Northern Spirit (8 page)

‘We were disappointed you didn’t come to the funeral, Linzi.’

David’s hands tightly gripped the newspaper and he felt Linzi’s body
respond to the criticism and she sat up rigid beside him.

‘Oh, Mum . . . ! I told you why I didn’t come and I’m not going to go
over it all again. Why do you do this to me?’

‘I do this because of what people think, lady!’ Kathy stood her ground.

‘Well, why are you always trying to cover over the truth?’ Linzi was
over reacting. ‘Our family’s in a mess and you know it. And so does this whole village
for that matter!’

With that, David threw down the paper, put his wellingtons back on and
left the house. He whistled for the dog and walked at pace down the hill to the
silver-birch plantation. The morning’s sky was grey and fog was swirling around
the lake as he took an indistinct path through the damp woodland.

David’s light heart had become heavy again. It seemed to him that his
whole life had become a see-saw of emotions and he was unable to keep the right
balance. Things had become like his happiness was elation and his
disappointments were tragedies. He remembered how reckless he was the night he
kissed Joanne and then, the day after, had disregarded her feelings. When he
loved, he loved too much. And when he hated, he hated with such intensity that
he sensed a sinister fear grip over him, so strong that he might do someone
some harm. David felt like he had a heavy iron weight slung around his neck.
Some days he would be impelled to carry it, the weight so great that it pulled
down his neck and shoulders. But, try as he might, he didn’t seem to be able to
get rid of it. Then on other days, it had gone, as if someone were looking
after it for him. It was safe and still belonged to him, waiting for his return
and ready for him to pick it up again. He wondered when he would collapse under
its strain; because he guessed, one day, he would have to.

David walked on and thought he heard the snap of a twig behind him. He
called to Moss, but she was well in front, sniffing in some rabbit hole. He
looked about him, his deep blue eyes searching the woodland, listening like a
man with a thousand senses, and every one of them a burden to him. David
guessed he was just being stupid, as there was no one in sight. He wondered if
his mother had followed him but, after waiting a few moments, he realised,
apart from his dog, he was alone. He leant back onto a nearby tree, slid his
body down to a squatting position and held his head in his hands.

*       
*        *

Back at the farmhouse, Linzi began to wash and dress. She looked at her
face in the mirror as she combed her dark hair, trying hard not to cry. She
knew she would have to make some gesture of peace to her mother.

Linzi returned to the kitchen and sidled up to Kathy, putting her arms
around her neck and leant on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry Mum. . . . Do you think
our Davey will take me to see Aunt Betty sometime today?’

‘I’m sure he will if you ask him nicely.’ Kathy was pleased for once
that Linzi had taken the initiative to bring about some peace. ‘That’s if he
comes back in time. He’s very upset you know. . . . He’s a changed man.’

‘We’re all upset, Mum. But we’ve just got to get on with things haven’t
we?’

*       
*        *

David crouched low by the lake and splashed water onto his face. He was
unable to move as he took in the tingling feel of the icy cold water on his
skin, thinking of nothing else. He was disturbed when he saw a flash of blue
light. David glanced behind, and his eyes roved about the woodland but saw no
one. He shouted, ‘For pities sake . . . ! Leave me alone.’

When he returned to Keld Head, Linzi was at the door waiting.

‘Davey . . . ? Will you take me to Hawkshead?’ Linzi looked into her
brother’s eyes and thought he looked upset. She wanted to ask why, but
resisted.

*       
*        *

The red Rover car sped down the winding lane to Hawkshead. David drove
on recklessly, hoping to get this errand over and done. Linzi was just pleased
he had brought her. She wished now that she were back in Newcastle and vowed
she wouldn’t return home until Christmas.

*       
*        *

Betty Keldas trembled with happiness at the sight of David and Linzi.
Linzi was sitting, drinking tea and listening carefully to her Great Aunt. She
was glad she’d come and felt she’d satisfied not only her mother, but also this
dear and well loved lady. David was standing by the cottage window and was
restless. He’d hardly greeted his Aunt, but was selfishly consumed in his own
reverie. He wasn’t absorbing any of the beautiful scenery, only experiencing
overwhelming anguish.

