Northern Spirit (35 page)

*       
*        *

The following morning Marian McKenzie crept into the sitting room to
re-light the fire, she looked at the young man sleeping on her sofa but, to a
middle-aged woman, he appeared as a boy. She didn’t pull back the curtains, she
would let him rest. He wouldn’t be concerned about her moving about the room.
And as she watched David sleeping, she recalled the two grubby little boys
playing together, one with bright red hair, one dark, with swarthy skin. Marian
had hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble over Joanne. She’d heard Joanne yell
from the confines of the kitchen but didn’t want to interfere. She knew that
Joanne had got aspirations over him; but David, who’d witnessed such trauma in
his life, could never give Joanne the stable future she needed, and she was as
fiery as her red hair suggested.

Joanne used to talk of nothing but David, telling Marian how one day
they hoped to marry. She’d said they’d had an agreement since they were
children. But she was still too young, only eighteen.

Marian was also concerned that Joanne had spoken too freely of him.
Some of the things had shocked her; she’d always considered David to be an
honourable young man. When Joanne had returned with the bruising on her arms,
Marian worried all the more of her spending a future with David, and tried to
talk Joanne out of this infatuation she had. She did wonder if all she’d said was
true and if David had really asked her to marry him. Was their relationship as
sound as she said it was, or was she just fantasising, as she’d done over many
other things in the past.

When Joanne returned after the second shooting at Keld Head and George Keldas’s
death, she’d changed. Joanne was quiet and, when she did speak of David, she
never said anything good about him. Marian had guessed that there had been some
kind of rift between them, and when David had turned up with Tony, she’d
thought he’d come to take her back. Tony’s definite plan to leave the following
morning had reassured her, and she was pleased they wouldn’t stay for the sake
of David’s poor mother.

*       
*        *

They left without saying goodbye to Joanne. She hadn’t risen that morning
and, unlike David, had slept badly. Marian had fed them well by giving them a
good breakfast. Tony decided to take David to the docklands to see some of the
ships in port and as draughty as Aberdeen was, they leant together on the sea
wall looking out across the cold North Sea.

Then Tony made a decision: ‘I’m not coming back with you, Dave. I’m
going to stay here a while. It’s for the best. I’m still not well enough to
look after myself, and I feel some kind of responsibility towards Jo. She’s my
sister no matter what she’s done. It’s not fair to leave Aunt Marian to pick up
the pieces and, besides, you need to sort yourself out. You won’t want an
invalid like me hanging around your neck. I quite like the look of this place;
I may get some work here.’

David knew he was right. He did need to sort himself out. He hadn’t
even considered where he was going or where he would stay.

‘So what will you do, Dave?’

‘Do you know, I haven’t got a clue!’

‘I’ll give you the key to the bungalow if you like? ‘

‘No . . . no thanks. I can’t stay up at Keld Head; not yet anyway. I’ll
just catch the train back and, maybe, by the time I reach Cumbria I’ll have
made a decision.’

*       
*        *

It was difficult for David to leave Tony at the station. Only a few
weeks earlier they had parted on bitter terms, with no loyal feelings between
them. Both were bent on their own decisions. They embraced not knowing when
they would meet up again.

David sat on the train and the loneliness hit him immediately. He was a
man with no identity. The Keldas name that brought so many misgivings was no
longer his, and the freedom he’d desired wasn’t making him feel as free as he
expected.

17

KICK START

David jumped from the train at Windermere station a stronger man. He
threw his bag over his shoulder and walked. He didn’t feel the need to look
over his shoulder, because it didn’t matter anymore. He took a bus to Bowness
and then headed for the ferry. He knew exactly where he was going.

Bowness was packed with visitors, the early evening sunshine reflected
off the lake and onto his face, but he didn’t mind. This sunlight hadn’t been
wasted, as much of it had in London, looking at four grubby walls or sitting on
cold steps, seeing nothing but squalor around him. And as the spring had trembled
nervously to win the battle over winter, David equally trembled as he realised
he’d succeeded in facing his fears.

