Northern Spirit (44 page)

‘Why didn’t you tell me? We could have gone another day.’

‘But when, Hannah? When? You’re leaving soon!’ He propped himself up on
his elbows, took the flask from his bag and poured some coffee, then he looked
at her warm face and it compelled him to smile.

‘How much further is it?’ she spoke softly.

‘A long way yet. We have to get to Sty Head Tarn, then a steady climb
up The Corridor, and then it gets rocky.’

She touched his arm with her hand. ‘Can you really go on?’

David knew he must be strong, but her kindness weakened him, much like
Tony’s had during their stay in Blackpool when he had wept in his friend’s
arms. He wanted to touch the girl’s face and stroke her hair, yet if she only
knew that a few days earlier he had tried to kill another with his bare hands.
But now he was here with Hannah sitting beside him, so lovely, gentle and
trusting. She mustn’t know the thoughts that were swimming around inside his
head.

Hannah could see he was troubled. She knelt upright and fumbled inside
the rucksack for some chocolate and handed it to him, then looked determined
into his eyes. ‘We don’t have to climb Scafell today. Let’s just enjoy the
hills and each other’s company. I promise you, I’ll come back in summer and you
can take me then! Anyway, I’m already tired. You may have a bad back, but
there’s nothing wrong with your lungs. You’ve tired me out. Let’s rest awhile
and see how we feel?’

Totally defeated, David agreed and chose a detour. And so they diverted
onto the beautiful mountain pass, along a stream of water, cascading and
foaming, blue and white in the sun, bordered by rocks that glistened white.

David knew she was wiser than he was. He was a fool to risk her life
and his own, just to save his flagging ego. The mountains could be dangerous
places if the weather changed and already darkened clouds were appearing on the
horizon. David felt easier as he realised Hannah was just concerned for his
injury. The more he relaxed, the more he talked, pointing out to her the
surrounding fells, telling her their names.

‘You must know a lot about these hills, Davey. . . . You should bring
people up here - become a guide or something.’

‘Ah, no, I don’t like walking with crowds,’ he smiled, ‘two or three’s
enough for me.’

‘You should let Barry look at your back. He’s always illegally treating
himself to the drugs at the surgery.’

‘I bet he is. He wanted you to stitch up my busted lip, remember?’

And the memory of that reminded Hannah of how much she had changed in
her opinion of him, because now, looking at his face and attracted by his
humility, she knew she would do anything to help him.

They sat down beside a tarn and a cool breeze caused her to move closer
to him. She took a bottle of juice from his hand, and drank, then pulling open
an orange and breaking the segments gently, they shared them like children.

‘What about your family name? It sounds very old. . . . What does Keldas
mean? I’ve never heard it before.’

David was embarrassed at this question and was reluctant to answer. ‘A
Keld is a spring or a well. Like the farm - Keld Head. It was built near a
spring, you see. Our family name was Kellet really, but my great-grandfather
was an eccentric and he changed our name to the old Nordic meaning of Keldas.’

‘Has your family lived here for generations, then?’

He paused and was unsure how to continue.
What family was this!
His mother was from Lancaster and that was all he knew; there was no ancestry
to talk of, and as he bowed his head a little, Hannah realised she’d been
insensitive. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It must hurt you to talk about
your father.’

David knew he couldn’t lie any more. He wanted to be honest with her
and clear his name; he’d once been proud of his family, but no longer. He
guessed Hannah had been wary of him in the past, and was uncomfortable with his
moods. He didn’t want her to think it was anything to do with him being like
George Keldas. He believed he was no mindless and abusive womaniser. He was as
honest and as faithful as they come.

‘Hannah. There’s something I must tell you, and I don’t quite know how
to say it.’ There was sadness in his eyes. ‘I want to tell you before anyone
else does. You see George Keldas wasn’t my real father. I don’t know who my
real father is!’

Hannah felt like she had electricity running through her veins. ‘Please
don’t, Davey. . . . You don’t have to tell me this,’ and she looked away from
him, but he held her shoulders and turned her towards him, lifting her a
little. Then realising he was squeezing her shoulders as hard as he’d squeezed
Joanne‘s neck, his fingers trembled and he pulled his hands away.

