Northern Spirit (5 page)

Joanne didn’t try to stop him - for a start, she couldn’t, but then why
should she waken from this dream? One she’d always wanted. Perhaps David wasn’t
out of her reach and she was no longer just the girl next door. Maybe she was
old enough for him to love her, not as a friend, or a kind of brother, but as
an equal.

They sat quietly for a while in a long embrace. Each numbed by their
feelings. Joanne wondered at the implications. David thought of nothing except
how her lips felt on his, how cool and soft they were and tasting of wine;
nevertheless, neither wanted to move.

Then the noise of a car fast approaching with its headlights beaming,
stirred them. Tony jumped out of the passenger seat, thanked the driver and,
realising what he had just witnessed, looked at David hard in the face. He held
his gaze and shouted. ‘I thought I could trust you, Dave?’ and he grabbed
Joanne’s hand and pulled her off the wall.

As David watched them walk away, Joanne turned back and looked
longingly at him.

David didn’t move, but continued to sit back against the cold stone
wall of the farmhouse. He was amazed that he’d allowed this open display of his
feelings to be master over him. His total lack of self-control confused him and
felt his very thoughts were to be published in some trashy newspaper for
everyone to read along with all the dreadful photographs. He wondered what was
wrong with him. Did he not care anymore? Had his bad judgment and upsets of the
day just been too much for him? He was trying and failing to be introspective
of his life when he suddenly remembered the cow and calf.

Jumping down heavily off the wall and staggering in the process, he
unlatched the gate and, in the darkness, went across the yard to the loosebox.
His mother must have been over earlier as she had promised and put the light
out. David switched it on again and saw the calf nestling close to its mother.
The cow was cudding, resting in the clean straw, no worse for her ordeal. ‘You
have someone to love, Silver?’ he crouched low and pulled at her ear.

Satisfied they were well, David looked about him, and noticed his
grandparent’s car parked in the yard and he guessed by this time they would all
be in bed. He put out the light in the loosebox and tried to creep into the
farmhouse and locked the back door. He clumsily tiptoed upstairs to his room,
didn’t undress but just lay on his bed not wanting to disturb Tom, fast asleep,
on the floor. Then as much as he tried to sleep, he somehow couldn’t.

*       
*        *

Tony Milton pushed the back door of his bungalow open with his foot.
The door was swollen and catching on the lintel like it did every autumn, and
had been neglected. The place was empty as their father was away for the week.
Tony was now in a temper but Joanne was elated and went straight to her
bedroom, leaving him irate. She squealed softly as she flopped, face down onto
her bed. Could she really understand what had just happened between her and
David? She could still almost feel his warm arms around her body. She began to
envision, over and over again, the pressure of his lips kissing hers, his manly
odour and his soft voice. She felt impelled to pray and quietly said, ‘Dear
God, please let what just happened be real? Please let it happen again? Please
don’t take him away from me?’

She slowly rose and went across to her bedside cabinet, humming a song
she had made up, and took out a small black musical box. She pulled out a diary
and a few photographs, neatly wrapped in white tissue paper and browsed through
them. She took out her pen and started to write.

*       
*        *

At two-thirty in the morning David was still awake and was unsure what
to do. First he felt sick; he had clearly drunk too much. Then he was too hot;
he should have undressed. Then he was too cold; he should have been under the
covers. His head was aching and his mind rushing through the events of the day:
his mother, his friend, Barry Fitzgerald, the young student vet he’d been rude
to, and then Joanne.

He tried a few mental exercises to slow his thoughts down but failed.
He tried to think of one of his friends back at the pub, Darren Watson, who’d
just bought a new Mini Cooper and had invited them to come and see it on
Saturday. Then his disagreement with Tony would come flooding back, and his
kissing Joanne. He had flashbacks of his father, how many times had he heard
him walking the floor of his bedroom late at night, the boards creaking under
his heavy stature.

