wasn’t lit and the Aga had been
neglected and gone out.

David hurried indoors when he heard the telephone ringing. He snatched
at the receiver but there was silence. ‘Hello . . . hello. . . .’ still no
reply, then the line went dead. He mused for a while: that was the third time
that day. If his mother had some message for him and couldn’t get through,
well, tough, he thought.

David stood in the stone cold farmhouse in silence, he opened the fire
door on the Aga and slammed it shut again, cursing himself for letting it go
out. He put a match to the dry sticks in the parlour fireplace and threw on
more sticks and coal to restore matters. He put the electric kettle on and
then, peering into the fridge, found a packet of small pork pies. David chose
one of the pies for his tea and opened a tin of baked beans. Glancing at the
clock he could see it was time for the early evening news.

The yard gate clicked and then the sound of someone singing:
Tony
?

He knocked then popped his head around the kitchen door. ‘Where is
everyone?’

That question was ignored.

‘Do you want some tea?’ David spoke, with his back turned on his
friend.

‘What a miserable specimen!’ Tony replied, as he picked up one of the
small pies and put most of it into his mouth and tried to eat and speak at the
same time. ‘I’m sorry. . . . Was that your tea?’ spitting pastry crumbs over
himself and David.

‘That was tomorrow’s and the day after’s!’

‘So then . . . I’ll ask you again. . . . Where is everybody?’

David emptied the tin of baked beans into a small pan and stirred them
with a wooden spoon. ‘My mother has cleared off with Alan Marsh for a day or
two, and the kids are at my gran’s.’

‘You poor little mite! Is that why you’re looking so dejected? Your
mummy has left you has she?’

David ignored the banter by putting out two mugs; he carelessly threw
in the coffee and then filled them with hot water. ‘According to my
instructions . . . it should be fish and chips tonight but I can’t be bothered
to go to Keswick.’

‘Oh, wonderful. And where might your mother be dining?’

‘Probably some hotel in St. Annes that, Alan, and a hundred other reps
stay at. They’ll be talking about how much a gallon of sheep dip costs, over a
romantic dinner. Anyhow, wherever she is, and whatever she’s eating, I couldn’t
care less.’

‘You selfish beggar! I bet she didn’t think that when you were drinking
and fighting down in Blackpool. Besides, you don’t really mean that. You’re
only feeling sorry for yourself.’ Tony pulled a chair up to the kitchen table
and watched David spooning the hot beans over the cold pie.

‘Anyway. . . .’ Tony continued, ‘never mind them. Do you fancy coming
out for a drink? It’ll be warmer in the pub than in this god-forsaken place.’

And a glimmer of a smile appeared on David’s face as he started to eat
his meagre meal – Someone cared for him at last.

*       
*       *

The men had a welcome drink, a game of pool and a plate of sandwiches,
and as they struggled back home up the hill the evening turned windy; their
voices were muted.

David left Tony at the bungalow and walked briskly back to the
farmhouse. He was as content as he’d been in weeks and, this time, as he opened
the kitchen door, the warmth embraced him and he guessed the Aga had finally
stayed lit. Yet, despite its heat, there was still a coldness and an eerie
silence and an unwelcome feel to the house and he realised, that in all his
twenty-three years, he’d never stayed in the house alone at night.

He went into the parlour and touched the radiators with his hand, and
they were warm. The fire was smouldering in the hearth, belching out puffs of
smoke from a draught coming down the chimney. He felt tired and still a little
hungry so, making a jam sandwich and a cup of coffee, took himself straight
upstairs to his bedroom.

Quickly undressing, he put on his pyjamas and got straight into bed.
And sitting up in bed, David sipped his tea and ate his supper. The alarm was
set for six-thirty and he put out his bedside lamp. He was ready for drifting
off to sleep when he heard the latch on the backdoor downstairs click. It must
be the wind.

He sat up further in his bed and listened – he thought someone had come
into the house, and hoped it was Tony fooling around. Not daring to move, he
rested back in bed, mesmerised in the darkness. He listened for many minutes,
his heart beating like a car engine. Then, as he peered into the darkness, his
bedroom door slid open and he saw the form of a woman moving in closer toward
him. He sat bolt upright in bed.

‘Don’t be afraid, Davey. . . . It’s only me.’

‘Good grief, Jo! How did you get in?’ David, still disabled by fear,
didn’t move.

‘I haven’t lived next door to you for eighteen years without knowing
where you keep your spare key,’ she whispered.

‘Well, what on earth’s the matter?’ Still shaken, he rubbed his eyes
and reached out for the bedside lamp.

Joanne came across the room and firmly took his arm, preventing him
from any further movement. But David found the energy to stir and threw back
the covers and stood up quickly but he clumsily knocked the lamp and it fell
crashing to the floor and broke in pieces.

‘I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry, Davey.’ She knelt down to pick up the
fragments, then sat down on the edge of his bed.

David could just see her appearance through the darkness. Apart from a
white t-shirt, she was completely dressed in black. She wore a leather jacket
and a short skirt and was shivering with the cold. Her long red hair was
falling loosely about her face and shoulders.

‘Tony told me you were all alone, so I’ve come to keep you company.’

David was confused as to her motives and groaned, ‘I’m - I’m all right.
Please, please, you’re shivering - you’re cold. What’s the problem, Jo?’

‘Nothing. . . . Not now. . . . Not now that I’m with you. I saw your
light on and I thought I’d come and talk to you, that’s all.’

David brushed passed her, pleased that tonight he was wearing his
pyjamas. He reached for the light-switch by the door. Both of them squinted.

