Northern Spirit (41 page)

Linzi came across to Kathy and huddled close to her, dropping her head
against her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry . . . I just don’t understand. I miss Dad,
and I guess I miss our Davey as much as you do. I just want things to be the
same again and I can’t bear to see him hurt.’

‘He isn’t hurting anymore, love. He’ll be fine now. He’s a strong lad.
I can already see a difference in him. He’s had a lot to put up with, we all
have, but it’s over for him now - it’s over for us all.’

*       
*        *

David didn’t want to leave the village straight away; he had another
errand to do. He hadn’t made a success of this visit, but he’d done what he’d
intended, in getting his clothes. The wounds had also been repaired, but they
would take a long time to heal, if ever.

His hands were trembling on the steering wheel as he drove carefully
through the village street and looked for a place to park. Taking out the bunch
of flowers and, un-noticed by anyone, he locked the car; just another face, yet
more a part of this little town than most. He walked up the lane to the small
churchyard and, shutting the gate, left the majority of the tourists behind; those
who were looking for gravestones of a grander nature.

It wasn’t difficult to find his objective, as near the wall was a grave
with a newly erected headstone, some wilting flowers lay neglected on the turf.
David stopped and read:

In Memory of George Samuel Keldas. 1925-1974.

Forty-nine years old.

Loving father and husband

He glared at the inscription for a few moments and repeated the words
to himself: ‘
Loving father. . . . Loving husband
.’ She was still telling
lies, he thought.

David had had a repetitive vision of a man lying in a pool of blood and
he needed to put this vision to rest. The only way he could do this was to be
certain that George Keldas was actually dead and could no longer harm him, and
today he was given the evidence he needed.

David stared at the grave for some time, assuming the flowers had been
left recently by his sister. He wasn’t a man for praying, yet he felt if there
were a God, he wouldn’t be too pleased with his actions. David couldn’t ask for
forgiveness for himself, because neither could he give it and forgive this
wretched man. But standing there alone, he felt some kind of peace, and hoped
one day he could be completely exonerated for his actions.

He backed away almost respectfully, and then walked across to a more
familiar headstone. It too was sparsely decorated with a simple inscription and
a small empty vase lay on the gravel.

In David’s hand was the bunch of pink carnations that Kathy had thought
were for her. He carefully unwrapped the cellophane wrapper, took the vase and
filled it with water from a nearby tap and then, in a meaningful way, tried to
arrange the flowers as neatly as he could.

He pondered for a while and spoke softly, ‘These are from Betty, with
love.’ And unobserved, he left Fred Keldas’s graveside.

David returned to Hawkshead in sombre mood. Betty had an anxious wait
for him; he’d told her only that morning of his intention to return to Keld
Head to get his belongings, in a hope that she wouldn’t warn his mother. He’d
begged her not to do so. It wasn’t so much as he wanted to surprise his mother,
it was more that he doubted his own self-belief, and thought that he might back
down at the last minute. He’d also asked her if he could stay at Foxglove
Cottage permanently. He could no longer presume on her kindness and hoped she
would agree. But of course it was all right, for Betty knew well if he left her
now, she would miss him dreadfully. She’d already made up her mind, if he left,
she would go too, and move to a retirement home to end her days.

She’d doubted she would live much longer and thought him leaving might
even quicken things. She wasn’t afraid of death, she’d made her peace with God
a long time ago, but now she just wished she could live long enough to see
David find some kind of happiness.

Betty didn’t intend to tell David this. She didn’t want to influence
him and make him stay against his will. He had become such a great part of her
life, despite having to tolerate loud music playing on the radio and the
football matches he constantly watched, and his comings and goings from the
hotel late at night.

When David eventually returned with his belongings, he was quiet and
pensive, and Betty guessed that things hadn’t gone well. She remained quiet as
she watched him unpack his things and take them upstairs. When he finally came
to sit down, she gave him something.

‘This postcard came for you this morning.’ And she held up a small
colour print of Edinburgh.

