The cab arrived and Hannah picked up her coat to leave. David was now in another world. She was dismayed at his lack of concern and reasoned that those fleeting moments of kindness and playful glances, where just momentary lapses in his normal chauvinistic manner.
Hannah left the bungalow and Linzi walked back up the lane to the farm alone, leaving David sleeping in the chair and Tony still hunting around for some aspirin.
Tony fumbled around in the bathroom and kitchen cupboards, desperately searching for a cure. Then he noticed an envelope on the kitchen table, where the girls’ coats had been only minutes earlier. It was addressed to David.
He picked it up and examined it and, seeing that the handwriting was Joanne’s, threw it back on the table and went to put the television on. It wasn’t until he heard the clock strike midnight that he worried about his sister again. He went back to the envelope, rubbed his aching head and pondered, and then went across to David. ‘Wake up, Dave. Wake up … !’ Tony shook him by the shoulders.
David opened his eyes and, momentarily, didn’t know where he was.
‘Open this… . I think it’s from Jo!’ Tony thrust the letter right in front of David’s face.
‘Jo… . What do you mean? Where is she?’ David sat up in the chair and rubbed his forehead. His eyebrows almost meeting as he scowled.
‘Just open the letter, David!’ Tony insisted.
And still not certain whether he was dreaming, David tore open the envelope and read:
Davey, I’ve gone to the tarn. I can’t bear to be without you.
I love you.
Joanne.
He then re-read the letter out loud to get the sense of it. But Tony snatched it from his hand to read it for himself. ‘Stupid woman… . You stupid woman!’ And went back to Joanne’s room and this time put on the light, in a faint hope that she might be there. ‘This is all your fault!’ He shouted back.
David struggled to stand and he held up his palms in defence. ‘Look… . Let’s keep calm. It’s okay. She’ll be all right. We’ll get some torches and go and find her. She won’t have gone far.’ Yet David felt anything but calm. He was trembling and he’d been woken up far too quickly. ‘I’ll put some warm clothes on and get the dog.’
Tony was almost distraught. ‘Which tarn does she mean? There are hundreds of the blasted things!’
‘Did she hear me say I’d been to Easdale with Tom?’
‘No… . She’d gone by then.’
‘And surely she wouldn’t go up there at night! She must mean Kelbarrow Tarn, she goes up there a lot on her own and she knows we go there with the dog.’
‘That settles it then. You go to Kelbarrow and I’ll go to Easdale. I’ll get my walking boots and tell Mum if we’re not back by - let’s say two-am - to call Mountain Rescue.’
David jogged up the hill to the farmhouse, not noticing the cold and not thinking the situation through properly. He collected some food and drink, gathered up the flashlights and called the dog, and told his mother not to worry. But Kathy wasn’t as confident. Every time David went to look for George, either day or night, she always feared for him. ‘I knew that girl would bring trouble. I just knew it!’
*
When David finally left Tony to search in the opposite direction, he did so with a sense of foreboding. He knew Tony was a good walker, but his headache and sore throat were probable signs of an imminent cold, or even flu. The last thing David wanted himself was to return to the fells, especially at night. He’d done this all before, and the memories were bad ones.
David really just wanted to go to bed. He’d had a pleasant evening; he’d enjoyed the girls’ company and had been in good spirits. But now, as he walked, his dog his only companion, he knew this problem was all his own doing. Tony was right to blame him. He’d led Joanne along, when he should have stopped it. He’d hoped it was just a crush she had on him and that it would soon pass. He admitted to himself that he liked the attention, and he hadn’t wanted to upset her by rejecting her; yet, his actions and his silence had probably hurt her more than he’d imagined.
He walked on into the wind; the path took him up high to the valley beyond. The night was, thankfully, a clear one. He wanted to save some of the life in his flashlight and once his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, used it only momentarily. Moss followed close at David’s heels and her presence comforted him. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the crumpled envelope from Joanne’s note, and the feel of it and the task ahead brought reality home to him.
