Northern Spirit (6 page)

Slowly, George did begin to manifest his father’s character and Betty
hoped that in David things would be different, that he would be more like his
mother. His quiet nature seemed to answer this for her yet, nevertheless, she
still lived with the fears - and would probably die with them - that David
would turn out like his father. She hoped the memory of David that she had up
to this time would be the one she would take to the grave with her. Always
hoping, always praying that this family would at last find some peace and that
perhaps David would be the peace maker.

*       
*        *

Betty glanced up and saw her cottage under the hill in the distance,
and she started to fumble in her handbag for the house keys. She reached across
the back seat for her small suitcase, in a hurry to be out.

They pulled into the yard and Brian took the old leather case from her
hand. All she had inside it were a few clothes and keepsakes rattling loosely
around. He went straight inside to light the fire and Stella made some tea.

‘I’m going to worry sick about leaving you.’ Stella was anxious.

‘Oh, I’m getting used to it now, with Fred being in hospital all those
weeks before he died. But I still hate to be alone. Your Kathy would have me
back anytime, and I can go to the day-centre in Ambleside, if I have a mind.
Freddie would have wanted me to stay at Keld Head, but those bairns get a bit
noisy for me at times. Besides, Kathy can do without worrying about me now.’
Stella smiled and poured the tea into Betty’s best china cups.

Foxglove Cottage was already feeling warm as the flames from the fire
jumped up the chimney. Stella stood and looked out of the window into Betty’s
garden. There was mist creeping across the fellside and sweeping down from the
green hills above. Some blue tits were feeding from the nut bag hanging from
the bird table. She knew Betty would be far more comfortable here in the peace
and quiet of this cottage, as she knew she could be if she were ever left
alone. Stella started to fiddle with a red flowering cactus on the window-sill
and remove some dead flowers, leaving pink shadows reflecting on the clean
white paintwork. Betty always had a plant in this window. In summer it would be
a red geranium.

On the mantelpiece there was a photograph of Fred and beside it one of
David. David was perhaps only thirteen at the time. He was smartly dressed in
his school uniform, his young face tanned, his warm eyes reflecting his
pleasant disposition, but beginning to look like a farmer’s son; his hair even
then a little unkempt. There were no other photographs displayed.

Brian Walker finished his tea and glancing across at Betty, saw her
eyes were closed. He nodded at his wife and they rinsed the few cups and plates
and left the cottage. Normally, Betty would have waved at them from the window,
but today she only dreamt she had.

*       
*       *

David rushed back upstairs, found some warm clothes and was
single-minded in his mission. Without having breakfast, he left the farmhouse
and called the dog.

Joanne saw David through her bedroom window, her face hidden behind a
lace curtain. She panicked as she realised he was headed her way, as she was
still dressed in her nightie; her beautiful red hair was unbrushed and tumbling
over her shoulders.

David didn’t need to knock on the door. He could see Tony through the
kitchen window making the breakfast. He pushed the door with his shoulder and
walked straight in and stood nervously beside the fire. Tony was the first to
speak. ‘Hoping to see Joanne again, are you?’

Silenced by shame David was slow to reply. He didn’t look at Tony. ‘It
was nothing. It didn’t mean a thing.’

‘No. To you, maybe not. But what about her? You know what she’s like.
She’s easily led.’

‘She’ll know, won’t she?’

‘Will she . . . ? You tell me. It’s not like you were just snoggin’
some bird in the back of the pub car park – she’s my sister, for pities sake.
And this morning she’s a whopping great love-bite on the side of her neck,
which, I presume, you gave her. Dad’ll kill her if he sees it. What were you
thinking?’

‘Thinking . . . thinking. . . . I don’t do much thinking anymore mate.
I’m done with that. All the thinking’s been knocked outta me.’

Embarrassed at David’s outburst, Tony continued to butter the toast,
then scraping and clinking a marmalade jar with his knife, he put the last of
the contents over the warm bread. He kept his back to David. But David was
disturbed by the silence and sat down and fiddled with a newspaper on the
table, pretending to look at the sports’ page. ‘Look . . . I’m sorry Tony,’
there was frustration in his voice as he flicked quickly through the pages. ‘I
repeat, it was nothing. Please, can we just forget it and start again? I’d had
too much to drink that’s all.’

