Northern Spirit (19 page)

‘How much longer do you have to do? I’m sorry; I don’t even remember
your name.’ Linzi continued.

‘Hannah . . . Hannah Robson. I’ve just less than two years until I sit
my finals. How about you?’

‘I’m in my second year, but I very much doubt I’ll finish.’ Linzi
whinged.

‘You can’t give up now! You’re nearly there. If you flunk out now, the
last eighteen months will have been wasted.’

Hannah sounded enthusiastic and Linzi wondered how she could be; being
a student herself, she must understand how difficult it was. But Hannah was
free. She wasn’t stuck in college, day in and day out. At least Hannah could do
some practical work and travel about.

‘Oh, it’s just so very, very boring. Please don’t tell Barry, will you?
He knows my mum and if this gets back to her, she’ll worry sick and natter on
at me. Have you met my mother?’

‘Yes. She’s a lovely woman,’ Hannah smiled. ‘I’ve met your little
sister too.’

Linzi warmed to Hannah and guessed for the first time in years, that
she’d made a new friend. ‘Does your family live in Newcastle?’ Linzi had
recognised her accent.

‘No, we live in a small village just outside Durham. Just Dad and me,
that is.’

‘Do you have any brothers and sisters?’

‘No, only me. My mum died of cancer two years ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Linzi paused and sounded sympathetic. ‘You know about my
Dad, do you?’

‘Well . . . sort of. I’m sorry too.’

‘I think my mum’s just beginning to pick up the pieces now. I’m not
sure about Davey though.’

Hannah thought it strange that this surly young man should be referred
to as “Davey”. Barry had called him that once or twice and, somehow, the name
of affection didn’t lend itself to his person.

‘Men are peculiar things,’ Hannah continued. ‘My father never talks
about my mother, and I think if he did he would feel better.’

‘I get the impression Davey wants to talk about Dad, but my mother, as
fragile as she looks, is a tough cookie. She sometimes doesn’t seem to care.’

‘I’m sure she does. Your mother seems a lovely person. It’ll just be
her way of coping.’

Linzi knew this was just what everyone else was saying and continued.
‘Are you going straight to Barry’s?’

‘Yes, I live in the flat above the surgery.’

‘We’ll give you a lift, then. Either Davey or my mum will meet me
today. We can’t leave you standing at the bus stop, can we. We must make up for
our Davey’s ignorance last time.’

Hannah didn’t want to be a nuisance. The practice was a long drive from
Keld Head, and yet she was intrigued to see how Linzi interacted with David;
maybe it would reveal something about him and that thought tempted her. ‘Well,
only if they have time.’

‘Would you like to come out for a drink with us on Saturday night?’
Linzi next asked.

‘Who would be there?’

‘Me . . . Davey. . . . His friend Tony Milton. His sister Joanne. Then
there’s Darren Watson from Langdale. I have my eyes on him; he’s a dish. . . .
Just those few. That’s all.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. You’re kind, but they might not want me there. I’d
feel like I was intruding.’

‘Rubbish! You’ll bring some culture to our group.’

With the spontaneity of their conversation the girls were soon looking
at the Cumbrian fells, and as they fast approached Keswick, Blencathra and
Skiddaw were there to welcome them, looming above them in the last of the early
evening light. Mist on the summits and a sprinkling of snow in the gullies were
just visible to the eye.

‘Do you like the Lakes, Hannah?’

‘Yes, I love it here. I’ve settled here better than anywhere else. But,
I must admit, I don’t like these farmers. They’re a cantankerous lot.’

‘Oh, you’ll get used to them. It’s probably because you’re a woman and
they don’t think you’re up to the job. I hope Davey was kind to you?’

Hannah couldn’t tell Linzi what she really thought of David.

But as they jumped from the coach, Hannah found herself disappointed to
see Linzi’s mother sitting in the Rover waiting. Kathy had decided that she’d
given David enough to think about with her problem with Tom and daren’t ask any
more favours of him.

‘Mum. I think you know Hannah? Can we give her a lift to Windermere? We
can’t leave her standing at the station, can we?’ Linzi looked at Hannah for
any hint of a reaction but there was none.

Kathy wound down the window, popped her head out and saw in the
semi-darkness, Barry’s pretty assistant. ‘Jump in, Hannah. Of course we’ll take
you home.’