‘Don’t spoil things, Davey. I wanted it to be just you and me. Don’t
you want to talk to me?’

‘Joanne!’ David was exasperated. ‘I love talking to you, but not now -
not in the middle of the night! I have to be up early in the morning. Come
downstairs and I’ll make you a cup of tea, and then you MUST go home.’

He put a pullover on over the top of his pyjamas, as she stayed
motionless on his bed. David headed for the door. ‘Please. . . . Come
downstairs,’ his voice was cold. He simply had to get out of the bedroom, but
she resisted. ‘Joanne. . . . Please . . . I can’t have you here while my
mother’s away.’

‘I thought you would want me!’ And with that, she started to cry but
David didn’t notice that the tears were false.

‘Oh, no. Please . . . please don’t cry.’ He went back to the bed and,
taking her hand, pulled her up towards him and led her from the room. ‘You must
have some tea and then go home,’ he repeated. ‘If Tony finds out you’ve been
here, he’ll kill me.’

‘Tony . . . Tony . . . I don’t care about Tony. I only care about you.’

‘And I care about you, Jo, but this isn’t the way to do things. It just
won’t do!’

‘Well, you’re treating me like a child now. Can’t you see I’m not a
child anymore?’ Her eyes flashed.

David looked at her, knowing well that she looked anything but a child.
She was a beautiful young woman, but this was madness, her being here. He also
knew that, for once, he must do the right thing and take her out of his room;
even force her if that were necessary. And, as he gently pulled her hand, she
obliged and followed him and he managed to get her downstairs and into the
kitchen.

The tea was made with resignation, as David clumsily clattered the
kettle, the cups, the milk jug, and then sat, reluctantly, at the table. ‘Does
Tony know you’re here?’

‘No. I left him sleeping in front of the telly.’ Joanne weaved around
him, curling her body smoothly and seductively close to his.

‘But he’ll hear you coming in again.’

‘Then I’ll stay longer. And he’ll be in bed and won’t miss me at all,
will he?’

‘Then I think it’s time to go, Joanne.’

‘If you kiss me like you did before, I’ll leave.’ She stood close to
him and rested her arm on his shoulder.

It was foolish and irrational and yet he complied, anything, to get rid
of her.

He gently kissed her on the forehead and held her shoulders slightly as
he did so. ‘Now you must go, Joanne and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ But she started
to kiss him full on the lips and with passion. Desperate now, David backed away
and went to the door. ‘No. . . no. . . no. . . . Don’t please. . . .’

With her face shrouded in disappointment she finally gave in, and David
was relieved to see her through the door, and walked as far as the yard gate
with her. He gave her a torch and promised to watch until she was safe in the
bungalow. He knew she was hanging around for another kiss so he backed away.

As he stood shivering in the yard, he pulled the sleeves on his
pullover down over his hands and folded his arms. He then jogged back indoors
and, without any hesitation, put the safety chain on the door.

Unnerved by Joanne’s intrusion, David wandered around the kitchen, not
daring to go back upstairs to bed. He thought of sleeping on the sofa and
leaving the kitchen light on. Then inwardly cursing himself for his stupidity
in kissing her again, he decided his punishment should be to have the
uncomfortable night downstairs.

As he contemplated getting pillows and blankets from the airing
cupboard, he wandered across to the laundry-room door and, as he passed the
Aga, he saw the mirror hanging beside it glistening in the light, and David
suddenly stopped. His blue eyes now wide open and sharp, saw something that
made him shudder. Scrawled across the mirror was some graffiti. And, as he
allowed himself to read it, it said:
Come outside to play.

It was an innocuous statement if he could believe it was written by
little Sarah or even Tom, and he desperately searched his mind, trying to recall
seeing it a day or so before they left for his grandmother’s house. He touched
the cold glass and the writing smeared pink on his finger and he realised it
was lipstick.

David backed away and crashed into the dining table, catching his foot
on one of the chairs. He spun around and stumbled, then kneeling on the floor,
crawled to the kitchen sink, and dragged himself up and turned on the hot tap,
full flow. He grabbed a cloth, dowsing it in washing-up liquid, and with water
and soap dripping down his arm; not caring that it was soaking his pullover, he
scrubbed the mirror clean.

*       
*        *

Joanne managed to get back into the bungalow without disturbing Tony.
He was still asleep, with the television on, as some politicians argued about
the rights and wrongs of Britain joining the Common Market.

She put away her jacket, went to the bedroom and fumbled through the
dressing table drawer to find her diary. Humming to herself, she lay on the bed
and began to read:

MARCH 10th.Tuesday

Helped Davey with the milking again tonight. He told me of his plan
to move to Scotland. He told me how much he loved me and that as soon as his
mother could cope, we will elope together. Then there will be just him and me

Then she began to write:

MARCH 11th. Wednesday.

Helped Davey with the milking again. He told me how miserable he was
living at home and said he couldn’t wait until we leave and get married. He
begged me to stay the night as his mother is away for a few days.

MARCH 12th. Thursday.

I came home at 6:30 this morning. David is now at work. He didn’t
want to get up and leave me for milking but I persuaded him to go. That was my
very first night at Keld Head alone with him. His mother is home tomorrow so we
must be careful of when we see each other again. I do love him so much.

*       
*       *

Kathy, still dressed in her red suit, stood at the desk looking at the
mail. She sighed as she opened each envelope. ‘I can’t believe how many bills
can come in just three days!’ She placed several invoices back in the correct
envelopes and putting them in a wire basket, shoved them back on the desk.