Hannah was the one to break the silence. ‘What a lovely farmhouse. I was quite surprised.’
‘What did you expect? Wuthering Height’s! A little, fat farmer’s wife with a pinny on and chickens walking on the kitchen table?’
‘All right. I get the message. Don’t be sarcastic.’
They were both silent for a while. Hannah recalled the image of the man in the photograph; it was hard for her to forget. She tried to put it at the back of her memory but, again, it wouldn’t go away. She felt so sad.
Barry was thinking of David and was bewildered. He was like two different people at the moment. He knew David could be shy sometimes and that shy people can often appear aloof, but this condescending attitude with Hannah was unlike him. David didn’t know her well enough to speak in the way he did. He’d gone from the sublime to the ridiculous!
*
David sat at the dinner table, where Hannah had sat only moments ago. It had struck him how comfortable she seemed with Sarah and his mother. Hannah looked so different and he was all the more attracted to her femininity and felt embarrassed once again of how he’d treated her. But her dislike of him was more apparent today; her eyes had made it clear, and David wasn’t used to this. It was only his father, and him alone, that had hated him.
He thought of how he’d treated Joanne, teasing her with a kiss like it was some kind of sport and was appalled at his own chauvinism. David was sure he didn’t used to be like this. Yet, he knew that was just the way his father treated his mother at times. The young men in Blackpool were protective of their women and David knew it was foolish to think the way they did: Even if I don’t want them, you can’t have them! Why should he spoil everyone else’s aspirations just because of his own? Like a child that’s been naughty and told it can’t play with its building blocks anymore, so it knocks them down and says: If I can’t play with them, no one else can! And David was just the same: he wanted it all.
Kathy watched him for some time sitting quietly daydreaming, and putting his lunch in front of him said, ‘Penny for them?’
‘You’ll need more than a penny for these, they’re priceless.’ David mused as he started to eat his meal. ‘I don’t really understand what I’m thinking; it’s all a bit beyond me.’
‘What’s beyond you?’
‘Oh, just stuff,’ and he wouldn’t commit himself.
‘Does your face hurt today, love?’
‘No, it’s okay. I think it probably feels better than it looks.’
‘I think YOU feel better than you look, don’t you?’
‘I suppose I do. Do I look a mess?’
‘Well, sort of.’
‘You mean my hair, don’t you?’
‘Er, well, amongst other things.’
David looked at his mother standing in front of him, her arms folded. Her blonde hair tied neatly up on her head, with just a few stray curls hanging loosely down. Her pale blue eyes weren’t cold like his, but soft and warm. She looked beautiful today. He felt proud she was his mother and realised she wanted to be equally proud of him.
David got up to look at himself in the mirror and said, ‘I never get time to get my hair cut anymore.’
‘Then let me trim it for you after dinner?’
Sarah immediately ran across to the kitchen drawer to get the scissors. ‘Yes, Mummy. Let’s cut Davey’s hair!’
‘Only a trim, mind… .’ he reluctantly agreed. ‘I’ll maybe go to the barber’s on Friday when I get my stitches taken out.’
‘And maybe you won’t!’ she said.
*
After they’d finished lunch, Kathy put a towel over David’s shoulders and started to cut. She didn’t really know what she was doing but trimmed large chunks off David’s hair. She hid some in her apron pocket, not for a keepsake, but afraid he would complain if he saw how much she’d really cut.
As soon as she was finished, David went upstairs to the bathroom to wash his hair and see the results. He combed the curls back off his face to reveal his strong forehead. His dark eyebrows were visible and lay in a peculiar curve that looked neither angry nor happy.
David had had this expression from childhood and it could get him into trouble with his schoolteachers because, unlike his family who knew him well, they never knew if he was scowling or smirking. And as he looked in the mirror, his long black sideboards became more prominent, so he took a razor and trimmed them, just long enough to finish below his ear.
He felt happier with his new appearance and although his hair still wasn’t short, Kathy had succeeded in making him look presentable.
