Northern Spirit (38 page)

‘Then if you can’t speak to him . . . I will! There’s nothing to stop
me is there? I can’t see what all the fuss is about anyway. He walks out and
leaves you and doesn’t contact us at all. He could have been dead for all we
knew. . . . And then you go on protecting him all the time and won’t say anything
bad against him. What’s so special about David, anyway?’

‘It’s not like that, Linzi.’

‘No. . . . What is it like then? I don’t understand, I’m sorry.’

But Kathy knew she could never understand.

‘If you want to see him, you go. . . . You ask him. He may even be
pleased to see you, I don’t know . . . but be careful mind? Don’t go upsetting
him. . . . Keep calm. Tell him you’ve missed him, but whatever you do, keep
calm.’

As they approached the farmyard and saw Alan’s car parked in its usual
place, Linzi took her mother’s arm and squeezed it. ‘I’ll go and see Davey
tomorrow.’

They were still talking when they entered the kitchen. Kathy hung onto
the door frame as she kicked off her muddy wellingtons. On the kitchen table
was a large bouquet of flowers: white carnations, blue iris, yellow
chrysanthemums; beautifully arranged and neatly wrapped in cellophane paper,
tied with a large blue ribbon. There was no sign of Alan.

Linzi raised one eyebrow at her mother and smirked. ‘I’m going for a
hot bath. I’ll leave you to it!’

Kathy at first hesitated, rubbed her wet hair on a towel and dried her
hands and face. She went over to look at the flowers and tried to find a
message but there was none; for one fleeting moment, she hoped they might be
from David. But before she could lift them from the table, Alan came into the
kitchen behind her and the broad and beaming smile on his face told her they
were from him. She was disappointed.

‘Do you like them?’ He came closer to embrace her.

She backed away and spoke. ‘They’re lovely, Alan, but what are they
for?’

He pulled her to him. ‘Oh . . . things have been a bit tough on us all.
I’ve said things I shouldn’t have done . . . and I’m sorry. I’m sure we’re all
tired and I just want to show you - well, to tell you that I still care.’

‘You big softy, Alan.’ She gently patted his chest, ‘you needn’t have
done this . . . with all the work you do for us. It’s you that deserves
presents, not me.’

Kathy gently pulled away from him and, not wanting to snub him, went
across to the tap to fill the kettle, knowing she had another problem to face.

She leant against the kitchen sink and folded her arms. ‘Alan, I know
you still care about me. . . .’ she paused - this was going to be hard. ‘I’m
very fond of you, I always have been; you know that. But please be patient with
me. I can’t give you anything back just yet. I know you would want it.’ She
went to unwrap the flowers, not looking at him; the paper rustling as she
nervously spoke. ‘At one time I did think - well maybe there was something for
us . . . and all the time I wanted to divorce George, you knew that. But
believe me, it’s not been made any easier by his death. I’m a widow and the
children have lost their father and, for the sake of decency, I don’t think I
can commit myself to anything or anyone just yet.’

Alan took hold of her hand and stopped her flower arranging. ‘I’m sorry
Kathy. I didn’t want to seem insensitive. We’ve been good friends, you and me.
I’m sorry I can’t do anymore on the farm. I’ve tried to balance two jobs and
it’s just impossible. I think that’s why I’ve been moody lately.’

‘Alan, you don’t need to apologise,’ she sighed. ‘We moved the heifers
this morning like you suggested. What a job we had, we nearly had them in the
village!’

‘You’ve done well, Kathy. Aye, you have.’

*       
*        *

David slid carefully underneath the old Volvo and pointed his torch on
the bodywork. He tapped at the exhaust pipe, checking it for wear and tear.
He’d heard a knocking noise and wondered if it had come from a loose fitting.
He had promised to take Betty out today; yesterday’s rain had gone and the
weather was more promising: warm and sunny; Betty called it growing weather.

He shuffled the length of the car on his back on the cold floor, his
feet protruding from the side. A transistor radio played, loudly, the Moody
Blues,
Nights in White Satin,
and David sung it under his breath,
struggling to recall the words.

Someone kicked at his feet and he lay still, not wanting to bang his
head. He guessed it was Betty. Then, straining his neck, he looked across at
the small feet beside him as they kicked him once again. But whoever it was,
was wearing trainers.

