‘If she’s lied about me… . How can we know if she’ll tell the truth about him? All this other stuff could be lies too.’ David shook his head.
They sat engrossed, letting the fire go out, and agreed to leave for Aberdeen at first light.
16
THE GRANITE CITY
Hannah was like any other young woman, nipping in and out of the stores with handfuls of carrier bags, browsing through the sale rails, trying on shoes and matching them up with a handbag, testing make-up, spraying on perfume that she never intended to buy.
In the afternoon sunshine, she walked through the little grey town of Kendal and back to the multi-story car park. As she continued to browse, looking up across towards Windermere, the fells jumped out at her today in three-dimensional aspects, like she could reach out and touch them. The bronzed bracken would soon be fully rejuvenated as the lush green fronds were already bursting out. The blue rocks glistened with water and whitewashed farmhouses nestled lazily under the crags.
Hannah would certainly miss Lakeland. Just a few more weeks then back to the city and to who-knows-where. The only sadness was the solitude as she’d made no lasting friends, and Hannah felt that such a beautiful place should be shared. She had no one to tell when she’d seen a red squirrel or a deer with its fawn, she could tell Barry but he’d seen it all before. Hannah didn’t know how she would remember Lakeland - for the loneliness or the beauty, or the tragedy that had touched so close to her.
Then there was her love and pleasure of working with Barry; that had been the greatest education she could have hoped for. To work with such a dedicated man, with his willing and self-sacrificing nature.
She was sorry to leave as spring was turning into summer, when Cumbria would take on another aspect. The rain would continue to fill the rivers, streams and lakes, ready for the summer visitors and give the Lancashire public their drinking water.
And now a cloud hung over the practice since the second shooting incident at Keld Head. When they’d heard a man had been shot, all of them assumed, with anguish, that it was David. But then there was relief to know he was safe, and yet to hear that George Keldas, Barry’s old friend was dead was still a dreadful shock. Barry had remained depressed ever since.
They’d all attended the grim funeral, standing around an open grave in the pouring rain, the only brightness coming from one wreath of spring flowers laid on the coffin from a long-suffering wife and children.
Hannah had gone to support Barry and to see Linzi. She didn’t particularly want to talk to David or see him in any distress. But David’s absence was strikingly apparent and questions were whispered by the partisan crowd, who’d only come to see the final chapter in the Keldas saga end.
But it was Linzi who Hannah had watched sobbing, inconsolable around her father’s grave, with Kathy Keldas standing beside her, small and fragile, yet strong and determined as ever.
*
When Hannah returned to the surgery she was surprised to see Barry’s Mercedes parked in the yard, it was unusual for him to be home on her day off.
With an armful of carrier bags, she struggled to open the front door. As she passed the office, she saw Barry sitting at his desk. Hannah peeped around the door and he glanced across. She could see his face was red and his eyes looked tired and sore, his dark eyebrows frowned. It was obvious he’d been crying.
Hannah was embarrassed and, uncertain of what to do, backed away.
‘Don’t go, Hannah … I’m sorry, please come in.’
She hesitated, and put the shopping bags down on the floor.
‘You may as well hear my news. You’d have heard it sooner or later,’ he paused as he choked a little on his speech. ‘It’s Eleanor… . She’s left me… . She’s gone.’
Hannah didn’t know how to respond, her instinct was to hug him, but this man was her employer, a man whom she’d loved for his skills and his kindness. She wondered how anybody could ever leave such a lovely person.
‘Where is she? Where has she gone?’ Hannah went over to him and eased herself gently on top of the desk beside him.
‘There’s someone else… . I’ve known about him for a while, at least she’s been honest with me. She did try, but she said she couldn’t take anymore of our life. It’s all my fault Hannah - not hers. Don’t blame her will you. I’ve never been much of a husband, chasing cattle and sheep around, and putting my job before her.’ But before Barry could continue Hannah spoke up. ‘Please don’t Barry… . Don’t tell me… . This is your private life.’