‘Yes, I do. I do!’ he emphasised. ‘You’re my friend, I hope, and I
wanted you to know the truth. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me. I can’t
expect you to understand what I’ve been through. . . . I guess I’ve had some
kind of trauma. Things have been hard, but I’m getting better. I just wanted to
tell you.’

Hannah pulled away and hugged her knees into her chest, then folded her
arms around them, and repeated herself, ‘You didn’t have to tell me this, Davey
. . . ’ she hesitated, ‘because I already knew!’

David’s mouth dropped open. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand. How did you
know?’

Hannah could see she’d gone deeper into this man’s heart than she’d
intended. She would never forget the look in his eyes. ‘Because Barry told me.
. . .’

‘And how for pity’s sake did Barry know?’ He threw his head back.

Hannah didn’t want to say anymore as she watched him lie back on the
grass and rest his head on the soft turf.

David should have felt a great relief but he didn’t, he felt ill at
ease and confused. Then he quickly sat up again and said, ‘How did Barry know?
Who’s been talking about me?’ and this time he was angry and insistent.

‘Oh Davey . . . Davey. . . . You are so slow at times!’ She looked
longingly at his face and his blackened eyes pierced her. ‘Nobody needed to
tell him,’ she stressed. ‘No one . . . no one!’

David looked at her and tried to grasp the meaning of what she’d just
said, but couldn’t.

‘Oh for goodness sake, David. . . . You’re Barry’s son!’

David was motionless. He felt like he’d been given a golden nugget, a
diamond, and a prize of highest value. This cannot be true. It couldn’t be as
simple as this.

‘What – what do you mean, Hannah? I don’t know what to say. How do you
know this? It’s impossible!’

She came up closer to him and wished she hadn’t told him, but how could
she have prevented it. ‘Hush now. . . . Don’t speak anymore. You must have time
to take this in. I’m sorry Davey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. Please
don’t think Barry’s been gossiping about you. . . . I’ve only known myself a
few weeks. He wanted me to know how much he cares for you. Yes and I care for
you, too.’ she put her hand on his arm and squeezed it. ‘On the day that
Eleanor left him, I came home from a shopping trip in Kendal, and he was
sitting in the office looking at some old newspaper cuttings he had about you;
those taken with him, when you were a boy; those of George Keldas and the
shootings at Keld Head. He started to cry and I felt so embarrassed. I didn’t
know what to do. I couldn’t stop him. But Barry said he wanted to treat me like
a daughter and that I should know about him and Eleanor. He told me he’d had a
relationship with your mother when they were younger. He told me you were his
son and that you didn’t know. He told me everything, Davey - everything, and I
promised I’d never tell a soul. Oh, don’t you see, you’re so like him; those
eyes of yours. The day I saw you at Hawkshead and you’d had your haircut, I
couldn’t believe the likeness. You even act like him; you’re sensitive, just
like him, and I know why you found it hard to cope with the situation at Keld
Head: you shouldn’t have been there.’ She paused and then said, ‘come on, let’s
walk, I’m getting cold.’

‘No, wait, Hannah – please. I can’t take this in. I feel embarrassed –
naked.’

‘Don’t be, please. . . .We must walk, Davey. You need time to take it in.’

David struggled to his feet. And as he held out his hand to help her to
stand, he refused to let go.

Hannah felt his body trembling through hers, as they walked side by
side, hand in hand, then she squeezed his hand in response. She talked non-
stop about the beautiful scenery; anything to distract him from asking more
questions.

David would never recall any of the steps he took that day, despite the
fact that his back ached like nothing on earth.

At first he felt ashamed of his mother and Barry, then delight, but
then there was repulsion. Then he felt risen by his new status, then he felt
low, as he considered his conception and became as small and insignificant as
the embryo he’d been. He thought he’d been moulded like clay in someone’s hand.

Hannah never intended to tell David the truth. Barry had assured her
that he was in ignorance. And she worried if she’d done the right thing. Yet
with the respect she had for David, she could no longer see him suffer.