When he came back downstairs to the kitchen Tony was there sitting in the makeshift barber’s chair. His ginger locks falling to the floor and mingling with some of David’s hair.
‘I want to look like him, Barber.’ Tony pointed at David watching them from the doorway.
Kathy looked up and saw David standing there. Her heart swelled with pride. With most of his long curls now gone, his striking features were more apparent. His whole countenance had changed since his visit to Blackpool. His face was less drawn and almost plump in appearance; his deep blue eyes were clearer and shone with some vibrancy; they looked stunning. Even despite his swollen cheek and surgical sutures, he looked more becoming. ‘You want to look like me, eh.’ And David wandered across to Tony sitting in the chair and clenching his hand into a fist, made a playful attempt to punch him.
Sarah shrieked. ‘Hit him, Davey… . Hit him.’
‘Sarah… .We’ll have none of that! And David, you should know better.’ But no one was listening, so she backed away, delighted at the horseplay in the kitchen once again. Memories of their childhood antics came flooding back to her: two little boys playing on the kitchen floor with their toys.
Kathy’s love for David grew at this point to a dimension she hadn’t known before, and it would soon become almost obsessive. She’d always indulged David more than her other children, and all the more so as George showed his intolerance of him, and maybe this would cause an anxiety that she couldn’t possibly anticipate.
When the scene in the kitchen began to settle once again, Kathy asked after Joanne.
‘She’s a bit miserable at the moment,’ Tony said as he winced with every snip of the scissors.
‘She didn’t reckon much to Dave - er - I mean us, going off to Blackpool without her.’
Kathy found this reasoning of Tony’s strange and thought Joanne wouldn’t usually have expected to go on a trip with the two lads. She also wondered why Tony had chosen his words carefully. ‘Yes, Tom didn’t think much to it either, did he, Davey?’ She looked across to David to see his reaction, but he was one step ahead of her and leaving the house.
*
Silver struggled when David tried to put the halter on and attempted to lead her out to the yard. Tony was soon to follow and was now leaning on the wall watching them. ‘What are you trying to do?’
‘Barry said she’s got Slow Fever and some exercise will help to get her system going.’
Silver pulled her head down, determined she wasn’t going anywhere, but David had other intentions and, with one huge tug, managed to get her as far as the yard.
Tony stood watching David for some time, amazed at his patience, then choosing his moment said, ‘Jo’s on the warpath, Dave.’
David, still struggling with Silver and only half listening, breathlessly replied. ‘Warpath? What do you mean? Oh, don’t be stupid, animal!’ He growled at Silver, pulling her again. But Tony continued, ‘She thinks she loves you!’
David heard clearly what he said but was silent for some time, then quietly replied. ‘I thought as much, and don’t say I told you so. But what can I do?’
‘Did you ever apologise?’
David stood motionless and couldn’t look Tony in the eye. And, as he softly spoke, it was like he was speaking to Silver, as his mouth was close to her ear. ‘I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.’
Tony breathed in deeply, his chest
expanding, and then mercifully said, ‘Just keep your distance for a while then, and all being well, with your face as hideous as it is with those stitches in, she might go off you. She’s threatening to come and see you. Oh, and by the way, she hasn’t been to work since we left for Blackpool.’
He left David struggling with Silver in the yard, unsure himself if his sister would ever “go off” David, as he’d put it.
Later that afternoon, David started to tidy up in the milking parlour. He managed to get the glass milking jars shiny and clean again. He scrubbed the stainless steel bulk tank, and the little milking parlour with its grey painted walls was starting to look better as he worked away in the familiar surroundings that he’d so hated the night he bared his soul to Tony. He became absorbed in his work, doing it like second nature. As the dairy herd slowly wandered in for milking, he started the milk pump engine, put on his transistor radio and started milking.