‘I’m sorry, but if I don’t tell someone, I’ll go crazy!’
‘What can be done then?’ Hannah reluctantly continued.
‘Nothing - absolutely nothing. What could have been done has been tried and has failed. She won’t come back now and we’ll be divorced.’
Hannah was silent, her mind racing as to what else to say; if there was any comfort she could bring. Now the end to her stay in Lakeland had taken an even unhappier turn. She fidgeted, rubbed her face, flicked her hair from her eyes and, with her hands deep in the pocket of her sheepskin jacket, sat with her shoulders hunched in defeat.
She noticed papers scattered about his desk and Barry started to shuffle them around. She saw some press cuttings about the death of George Keldas. She also saw a photograph, much like the one she’d seen and was mesmerised by, on the parlour wall at Keld Head. But this time was brave enough to peer at it as she picked it up. She looked deeply into the dark piercing eyes of the man she’d become to fear. ‘He was a handsome man, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes… . Yes, I suppose he was. When he was younger, he could have taken his pick of the girls around here. It wasn’t a surprise when he married Kathy - she was beautiful.’
‘I bet you weren’t too bad yourself.’ Hannah looked compassionately at his dark and greying hair, his warm face, and remembered the earlier photographs she’d seen of him.
‘Aye … but you can’t turn back the clock.’ He looked at the young woman sat beside him, her brown eyes tinged with sadness, her auburn hair falling on her face. Her little body was so compact and tidy that he envied her youth.
She picked up the cuttings and carefully placed them in his file and Barry put it back up on the shelf.
‘Will this mean I have to leave earlier?’ she said.
He was taken aback by her question and his dark blue eyes glared. ‘Leave earlier. I’m sorry, Hannah; I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Well, people will talk, won’t they? If they know Eleanor’s gone, and we’re here alone - living under the same roof so to speak.’
‘Then let them talk. Goodness knows it’s going to be hard enough after you go as it is. Besides, I could do with you to stay and sort things out until I can get some more help. I’m sorry, does that sound presumptuous. I guess I’m expecting a lot of you.’
She smiled at him, ‘I’d love to stay … I don’t mind what people say. Who cares? Fame at last!’
Hannah looked down at his diary. ‘Shouldn’t you be in Langdale by now?’
‘Oh, it’s just a bunch of sheep. I think they can wait a bit longer - they’re not going anywhere.’
She jumped off the desk to leave. ‘What are you going to do then?’
‘Mope around a bit, I suppose… . Feel sorry for myself.’
‘I was going to get changed and go for a walk. It’s a lovely day. Do you fancy coming with me? The air will do you good.’
‘Me… . Walk! Hannah, I haven’t walked much further than the length of a field these last few years.’
‘Then it will do you good, won’t it. You can take me to Grasmere and show me Dora’s field. I want to see it before all the daffodils finish. It’s not too far to walk is it?’
‘No, but it’s going to rain.’
‘No it’s not.’
*
Like two thieves, David and Tony left Keld Head early that morning. David had glanced up the lane and wanted to laugh when he thought of Alan milking the cattle
and the mess he’d be in. He was glad of his freedom and despite the early hour, it felt good to gratify his own needs for a change. He knew he couldn’t continue like this, once he’d talked to Joanne, surely then he would know what to do with his future. He would have to work somewhere; he would have to live somewhere. He was fast running out of money and had spent more on Tony’s recovery than he’d intended, and now the train fares up to Aberdeen would be costly.
As they sat on the train David felt apprehensive. He became tired, and as he looked across at Tony, he saw he was asleep. David was glad he was sleeping, as Tony had spent the first hour on the journey coughing and no doubt irritating the other passengers.
