When he went back down the stairs, Betty was in the kitchen cutting some bread. He leant across her and gently took the knife from her hand. ‘No Aunty, no. Let me do that.’
Betty followed David around the small kitchen as she gave him instructions. He started to make some sandwiches then hunting through her fridge for some cheese, he noticed that the larder and the cupboards were well stocked. He opened a tin of tomato soup and found some crockery; all the while mindful he didn’t knock into Betty and wishing she would leave him alone and sit down.
They finally sat at the dining table together and Betty watched David eating and wondered why he’d got into such a state. He looked thin, his clothes were dirty and worn, his hair was straggly and unkempt, yet his attitude had changed and he was more like his old self.
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘I’ll look after you… . I’ll get another job and we’ll both be just fine.’ David was trying to talk and eat at the same time.
‘You’ve got it all worked out then. I’m glad I’m part of your plans.’
‘I’m sorry … . Did that sound pushy?’ He stopped eating and looked at her. ‘I shouldn’t have put on you like this – but, you see, there was nowhere else I could go.’
‘I’m honoured that you felt you could come to me… . There’s not many that would come to an old woman for help.’
David grinned and for the first time in weeks, realised how good the food tasted. He mended the fire, and stretched his legs out in front of him.
The next time Betty looked at him he was asleep.
She sat and watched him for some time, not daring to move in case she woke him. She realised she had in her midst the precious life of a young man, who had come willingly to find some kind of solace. She wanted to call Kathy immediately, but knew that would be insensitive, and would have to wait until she was alone, however long that would take.
*
The following morning David woke to the sweet smell of clover as warm air drifted in through his open window. He had slept well in the old bed that he’d often slept in as a child, and each time he turned it creaked under his body weight. He recalled his childhood, waking early and looking forward to spending the day with Uncle Fred at Spickle Howe Farm.
He heard voices downstairs and then, peering through the window, saw a woman leaving. He recognised by her shape that it was Mrs Challenor, a neighbour from the village. A cue for him to get up.
Betty’s face glowed as she saw him. He looked well rested, fresher and clean-shaven; his dark hair washed and still wet and shiny, brushed back off his face.
‘What can I do for you today?’
‘You can have some breakfast first young man. Then you can get some wood in and perhaps some fresh food. I won’t have enough to feed a hungry lad like you. I’ve just told Mrs Challenor that I won’t need her help quite as much now … I hope I did right?’ She looked at him hopefully.
David nodded; it was just what he wanted her to say.
He went into the kitchen and returned with a bowlful of cornflakes and as he sat at the table he told her of his plan for the day. ‘I’ve decided to go to Bowness this morning to get a haircut. Then I can start to look for a job and, when I get back, maybe I could do some washing, please, and some of yours if you like.’
Betty was glad of his enthusiasm. She’d slept badly that night, worrying that she was betraying Kathy in not telephoning her. She didn’t want to upset David and could see by his plan for the day that he had not changed his mind. She wondered how he could have abandoned his mother and the farm so easily.
The morning sunshine shone through the tiny windowpanes of Foxglove Cottage, exposing dust and cobwebs that had been neglected. David sat at the table eating toast and drinking coffee, looking out of the window into the garden and keen to get started. ‘I’ll get off as soon as I can, if that’s all right with you?’ and looking up at the cobwebs, ‘I can do some housework for you when I get back this afternoon.’
‘That’s good of you, Davey, but how will you get to Bowness?’
‘I’ll walk or maybe hitch a lift and then get the ferry.’
‘You could take the bus and go to Ambleside?’ she suggested.
He’d already thought of that, but that meant being closer to Keld Head. ‘I’ll be fine Aunty… . Don’t worry about me? I can find my way about here. Now then, what can I bring us back for dinner?’ And he rubbed his hands together.
Betty sat at the table with him and started to write a shopping list with such a shaky hand that it was hardly legible. She fiddled in her purse and insisted in giving him money for the fresh meat and vegetables. When David made only a slight attempt to pay, she guessed he was broke.
Betty knew that she would now have a chance to ring Kathy and, as soon as he was out of the cottage and she watched him walking down the lane, she immediately picked up the telephone.
‘I had a little stray puppy stay with me last night!’
‘Did you… .’ Kathy sounded perplexed.
