Pulling away, David went inside the tower to turn the tap back on, but she came closer to him and held onto his arm as he muttered a few indiscernible words, then more clearly said: ‘You’ve taken me by surprise that’s all, Jo. I’ve been busy. There’s a lot of work to do now. Anyway, you know I’m useless at writing.’ David wiped his mud-spattered face with his sleeve, as all the time she was watching him and grinning.
‘Have you missed me, Davey? Have you?’
‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Jo.’ And that was no lie. ‘Look … I do want to talk, but not here, not now.’ Confused thoughts rushed through his head. She was always one step in front of him; always quicker with words than he was. He needed time to think. It was apparent that she still felt the same about him and, if he couldn’t take away any of the harm he’d already done, he must ask her to marry him. But he couldn’t do it just now. He wasn’t ready.
As she stood before him, she looked well; rested and less anxious. Her pale skin held a rosy glow, blushing her cheekbones. Her hair was falling loose with soft curls that framed her face, the sort David couldn’t resist. He wanted to touch, and he now understood why he’d kissed her that night.
Joanne was wearing a green wool jacket with brass buttons, with a mustard coloured scarf wrapped around her neck. Her skirt was short: red tartan, and she wore black tights. She looked like a child.
David peered into her face, something he’d resisted for so long and, although he knew she was still only eighteen, he thought what a beautiful bride she would make.
He held her arms and looked her square in the face, ‘Meet me tonight… . Not here. Meet me in Keswick, at the Moot Hall. Catch the seven o’clock bus and I’ll bring you home. Now please go, Joanne … please.’
She obediently accepted the authority in his voice and complied. Giving him one last embrace, Joanne was about to leave when they heard footsteps at the door. They turned around.
‘What a pretty sight … I’m so sorry to interrupt your intimacy,’ the man said.
David had to blink; his mouth dropped open, astonished at the sight of his father, who once again was holding a shotgun and was standing in the doorway, blocking out the light.
This cannot be real. David thought. It’s déjà-vu!
‘What’s the matter, lad? Dumb as usual. Surprised to see me eh?’
David pulled Joanne closer to his side; she was shaking and unable to breathe.
‘You shouldn’t leave things like this lying around the place, Davey.’ George waved the gun at them. ‘You never know if they might get into the wrong hands,’ and he started to laugh.
David tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out. He thought only: Please … please … not now … not again.
‘Are you scared, Davey boy?’ George raised the shotgun a little higher and David now clearly saw the eyes of the man he most feared. He was looking older and thinner and much changed in five months.
‘I expected to find you here, Davey, but I didn’t expect her to be with you… . The little bitch … ! She’s after you now is she? She’ll never leave you alone, won’t that one… . She got tired of me and now she wants you, does she? Any way, you can have her. You’re welcome to her.’
David didn’t understand what his father meant; he’d become unaccustomed to unravelling his cryptic messages and manner of speech.
‘So I’ve come to finish the job, Davey… . Do you remember? When old Fred got in the way. No fool like you is going to take over my farm. It’s not yours to have … I want you out… . You’re no son of mine! Yes, that’s right Davey, you’re a bastard!’ George started to laugh again and the skin around his eyes wrinkled.
‘Be careful what you say to me… . ’ David found words with a strength and dignity that he didn’t think he possessed. ‘Yes, I am a fool, you know that, so I might actually believe you!’
‘Ah, you’re no fool Davey and these are not lies. I promised your mother I’d never tell you. But I’ve done it now. Keeping that secret just to save her face. Looking into the eyes of another man’s son for the last twenty-three years was enough to drive anyone crazy.’
Words were drawling out of George Keldas’s mouth that David couldn’t grasp, then he noticed him sway, and his body wavered a little. George scowled and lowered the gun as he pressed his hand on his side to ease the pain.
David noticed the broom handle beside him and was about to grab it and try to knock the gun from his hand, when George raised the shotgun and, this time, pointed it straight at Joanne.
David pushed her to the wall, covering her body with his and then waited for the bang and pain to hit his back. But it was an age before the gunshot was actually fired; the pressure from the blast so loud that they were compelled to hold their hands to their ears.
Joanne and David fell to the cold wet floor in each other’s arms, but they never felt any pain, and David couldn’t understand why. Joanne clung to David; the deafening noise from her screams pierced his eardrums. Then there was silence, with only the writhing of Joanne’s body beneath him struggling to be free.
She pulled herself from his grasp and ran from the tower. David, on his hands and knees, turned and saw behind him the crumpled body of his father on the floor, lying motionless, with a pool of blood about his head.
Shaking with fear, David felt no pity, only relief that his ordeal was over. Perhaps now there would be an end to the suffering and anxiety. He had to step outside and get away from the hideous sight. He closed his eyes and leant against the wall, his body heaved with the emotion and he was sick; he stumbled against the doorpost to keep his balance.
When he opened his eyes David saw three police marksmen in body armour, their pistols raised and pointing at him.
‘You have who you want … leave me alone. I must go to my mother.’