By three in the morning David was still awake and beginning to feel
distressed. Disturb Tom or not, he would have to get up again and make himself
a hot drink. Thank goodness he hadn’t to be up for work in the morning. He sat
on the side of his bed for several minutes with his head in his hands, his body
shivering. Rubbing his tired eyes he wandered down the stairs into the kitchen,
his stocking feet paddling quietly across the cold tiled floor. As he waited
for the kettle to boil, he thought of Tony once again. He decided in his mind
to try to make amends and would go straight around to the bungalow tomorrow and
apologise. The relationship with Tony was one he would have to depend on, and
he couldn’t risk losing a friend, especially with the solitary life he had
promised for himself. He didn’t know what he would say to Joanne.

As children they had often argued, as children do. Tony had usually
gone too far with his fooling around, saying David was slow and clumsy,
laughing at his serious nature. David had usually been stable as a child,
always the worker, not just at home but also at school, spending most of his
time if not with Tony, then with his father. And Tony’s teasing usually
demanded David making reprisals, and this he did. He would make fun of Tony
because of his red hair. He would call him Tinkerman, knowing Tony hated that.
David would insinuate he was born in a caravan on the roadside. He said when he
grew up he would become a traveller, selling goldfish and dusters, or
collecting scrap metal from door to door. Tony would fly into a rage, with his
quick temper getting the better of him. He wouldn’t come to the farm for a few
days, even weeks sometimes, but without any interference from their parents
they would eventually make up and act as if nothing had happened. Then it would
be David’s turn to care for his friend and use his strong body to fight for
him. As a child, Tony had a stammer, it was more apparent if he was nervous,
but he had grown out of it now. When they were children, the other kids would
tease him about this and, although David didn’t understand it at the time,
there had been an unspoken rule that, as best friends, they could laugh at each
other, but no one else was allowed to.

And now this flirting with Joanne, well that was a different matter.
This was something new, and as David was about to learn, would be painful. As
the steam from the kettle dampened David’s face, he remained deep in thought,
wondering about Tony and Joanne, if they were asleep right now. Was Joanne
dreaming? Her thoughts far away from David Keldas, the boy next door, the one
with the evil and eccentric father.

What he would say tomorrow, he didn’t know. He hadn’t the soundness of
mind at that time to concoct any explanations. But resolve this he would. Put
the wrong to right and start all over again.

In a haphazard way, the tea was made. He took the hot mug upstairs,
stepped over his brother and, this time, undressed in the darkness. Tom only
turned and moaned at his appearance.

David sat back in bed and sipped his tea and never really resolved his
dilemma. He woke up to the voice of his mother shouting up the stairs. David
looked at the clock; amazed it was 9.30am; an empty mug was still lying on his
bed covers. There was no sign of Tom.

‘David . . . ! Are you getting up? Aunt Betty’s about to leave.’

He rolled in his bed, and the empty mug fell on the floor.

‘Oh, my life . . . ! Why won’t you let me have some peace,’ he
muttered.

3

AN ELEMENTARY MAN

Kathy Keldas was sitting with her parents and her elderly aunt around
the breakfast table, slowly sipping coffee. The suitcases were packed and
standing by the door.

There was an air of concern about them all. Brian Walker was concerned
for his daughter, Kathy. Stella Walker was concerned for Aunt Betty. Aunt Betty
was also concerned for Kathy. And Kathy was concerned for David.

Tom and Sarah had been up and dressed for some time. Tom was helping
Alan Marsh with the milking and Sarah was hindering her mother. When David
eventually appeared in the kitchen he looked wild. Once again his shaggy black
hair was unbrushed and his blue eyes were reddened and puffy and half-closed
with tiredness. He was unshaven and barefoot. As he slumped down on the
fireside chair his elderly aunt was the first to respond as she carefully rose
and, clutching to a walking stick with her arthritic fingers, went and poured
him a mug of coffee.