He carefully looked at the handwriting and, just as he hoped, it was
from Tony. He read it slowly and it simply stated that he was working in
Edinburgh and had a job playing sessions music. This brought a wry smile to
David’s face as he wondered what sort of work it really was, and what pitiful
lodgings he would be sharing this time.

Betty also told him of a phone call she’d had that morning. It was from
a young woman who sounded much like the girl who had visited yesterday - in
that she had some kind of an accent.

Betty complained about her hearing and apologised to David for not
getting a proper message. She said the girl rudely hung up when she told her he
wasn’t at home.

David went to his bedroom, perplexed, and put away his things, hanging
some of his clothes in the old wardrobe; Betty and Fred’s things were shoved to
one side. Next, he set up his stereo system, twisting and unravelling the
cables and speaker wires, hoping it still worked. He wished his morning had
gone better, and it hadn’t left him feeling in the mood he had wanted, so he
tried to think about the evening he hoped to spend with Barry and the
possibility of seeing Hannah again.

He ran the bath and lay in the soft soapy water and tried to relax; the
warmth eased his aching back. Then scrubbing himself meticulously clean, as if
he could wash away the past as David wanted to leave a good impression; he’d
left too many bad ones with Barry and Hannah. Lying back, he sunk his head
under the soapsuds and washed his hair, flicking water about him. As he lay
soaking, he wondered why Hannah had telephoned, thinking she’d called to cancel
their evening. Betty had obviously misheard much, as he couldn’t imagine Hannah
being so rude as to hang up. He worried if Hannah had presumed too much, and
that Barry might not want him there. But despite all his quanderings, afraid of
a negative response, David wouldn’t telephone back; he would go to the surgery
in Windermere, no matter what.

Images of Hannah had continually come flooding back to him, and these
he hadn’t resisted. During the dark days in London he’d thought of her, and on
the lonely fells in Hawkshead. He recalled his evening with her on the night of
Joanne’s wild trek in the snow and wished he’d pursued Hannah then. He
remembered being collected from the hospital and her kindness to him. And then
the bitter re-buffal, when he’d invited her to visit Tony. When he saw her
yesterday she was different; he hoped he was different. But why would Hannah,
this attractive and intelligent girl, want any friendship with him anymore? He
began to wonder if it was out of pure pity. Maybe Barry had told her to go easy
on him, after all he had been a hair’s-breadth from death; not once, but twice.
But David didn’t want anyone’s pity.

He recalled her appearance yesterday and how lovely she looked. Her
brown hair was beginning to grow much longer, just touching her shoulders, and
he recalled how soft it felt when he touched it; the smooth skin on her arms,
tanned by the sun and, as he pictured her again standing in front of him, he
tried to remember what she was wearing: a pink t-shirt and denim jeans, a
silver chain around her neck.

He had felt so numb these past few weeks and whether David could
believe it or not, his life was slowly rebuilding. Today he’d made some amends
to his mother; she hadn’t blamed him for leaving and that vindicated his
decision. Yet he was still alone, his self-imposed isolation had been of his
own doing, partly brought on by a weak attempt to renew some of his promise. He
couldn’t alter the fact that he’d left his mother, but he had been freed from
his foolish decision to marry Joanne.

But David didn’t think that he could continue this lonely existence any
longer. Hannah Robson had thrown him a lifeline and he would seize it
aggressively and pull himself out of this monastic life he was living.

Grabbing a towel, David raised himself out of the bath with such a
surge, that the water and foam splashed all over the floor; he’d made a choice
to see Barry and he was going to stick to that, no matter what. He vigorously
rubbed himself dry, and was now prepared to go headlong into dressing and shaving
and go to Barry’s house, even though his thoughts tried to persuade him not to.

*       
*        *

David kissed Betty goodbye. She was satisfied with his appearance, as
he stood before her dressed in his suede jacket and cream cotton shirt. He
hoped his own clothes would mask his skinny body, but his trousers fit him
badly and he had to pull the belt tight.

He had hinted to Betty that he might be late home, and David sincerely
hoped that he would be. So he sped away; a man on a mission and full of hope.