‘Who is it?’

‘Come out of there, Davey, before I drag you out!’

It was a woman’s voice, but over the noise of the radio, he couldn’t
discern whose.

David struggled out from underneath the car and groaned as he wrenched
his back in the process. He saw his sister, dressed in old jeans and a
sweatshirt, her dark hair unkempt and tied loosely in a ponytail.

Linzi grinned and stepped forward. ‘Wow, Davey! Look at you, you
handsome devil. Where’s all that hair gone?’

David brushed the dust from his overalls and leant back on the bonnet
of the car to rest his aching back and rubbed his hands on an oily rag. He
didn’t know what to say to her as he watched her eyeing him, then his car.

She looked again long and hard at his physique and pulled at his
overalls to touch him. ‘Good grief, you’ve lost weight. You’re skinny.’

‘Okay, okay . . . enough of the comments.’ He crossed his legs in front
of him, still resting his back on the car. ‘So, Sister. You’ve come to see
Betty have you?’

‘No, you idiot . . . I’ve come to see you. Don’t seem so pleased!’ She
wandered around the car looking in the windows and went to turn the radio down.

‘Is this Uncle Fred’s old Volvo?’

‘It was Fred’s old Volvo, now it’s mine!’ he deliberated.

‘Have you done her up a bit then? She looks well.’

‘Only the basics, and she’s had a good wax and polish.’

‘You must look quite a catch going out in this. That’s providing you’re
still single then, eh!’

He smirked at her as she went to sit on an old workbench opposite him
and started to fidget with his tools.

‘Davey . . . I want to tell you something.’

He lowered his head and waited for her to start nagging at him for
leaving.

Linzi was her usual self and got straight to the point. ‘I want you to
have half my share of the farm, when Dad’s will’s sorted out . . . I haven’t
told Mum, and I can’t explain to Tom and Sarah just yet. I don’t understand why
you’ve been left out. It’s just not fair.’

‘Well, thanks for your consideration,’ David scowled, ‘but I’ve wanted
out for a long time and now I’ve got the chance.’ He made no attempt to move
and stood his ground.

She was astonished by his reply and stared at him. ‘Oh, for goodness
sake. You can’t mean that!’

‘Oh, but I do mean it. There’s nothing to hold me to Keld Head now.’

‘So is that why you left us all, just because you
wanted out
!’
Linzi was ignoring all the advice that her mother had given her.

David didn’t reply.

‘Oh, come on David! Don’t go all sulky on me. A few months ago, you
tore a strip off me for not going to Uncle Fred’s funeral. . . . You’re a
hypocrite, you know! You’ve left us all in the lurch. I can’t believe how you
can just walk out on us like that.’

David stayed calm as he spoke. ‘Look Linzi, you don’t know what it was
like to face Dad again, and you won’t understand why I left Keld Head and I’m
not going to tell you . . . but, I will tell you this, I won’t be coming back.
I’ll stay with Betty for now.’

‘I’m sorry David, but I could strangle you sometimes. You can be so
irritating. Yes, I don’t know what really happened, but why leave now? I’ve
told Mum time and time again you’re not as perfect as she thinks you are!’

‘Oh, thanks. I’ve never pretended to be perfect.’

‘Well, you’re just as bad as Dad. . . . He was always walking out on
her and now you’re doing the same!’

The comparison between himself and George Keldas, hit David hard. He no
longer feared George’s impropriety, but detested being accused of walking out
on his mother. David had hated him for leaving her so often, especially as he
now knew the dreadful truth; all the time, making accusations against her, when
George was having an affair and playing around with a girl half his age.

David found himself in a daydream as Linzi continued to insult and
abuse his name, but he was no longer listening. Then the thought suddenly
crossed his mind whether his mother knew or not about the affair with Joanne.
He had been so stupid – so slow. All this time he’d only thought about his own
selfish pride. How hurt she must have felt if she knew the truth. Was that why
she’d been upset by his plan to marry Joanne, and he shuddered at what he may
have done.

‘David . . . David. . . . Are you listening?’

He was staring into the garden, his eyes now glazed over with moisture.

Linzi jumped down off the bench, and finally reading his mood
correctly, went to hug him. And as she threw her arms around his neck, he put
his arm across her back and pulled her closer to him and held on to her tightly
for some time.