As he walked, he worried if he’d made the right decision and maybe they should have stuck together. It would have been safer. He should have insisted Tony took the dog with him. Then he tried to shout Joanne’s name but, again, his voice was lost to the wind. He was glad it was dry and hoped she’d at least put some warm clothes on. He’d worried, as Tony had, that his conduct had driven her to this crazy scheme.
He shouted: ‘Joanne … ! Joanne … !’ David was breathless as he reached the steep incline to the ghyll. He guessed he was near the falls as he could hear the rushing of the water forcing its way to the valley below. In the darkness he stumbled and almost fell on some hidden rocks, banging his knees. He walked quickly, almost running at times as the gradients eased again, walking much faster than he’d done that morning with Tom.
‘Man, I wish I was in bed!’ he cursed, and wondered what he’d do if Joanne wasn’t at the tarn. Then he reassured himself, that Tony would probably be at Kelbarrow by now and maybe he’d already found her.
*
Tony tried to run up the hill, but couldn’t. He felt unfit and unhealthy. His torch just managed to light up the path in front of him.
Coming out from the woodland onto the open fell, the wind hit him with such ferocity it almost pushed him over. He desperately wanted to go back, but couldn’t. He felt angry with David, which perhaps gave him the adrenaline he needed to keep his body moving.
He couldn’t believe David’s behaviour. He was always putting him down for fooling around and yet David’s constant need for approval and to be loved was far more destructive. Tony also felt angry with his sister. She was just acting crazy, thinking she wouldn’t have done this if their father hadn’t gone away so much. Nevertheless, he too worried about her sanity - to have walked out on a night like this, and expect David to run after her was mindless. He thought about David on the other side of the valley; how cold it was here on this fell side, and he knew it would be worse in Easdale.
In the hazy distance the lights from the village below comforted him; Tony doubted that David would see anything. He knew he would reach Kelbarrow before his friend reached Easdale and, although David was fitter, it was a much longer walk. A faint noise of the clock chiming from the church below rang out eerily as the wind carried the noise up the hills to him. He shouted, ‘Joanne … ! Joanne … ! It’s Tony!’ but he didn’t get any reply. A few specks of rain touched his face and it urged him to quicken his pace.
*
David felt the terrain ease under his feet and could just discern a path leading to the left, and knew he was over the worst of the climb. He guessed he had left Sour Milk Ghyll behind and hoped he was still on the right track. He shouted again but heard nothing. Maybe Tony could hear him as he climbed across the valley, his voice blowing westward.
David’s body was hot with the exertion, and he felt his chest and back soaked in sweat under his heavy coat, yet his ears were aching with the cold. He stopped to put on a woollen hat. The dog was still at his side; she too was anxious of the dark and of the cold wind ruffling up her thick coat.
He pondered at how different the day had turned out, from the enjoyment of walking with his brother that morning, then flirting with lovely Hannah that evening, and now the chore of searching for Joanne when he should be in bed. But, as he turned into Easdale for the second time that day, he felt a flash of panic and sensed he was walking into a wall or some kind of trap. This was the place that Wordsworth called (and fo
r good reason) The Black Quarter.
David knew the fells here and he knew the people; the farmers and their men; the mountain enthusiasts; the wild men and the gentlemen. He never feared the spirits of dead poets who once walked these paths, or the vagabonds, rogues and statesmen. Grasmere had housed a few characters and David was generally not afraid of any of them, but he knew for a certainty, that many had been afraid of his father and were fast becoming wary of him.
He stopped for a moment, unable to move, and put his back to the wind. He felt a slight spray of water hit his face, but he had to continue regardless.
He bent his head into the rain and trudged on.
*
Tony had just passed the forestry marker and guessed he was approximately halfway. Just a steep climb to the summit, then perhaps he would be out of the wind and the rain and safely in the small basin that held Kelbarrow Tarn. He could then search the tarn and shelter behind some rocks. His thoughts of turning back diminished as he realised he was near his objective; climbing higher and further away from safety, his head pounding again and his breathing, fast and erratic. Apart from the wind, his beating heart was the only other sound he could hear.
