The frankness of his question shocked her; she flushed with colour and held her head low, no longer able to hide behind her hair. ‘Man alive … ! You’re blunt aren’t you,’ she spat.
‘I don’t care, Jo. I want some honest answers for both your sakes.’
‘Since when has anyone been honest with me?’ She lifted her head and looked at David. Yet Joanne knew it was futile to argue with her brother, she’d tried and failed so many times; yes, she was quick with words, but she was no match for him.
‘Joanne, this isn’t a game… . This is real life. We just want the truth. You live in some kind of fairytale world. You can’t go on fooling around with people’s lives.’
‘Oh no… . Not like he can!’
David lowered his head.
‘You nearly killed us both up on those fells, running away like a child that can’t get its own way. David’s father is dead, and some of the last words he spoke were about you. So answer me, Jo … did you have an affair with him?’
The tension was now touching David’s soul, his legs became weak and he had an uncontrollable desire to sit down. He fell back with such a crash that the chair was pushed into the wall, knocking a table.
Joanne glared at him. She wondered if he’d fainted, but anger prevented her from helping him.
David composed himself and softly spoke, ‘Joanne … please… . We’ve come all this way to talk to you. Tony’s tired and he’s still unwell. I can’t bear this arguing anymore. I’ve had enough. I’m sorry about all that happened, much of it is my fault. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I never intended to. I’m sorry you had to be there when my Dad came back. I only hope my actions saved you from the gun,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve been lied to and cheated on so much, and now I just want to know the truth about the two of you. Just tell us and we’ll walk away. You obviously despise me now and maybe I can understand that, but I must get on with my life. You’re young enough to decide for yourself what to do, but please tell me, Jo, please.’
David’s plea touched her heart, but she still felt his reproof. ‘You always treat me like I’m a kid - both of you do. But I’m not stupid, I know exactly what I’m doing… .’ she stuttered. ‘Oh my! Your dad said some incredible things, David, didn’t he? Perhaps they’re true, I don’t know. One thing, for sure is. Yes, I did have an affair with him, but I’m not sorry - I won’t say I’m sorry!’ And she walked from the room, defiant. She wanted to hurt him, again.
To have his fears confirmed, David had to stand. He guessed Joanne would now be crying but there was no way he could bring himself to go and console her.
‘Well that’s it then, Dave… . That’s it. I could kill her!’
David knew his costly trip to Aberdeen had revealed the dark secret he hadn’t allowed himself to believe. He saw the anger in Tony’s eyes but there was no anger with him, he only felt sick and appalled that the young woman he’d considered marrying held this incredible secret, and he’d once thought her so innocent.
‘I don’t know whether to hope she’s lying or not,’ he softly spoke.
‘She’s not lying, Dave. I know this is true… . Man, you’ve had a lucky escape. But I wish it hadn’t happened this way.’
*
Quietly and deliberately, Kathy Keldas put the telephone receiver down, rubbed her hair away from her forehead and dampened eyes.
She was relieved that Marian McKenzie had called, but the news that her son was in Aberdeen made her shudder; to think he may have proposed a marriage of consolation to Joanne. There was nothing more she could do. She had brooded around the house for three weeks, not mourning the loss of her husband, as many suspected, but mourning the loss of her son.
The fear that one day David would discover the truth about his background had dogged her for twenty-three years. The early years of her marriage had been the easiest to cope with. George had shown her so much love and passion. He had idolised David, treating him, as he had promised, like a real father would. But as soon as the other children came along, things changed. David was pushed into the background, and it was only George’s fear of losing Kathy, if he spoke out about David, that kept him silent. Kathy had threatened George that if he ever revealed the truth to David, or to anyone else, she would leave him, and in many of his drunken moments she had feared he would. David, in ignorance, had accepted the rejection of his father, because of the love that was lavished on him by his mother. Kathy loved all her children, but David was special and she had to give him more.