And David’s slow thoughts started to cogitate over the last words his father had just spoken. Never before had he heard him speak such nonsense. Then the spirit left within him surged, and he set out to find Kathy.
*
Kathy had seen Joanne come into the yard. She was upstairs washing her hair when she heard the yard gate click open. She had quickly wrapped her wet hair in a towel and rushed for a pullover to put on. She hadn’t expected Joanne’s return so soon. She’d intended to have the fires lit in the bungalow, make the place look lived in and stock the fridge with food. Kathy also hoped she would have the courage to speak to David again about Joanne, and talk him out of his dreadful decision, but she was afraid it might have meant another row.
Kathy knew she loved David more than she thought was healthy, but she didn’t want him to make the same mistakes as she had and enter a loveless marriage. She knew he was old enough to make up his own mind, yet she must talk to him. But she’d failed, and now Joanne was home and was alone with David. She must try to come between them before he said anything that he might regret, even if it meant spending the whole of the day with Joanne, drinking coffee or scrubbing the bungalow out. She must separate them.
Kathy hurried to put her clothes on and dry her hair and was about to leave when she heard a great noise, a bang so loud that it shook the farmhouse. Recognising the noise, terror gripped her, and a mother’s courage impelled her to run, as she cried out David’s name. She heard the girl scream and saw her run from the tower and Kathy’s worst fears were now before her. It had to be David this time!
Standing at the back door, Kathy saw police marksmen everywhere; but why were they here? As she ran across the yard towards the tower she saw David, his face spattered with blood and his body trembling as he leant on the wall to be sick. She ran to help him.
At the sight of his mother, David raised himself upright and forcefully took her by the arm and led her away. ‘Don’t go in there … ! Come away!’ He implored her and pulled her back to the farmhouse.
‘David … please… . What’s the matter … ? Whatever’s happened? Are you hurt?’
David pushed his mother into the house
and banged the door hard behind her. He pulled her small body to him and frantically shook her and shouted, ‘Who am I? Who am I?’ He was close to tears as he spoke.
‘I don’t know what you mean, David. I don’t understand.’ Kathy was terrified and tried to pull herself from his grasp.
‘You know exactly what I mean! That - that man, lying on the floor… . Yes, your husband… . He’s DEAD! The police shot him. And he just told me something, and I want to know the truth. Who am I, Mother … ? Who am I?’
‘You’re my son, Davey,’ and Kathy tried to calm him, yet she was totally bewildered.
‘Aye, and who is my father?’
Kathy now understood the nature of his question, but she still couldn’t comprehend how George could be here and how he could be dead.
‘Tell me … tell me… .’ He shook her again. ‘Answer me. Who am I? Who is my father?’
Kathy started to moan words that were barely legible, ‘Oh, dear God, what have I done! I don’t know David … ! I’m so sorry, I don’t know.’
‘Don’t lie to me. You must know!’
‘I don’t know who your father is David,’ she repeated.
‘So if I’m a bastard … ’ he shouted, ‘what does that make you?’
She went to slap his face but he grabbed her arm, holding her tightly in his grip. They gained eye contact and a battle commenced as David held her gaze, and it was Kathy who was compelled to turn away.
‘You’ve seen me suffer all these years, taunted by a man who I believed to be my father … my own flesh and blood. You’ve seen me suffer and cringe at the thought that I might one day end up like him, and you never told me … never once reassured me… . All to save your own face. I’ve wasted all that fear, that suffering!’ and he pushed her away in contempt.
As Kathy wept uncontrollably, David left her and ran outside, down the lane, knowing he must find Joanne. He banged on the bungalow door and pushed it with his shoulder, but it was locked. He shook the handle fiercely, loosening the fastenings. He ran to the window and looked inside. He once again shouted her name and ran around the bungalow peering into each window, stumbling over the plants and shrubs, as thorns of the rose bushes tore his trousers and scratched his hands and legs. He tried the back door, but still there was no way of entering so, frustrated, he leant exhausted on the front porch.
He then heard her shout from inside. ‘Go away David… . Leave me alone. I don’t want to see you again.’
‘Joanne, please… . I don’t know what this is all about… . Are you okay?’
‘I hate you David … I hate you … !’
David fell back on the wall of the bungalow and knew that in a space of a few short minutes, his whole life had changed. He’d been betrayed, assaulted, reproached, all for no cause. He had been the scapegoat and now he would have to leave.
Until today, David had never believed anything that George Keldas said could be true. But if one thing was, then many other things could be too and David then began to feel a kind of pity for the man lying dead. And he wondered if he’d finally been liberated.
He slowly walked back home, looked down at his blood stained clothes and said to a policeman. ‘Do you mind if I get changed.’
*
During the quiet of the evening, David started to pack an overnight bag. He put out a change of clothes and some underwear ready for the morning, neatly folding them, as if for the rest of his life the decisions he made would be of his own volition and carefully thought out. He took some soap and his shaving things: deodorant, a comb, and a small mirror. He methodically looked through his wardrobe and chest of drawers and took out various items of clothing: a warm pullover, two tshirts, two pairs of jeans. He looked through his bedside cabinet for any of his personal belongings: cheque book, passport, driving license. He took all his money from a small tin and pushed it in his wallet. Then he glanced up at his bookcase and saw the small glass snow scene globe. He reached for it and, without any hint of emotion, placed it carefully into his bulging holdall.