The white rocks in the ghyll glistened in the sunshine. Tufts of lilac
coloured heather and bright green strands of fern sprouted in the crevices of
the rocks. White and grey, fluffy clouds dappled the sky. The noise of the
water was refreshing as it splashed down the valley and made its way to Stockley
Bridge and Derwent Water. A cool breeze blew on their backs. Hannah and David
were bonded by a secret and it was the emotion of the moment that made David
believe he now loved her. He hoped he could see her every day until she left.
He was happy, it was she who’d revealed this truth to him, and no other. He
found himself inwardly saying Barry’s surname, repeatedly: Fitzgerald -
Fitzgerald. But he knew it was a name he could never bear.

*       
*        *

David fell into the car; the relief was intense.

He didn’t need persuading to stop for a cold drink on the way home as
their conversation flowed light and easy. Hannah promised to meet him the
following night if he wasn’t working, and a pang of anxiety touched him as he
wondered if he still had a job.

As they sat outside a bar in the last of the afternoon’s sunshine,
David told her all about his time in London. He told her of Banjo and the boy,
Twist, and how they’d helped Tony get better.

Hannah told David how much Barry had worried about him while he was
missing, and had spent an agonising three weeks, until they heard he was safe.

David put his arm around Hannah, and she leant back on his shoulder. He
felt her soft brown hair touch his face. ‘Hannah. . . .’ he softly spoke.

She looked at him and knew exactly what he wanted. She reached across
to kiss him but she didn’t notice him hesitate.

*       
*        *

The day drew cooler and a strong breeze was beginning to emerge as
David drove her home. ‘It looks like we’ve had the best part of the day,’ she
said. ‘Oh, Davey, I nearly forgot,’ she sounded excited. ‘There was a piece in
the local newspaper about a girl that had been assaulted on Claife Heights. . .
. Can you believe it . . . ! Your aunty told me it wasn’t safe to be up there
alone. Just think, it could have been me!’

David’s heart fell heavy; the weight was back and dragging him into the
mire and, as he stared out into the distance, he gripped the steering wheel
with his hands and muttered, ‘It could never have been you, Hannah - never.’

21

A CAPTIVE AUDIENCE.

Betty sat in the parlour window watching the road. She nibbled at some
small squares of pork pie placed on a pretty floral china plate. She’d saved
some for David, hoping he wouldn’t be as late home as his note suggested.

She had tried to stop herself from worrying about him too much. There
was no point; the Keldas men always did as they pleased. At least the weather
had stayed fine and the mountain-tops were free of mist, with just a few clouds
lingering. But as the late afternoon brought more cloud and the day
deteriorated, Betty saw specks of rain appear on the window, and she hoped
David had finished his walk.

Betty had missed him dreadfully today. Perhaps because she knew he was
with Hannah. She should have been delighted that he’d found a friend, and the
girl was likeable; but Betty hoped this Hannah could cope with David’s
problems. She also wondered how sincere Hannah’s friendship was and Betty
dreaded she might disappoint him.

David had certainly been happy the day they’d sat together in the
garden, and Betty wondered if Hannah could lift him out of the desperate state
he had sunk into. Nevertheless, she still felt a kind of loneliness. Having
David live with her these last few weeks had been better than any medicine the
doctor could prescribe. She thought that perhaps now her useful life was over.
She had cared for her husband for over sixty years and, regrettably, not had
any children; David was the closest thing to a son she had. But Betty feared,
much like Kathy a few weeks earlier, that she was losing him. The one
consolation she had was to have been a refuge for him when he most needed it.
At a time of life when some would feel useless, Betty felt that she had struck
gold. She’d found one, final and ecstatic, rush of life surge through her
veins.

Betty saw a white car coming slowly down the lane and pull up outside
the cottage. Her heart jumped when she saw a policeman open the garden gate and
knock on her door; it must be David; something had to be wrong. Betty was so
afraid that a great weakness came over her and she was unable to stand, so she
feebly called out and asked the man to enter.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Ma’am,’ and as the policeman opened the
cottage door and saw the old lady, he bowed his head in respect. ‘Don’t be
alarmed.’