He sat on the wall, waited for the ferry and watched the little boats
moored in the harbour, their paintwork of blue, red and white glistening in the
spring sunshine as they gently rocked in the calm waters, their rigging and
sails, tap - tapping against the masts. Some children were laughing as they fed
the ducks and swans that had gathered.

The ferry was heading towards him from across Windermere, the noise
from its engine getting louder as it drew closer.

David boarded the ferry and as the old diesel engine chugged on its
way, he leant on the rails at the side and looked into the soothing waters
below; much more welcoming than the cold North Sea up in Aberdeen. He thought
about Tony and wondered what he would be doing, and smiled as he guessed he
would be sleeping again.

They were soon across the lake and David jumped off and headed for the
lakeshore, carrying on his back the few possessions he had left in the world.
He lingered as he looked through the ruins of the old castle of Nab House, its
turrets standing out eerily in the broken sunshine. As he climbed the steep
hill, he pulled off his coat; something he hadn’t been able to do in weeks, as
the warmth of the sun touched the back of his neck.

Uncertain of the correct route, David followed the way-markers to
Sawrey and on to Hawkshead, then walked through some fir tree plantations to an
open fell with an exposed rocky plateau. He sat down again, in no hurry, and he
wanted to drink in the view, as the whole of Windermere stretched out before
him. The small boats were now dwarfed like paper toys, and David spotted the
ferry once again chugging across the lake.

On the summit of Claife Heights, the small tarns were a good guide to
his whereabouts. Then the route took him steadily downhill and continuing
westward, he would soon have the little town of Hawkshead in his sights. David
started to run as the path continued to descend, and he knew he would soon hit
the lane that would lead him to Foxglove Cottage.

David quietly unlatched the door and entered.

Betty Keldas was sleeping in a chair in front of the fire; her glasses
had fallen on her chest. A tabby cat sitting on her lap lifted one eye as it
heard the intruder.

David carefully laid his bag on the floor and went across to Betty and,
as he crouched low beside her chair, he reached over and touched her hand, then
gently kissed her forehead.

The old lady opened her eyes and the broad smile that came on her face,
told David he was welcome.

She stroked his stubbled cheek with her cold hands. ‘Oh Davey . . .
Davey. . . . Thank goodness you’re safe!’ She pulled her glasses back onto her
nose and looked carefully into his face. ‘You’re ill. Let me see to you.’

David laughed, ‘No, Aunty, I’m not ill. I’m just tired and maybe I
haven’t been eating as well as I should, that’s all.’

‘But we’ve all been worried about you.’

‘I’m sure you have and I’m sorry. I never would have wanted
you
to have worried,’ he stressed.

David raised himself and stood pensive before her.

‘Let me fix you some food then,’ and she held out her hand to him.
‘Please help me up.’

David was alarmed to see the deterioration in his aunt and wondered if
this was a good idea after all. ‘No, Aunty. . . . Let me do it. I don’t want to
be a burden on you.’

‘You, a burden. . . . Never.’

The two kept eye contact for sometime as Betty tried to take in the
fact that her nephew, who’d been missing for nearly four weeks, was actually
standing in front of her. She took his hand again and playfully shook it as she
tried to stand.

‘I won’t ask where you’ve been or why you left; that’s your business.
You must have had good reason - well that’s what I told your mother. But please
tell me, have you been home? Have you seen her?’

David didn’t want to answer the question but went into the kitchen and
filled the kettle, then returned and sat on the chair arm beside her. ‘Do you
think I could stay a bit?’

‘Davey. . . . You can stay as long as you like. But, tell me please,
does your mother know you’re here?’ she repeated.

He held his head low, ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her. She doesn’t know
where I am, and I can’t talk to her; not yet any way. I don’t want to go back.
You tell her I’m here, if you like.’

Betty was disturbed. He didn’t appear distressed; he was calm, yet
definite. ‘Then you must make yourself at home. Take your things upstairs. Have
the back bedroom. You can have the whole of the top floor to yourself as I
can’t climb the stairs these days. I sleep down here now. Get a wash and we’ll
have some tea together. It’ll be a treat to have a man around the house again.’