David left Keld Head early the next morning in the same way that Tony Milton had a few weeks before, silently and without notice. He had no reason to see his mother or to speak to her again. All the anger had gone. And as he quietly walked down the lane, he was pleased he’d been able to leave without being spotted.
Kathy was sitting in the parlour with Alan Marsh, who’d been drafted in again and was now consoling her. They were huddled together on the sofa and David had no inclination to disturb their intimate conversation. They were so engrossed in each other that it was the last piece of justification David needed to go. Alan had as much right to be at Keld Head as he did.
He walked to the bus stop and leant on the wall, the early morning sunshine was touching his face. He glanced across to the hills and saw the juniper bushes and gorse bushes climbing up the fell side. He could just see the froth on the waterfalls. And so in the quiet cool air, he waited and meditated. He didn’t know when he would return, he would have to one day, but whether he would stay would be another matter. There was just one person he had to speak to, so he could fit together the last pieces of this jigsaw and complete its grim picture.
*
David took the stairway to the top of Rievaulx House, he was breathless as he climbed, and he realised he hadn’t had enough to eat; the meal on the train had been a meagre one. He’d slept most of the journey and yet wished he hadn’t. He’d dreamt of nothing else but guns and hills. He desperately hoped that he could find Tony and if he had one ounce of friendship left for him, David could seek some refuge and the answer to some of his questions.
Tony’s cousin was surprised to see David standing at his door. He easily recognised him from his youth, as the sturdy young man with dark hair and dazzling eyes. As a child, Peter had spent some of his school holidays at Keld Head, staying at the Milton’s bungalow and, as children, playing together on the Keldas farm. But David stood before him now as a man.
Peter Milton welcomed David and fed him. They sat and enjoyed some light chatter, without David revealing his grim news. Peter told David that Tony had only stayed with him a few days, and that he hadn’t seen him since. He said he’d taken a flat in Wandsworth and had promised Tony he would help him if needed; he was always welcome to return.
David left for the underground and unlike Tony found the bustling streets of London overwhelming. As he stood, looking at the tall houses lining the street, an overweight woman with a baby in a pushchair reluctantly pointed the way. She must have been only about seventeen. Her baby was dirty and scruffy looking, and she herself was poorly dressed and scantily clad, her fat, bare legs looked blotchy and cold.
Most of the houses in the street had their bay windows boarded up, the grand exteriors, were reduced to crumbling masonry. People were sitting on walls and steps. Men were smoking and swearing and idly talking; no work to go to; no fault of their own. The women were gossiping, oblivious to their children playing on the street corners and in the roads. David wondered if he’d taken a wrong turning. He checked the address from the note that Peter Milton had given him and continued to follow the numbers on the houses, some no longer discernible.
He found a young black youth sitting on some steps, who eyed David cautiously when he asked for the house number. The youth looked David up and down.
‘I’m looking for Tony Milton,’ David quietly spoke. ‘Does he live here?’
There was a long silence so David continued, ‘He has long red hair.’
‘Yeh, yeh … top floor… . You mean Tinkerman?’
David smiled at the name, remembering how much Tony used to hate it as a boy. And as David was about to walk away, the youth pulled out of his pocket a harmonica and blew through it. The screeching noise was meant to intimidate and it grated on David’s tired nerves.
He reluctantly thanked the boy and pushed past him to stride through the doorway.
‘I haven’t seen him for two days though,’ the boy shouted back.
*
When Tony awoke from his sleep, he didn’t raise his head but just opened his eyes and saw the strong body and clean skin of David Keldas standing over him. Tony raised his arm and beckoned him. His dream had come true.
‘It is you, isn’t it, Dave?’
‘Yes … I’m maybe not as pretty as your little nurse, but I’m here.’
‘No, maybe not, but I’m glad to see you.’
David went across to his friend who was lying on an old mattress on the floor, covered with a dirty blanket. Neither spoke for some time. David knelt beside him and touched Tony’s pale forehead and wiped some moisture away with a clean handkerchief. Tony started to cough uncontrollably and he turned on his side for relief and grasped his hand onto a stone cold radiator behind him as he coughed. ‘Is this a brass bed, Dave?’
‘Aye, it’s brass all right mate… . Oh man, I’ll get a doctor.’ David whispered and shook his head.
‘No … no… . They’re not welcome here. Besides, they wouldn’t come anyway.’
‘But look at you, you’re still sick… . You need help. When did you last eat? I’ll get you some food.’
‘I haven’t felt hungry … I had two telephone numbers in my pocket, one’s yours and one’s Kelly’s, that little nurse from Lancaster, and I haven’t had the strength to ring either of you. Don’t bring a doctor here, Dave, please … call Kelly and she’ll tell you what to do.’
Northern Spirit Page 23