Tony’s face softened and he came across to David and playfully pushed
his head away and David didn’t retaliate. ‘Here . . . have some toast! But
you’ll have to apologise to her.’

David accepted the gesture of peace and knew he’d been a fool and said,
‘I’m going up to the tarn with the dog. I need some space. Do you want to
come?’

*       
*        *

Joanne rushed to the bathroom to splash water onto her face and body;
she quickly pulled on her jeans and t-shirt and tied her mass of hair up into a
tortoiseshell comb. Gazing into the mirror and seeing how pale she looked, she
slapped her cheeks. She took a deep breath and calmly walked into the kitchen,
but was disappointed to find it empty. She saw Tony’s house keys lying on the
table, picked them up and hurled them across the room, smashing them onto the
fireplace.

Joanne wandered back to her bedroom, fell onto her bed and this time
sobbed into her pillow, incensed with her brother. She knew it was him who’d
drawn David away. He wouldn’t want any relationship to form between the two of
them. Nothing that would spoil their precious friendship.

She felt she was old enough to choose for herself who she dated. She didn’t
even care what her father would say. He didn’t understand the Keldas family as
she did, and Tony was only being jealous because she knew he had a crush on
David’s sister, Linzi. And what’s more, Joanne knew that Linzi disliked Tony,
because she considered him a fool.

Calming down, she went back to the kitchen, her pale skin now red,
blotchy, and stained with her tears. She saw on the table two empty breakfast
plates scattered with toast crumbs. She put her hand on one of them, dabbed
some of the crumbs onto her fingers, put them into her mouth and sucked. Then
once again flopped down on the empty chair and wept.

*       
*        *

‘How often will Alan Marsh cover for you? Hasn’t he got enough to do
with his own job?’

‘Hmm. He said once a week, either Saturday or Sunday. It’ll give me a
break I suppose. Trouble is, in some ways, I’d sooner do it myself. The place
is always in a mess after he’s finished and the cows never milk the same. He
treats them well, but they don’t like change. They just got used to Dad and
me.’

They continued with their small talk; David having reached as he’d
hoped his objective and Tony was just pleased to have a friend again. ‘We could
go and see Darren’s Mini later. We’d better go before he has it in a ditch!’
Tony asked.

But David didn’t reply and Tony knew this meant a refusal.

The track to the tarn steepened and the men found it harder to talk and
walk at the same time. As they approached the tarn the mist started to draw in
on them, the path became firm with the altitude and the cold. A silent breeze
swirled around them, cocooning their young bodies in an eerie fog. They weren’t
afraid; they knew exactly where they were. Then suddenly the mist cleared as
quickly as it had arrived and the fell top became visible. The higher ridges
swept up before them and beckoned them to continue. But they resisted. They
could now see clearly, as the dead bracken lay as a carpet, bronzed and golden
in the muted light. The grass, bright green, sustained and watered by the
Lakeland rain. They heard a splash and they knew they must be near the tarn.
The dog had arrived first. Then the two men were enveloped in a peculiar orange
glow as the morning’s sunshine tried to break through and push the mist further
up to the higher fells once again. As they stood and contemplated, their hair
dampened and curled in the mist.

‘There’s not much to see here today.’ Tony was anxious to keep moving
as he watched David, almost in a trance, staring at the tarn. But as they were
about to leave, the mist cleared completely and revealed a silken sheet of
water, rippling gently as the dog swam towards them.

By ten-thirty, they had reached a gully and were running and jumping,
sliding on the icy ground like two children, tugging each other’s jackets and
then stumbling on the hard cold earth. They ran down the steep hill, their legs
aching, taking the strain off their tired lungs until they reached the flat
green pasture below. Both men were gasping, silenced by the exertion. The deep
tones of their heavy breathing and laughing swept off up the valley and carried
away.

They stopped to rest, bending over, tired now and resting their hands
on their hips. Tony started to tease David, throwing stones at him, splashing
water in his face from the beck. When this failed to make a reaction, he
resorted to name-calling. David smiled at his friend’s childish behaviour,
happy that nothing really had changed. And David foolishly thought because he’d
restored his friendship with Tony that would be the end of the matter. He never
said another word about Joanne.