His flashlight grew dim as the batteries weakened, and he cursed David again for not replacing them sooner. The tresses of his long red hair became tangled and wet as they clung to his head and face. He tried to push his hair aside and wished he’d worn a hat. He pulled up the hood on his army surplus Parka and tied it under his chin, but the wind found every gap.
Safely reaching the flat plateau to the tarn, Tony started to hunt for the space in the wall, struggling and stumbling over the rocks as he did so. He found a gap and crept through to the other side, then fell to the ground behind the slate to shelter for a moment.
He sat there on the sodden turf, no longer caring whether he was wet or dry. The damp from the ground soaked his thighs and his buttocks through the thin cloth of his trousers and coat. The torch was lying on the wet grass beside him, its weak beam now fading upwards into the night sky and, in the faint glow, he noticed the droplets that he’d thought were of rain contained flakes of snow. Tony just wanted to stay there and sleep but knew he must make one more attempt to shout and search around the tarn before he could go home. He wasn’t sure if he had the kind of unselfish love needed to put his sister’s life before his own as the tiredness he felt overwhelmed him, making his choice harder.
‘Dear God, help me?’ he begged, as he struggled to his feet again. And he walked on in the direction he believed to be eastward, as the wind swirled around him in all directions. It was pushing him along, hitting the back of his head and jacket, then blowing him aimlessly sideways, then head on into the fell. Then, almost running, his feet splashed in water and he realised he was at the edge of the tarn. Standing on the shingle, he struggled to keep his balance to stop himself from falling. ‘Joanne … ! Joanne … !’ he repeated. Then he shone the weak beam of the torch across the watery surface, but he saw nothing, only the small waves of the tarn, whipped up by the wind and splashing against some rocks.
Then he started to run around the tarn and, with his objective now reached, it spurred him on to continue; running and stumbling, but he found nothing, only himself, like a madman, circling the dark expanse of water.
*
David’s fear intensified as he walked further into Easdale. Who was behind him? Who was in front of him? Was the stranger he’d seen that morning still there, sitting on the rocks, waiting for him? He thought he heard a reply, but it was just the wind teasing him. He switched on his flashlight again and tried to face full north, hoping the tarn would stand out before him, but all he could see was a white haze, as snow began to fall, thickly and rapidly. It was like the tinsel in his glass snow scene globe, safely placed on his bookcase at home.
‘Thank God, I’m nearly there,’ he mumbled, when a sudden flapping noise terrified him. He’d reached Easdale Tarn and the same wild geese that he had seen that morning were startled into flight. And from the safety of the rocks, David could only watch as the grey and white on their wings flashed up and skimmed across the water, off into the darkness, leaving behind them an eerie silence.
He lowered his hands, and like a blind man began to feel for the rocks, then momentarily sat down to get his bearings. Moss stayed close beside him, her wet body pressed against his legs and dampening his trousers. ‘Come on Moss … find Joanne? Go … ! Go … !’ The dog panted excitedly as David started to run behind her, trying not to stumble on the uneven ground, and flashing his torch across the surface of the water. ‘Joanne … ! Joanne … ! It’s David … ! It’s David … !’
On and on he ran, around the tarn; shouting and waiting, stopping and listening, but hearing nothing. David feared that he was too late; Joanne must have been gone hours. She could even be dead by now, if she’d misjudged the weather. ‘Joanne! Joanne, please. Hello … ! Hello … ! Hello … !’ David shouted in despair, almost in tears; the snow was hitting him so hard in the face that his skin was tingling and reddening with the cold.
He thought if she were out in this, she wouldn’t last long. If Joanne wasn’t at the tarn then she must be sheltering, but where he didn’t know. He knew no one could go much further unless they had a torch. Maybe she was too afraid and had turned back? Belle’s Knott and Easdale Crag surrounded him like a barricade. David knew there was no more he could do, except to hope that Tony was right, and that she’d gone to Kelbarrow Tarn after all. Of course! That would have been her best option. They did go there a lot. She could manage that walk easily. Yes, that’s where she would be. Tony will find her, and Joanne will be safe.