She was devastated when David had shown so much loathing towards her, when she had only ever loved him and done everything for his best interests.
George’s death had ended her marriage sooner than she’d anticipated. His will stated, and much as she suspected, that he’d left the farm and the land to Linzi, Tom and Sarah, leaving David nothing. George had given Kathy the right to live at Keld Head and reap its rewards, as long as she stayed single. There was one consolation, and that was Linzi had returned home for good. The death of her father she had found hard to bear. Her secret visits to the prison had fed her love for him, but now there were only the fields and the buildings to remind her of him.
Linzi was in complete ignorance as to why David had left, and was incensed that he hadn’t come back for the funeral. She remembered how much he had chastised her for not attending Uncle Fred’s funeral. She thought him a hypocrite. But after her mother told her of the Will, she thought she understood and guessed that David must have known all along about being dis-inherited. Yet she still couldn’t understand why her father would have done that to David. But her anger for David soon turned to pity, as she wondered if he was still alive. He’d been so close to death at the hands of her father, he must surely be emotionally scarred. She couldn’t bear to think of him in any kind of distress.
Linzi had begged Kathy to help her find him, and couldn’t understand her mother’s complacency. But Kathy had said she was overreacting and that David would come home in his own good time. But Linzi wanted to fight for David’s rights to Keld Head and thought her mother’s actions were unfeeling and unfair.
Then there was relief when Alan had spotted the lights on at the Milton’s bungalow and the news that David had been in London with Tony. Kathy was deeply hurt when she heard of Alan’s row with him. She’d stayed in all the following morning and sent Alan away on some errands in a hope that she might talk to David alone. She needed to explain to him why she’d lied and done things the way she had. Only they must know their secret. She waited and waited but he didn’t call. Kathy couldn’t bear the suspense any longer, so had walked down to the bungalow but found it empty. And to hear the news now that David was in Aberdeen, not seeking her or any further explanations, and had gone recklessly chasing after a girl he would be a fool to marry, devastated her.
Alan had made it clear that he couldn’t continue to hold down two jobs and the workload had put a strain on their relationship. He had presumed he could step into Kathy’s heart, but her coldness toward him had become intolerable. He realised that he could never compete for her affections, as she secretly pined for David. Alan had made the mistake of openly criticising David for his behaviour, but Kathy knew there was little badness in her son. Alan had promised and delivered as much as he could do, but said if David didn’t return she should consider selling the cattle, as they were spending excessive amounts of money hiring relief workers.
*
David slept remarkably well on Aunt Marian’s sofa. The heat from the coal fire had warmed him most of the night. He found the cosy little room to be quiet and peaceful, and he no longer felt intimidated by it. He longed for the time when he could sleep in a real bed again. The small bedroom at Keld Head, he didn’t desire. The uncomfortable feelings from yesterday had now gone and he felt like the man he was in London: free and content. The only things he had to consider were the decisions for his own well being and future; not those of anyone else, not even at the mercy of some girl who’d abused his sense of justice
and kindness. One day David would look back and realise he’d been a fool. He did believe Joanne had sincerely loved him; he was in no doubt of that. But her betrayal at the hands of her former lover had revealed a darker side to Joanne, just as the photographs and the writings in her diary had betrayed her. There was no longer any need to sacrifice his future for the one small mistake on his part, for the whole of her sordid past. David felt her sin was greater than his. Tony was right – he’d had a lucky escape, and David should have listened to him sooner. He had suffered at the hands of two women now and wondered if he could ever trust another.
*
The following morning Marian McKenzie crept into the sitting room to re-light the fire, she looked at the young man sleeping on her sofa but, to a middle-aged woman, he appeared as a boy. She didn’t pull back the curtains, she would let him rest. He wouldn’t be concerned about her moving about the room. And as she watched David sleeping, she recalled the two grubby little boys playing together, one with bright red hair, one dark, with swarthy skin. Marian had hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble over Joanne. She’d heard Joanne yell from the confines of the kitchen but didn’t want to interfere. She knew that Joanne had got aspirations over him; but David, who’d witnessed such trauma in his life, could never give Joanne the stable future she needed, and she was as fiery as her red hair suggested.
