Northern Spirit (18 page)

David was relieved to have his mother home and admitted to himself that
she looked well, in fact, she looked radiant; but he couldn’t forgive her. He
found it hard to believe that Alan had taken her to Paris, and as he looked
carefully at her appearance and demeanour, he tried to see any marks of
unfaithfulness in her, not just against his father, but mostly against himself.

He recalled how his mother would act when she’d made up with his father
after they’d had some massive argument, and there would be open displays of
kissing and whispering between them. She always had an air about her that
should have pleased David, but it never did, it always sickened him, and today
she seemed the same. And then he recalled the suggestions and accusations of
his deluded father, who didn’t trust anyone, and David realised he was thinking
just the same.

Kathy had hugged David on her return and sensed his resistance. Then
hoping she wasn’t to get another scolding she tried to pacify him. ‘Are the
animals all okay, love? Did milking go well?’

‘Well enough.’ David was sitting at the table trying to mend his broken
bedside lamp; there were bits of wires everywhere.

‘Have you been out at all?’

‘Just to the pub. Tony called in for me.’ Still a rebuff.

‘What happened to the lamp?’

‘I just knocked it, okay.’

‘Did anyone else call?’

‘No, not really.’ David tried to concentrate on his repairs.

Kathy wondered who constituted a “
not really,”
but decided it
would be better not to ask. She was glad to see he was safe, and wondered why
she’d worried about him so much; he was driving her crazy. She opened the
fridge door and noticed from the contents that he’d eaten very little. She
hoped at least that he’d had some fish and chips.

‘Oh, by the way,’ David stood from his chair, frustrated that the lamp
still didn’t work. ‘Mrs Hargreaves phoned . . .’ he paused as once again he
looked intently at his mother for any clues of deception in her eyes. ‘She
wants to speak to you about Tom.’

‘Oh no . . . ! What’s the matter now?’

‘She just said it was important that’s all. Oh . . . and Linzi called
to say she’ll be home at weekend and wants picking up from the bus.’

‘Did you tell her where I was?’

‘No, Mother, I didn’t. . . . You tell her!’

*       
*        *

The following morning Kathy started to dress in her familiar clothes:
blue denim jeans and a baggy pullover, then she had second thoughts. And not
wanting to lose the wonderful feelings of peace by being anxious over Tom,
decided to go to the school and get it over with. She had to call into the
village post office and a detour wouldn’t be out of her way. She decided to
wear something that, the sensible, Mrs Hargreaves would approve of. Her new red
suit would certainly raise some eyebrows in the village and provoke some
unwelcome comments. So Kathy wisely chose something less seductive.

It was a fine day and the long walk to the school would give her the
opportunity to compose her thoughts. She couldn’t help but wonder why she’d
been summoned, and only hoped it was nothing to do with the children being
taken out of school again. She wanted to be as discreet as she could and give
the Head Teacher no further reason to view her disapprovingly.

The village was crowded as she walked over the bridge; she stepped off
the pavement into the road, past the church, and stopped for a while to watch a
robin hopping around the headstones in the churchyard. The bakery was open and
the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the cool spring air.

Looking up to the fells, she could see the mountains looming over her,
and the light and the clear day made them appear like they were made of
brilliant glass. The summits were shrouded in a carpet of bright green, lush
turf, and bronzed with dormant bracken, looking resplendent as moisture
glistened on the wet rocks.

As a precaution, Kathy decided to do her errands before going to the
school, recalling how on her previous visit she’d had to make a hurried return
home.

*       
*        *

The Head Teacher was in her usual dominant spirit. The strength of her
character appeared to ooze from her very presence and, without uttering one
word, Kathy felt intimidated. She took a deep breath and sat down on the chair
before her; glad she’d considered her appearance.

Dorothy Hargreaves got straight to the point. ‘We seem to have a
problem with Tom, I’m afraid, Mrs Keldas. One of our parents has complained
that he’s been bullying their child.’

Kathy was astounded. ‘I can’t believe it! Not Tom.’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘May I ask who the child is?’

‘The parent wishes him to remain anonymous and, under the
circumstances, I think it best if it stays that way.’ Mrs Hargreaves was
resolute. But Kathy was provoked and wanted to say: ‘
The circumstances . . .
the circumstances. . . . What circumstances are these?’