*       
*        *

David’s mother was sitting at the kitchen table with Alan Marsh. They
were both drinking tea. Alan was leaning back in the chair, straining the
buttons on his shirt after finishing breakfast, when Tony and David barged in.
Kathy, lazily, slid up from her seat and offered them a cooked breakfast.

Kathy was pleased to see David with Tony. Tony’s fun-loving nature had
brought her son into much better spirits than he had been in for days. Yes,
this could be a normal Saturday morning. David happy again; the two youngest
children playing upstairs; Linzi due back from college, even having the
stability of Alan with them gave her a feeling of security. No one to harm them
or abuse them anymore. Yes, this will do, she thought. Things can stay like
this. She broke the eggs into a frying pan, and the noise of the gentle
spitting and cracking gave her a satisfied feeling.

‘Come on Alan, get off your jacksie!’ Tony said. No one was surprised
at the insinuation that Alan was lazy. But Alan spoke up for himself, looking
for some commendation. ‘The cattle milked a bit better today, Davey.’

‘Oh, good. I think they’re getting used to you.’ David didn’t look up,
but started to eat the breakfast set in front of him. ‘Did Silver come in
alright?’

‘Aye, she was unsteady on her feet, though. She’s well enough now.
She’s got a grand calf.’

‘How’s business been this week, Alan? Have all those chemicals you’ve
sold, brought us any closer to doomsday?’ Tony asked as he got his breakfast
and again his comments were ignored.

‘It’s slack at the moment. These farmers do plenty of talking and not
much spending.’

Tony interrupted with another sarcastic comment implying that David did
neither.

Alan laughed loudly and grabbed the arms of the chair like he was
master of the house. He had been a regular visitor to Keld Head and, along with
the vet, was one of the few men that George Keldas tolerated. He supplied
minerals and detergents and like most sales representatives, knew where he was
welcome for a warm drink, a hot meal and a good rest. People in small
communities stick together, they know each other’s backgrounds intimately and
respect that. Alan understood that to be good at his job he had to be loyal and
not gossip to anyone, but he couldn’t always live up to that. He knew all about
the problems of this family, having been an eyewitness to many of them. He had
respect for David, for the hard work he put in, and admiration for Kathy,
knowing her since they were teenagers. Alan was Best Man at their wedding, and
had seen David born, then the others, one by one, and as one of George Keldas’s
only true friends, was the obvious one to help when the crisis arose.

‘What time’s Linzi home?’ David asked as he pushed away his empty
plate.

Tony’s eyes flashed at the question and inwardly moaned and wondered
why David hadn’t told him this on the walk. But he guessed it wouldn’t have
even entered his head, and neither would David have been playing games with
him; the one that says:
I can’t have your sister, so you can’t have mine.
Tony
only sighed at David’s lack of thought.

‘I’ve to meet her in Keswick at twelve.’ Kathy replied.

‘I’ll go if you like. I’m not doing much today.’ David answered,
showing more enthusiasm in his voice and demeanour than he had done in weeks.

Tony sat devising in his mind a scheme in which he could travel along
with David. And with one hand to his chin and his elbow resting on the table,
and using only his fork, he began to play with the last sausage on his plate
and remaining unusually quiet. Tony wondered if David would invite him along
anyway. But no, because he had just told him he was going to see Darren
Watson’s new Mini Cooper. What does a young man do to get his way? Women, Tony
gathered, find it easier to talk about men. But Tony couldn’t talk to David,
not about Linzi, and certainly not after last night. And David would never have
guessed that Tony liked Linzi. The two friends could talk about most things
together, but they seldom discussed women. And that would explain why David had
soon dismissed in his mind the problem with Joanne.

Tony knew that only Joanne held his secret, but he didn’t know if she
would keep it; in some ways, he wished she wouldn’t. He felt frustrated and
couldn’t comprehend why he was confident about everything else in his life
except for Linzi. He wished he didn’t always have to play the fool, but maybe
it was she that made him this way. Why couldn’t he be more calm and quiet like
David? He couldn’t do anything about the colour of his hair or his pale complexion
to make her like him more.