Northern Spirit

by Lindsey J Carden

  She had skilfully managed to distance herself from the problems of her family and in some ways this had been a blessing, and being away at college sheltered her. She dearly loved her father because he dearly loved her. But there were many things she didn’t know about him and many things she refused to believe.

  Linzi knew their father spoilt her and Sarah but she didn’t realise the magnitude of it; she just soaked up the adoration. And like Tom, Linzi couldn’t understand why her father hated David. How could anyone hate David? And yet, she believed that people with no apparent imperfection could be infuriating at times. She was certain that David was no angel, yet he surely didn’t deserve all his father’s contempt; she should have taken a share of it.

  If only her father had known what she got up to in Newcastle, far away from his restraint. And yet, she guessed his cavalier nature had brushed off on her more than it had David. And that perhaps her father hated David because he was too cautious, too indecisive and, as she had heard him once say, too meek. She therefore assumed that David should hate her. She would certainly despise him and be deeply jealous if things were the other way around. But somehow David wasn’t; he was as noble and faithful to her as a brother possibly could be.

  She didn’t know if David ever sat and worked things out like she did. But perhaps he never even noticed the lack of love, and that would be as well. Or maybe it was worse; maybe he didn’t even care.

  *

  David wandered in for his breakfast humming some song he’d probably just heard on the radio. He slid off his wellingtons and pulled loose pieces of hay and straw from his socks and went to the wash basin to scrub his hands, satisfied with a steady morning’s work. He enjoyed his breakfast and was sat reading the paper, when Linzi, came downstairs still dressed in her nightie, her black hair falling untidily and unbrushed about her face. She sat down on the sofa next to David, curling her slim legs beneath her, and snuggled closer to him. All was peaceful, all was quiet, and then, carelessly, Kathy changed the feel of the whole day.

  ‘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 foldyard. 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.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I don’t know what’s the matter with me?’

  ‘You need a good night’s sleep, that’s what the matter!’ Kathy shouted, annoyed at the mess. ‘It’s time you got yourself to the doctor?’ Then she held her hand to her throat, knowing she should have kept quiet.

  David looked at her and, momentarily stunned by her outburst, calmly said, ‘I’m not going to the doctor’s. There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s perishing out there… . My hands are frozen.’

  Kathy tenderly clenched her son’s hands and was ashamed he was right.

  *

  David finished his tea and went to check some cattle that were wintering out on the lower pasture. Kathy returned to Alan deep in thought. ‘I think he should see the doctor, Alan. The lad’s not well, but I doubt if he’ll
go?’

  ‘Why don’t you go then?’ Alan sounded genuinely sympathetic. ‘Maybe Doctor Reed can give you some advice. David’s probably in shock and you know these youngsters - they don’t always know how to express their feelings.’

  ‘He can’t go on with this sleeplessness. I can hear him at night, up and down, just like George.’

  ‘It’s going to take time, for him to sort things out in his head, but he’ll settle down again I’m sure.’

  ‘I know your right. I think I will go and see Michael Reed,’ Kathy replied. ‘He did say if I was ever worried about anything, I must call.’

  ‘Well there you are then, and while we’re doing some doctoring, I’ve got some advice for you. Don’t you think it’s about time you got yourself away for a break, a change of scenery or something? It would do you good. Your mother would look after the kids, perhaps just for a weekend or so and David can look after himself for a change.’

  ‘Oh yes, and where would I go? The Bahamas! With these figures looking the way they are, I just couldn’t afford it. And anyway, what would I do on holiday on my own sat in some little bed and breakfast place.’

  ‘Well, just think about it that’s all?’

  *

  The following morning Kathy went to Keswick. She dressed in her best skirt and pullover. She did her hair up properly for the first time in weeks, and put on some make-up and perfume. She felt a sense of freedom. She had managed to leave while David was up the hill mending a stone wall that had tumbled down, and she hoped to get back home before he missed her.

  It had been some time since she’d actually left Keld Head, barring necessary trips to the supermarket, the bank and the school. And today it was a cold and fresh January morning; the Lakes were pleasantly quiet for a change. Kathy enjoyed looking around the little shops. She went for a coffee and a buttered scone, and felt contented as she sat reading the morning’s newspaper, in no hurry for her appointment. She was enjoying the peace and the freedom as she wandered up to the surgery, happy to see a few friendly faces on the way.