David took his bag upstairs to a bedroom at the back of the cottage. He
looked at the old mahogany bed in the corner covered in gaily coloured, hand
knitted patchwork squares, he couldn’t resist falling on the bed and it creaked
under his weight. He threw his arms back in contentment. Then he jumped up
again and peered through the panes of glass in the small window; the view was
tremendous. He saw clearly the fells he had just walked.

When he went back down the stairs, Betty was in the kitchen cutting
some bread. He leant across her and gently took the knife from her hand. ‘No
Aunty, no. Let me do that.’

Betty followed David around the small kitchen as she gave him
instructions. He started to make some sandwiches then hunting through her
fridge for some cheese, he noticed that the larder and the cupboards were well
stocked. He opened a tin of tomato soup and found some crockery; all the while
mindful he didn’t knock into Betty and wishing she would leave him alone and
sit down.

They finally sat at the dining table together and Betty watched David
eating and wondered why he’d got into such a state. He looked thin, his clothes
were dirty and worn, his hair was straggly and unkempt, yet his attitude had
changed and he was more like his old self.

‘What do you intend to do?’

‘I’ll look after you. . . . I’ll get another job and we’ll both be just
fine.’ David was trying to talk and eat at the same time.

‘You’ve got it all worked out then. I’m glad I’m part of your plans.’

‘I’m sorry . . . . Did that sound pushy?’ He stopped eating and looked
at her. ‘I shouldn’t have put on you like this – but, you see, there was
nowhere else I could go.’

‘I’m honoured that you felt you could come to me. . . . There’s not
many that would come to an old woman for help.’

David grinned and for the first time in weeks, realised how good the
food tasted. He mended the fire, and stretched his legs out in front of him.

The next time Betty looked at him he was asleep.

She sat and watched him for some time, not daring to move in case she
woke him. She realised she had in her midst the precious life of a young man,
who had come willingly to find some kind of solace. She wanted to call Kathy
immediately, but knew that would be insensitive, and would have to wait until
she was alone, however long that would take.

*       
*        *

The following morning David woke to the sweet smell of clover as warm
air drifted in through his open window. He had slept well in the old bed that
he’d often slept in as a child, and each time he turned it creaked under his
body weight. He recalled his childhood, waking early and looking forward to
spending the day with Uncle Fred at Spickle Howe Farm.

He heard voices downstairs and then, peering through the window, saw a
woman leaving. He recognised by her shape that it was Mrs Challenor, a
neighbour from the village. A cue for him to get up.

Betty’s face glowed as she saw him. He looked well rested, fresher and
clean-shaven; his dark hair washed and still wet and shiny, brushed back off
his face.

‘What can I do for you today?’

‘You can have some breakfast first young man. Then you can get some
wood in and perhaps some fresh food. I won’t have enough to feed a hungry lad
like you. I’ve just told Mrs Challenor that I won’t need her help quite as much
now . . . I hope I did right?’ She looked at him hopefully.

David nodded; it was just what he wanted her to say.

He went into the kitchen and returned with a bowlful of cornflakes and
as he sat at the table he told her of his plan for the day. ‘I’ve decided to go
to Bowness this morning to get a haircut. Then I can start to look for a job
and, when I get back, maybe I could do some washing, please, and some of yours
if you like.’

Betty was glad of his enthusiasm. She’d slept badly that night,
worrying that she was betraying Kathy in not telephoning her. She didn’t want
to upset David and could see by his plan for the day that he had not changed
his mind. She wondered how he could have abandoned his mother and the farm so
easily.

The morning sunshine shone through the tiny windowpanes of Foxglove
Cottage, exposing dust and cobwebs that had been neglected. David sat at the
table eating toast and drinking coffee, looking out of the window into the
garden and keen to get started. ‘I’ll get off as soon as I can, if that’s all
right with you?’ and looking up at the cobwebs, ‘I can do some housework for
you when I get back this afternoon.’