There was silence as both women eyed each other and contemplated. Kathy
was the first to speak. ‘If this is true . . . because it’s not like him. What
do you want me to do about it?’

In her thoughts, Mrs Hargreaves disagreed, as she believed it was
typical of Tom Keldas.

‘I’ve noticed a big change in his behaviour recently. He’s become
inattentive and his schoolwork has suffered. Children who bully often do it
because they feel inadequate in some way, perhaps even jealous of the other
child.’

Kathy didn’t want to admit it, but she knew she’d given Tom and Sarah
very little attention recently and she’d channelled every waking thought into
David and her own selfish pursuits.

*       
*       *

Kathy didn’t need to rush home as she’d expected. Yes, she was
disturbed and perplexed, but her renewed vitality gave her a clear aspect of
this new situation. She tried to recall David as an eleven-year-old, but
couldn’t think of any time he’d been accused of bullying, though he had been in
a few fights at school. She smiled to think of his recent one in Blackpool and
how he had the scars to prove it. She would usually blame Tony Milton’s sharp
tongue for most of the trouble David found himself in, but she knew David
wasn’t perfect and neither was Tom.

Yes, Tom was a strong and tall boy for his age, but to think he might
use this as a means to provoke others vexed her. He was certainly used to the
rough and tumbles of life; George had treated him badly. And David tried to
give him some of the time that George had neglected, but this often resulted in
play fighting. David had ended up being the victim of Tom’s playfulness with a
bloodied nose and a broken tooth. So, consequently, she decided that David
would be the best one to speak to Tom purely on a man-to-man basis.

As soon as she was home, Kathy got straight to it and asked David to
help.

‘I wouldn’t know what to say to him. Why me?’ David shut his eyes. He
was trying to relax before the evening’s milking.

‘Because you can relate to him more than I can. He’ll listen to you.’

David wanted to say,
Why? Because nobody else listens to me!

‘Take him for a walk or something. You two haven’t been up the fells
for a while. Perhaps you could take him to that football match you promised.
Anything, but please . . . please help me with this, David.’

‘Okay . . . okay. . . . I’ll do something with him this weekend while
Alan’s milking, but don’t expect too much. I’m no social worker. But he’ll
natter me to death. You know he can’t stop talking; he drives me crazy
sometimes.’

Kathy had to hide a smile as she realised she’d got her way with him
and felt, this time, she’d won the battle. She knew she had pushed him and
forced the issue, and it showed in David’s countenance. He looked grave. He
looked thinner in his face, and was developing a scowl, which drew his dark
eyebrows ever closer together as he sat pensively, resigning himself to his
obligation.

*       
*        *

 Linzi Keldas opened the fridge door to view its contents: a
lemon, a packet of lard, some Stork margarine and two eggs.

‘Thank goodness for eggs.’

The dismal contents of the fridge only served to enforce her decision
to go home. She had missed lectures for nearly two weeks because of a heavy
cold, which had left her feeling drained and in poor spirits. She’d no money
and felt miserable and, although the thought of home was small comfort to her,
it still had a glimmer of appeal when she considered the lowly straits she’d
found herself in.

Wearing only pyjamas and a blue bathrobe and slippers, she wandered
through to the kitchen. It was lunchtime and she was famished and her head was
thumping with too much sleep. In just one hour she had to be in Newcastle to
catch the express coach to Keswick.

‘What a mess!’ she said, as she attempted to wipe some grime from the
cooker, her cloth soon becoming smeared with sticky grease. She then whisked
the eggs and poured them into a clean pan, to make scrambled eggs.

‘This place stinks!’ she grumbled, as she looked about the dingy flat.
The kitchen sink was clogged with dirty pots and pans; the waste bin was
over-flowing with empty cans and bottles; her fellow flatmates were all as
guilty as she for the mess. She shuffled across the sitting room and pulled
back a pair of heavy curtains to reveal clouds of dust and spiders’ webs
floating across the room exposed by the early spring sunshine. The gas fire was
only just managing to put out some heat.