David didn’t particularly want to sleep; he doubted if he could anyway. Neither could he risk missing any of their connections, so the long waking hours on the train gave him time to plan his strategy with Joanne. He wanted to be alert and, most of all, to be calm. He mustn’t alarm her. He guessed if she were feeling as bad as he was at being close to death, then she would be in a poor mental state. He didn’t know if he would be welcome and he hoped that Tony’s aunt would be there. David began to have doubts if he was doing the right thing. His tiredness was damaging his thinking and nothing appeared in perspective. If only he’d known the truth before - if only she had told the truth.
He looked at Tony sprawled out on the opposite seat and wished they’d taken more care over their appearance. They were both clean-shaven but were accustomed to wearing nothing other than faded jeans and tshirts. Tony had changed his clothes and offered some clean ones to David, but David’s sturdy body, despite losing weight living rough in London, couldn’t fit into them. So, although his skin was clean, his clothes remained soiled and dirty and his hair, unkempt.
*
Hannah had to pull Barry up the steep hill to Rydal Hall by the hand. She laughed as he gasped his way to the top. Barry was relieved to be at the summit and leant on the wall and rested, but Hannah bustled him on and led him through a small wooden gate onto a lane.
She looked across to Rydal Water below as its small waves tossed about on this blustery afternoon. ‘It’s strange to think that Dorothy and William Wordsworth walked on these paths and we’re doing the same. They saw the same rivers, the same mountains and the same views as us. I wonder how happy they were, Barry.’
‘They were probably just like us, getting sick and old; trying to earn a decent living.’
‘Oh, come on, gloomy… . Sit down a bit.’
They sat on a stone slab to take in the view.
‘I’ve never been here before, it’s beautiful. Are these Wordsworth’s daffodils?’ Hannah was looking at the drifts of yellow and gold flowers rising up through the parkland.
‘Well, I think the daffodils that inspired Wordsworth were actually at Ullswater. This field was just named after his daughter.’
‘It’s incredible to think that people come from all over the world to see this.’
‘Yes, it certainly brings the crowds to Grasmere.’
‘Wouldn’t it be funny, if something we did could attract the crowds like this?’
‘Oh, I don’t think I’m clever enough for that, and I’m certainly not one for poetry.’ Barry leant back on the seat and enjoyed the spring sunshine touching his face.
‘What’s the difference between a narcissus and a daffodil, do you know, Barry?’ It was a genuine question.
‘One loves himself and the other doesn’t!’ Barry laughed at his own joke, and Hannah immediately thought of David.
*
To David, Aberdeen felt like the coldest place on earth. The wind cut across the North Sea and hit their faces.
They took a taxi to a small housing estate; David was still apprehensive and the thoughts he’d hoped to gather on the journey had completely fled. He was glad Tony had come; he would never have found this place without him.
They knocked on the door of the small council house and waited. David was pleased it was Tony’s aunt, Marian McKenzie, who opened the door. She pulled Tony in the house hugging him and kissing him. David was embarrassed and cautiously stepped in behind them and closed the door.
‘Look at you. Just look at you.’ She tugged at Tony’s hair. ‘It’s good to see you’re still alive, young man … and David too. Where have you been? You look the worse for wear!’
She led them to a small room and insisted that they sat down while she made them some tea and prepared a meal. There was no sign of Joanne.
David looked around the room and immediately felt enclosed. The pattern of the brown, flocked wallpaper and gaily-coloured Axminster carpet confused him. There was a clutter of ornaments and brasses that made the room look like a Grotto. As he sat, he felt he was in a kind of waiting room, expecting to see the dentist.
‘This takes me back years.’ Tony wandered around looking at photographs and paintings hanging on the walls. Some were of him as a child; some were of Joanne, and some of his father and his estranged mother.
Marian McKenzie went to the kitchen to prepare some tea and to peel some vegetables to make the boys a meal. She pulled the door behind her, leant back on it, and sighed, ‘Now what!’