David heard some noise faintly in the background, as if someone were in the dairy. He presumed it was his mother coming to get some milk. He listened for a while and then, silence. Then he heard the noise again but this time was startled. Dr. Reed told me to stop looking behind, he thought. Yes, he was just being irrational. But when he heard the sliding door slowly opening, his body froze, and a burst of adrenaline shot through him, as he looked anxiously at the door.
‘Don’t worry, Davey. It’s only me.’
David bit his lip. He was relieved in one way to see Joanne standing there, but not in another.
She came down the steps into a small recess and stood close to him as he resumed his work. David didn’t want any eye contact, and hoped she hadn’t notice he was afraid.
‘They’re all talking in the village Post Office about you, and saying that you’ve been beaten up. Oh, look at your face!’
David closed his eyes momentarily, not wanting to hear any more comments about his face and, as she came close to him, he could smell her perfume, pungent and tantalising.
She raised her hand in an attempt to touch his wound and, sensing her movement, he walked away to check one of the cows. But Joanne followed him closely and then pushed something into his hand.
David held up the little package to the light and relented. ‘I’m okay, Joanne. I haven’t been beaten up. What’s this?’
‘It’s a present. I’ve missed you and you’ve been hurt.’
David wasn’t surprised she’d missed him, but wished she hadn’t. And now this gift. He began to feel guilty about not giving her the snow scene globe, but Joanne’s overwhelming affection was too heavy for him. He would have walked away from her if he hadn’t been working. He desperately wanted her to leave, but couldn’t tell her. He knew Tony was right with his assumptions and yet once again felt powerless to do anything about it. He thought if he could just keep his head, things would settle down. He tried not to look at Joanne as he thanked her, and put the package down on the step, and promised he would open it later.
Joanne stayed for some time, trying to draw out of him what they had done in Blackpool, but David remained non-committal. He tried to play things down, stressing only that he’d enjoyed the football match and the film they’d seen, and he hoped his silence would make him a poor lover. But Joanne was happy just to watch him working, and it wasn’t until Kathy called in for some milk, that she decided to leave.
‘What did Joanne want?’ Kathy said as she cautiously balanced a large enamel milk jug in one hand and held onto the door with the other.
‘Oh, she heard I’d been beaten up,’ David laughed. ‘Can you believe it? They’re already talking about me in the village.’
Kathy could believe it all too well. ‘Jo doesn’t look in very good form these days. I wonder if we should persuade her to see the doctor.’ And, as she glanced down, she saw the small gift on the step and noticed David blush.
Kathy’s interest in Joanne was not unusual. She’d kept a gentle eye on both the Milton children since their mother left. Keith Milton, their father, was a hard working man and had succeeded in providing well for them materially, but perhaps the emotional support was minimal. And when David made no further comment, his disinterest disturbed Kathy. She felt that he could have shown a bit of compassion for Joanne and she sensed there was friction between the young people.
Later that evening, David settled in his bedroom and lay on his bed, wanting some peace from Tom and Sarah, who’d already begun to irritate him again.
He was just dozing and then daydreaming, when he suddenly remembered Joanne’s small package. He lazily slid off his bed, took the package from the bedside table, and carefully removed the paper. He found a small box of mint chocolates, and then, concealed in a Get Well card, were two photographs. One was of his father, which he’d never seen before. And the other was of him, taken by the lake. He couldn’t recall recently being by the lake with Joanne.
8
UP HIGH – IN DEEP
‘This wretched winter!’ Kathy mumbled as she stood over a calf, trying hard to make it suck her fingers. Then she tried dipping its head into the bucket of warm milk, but it didn’t want to co-operate, and consequently tipped the contents of the bucket over her trousers and down into her wellingtons. ‘Blast …!’ she said, as her warm breath drifted like smoke into the frozen air of the calf pen. ‘You poor thing. You didn’t ask to be born in February did you, baby?’
The calf feebly suckled her fingers once again and warmed Kathy’s hands with its soft mouth, but still refused to lower its head. She would have to stop soon, as she was quickly running out of patience and only hoped the calf would drink later when it was hungrier.