It was Betty who broke the silence. ‘You look tired, Davey. Come and
sit down.’

David turned and relented. He came across the room and kissed the pale,
paper-thin skin on her cheek.

‘Take no more thought for tomorrow, Davey, for tomorrow will take
thought for itself!’

‘I know,’ David replied, smiling at her now. ‘But that’s easier to say,
than it is to do?’

‘Yes, it is. . . . I’ve had anxiety for what seems to be ninety years
or more and I’ve always left things to the Lord to sort out. I prayed hard for
my Freddie and for your grandfather. He was just like your father. Yes, he used
to walk the hills alone, your poor grandmother never knowing where he was –
worrying herself to death - off for days on end. He couldn’t cope with being
tied down, you see. He said he needed to get away. When your father was a
little lad, my Freddie used to love and take care of him, as your grandfather
didn’t have the patience. Freddie would cuddle him and sit him on his knee.
George was a bonny lad and what a handsome man he once made.’

The two young people listened carefully to her. Linzi especially
endeared to the love and kindness this old lady showed, and the compassion she
spoke of her father. David felt the opposite. This was not what he wanted to
hear, as Betty continued. ‘We always hoped your father would turn out
differently, but it wasn’t to be, was it. And it breaks my heart to think how
much my Freddie loved him. He loved him too much I think?’

‘Oh, please . . . don’t Aunty.’ Linzi dared to interrupt.

‘No, Linzi. Things have to be said. But don’t you worry now, Davey.
You’re much like your mother.’

‘God knows, Aunt Betty . . . I wish I was!’ David muttered. ‘She’s like
a rock - nothing will move her. It’s like nothing’s ever happened.’

‘It’s her way of coping, Davey. Don’t take that away from her. She’s
had to learn good and hard and she’s succeeded.’

David didn’t speak again; he just listened as Linzi and his aunt
discussed life in Newcastle. He couldn’t understand how his aunt could be so
frank. And he once again became embarrassed at his own weakness. Tony was
always telling him he was too soft. If his father were here he would say he was
being slow and stupid; yet David was a grown man, and these feelings he had
were childlike so, being judge and jury, David condemned himself and was found
guilty.

He began to stare at the fire as its flames leapt up the chimney,
glowing blue and red and then orange. They became a source of comfort to him as
he continued to stare long and hard. He became fully focused on them, as they
helped him not betray his feelings.

*       
*        *

Throughout the coming week David absorbed himself in his work. There
was plenty to do on the farm in winter. The winter’s feeding programme meant
extra work in itself. A shortage of lush grassland made it harder to fill the
cows’ bellies and it meant feeding silage, hay and grains. The cattle were kept
in the cow-kennels for the winter, with brief trips around the fold-yard. This
also meant more work; constantly keeping the cattle clean and the yards swept.
The manure would freeze solid on the yard, making it harder to remove. Then the
snow came, and the mixture of snow and manure was a poor one. The slush was
another obstacle. The thawing snow would pour into the drains; the water level
rising so high that it would flood the dairy. David’s hands froze, as he spent
hours on the tractor, clearing the muck and the soiled straw from the concrete
floor.

He was pleased he only had to call the vet out again on a couple of
occasions, and only for minor problems. It was a relief on the farm budget and
a relief that Barry Fitzgerald came alone. David never asked after Hannah
Robson and pushed any thoughts he had of her to one side, preferring to remove
an embarrassing day from his memory. He still didn’t want to meet any more
strangers, but on the few occasions he met Barry Fitzgerald, found his gentle
sympathy reassuring and David was genuinely comforted by this kind man.