She was glad Joanne was out shopping, and hoped that she’d stay away long enough so she could gather her thoughts, and see how to handle the situation. The two young men sat in her parlour would have been most welcome at one time and Marian was certainly relieved to know they were safe. She wanted to call Tony’s father and David’s mother straight away, but guessed that wouldn’t be wise, not until she had them in her confidence. Both men looked ill; she’d seen Tony in the hospital, but had expected by now that he would be well, but he was still coughing. David looked much thinner too; more so than she’d remembered him. His dark skin was now pale and insipid looking.
She took a tea-tray into the room and sat pensively with the two young men.
‘How’s Jo, then Aunty?’ Tony started.
‘She’s okay considering… . She’s not the same girl though - all the fun’s gone out of her. But then I suppose that goes the same for you, Davey… . I’m sorry about your father, honey.’ She spoke with a soft Aberdonian accent.
David acknowledged her kindness.
‘Are you going to stay a day or two?’ She quizzed them.
‘No Aunty… . Just the night, if that’s alright with you.’
‘Yes … yes of course, but one of you will have to sleep on the sofa. I’ve no more room upstairs.’
A night in this claustrophobic room didn’t appeal to David one bit, but neither did spending a night upstairs in a bedroom close to Joanne. ‘That’ll be me, then. I’ll take the settee. I’m kinda getting used to them now.’
Marian paused before she spoke again: ‘Joanne won’t come back with you, if that’s what you want.’ She looked at David as she poured the tea.
‘No … no Aunty. We haven’t come to take her back… . We just want to see if she’s okay, that’s all.’ Tony said.
Marian was still suspicious of their intentions. She handed them a tin of chocolate biscuits and returned to the kitchen.
David went and sat in the corner by the window to get some light. He picked up a newspaper and flicked through it, reading only the headlines. Tony leant back in the chair and tried to get back to sleep. They were startled when they heard the doorbell ring and a woman’s voice. It was Joanne’s.
David jumped up as his body responded to the adrenaline.
Joanne came into the room and threw her shopping bags down on the sofa, delighted to see her brother, then gasped as she realised they weren’t alone. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Hush, Jo … sit down.’ Tony whispered.
Joanne was shocked as she glanced across at David and attempted to leave but Tony quietly pushed the door closed.
‘Leave her, Tony… . Don’t frighten her.’
‘Don’t worry, David, I’m not frightened of you.’ she gasped. But Joanne was already lying; she was afraid and felt cornered.
‘Please Jo …’ David said, ‘If you want me to leave, then I’ll go, but please talk to Tony… . Please be honest with us, we have something to ask.’
Joanne’s countenance hardened and she bit her lip.
David had the courage to look into her face again, and how much she’d changed. Gone was the lovely young woman that had bewitched him only a few weeks earlier and had tempted him into a final decision of marriage. Her skin was pale and dappled with acne. Her eyes were dull with dark circles beneath them. But it was her hair that had changed the most; it had been cut and was so short that it didn’t suit her; in fact, she appeared common and hard, unapproachable and unlovable. And the black leather jacket and short skirt she wore only highlighted her brash appearance.
Joanne’s manner with David was as harsh as when he left her at the bungalow but now, with some of her sins to be exposed, she could only look at David with hatred, because he was the one who’d uncovered them. So every blemish on his body, his personality and his slovenly appearance became abhorrent, to compensate for her own flaws. When he tried to speak to her, there were feelings of revulsion for him.
But her look of disgust helped David and gave him courage, as he saw it as a key to freedom; in no way could he propose to this angry young woman, even if he were given reason to do so.
Joanne sat down on a dining chair and folded her arms in defiance. The two men remained standing.
Everything to David appeared to be surreal. This quaint room in Aberdeen with its china ornaments and Draylon covers wasn’t the right setting for what was taking place. He hoped that Marian McKenzie wouldn’t return; he hoped she hadn’t heard Joanne shouting.
When Tony started to question Joanne, David remained silent.
Joanne knew she was in trouble as the seriousness of her brother was rare. And so he began: ‘Have you ever had an affair with David’s dad?’
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