Joanne used to talk of nothing but David, telling Marian how one day they hoped to marry. She’d said they’d had an agreement since they were children. But she was still too young, only eighteen.
Marian was also concerned that Joanne had spoken too freely of him. Some of the things had shocked her; she’d always considered David to be an honourable young man. When Joanne had returned with the bruising on her arms, Marian worried all the more of her spending a future with David, and tried to talk Joanne out of this infatuation she had. She did wonder if all she’d said was true and if David had really asked her to marry him. Was their relationship as sound as she said it was, or was she just fantasising, as she’d done over many other things in the past.
When Joanne returned after the second shooting at Keld Head and George Keldas’s death, she’d changed. Joanne was quiet and, when she did speak of David, she never said anything good about him. Marian had guessed that there had been some kind of rift between them, and when David had turned up with Tony, she’d thought he’d come to take her back. Tony’s definite plan to leave the following morning had reassured her, and she was pleased they wouldn’t stay for the sake of David’s poor mother.
*
They left without saying goodbye to Joanne. She hadn’t risen that morning and, unlike David, had slept badly. Marian had fed them well by giving them a good breakfast. Tony decided to take David to the docklands to see some of the ships in port and as draughty as Aberdeen was, they leant together on the sea wall looking out across the cold North Sea.
Then Tony made a decision: ‘I’m not coming back with you, Dave. I’m going to stay here a while. It’s for the best. I’m still not well enough to look after myself, and I feel some kind of responsibility towards Jo. She’s my sister no matter what she’s done. It’s not fair to leave Aunt Marian to pick up the pieces and, besides, you need to sort yourself out. You won’t want an invalid like me hanging around your neck. I quite like the look of this place; I may get some work here.’
David knew he was right. He did need to sort himself out. He hadn’t even considered where he was going or where he would stay.
‘So what will you do, Dave?’
‘Do you know, I haven’t got a clue!’
‘I’ll give you the key to the bungalow if you like? ‘
‘No … no thanks. I can’t stay up at Keld Head; not yet anyway. I’ll just catch the train back and, maybe, by the time I reach Cumbria I’ll have made a decision.’
*
It was difficult for David to leave Tony at the station. Only a few weeks earlier they had parted on bitter terms, with no loyal feelings between them. Both were bent on their own decisions. They embraced not knowing when they would meet up again.
David sat on the train and the loneliness hit him immediately. He was a man with no identity. The Keldas name that brought so many misgivings was no longer his, and the freedom he’d desired wasn’t making him feel as free as he expected.
17
KICK START
David jumped from the train at Windermere station a stronger man. He threw his bag over his shoulder and walked. He didn’t feel the need to look over his shoulder, because it didn’t matter anymore. He took a bus to Bowness and then headed for the ferry. He knew exactly where he was going.
Bowness was packed with visitors, the early evening sunshine reflected off the lake and onto his face, but he didn’t mind. This sunlight hadn’t been wasted, as much of it had in London, looking at four grubby walls or sitting on cold steps, seeing nothing but squalor around him. And as the spring had trembled nervously to win the battle over winter, David equally trembled as he realised he’d succeeded in facing his fears.
He sat on the wall, waited for the ferry and watched the little boats moored in the harbour, their paintwork of blue, red and white glistening in the spring sunshine as they gently rocked in the calm waters, their rigging and sails, tap - tapping against the masts. Some children were laughing as they fed the ducks and swans that had gathered.
The ferry was heading towards him from across Windermere, the noise from its engine getting louder as it drew closer.