Reluctant to leave the tarn, he shouted once more and flashed his torch to the nearby crags and stopped and listened. He looked at his watch under the light and could see it was 1:00 am, and knew he must hurry back before his mother called the rescue team. He could just do it if he ran; hoping all the time that on his return, Joanne would be back at the farmhouse. ‘Be careful now… . Don’t fall,’ he said to himself knowing he could easily break his ankle or wrist. Then he began to run, lifting his feet high above the rocks like a fell runner would. The wind was now behind him and he slipped on the wet snow, running and jumping, his flashlight on all the time, pointing its beam to the path below, watching for hidden rocks. Down and down steeply and on past the falls. His lungs were aching with the cold and his heart was pumping hard.
He found a soft level piece of grass just by the ghyll, and for a few minutes rested to shelter out of the wind.
*
Tony continued to run around the tarn. Three-times he ran. First one way, then the other, shouting her name in despair. ‘It’s no use,’ speaking to himself for reassurance. ‘No use at all. She’s not here. She must be across at Easdale with David. She must be. I’ll kill her when I see her. Joanne … Joanne … I’m going home … I’ve had enough. I’m frozen … I’m done for!’ And the beam of the torchlight became so weak that it was near useless, so he hurled it across the water and it splashed into the tarn. He then walked on blindly into the blizzard, stretching his arms out in front of him and feeling for the perimeter wall again. Then stumbling on and over some rocks, his body hit a solid object. Feeling it firmly with his hands to find the base, he realised he was at the wall. Slate and rock tumbled with him as he slithered to the ground for safety and, instinctively, Tony drew his legs underneath him as he huddled into a ball, wrapping his arms around himself. Coughing, and in total desolation, he remained on the ground.
*
David couldn’t settle. He knew it wasn’t safe to stop for long. So, with a momentary rest for his racing heart, he lifted himself again and was about to leave when he thought he heard a faint cry, one so soft and weak that it was almost a whimper. The dog’s ears pricked at the sound and she ran off, and David followed her around the rocks, towards the ghyll. There it was again: ‘Help me … ! Help me … !’
‘Joanne … Joanne … it’s David… . Where are you?�
��
‘Help me, Davey… . Help me, please!’
The feelings of relief were sheer ecstasy, almost in a frenzy now as David could see in his torchlight, huddled under the rocks and beside the ghyll, the small outline of a woman.
He ran to her, his hands grasping on to the wet rocks as he steadied himself, jumping down, still slipping and stumbling and calling her name.
Joanne couldn’t move. She daren’t move. She hoped the man struggling toward her was David, and the sight of the black dog told her it was. She sobbed tears of relief and happiness and knew what a fool she’d been in doing this to him. But he had come. He’d searched for her in this awful weather.
He crouched down by her side and the wet snow soaked his aching knees; his whole body was trembling. Joanne used the last drop of energy she had to cling to him, clutching at his body and hysterically calling his name. ‘Davey … ! Davey! I love you … ! I love you.’ But he ignored her.
He stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her, then took out of his rucksack a thick pullover for himself. ‘It’s alright Jo… . You’re safe now. You’re safe.’
David took out some biscuits and gave her a drink of coffee from the flask. His hands were shaking as he poured. ‘We’ll soon have you home,’ he whispered and came up close to her face. ‘Don’t cry now. We must go quickly or we’ll both be done for.’
He pulled her to her feet, but she clutched at his arm, resisting him. ‘Davey… . Say you love me, or I won’t come back!’ Snowflakes were sticking to her face.
David couldn’t believe her defiance as he tried to pull her again. ‘Please come now! Tony’s up at Kelbarrow Tarn looking for you. We’ve all been worried sick.’
Northern Spirit Page 17