Life for Kathy also began to settle. She put more wood on the fire and
the house felt warmer; the chimneys were alive with wood-smoke, drifting on up
the valley and across the lake. And with the children back to normal life at
school, it became apparent, without George Keldas’s dominant presence that more
children called at the farm. When it snowed, they were allowed to play in the
garden and make a snowman as George would never have let them; they hadn’t to
disturb and spoil the snow. It was some notion of his that the snow protected
his family from intruders. George told them a story of how David’s grandfather,
Robert, was once besieged behind Keld Head’s strong walls for days, fearing
someone’s wrath. And it was the checking for footprints in the deep and pure
white snow that protected him.

Linzi, as she had planned, didn’t come home much, just for a few days
over Christmas and then quickly back to college to be with her friends. Tony
visited the farm regularly in the hope of seeing her and he continued to be a
good friend for David. They would walk the fells together on better days and on
poor ones, would go to the pub. Tony had noticed a difference in David - he had
become quieter, if that were possible. He was also more insular. He was edgy,
never still, and Tony knew that he didn’t sleep well. He tried to offer him a
hundred remedies but was never taken seriously. Tony even wondered if he should
have interfered between David and Joanne, thinking that David would have been
happier if he had Joanne to love and for someone to love him. He didn’t like to
see his friend in such low spirits, but felt there was little he could do to
help.

Joanne was equally as broody; isolating herself in her bedroom most of
the time and, when it was fine, she too was out walking the lower fells, but
always alone, and never with the men. Tony knew that she was unhappy and put it
down to teenage mood swings.

Joanne had kept her diary up to date, recording every sighting of David
and the exact words he spoke to her - which was easy, as they were so few. She
also started to write some poetry and it was always melancholy, of what life
would be like without him. She listened to her favourite music; usually a love
song; keeping her caged in her own black thoughts. Her father worried, thinking
she was anaemic. Her skin was pale and she had dark circles about her eyes, and
he wanted her to see a doctor. No other girlfriends ever called at the house
and Joanne would turn down any invitations; always hoping that David would
visit. She would sit up until the early hours of the morning with her bedroom
light on, hoping he would see it and secretly call. She could see the farmhouse
from her bedroom window, and could see David’s bedroom light on well into the
night, and wonder what he was doing. Then she would dial his number and replace
the receiver when he answered, afraid to speak to him, but happy just to hear
his voice. She hoped she might bump into him on the lane, as she knew he often
walked out alone. Joanne hoped to meet him so he would hold her and kiss her
once again. She hoped that those fleeting moments of passion for her were not
just casual interest. She knew David well and, although he was popular, he was
never one to fool around with girls, so why would he play with her feelings.
She just prayed and prayed that one day they could be alone again together.
Then he could tell her how much he really cared for her.

Alan Marsh also spent more time at the farm and, as Tony had implied,
not just for selling minerals or relief milking. Alan was a bachelor, so had
plenty of spare time on his hands to visit who he liked. He’d spent several
years looking after his elderly mother and that was the reason many suspected
he had never married. Others had different ideas about him. He now lived alone
in a large house in Grange-over-Sands, but he would usually be seen in the
local pub; his large body propping up the bar, telling some yarn or joking with
the regulars.

One morning after David had finished feeding up the cattle, he came
into the kitchen and found Alan and his mother kneeling together on the floor
of the adjoining lounge, surrounded by receipts and papers, and they were
adding and subtracting. David didn’t like the idea of Alan knowing the farm
business, but he supposed his mother did need some guidance. He was never good
with figures himself and neither was his father. Kathy had always been left to
balance the books. The farm usually managed to support them, but only just.

Kathy and Alan were so absorbed in their calculations, that they
ignored David. Kathy giggled and mocked at Alan’s efforts to add up. David
pretended not to notice their flirting with each other as he put the kettle on
the Aga and started to make some tea. He paddled about the kitchen in his
stocking feet, wandering from side to side; no method in this. Where was the
tea-caddy, the cups, the biscuits? He started to open and close the doors of
the kitchen units at random. As he tried to remove the lid of the tea-caddy
he’d finally found, it slipped from his hand and all the contents spilled over
the floor. David cursed his own stupidity. But before he could move to clear up
the mess, Kathy was there to see what had happened.