Betty had respect for David and it had been well earned. He hadn’t been
a silly boy, never one to cause his father shame; it was always the other way
around. David had flourished on the love he got from her and his late Uncle
Fred. They were really David’s great aunt and uncle. (Fred being the brother of
David’s grandfather, Robert.) They had been frequent visitors to Keld Head and
had farmed at Spickle Howe, near Hawkshead, the twin farm to Keld Head. Both
farms had been divided on the death of David’s great grandfather between the
two brothers. Fred was given Spickle Howe and Robert was given Keld Head. And
after Robert’s death, the farm was automatically passed on to his son, George,
David’s father.

And Betty was now the only surviving relative of that generation, and
had since sold Spickle Howe to retire to her cottage near Hawkshead.

The two families had worked closely together, helping at hay-time and
harvest, with sheep shearing and dipping, loaning implements to one another
and, sometimes, loaning money.

Today Betty was looking forward to getting back to her cottage. She was
in her ninety-second year and now a widow, but was still happy to be part of
the family she’d married into more than seventy years ago. She had remained
childless and these were the closest and most loved people to her. And, as she
left Keld Head, she had secret teardrops in her eyes. At ninety-two, she never
knew if she would see any of her family again.

Kathy gently hugged Betty, feeling the fragile bones of her spine under
her hands. Brian Walker helped her into his car and Tom went to unlatch the
yard gate as they waved good-bye.

They drove slowly down the tree-lined track as shadows from the
branches dappled on the road in the bright winter’s sunshine. The road was
still white in places where the early morning’s sun hadn’t touched the frost.

After a short silence, Stella was the first to speak, giving Betty time
to compose her emotions. ‘I thought Kathy looked remarkably well, didn’t you
think so, Betty?’

‘Yes, she did look well, but looks don’t always say what you feel
inside, do they?’ she spoke softly.

‘I think the children will keep her too busy to worry, and I know David
will look after her,’ Stella continued.

‘Yes, but there’s a lot of responsibility on that young man’s
shoulders. He’s not a child anymore. He’ll want a life of his own someday.’

Then there was silence, as each person remained deep in thought. They
passed the lake, which was covered in a thin film of ice. Wildfowl were
preening and then diving into the water, enjoying their first spot of sunshine
in weeks.

Betty thought of the time when she first came here from Yorkshire and
married into the Keldas family. She had come from a large estate near Thirsk
and her high breeding still showed. And she was still proud to be part of some
local history but, at the time, not realising the anguish she would suffer in
years to come. Yes, George Keldas’s behaviour had touched them all. And
although Betty was no blood relation to any of the Keldas children, she felt so
much a part of them. This feeling was constantly reinforced by the love she
received from them all. But now she admitted to herself that David wasn’t quite
as attentive to her as usual.

She had known David’s grandfather well, and found him to be a likable
man, yet he too had struggled with his own personality; he could be wayward and
unreliable at times. And like David’s father, he wandered the fells alone,
sometimes missing for days at a time. It would be Betty’s husband Fred, who
like David, would walk in all weathers looking for him. But thankfully, her
Fred was more placid and carefree and very different.

Betty was surprised when the young, balanced and attractive Kathy
Walker, from a middle-class background in Lancaster, had decided to marry
George Keldas; yet she could see the appeal. George was a handsome man and he
knew it. He lived on the edge; just the right side of dangerous. He was
charismatic and Betty wondered whether to warn Kathy of the family’s history.
But guessed it was wrong to interfere, yet she thought Kathy would never tame
him. She knew how much she herself had loved this way of life that the Keldas
family had given her, living and working among these beautiful hills. And there
was no way she could deny this young woman that pleasure. The mountains, the
lakes, the blue-stone walls, and the Lakeland atmosphere were always a
consolation for any troubled soul. Then when David was born not many months
after they were married, Betty understood why Kathy had stayed.

Kathy always appeared to cope well, especially during the early years
of their turbulent marriage. But George could be so loving and repentant,
always looking for forgiveness, which he usually got. Kathy was herself
bewitched by his dark features, his strong and elegant stature, and his
piercing blue eyes, which gave him the forgiveness he wanted, well, until the
next time - and the next time always came.