Linzi buried her head in his chest, smelling the oil on his clothes and
the warmth of his body. She wanted to cry, but restrained herself and pulled
away. She grabbed the oily rag from his hand and playfully pushed it in his
face.

‘There’s one thing I have to ask before I go,’ she choked on her words.
‘It’s the cattle. . . . Mum thinks it’s a good idea to sell them and get some
sucklers.’ Linzi wandered around the car again. ‘I don’t want to sell them, but
if you insist on not coming back, we have no choice.’

‘Linzi. . . . It’s not my decision to make.’ David was sorry about the
cattle but he still had self-preservation in mind. ‘Just do as you like.’

‘Davey. . . ?’ she stopped as she was about to leave. ‘Please come and
see us all soon. . . . Please.’

‘I will, I promise. . . . But in my own time. . . . Thanks for coming.’

David continued with his work, going through the motions of the
repairs. He tightened and replaced a broken bracket, cursing a bolt that had
seized up and corroded and was stuck fast. He kept dropping the bolts then
misplacing his spanners, but finally succeeded in tightening the exhaust pipe.

He scrambled from underneath the car again and looked at his watch. ‘Oh
no!’ he threw down his tools and went indoors.

Betty was sat waiting for him. She was neatly dressed and, with the
help of Mrs Challenor, her hair was curled, her nose was powdered and she had a
touch of pink lipstick jaggedly smeared across her lips.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late. It took me longer than I thought.’

But Betty knew exactly why he was late: Linzi hadn’t left without
seeing her, and she was naturally delighted that someone had, at last, come to
see David.

She observed his face and, through the dirt and smears of grime, she
could see that he looked troubled.

‘I’ll only be five minutes in the bath and then we’ll go to Kendal.’

‘Don’t rush, Davey, please. . . . Take your time. I want you looking
respectable.’

David immediately wondered why.

Betty had been sat waiting for him for some time; so excited about this
trip and to see Linzi was a surprise. Yes, today was wonderful.

David was soon clean-shaven, his short cropped hair, dark and shining
and still wet. He decided to wear his newly pressed work trousers and shirt,
hoping that he didn’t look too much like a waiter. The only problem was that he
had no jacket. His only coat was his green Parka that he’d eaten in, slept in,
and dossed in, down in London. It was now washed and clean but, never-the-less,
inappropriate. The only thing he could do was to wear his old pullover.

‘Have you got nothing better than that old thing?’

‘What’s the matter with it?’ He pulled the front of the pullover out
from his stomach to look.

‘You can’t go out in that. Upstairs in my wardrobe you’ll find some of
Freddie’s old jackets. See if one of them fits you.’

Reluctantly, he ran back upstairs and fumbled through the old wardrobe
and in amongst the pink and blue Crimplene dresses and old suits he found two
jackets. One was a smart navy blazer with brass buttons and the other was a
green tweed-shooting jacket.

He groaned, as he tried both of them on and then settled for the
blazer.

‘There, there . . . look at you now, you look a dandy!’

‘Do I want to look a dandy?’ David hovered by the door wanting to
leave. ‘I look more like a pilot.’

‘If I’d have known we were going to have this bother. . . .’

‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry.’ And he fiddled with his collar, hoping she
didn’t notice he wasn’t wearing a tie. ‘I’ll get the car out.’

Betty hobbled to the front door of the cottage and, resting on her two
sticks, took a deep breath. She looked across the fields and saw yesterday’s
rain evaporating in the sunshine. She tapped the ground with one of her sticks
in excitement and a group of sparrows fluttered out from a honeysuckle rambling
over the garden hedge.

David pulled the car up to the front door and opened the passenger
door. He smiled at her demeanour - this strong willed lady with the courage of
a lion. Taking her arm, he gently eased her into the front seat.

Betty was neatly dressed in a light green coat and fawn peaked hat. She
rested her two sticks on the floor beside her.

‘Which way do you want to go? Straight to Kendal or what?’

‘Let’s go to Sawrey, then over the ferry so I can see the lake.’

*       
*        *

Carefully negotiating the twisty lanes, the Volvo was no longer
accustomed to this slow pace. Once at the lakeshore, they didn’t have to wait
long before the ferry arrived. Betty insisted once they were aboard that she
walk out and look over the side, just as David had done a few weeks earlier.