Northern Spirit

by Lindsey J Carden

  *

  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 goodbye.

  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 middleclass 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.

  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 windowsill 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 s
he 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.