David boarded the ferry and as the old diesel engine chugged on its way, he leant on the rails at the side and looked into the soothing waters below; much more welcoming than the cold North Sea up in Aberdeen. He thought about Tony and wondered what he would be doing, and smiled as he guessed he would be sleeping again.
They were soon across the lake and David jumped off and headed for the lakeshore, carrying on his back the few possessions he had left in the world. He lingered as he looked through the ruins of the old castle of Nab House, its turrets standing out eerily in the broken sunshine. As he climbed the steep hill, he pulled off his coat; something he hadn’t been able to do in weeks, as the warmth of the sun touched the back of his neck.
Uncertain of the correct route, David followed the way-markers to Sawrey and on to Hawkshead, then walked through some fir tree plantations to an open fell with an exposed rocky plateau. He sat down again, in no hurry, and he wanted to drink in the view, as the whole of Windermere stretched out before him. The small boats were now dwarfed like paper toys, and David spotted the ferry once again chugging across the lake.
On the summit of Claife Heights, the small tarns were a good guide to his whereabouts. Then the route took him steadily downhill and continuing westward, he would soon have the little town of Hawkshead in his sights. David started to run as the path continued to descend, and he knew he would soon hit the lane that would lead him to Foxglove Cottage.
David quietly unlatched the door and entered.
Betty Keldas was sleeping in a chair in front of the fire; her glasses had fallen on her chest. A tabby cat sitting on her lap lifted one eye as it heard the intruder.
David carefully laid his bag on the floor and went across to Betty and, as he crouched low beside her chair, he reached over and touched her hand, then gently kissed her forehead.
The old lady opened her eyes and the broad smile that came on her face, told David he was welcome.
She stroked his stubbled cheek with her cold hands. ‘Oh Davey … Davey… . Thank goodness you’re safe!’ She pulled her glasses back onto her nose and looked carefully into his face. ‘You’re ill. Let me see to you.’
David laughed, ‘No, Aunty, I’m not ill. I’m just tired and maybe I haven’t been eating as well as I should, that’s all.’
‘But we’ve all been worried about you.’
‘I’m sure you have and I’m sorry. I never would have wanted you to have worried,’ he stressed.
David raised himself and stood pensive before h
er.
‘Let me fix you some food then,’ and she held out her hand to him. ‘Please help me up.’
David was alarmed to see the deterioration in his aunt and wondered if this was a good idea after all. ‘No, Aunty… . Let me do it. I don’t want to be a burden on you.’
‘You, a burden… . Never.’
The two kept eye contact for sometime as Betty tried to take in the fact that her nephew, who’d been missing for nearly four weeks, was actually standing in front of her. She took his hand again and playfully shook it as she tried to stand.
‘I won’t ask where you’ve been or why you left; that’s your business. You must have had good reason - well that’s what I told your mother. But please tell me, have you been home? Have you seen her?’
David didn’t want to answer the question but went into the kitchen and filled the kettle, then returned and sat on the chair arm beside her. ‘Do you think I could stay a bit?’
‘Davey… . You can stay as long as you like. But, tell me please, does your mother know you’re here?’ she repeated.
He held his head low, ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her. She doesn’t know where I am, and I can’t talk to her; not yet any way. I don’t want to go back. You tell her I’m here, if you like.’
Betty was disturbed. He didn’t appear distressed; he was calm, yet definite. ‘Then you must make yourself at home. Take your things upstairs. Have the back bedroom. You can have the whole of the top floor to yourself as I can’t climb the stairs these days. I sleep down here now. Get a wash and we’ll have some tea together. It’ll be a treat to have a man around the house again.’
David took his bag upstairs to a bedroom at the back of the cottage. He looked at the old mahogany bed in the corner covered in gaily coloured, hand knitted patchwork squares, he couldn’t resist falling on the bed and it creaked under his weight. He threw his arms back in contentment. Then he jumped up again and peered through the panes of glass in the small window; the view was tremendous. He saw clearly the fells he had just walked.
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