*       
*        *

During the drive to Windermere, Hannah asked after Silver and her calf.
Kathy described in detail how David had spent hours, under sufferance, walking
around the fold-yard trying to give the animal some exercise, and was happy to
say she was now doing well.

‘I’m sorry about the state of the car.’ Kathy apologised, as she
noticed Hannah remove a half-empty packet of crisps she’d just sat on, and
pulled away several lengths of baler string and pieces of straw.

Sitting in the back of the Rover, Hannah felt comfortable with Kathy.
Then she noticed a man’s brown woollen pullover that had been thrown carelessly
on the backseat beside her. She couldn’t help but pick it up, gently fold it,
and rest it on the seat beside her.

10

ON HIGH AND VERY WHITE STONES

‘She’s from County Durham.’ Linzi cuddled Sarah then struggled to
release herself as the child hung on firmly around her neck.

David had just come in from a hectic milking session. Several cows had
developed mastitis and he wanted them all safely treated, so Alan wouldn’t have
any problems with them in the morning. He went to the wash-basin and, quietly
unconcerned, washed his hands.

‘Yes. I liked her as soon as I saw her,’ Kathy said. ‘Sarah hasn’t
stopped talking about her since. How much longer is she here for?’

‘Only until July, I think. Depending on whether Barry needs her over
the summer.’

David continued to scrub his fingernails with his back to his family,
only half-listening.
Who on earth is she talking about?
he thought, not
really caring.
Barry needs her over the summer; Sarah knows her.

‘Anyway, I asked her to come out with us tomorrow night. Is that all
right with you, Davey?’ Linzi looked longingly at her brother.

‘Mind what?’

‘HANNAH ROBSON . . . COMING WITH US . . . FOR A DRINK . . . TOMORROW
NIGHT!’

Still confused and embarrassed, David wondered how Linzi knew Hannah
Robson. ‘I don’t know who you mean.’ David lied as he turned to her, drying his
hands on an old towel, knowing he couldn’t give a better reply.

*       
*        *

Hannah unpacked her holdall and carefully folded her clothes away. The
small flat above the practice still felt warm, despite being empty for the
week. Barry’s wife, Eleanor, had put the central heating on and had stocked the
fridge and larder with fresh milk and bread. Hannah knew Barry and Eleanor
spoilt her and they treated her like their own.

If Linzi could have seen Hannah’s flat it would have depressed her all
the more. Not that Hannah always had it easy. She’d lived in some dreadful
places at the university, and some diabolical cottages and caravans supplied by
some not-so-generous veterinary practices. She too had struggled and, like
Linzi, had often felt like giving up, especially when her mother was ill. And
once her mother died, she felt a pull so strong to return home to support her
grieving father; Hannah would have given everything up, there and then, if not
for the dying wish of her mother to continue. But this little flat of Barry
Fitzgerald’s was sparse yet warm and Hannah kept it clean. It was painted white
throughout, with a handful of Lakeland scenes hung on the wall. She’d just a
few essentials: a television, a bed, a sofa and even some luxuries, like the
central heating and a shower, and the use of the telephone in the hallway.

The practice itself lay high on a hill, amongst woodland, on the
outskirts of Windermere. The grand house that had belonged to Barry’s father
had once been lavishly decorated and furnished to a high standard, but
Eleanor’s disinterest had let things get untidy. The money was there, but she
had neither the desire nor the will to do anything with it. Barry was always
too busy to offer any help and too satisfied to want to. Yet, when things were
purchased, they were done to excess.

Tonight, Hannah contemplated the invitation that Linzi had made. She
was half-wanting to accept, and then half-hoping she would be called out on an
emergency. She thought she would like to see Linzi again and help her if she
could. Hannah was glad that she’d stuck with it and knew Linzi would regret the
decision if she dropped out now. But the thought of an evening with David
brought out a bit of devilment in Hannah. It may be her chance to get even with
him, thinking how much she could hurt his narcissistic ego. But Hannah doubted
that he would want her there and felt certain no phone call would come to make
a definite date.