Linzi wanted to cry at the pathetic state she found herself in. ‘Does
nobody ever do anything around here?’ Her two flatmates, both in college, had
left the remains of their breakfast on the coffee table: half-eaten bowls of
Rice Crispies floating in milk, several cups of cold coffee and side plates
strewn about the sitting room which had been left for days, maybe even weeks.
She was about to start and clear them away, but thought better of it, and went
back to the kitchen to butter some toast.

*       
*        *

Linzi managed to make an effort with her appearance as she bathed and
washed her hair, putting on jeans and layers of t-shirts and pullovers. She
found an overnight bag and stuffed it as full as she could with dirty washing
to take home, put on her navy Parka and wrapped a red scarf about her neck that
almost obscured her face.

She just caught the bus in time, and could relax for a couple of hours
as they progressed across England. She made herself as comfortable as possible
on the back seat and was mesmerised by gazing aimlessly out of the window as
they left the busy streets of Newcastle behind.

As the coach stopped at one of the suburbs, Linzi noticed a young woman
boarding. She watched for some time as the girl paid her fare then wandered
towards the back of the coach and sat just in front of her.

Where have I seen you before
? Linzi was perplexed as she peered
out from over the top of her scarf. Then she realised this was the girl David
ignored at the bus station a few months earlier and the memory of that
intrigued her.

As the girl settled down in front of Linzi, she carelessly dropped the
contents of her purse on the floor, and the coins rolled about under the seats.
Linzi felt compelled to help. ‘I think we have a mutual acquaintance.’ Linzi
said, stretching to pick up some of the money and giving it to the girl.

Hannah Robson looked up and said ‘I’m sorry. . . . Do I know you?’

‘No, I don’t suppose you do. I’m Linzi Keldas.’

Hannah’s large brown eyes flashed wide open and thoughts of David came
straight to her mind.
This girl must be his wife
! Hannah thought, as she
recognised Linzi behind the layers of clothing. She couldn’t explain why, but
felt disappointed as she realised this was the girl she’d seen David embracing
at the bus station. ‘Oh! Do you mean David?’ Hannah was cautious.

‘Yes. I believe you know him?’

Hannah, immediately wanting to play down much knowledge of him replied,
‘Oh, only in that I work with Barry Fitzgerald.’

‘Yes I know.’ Linzi was disappointed in Hannah’s complacency.

Hannah sat half-turned in her seat and was surprised that Linzi had
recognised her from what must have only have been a fleeting glance at the
bus-station a few months earlier.

‘Are you going back to Windermere today?’ Linzi asked.

Hannah turned again and guessing Linzi wanted to talk, was glad of some
light conversation that would help pass the long trip back to Cumbria. ‘Yes.
I’ve had the week off. Barry wants me back for any emergencies over the
weekend.’

‘Are you going home too?’

Linzi sighed as she replied, ‘Yes, but reluctantly I’m afraid. To tell
you the truth I’ve had the flu and I’m broke and I need to borrow some money
off Davey. That’s if he’ll cough up!’

Hannah mused and thought it a strange request to have to borrow money
off your own husband - still, they were a strange family.

As Hannah looked puzzled, Linzi tried to explain. ‘I’m a student you
see, and I can’t manage on my grant.’

‘Doesn’t David help you out?’

‘Phoo! Why should he?’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘That’s okay. It’s just that my brother’s probably loaded and he
doesn’t like opening his wallet, especially to me.’

‘Oh, your brother. . . . He’s your brother.’ Hannah was surprised to
find she was relieved. ‘I’m sorry. How stupid of me.’

‘Who did you think I was?’ Linzi laughed. ‘Oh my goodness. Surely you
didn’t think I was his wife! I wouldn’t be good enough for Mr Perfect. I’m
afraid Davey’s got a severe case of narcissism. Whoever marries him would have
to be better than him, and he thinks no one like that exists.’

Hannah was uncomfortable in the way the conversation was turning. ‘So
what are you studying?’

‘Oh . . . Business Studies; book keeping and stuff like that. Well, I’m
supposed to be, but I’ve just had two weeks off sick and, to be honest, I don’t
know if I’ll go back after the Easter break.’ Linzi surprised herself at how
open she’d been to this stranger, but Hannah’s smile and her warm brown eyes
had drawn out her very thoughts and compelled her to speak.