Next she started to scrub the milk buckets clean in an old galvanised bath in the dairy, warming her cold hands in the hot water. Even the farm cats wandered inside and rubbed themselves around her legs, with the hope of some warmth and a chance of a few drops of leftover milk.
During the depth of the winter, Kathy had begun to feel restless; the feelings of euphoria and freedom had gone and she found no comfort at the life before her. Much like David, she had felt bound to Keld Head, and began to feel contempt for the farm that had been her home and livelihood for some twenty-three years or more. It was like Keld Head was fighting back.
The winter had made the place hostile. Drains were clogged up with ice and the bath water wouldn’t run away as the downspouts became blocked. Falling snow would freeze and then melt in the farmyard in regular cycles for days on end. Each morning frost coated the inside of the bedroom windows with unique mosaic patterns. Even the rain would be welcome now; if nothing more than just a change from this hard winter.
‘Right … ! That’s it … !’ Kathy groaned; brooding about this cold would do her no good, so she decided to do something constructive and visit Aunt Betty. She hadn’t seen her for some time, only talked to her over the phone and Kathy had guessed that if she was feeling depressed with this winter, Betty would be feeling just the same. She didn’t know if she had the ability to cheer anyone at the moment, but felt she at least wanted to try.
*
Foxglove Cottage looked as welcoming as ever and as Kathy approached from the lane, she could see smoke rising steadily from the chimneypot. Walking through the front door, she was comforted by the sight of her late Uncle Fred’s hat and coat still hanging on the hall stand.
Betty was thrilled to see Kathy and she was ushered into the warm room. ‘Come on, love, sit down and let me get you a cup of tea.’
‘No, you sit down,’ Kathy insisted. ‘Let me do it.’
Kathy settled the old lady down and took charge of the kitchen, hunting for the best cups and saucers which she knew Betty would want to use for visitors. But the china cups hanging on the dresser were grubby and tea-stained and the worktops and kitchen sink were marked and dirty. This wasn’t like Betty.
Kathy felt the pangs of a guilty conscience and had to bite her lip as she realised that this old lady must have been struggling for a long time without anyone ever reali
sing it.
David and Linzi hadn’t mentioned the state of the cottage when they’d last visited, but they probably hadn’t even noticed.
‘How are you feeling then, Betty?’ Kathy began.
‘My arthritis is bad at the moment - but I can’t complain.’
She never complained and that was the problem. If she had, maybe more would have been done for her. Kathy noticed that Betty had been slow getting to the door and was walking with two sticks instead of one. ‘Mrs Challenor’s still helping you, isn’t she?’
‘I don’t know what I’d do without her. But she’s no spring chicken; she’s seventy-five you know. And this will be my first winter without Freddie. He was fit for a man of his age - he would get all the wood in and the like.’
Kathy reflected how honourably poor Fred had looked after Betty. He’d been a healthy man for his age and his death was untimely. ‘You must miss him loads.’
‘Yes, it’s no good without your husband, is it?’
Kathy didn’t know how to reply, for she knew that despite her feelings today, she’d been much happier without George, so she turned the conversation back to Uncle Fred.
‘I miss Freddie too. I miss him coming around the farm and I know David thinks about him a lot.’ Kathy spoke with a hint of sadness.
‘Yes, he will love… . He will.’
‘I notice you’ve kept some of his things.’
‘It gives me comfort to see them around. Makes me feel a bit safer, you know.’
Kathy smiled to think how safe Betty could have felt having a ninety-year-old man around the house. Fred was well, but he wasn’t that strong, yet despite the frailties of old age, this man had looked after his wife very well.
‘You look a bit tired today?’ Betty said, sympathetic toward Kathy and she carefully rose to put some more coal on the fire.
‘Oh, I’m just a bit fed up of this winter. It’s been a long and a sad one.’
Kathy sipped her tea and started to think of David working out in the cold and she hoped he’d come in for a warm up. He’d been struggling with the tractor all morning; it too was refusing to work.
Northern Spirit Page 11