It had started to rain again and the warm dry air they’d just enjoyed,
had turned to a damp and mizzly atmosphere; yet the warmth continued. The
meadows lining the road to the ferry were lush and green, as brown and black
cattle grazed. David could almost see the grass growing before him as he
glanced across. He suddenly felt a tinge of nervousness. He hadn’t seen Barry
for weeks and the last time he had seen him, he’d rudely walked away.

When David arrived at the practice it was Barry, with a reassuring smile
that met him at the door. Barry was pulling awkwardly at a tie around his
collar, but dropped it loose to shake David’s hand.

Barry held onto David’s hand for some time. ‘It’s good to see you,
Davey. Come in, please come in. How are you?’ And his usual relaxed and
friendly manner did what it always did for David and immediately put his mind
at ease. David followed him into the large and impressive house, to a kitchen
where he’d never been before.

‘Sit down, please.’ Barry patted David on the shoulder again, ‘Boy, you
look tidier. . . .’ and, much like Kathy had, he playfully rubbed David’s short
cropped hair. ‘I’m not quite ready yet, can I get you a coffee or something?’

‘No, please, I’m fine,’ David replied and sat at the kitchen table. He
looked about him as Barry left, and he could see by the general untidiness that
Barry was still alone.

David wondered where Hannah was. Perhaps she wouldn’t go with them;
perhaps she’d intended that all along.

When Barry returned, ready and fully dressed, his dark hair neatly
brushed back off his strong forehead, he pulled up a chair and sat beside David
at the table. ‘So you’re living in Hawkshead. How’s your aunt?’

‘Oh, she’s very well, considering.’

‘So what age is she now? Ninety-one - ninety-two?

‘Yes, ninety-two, nearly ninety-three. . . . She’s incredible. I think
she’ll live ‘til she’s a hundred!’ Bewildered with the small talk, a look of
confusion appeared on his face.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. We’re waiting for Hannah. She’s been messing around
with a hedgehog all evening. She’s only just gone to get ready. You don’t mind
if she comes with us do you?’

Of course David didn’t mind and he enthusiastically shook his head.

‘Hannah’s a soft touch really. She’d rather look after pets than lumber
around with cattle and sheep. She’s been a good student for me though, and has
been brilliant these last few weeks - looking after me and all. Hannah told you
about Eleanor, I gather?’

‘Yes . . . yes, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t you worry about me. I’ll get over it, I’m sure.’ Barry paused to
control his fractured voice. ‘Once we get divorced. Er, have you eaten?’

‘Yes . . . well no. Not much really.’

‘You look like you need a good meal inside you. I’ll treat you both.’

‘Thank you, yes . . . that would be good.’

When Hannah arrived, the two of them were still making small talk.
David was telling Barry of the repairs he’d done to the Volvo.

‘Ah, here she is at last!’ Barry stood.

Hannah was wearing a pink jersey dress. She had her hair twisted up in
a knot and looked sophisticated. David was unsure of how to greet her so he
politely rose from his chair and courteously dipped his head; he really wanted
to take her hand.

Barry Fitzgerald always succeeded where others failed to bring the best
out of David; a side to him that Hannah had rarely seen. She now found David
agreeable and could see the good in him, just as Barry had said. And as they
sat eating around the table in the restaurant, Hannah started to think of all
that had happened to David, as she watched him and Barry chatting. She had
pitied him, as David had suspected, but that pity had turned to respect. Yes,
she had misunderstood him and she envied his courage and spirit.

Barry looked across and realised that Hannah was being left out of the
conversation, although she was happy to watch the two men and just listen.
‘Hannah leaves me for Cardiff soon,’ and he patted her arm affectionately.

‘Yes, I believe so.’ David was sorry it was confirmed. ‘Will you miss
the Lakes, Hannah?’

‘I sure will,’ she insisted. ‘I love it here. If it wasn’t for the
training, I wouldn’t go at all. I just love walking these hills. We have hills
in Durham, but not like these. I’m only sorry I haven’t been able to walk the
high fells. Barry insisted that I never go alone.’ Then she joked, ‘And he’s
not fit enough to take me. The other day he took me to see Dora’s field and he
was so out of shape, I had to pull him up the hill by the hand!’