Hannah hadn’t felt particularly lonely in Windermere. When she had a
day off, and that was seldom, she would drive off to the lower fells and take
Barry’s Lakeland terrier with her. Windermere and Bowness were always alive
with visitors, winter and summer. Hannah loved looking around the little shops
and boutiques, occasionally treating herself to some quality walking gear and
enjoying breaking them in.

Searching through the kitchen cupboards to find something quick and
easy to make for her tea, Hannah finally settled down in front of the
television with a plate of tinned spaghetti on toast, when she felt a hint of
uncertainty creep over her.

*       
*        *

‘Come on, Davey. . . . Get up!’ Tom was jumping up and down on David’s
bed.

David pulled the covers over his face to screen him from the light and
from the claws of the black dog that was standing with all fours on top of him.

‘Go away, Tom. It’s too early!’ David’s voice was muffled under the
covers.

‘Mum says we should get an early start!’

‘Clear off NOW . . . ! And take the dog with you, for pity’s sake. Come
back in an hour and maybe bring me a cup of tea.’

David did manage to get back off to sleep and was so comfortable, that
he felt reluctant to get up, let alone spend a day walking. Still, he’d
promised and didn’t want to let his brother down. He hadn’t any idea where they
would walk or what he was going to say to Tom. He’d tried not to think about it
and had succeeded to some extent; except for the occasional niggle in the back
of his mind. But an hour later he was sitting up in bed, drinking the tea that
Tom had brought him. He still felt uncomfortable and had some disquieting
thoughts that he couldn’t clearly recall. As he searched his mind, he realised
that they were more than just the problem with Tom.

The weather forecaster had promised it would be a dry day, and David
finally struggled out of bed, peering through his bedroom window to check that
was true. He glanced across to Easdale in the distance and, although it looked
cold, the clouds were high in the sky and the fells were clear.

The smell of frying bacon and eggs creeping up to his bedroom was the
incentive he needed to get ready. He had a quick shower and, with sheer
laziness, decided not to shave. He threw on layers of t-shirts, a warm
pullover, and had to rummage through a bundle of clothes in the bottom of his
wardrobe for a pair of walking trousers. He couldn’t find any clean socks so
crept, barefoot, downstairs, not wanting to touch the cold tiled floor with his
feet.

Kathy had quickly laid the table, knowing a cooked breakfast would
please David. Tom and Sarah had already started and had left the remains of
their breakfast spattered everywhere. ‘You messy tyke!’ David said, rubbing
Tom’s head as he passed, sorry now that he’d shouted at him.

‘Porridge, Davey? - it’ll make your hair curl.’

‘Oooh! Yes please. If that’s no trouble.’

‘I’ve tried to persuade Tom to have some, but he doesn’t want curly
hair, do you Tom?’

That was certainly true. Tom didn’t want curly hair. His hair was fair
and straight, no natural curls like David’s and he preferred to be like his
mother. He didn’t like it when people said David resembled his father.
Poor
David. I’m glad I’m like my mum,
Tom thought.

‘Davey . . . ! Can I come with you?’ Sarah was now leaning over his
lap, as he tried to eat.

He picked her up, sat her down properly and held her in his arms. ‘Now
why would I want to take a little princess like you out in the cold, where
it’ll be blowing a gale?’

‘Because I want to see the waterfalls. Mummy says they’re beautiful at
the moment.’

‘On another day, I’ll take you. Besides, Mum’s taking you to Kendal
with Linzi. That’ll be more fun than being with boys.’

Kathy interrupted, ‘Yes, and we’ll buy you a new book.’

Sarah had a dilemma: see the waterfalls or get a new book. She sat
skewing her mouth to one side, then the other. Then, making a quick decision,
pushed herself off David’s lap and went to her mother. ‘Which book shall I get,
Mummy?’

Tom was sitting across from her at the table, listening, and hoping
that David wouldn’t give in; he didn’t want a girl with him today. It was just
to be him and Davey. If Sarah came she would moan because it would be too cold.
Then Davey would have to carry her on his shoulders. Then they would have to
walk slower or keep stopping. He didn’t think mountains were for girls.

‘Come here, Tom. Let’s get you kitted out.’ Kathy said.

Tom reluctantly complied, hands in pockets, as Kathy began to smother
him in scarves and a woolly hat and shoving a spare pullover in his rucksack.

‘For goodness sake, Mum . . . ! He won’t be able to move if you put any
more clothes on him.’