‘Yes, and he’s gone out for a walk and he’s coming back for his dinner.’
‘Are you teasing me?’ and Kathy started to worry about Betty’s sanity.
‘I am love,’ she mused. ‘It’s your puppy that I’ve found.’
Kathy was confused for a moment. ‘My puppy … my puppy, what puppy? What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Not what, but who!’
‘DAVID!’
‘Yes, David.’
‘Oh, Betty… . Thank goodness for that. Marian phoned to say he’d left Scotland. I didn’t know where he would go next.’ She flopped down on a chair by the phone. ‘Is he alone?’
‘Yes, he is love.’ Betty presumed she was referring to Tony.
‘Did he say anything about … ?’ she paused and then continued, ‘did he tell you where he’s been all these weeks?’
‘No dear, and I haven’t asked him either, but you needn’t worry anymore. You see he wants to stay with me for a while. And I’m afraid to say, he won’t be coming home just yet.’
Kathy somehow expected that David wouldn’t be coming home just yet, and was comforted to hear that he was back in England, alone and safe.
‘You must have had some argument? I’m afraid he doesn’t want to speak to you, but he said I could phone you, if I wanted.’
‘We did have a huge row, I’m sorry to say. He was shocked at seeing his father again, and then with the shooting, in the heat of the moment, we both said things we’ll regret, and let’s put it this way, it’s all my fault. But tell me, has he talked to you about the farm? I must speak to him about Keld Head.’
‘I don’t think he’ll want to,’ Betty said.
‘Then will you ask him for me, please. I don’t know what else to do with the cattle. We just can’t manage without him.’
‘I’m sorry, Kathy, but he said he didn’t want to come home-he insisted. In fact he’s gone to Bowness just now to try and get a job.’
Kathy wanted to run from the house and drive to the lakeshore to meet him and tell him how much she loved him. She wanted to plead with him for forgiveness, but she knew that would be foolish. He was safe at Betty’s and he would be loved. She still had faith in him to know she would, one day, see him again.
‘I’ll have another talk with him when he gets back, but don’t worry… . Don’t call me and whatever you do, don’t come to see him or he’ll fly again, I just know it!’ Then Betty paused, ‘There is one more thing though … .’
Kathy’s heart sunk heavy within her at the tone of Betty’s voice.
‘He’s not the same lad he was. He’s thin and looks badly.. . I’m not sure if he’s altogether well. He insists that he’ll look after me, but I think it’ll be the other way around.’
‘Is he agitated again or nervous?’
‘No, and that’s worrying. He’s the opposite - he’s calm - too calm, and I haven’t seen him like this in years. He’s either changed or he’s still in shock, but I d
on’t know which.’
With mixed feelings, Kathy put the receiver down. She started to cry, and this time, uncontrollably; was it sheer relief, happiness, sadness or what, she didn’t know. She went upstairs to her bedroom, shut the door behind her and fell on the bed. It was sometime before she dared to come out. When she did, her head ached and her eyes were sore. She tried to regain her composure. The children were at home for the Easter holidays, so she quickly washed her face, brushed her hair and went back downstairs.
Tom and Sarah were sat in the parlour watching television. When Sarah saw her mother, she came to her and hugged her around the waist. ‘What’s the matter, Mummy? Why are you crying?’ Sarah didn’t want to let her go and clung on to her arm. ‘Are you crying because of Daddy?’
Kathy no longer wanted to lie, ‘I’m missing Davey, my love, that’s all.’
‘I miss him too … he’s gone away forever, like Daddy, hasn’t he?’
‘No love.’
‘Then I’ll smack him when he gets back for making you cry.’
The little girl went back to the parlour, sat down beside her brother and whispered in his ear, ‘Tom … I think Davey must be in prison like Daddy was, and that’s why Mummy’s crying.’
‘Don’t be stupid… . He’s gone because he hates Mum, he hated Dad and he hates us as well!’ and with that he picked up a small plastic toy and threw it at the television set.
*
The first stop was the barber’s shop and being unfamiliar with such places David hesitated as he walked into the small room and asked for a good haircut. The elderly barber was glad of the challenge to attack the young man’s head with his clippers as David sat and watched his dark hair fall to the floor. In the mirror he could see the true lines of his face emerge. He wondered at the man he saw and found it hard to recognise himself. His loss of weight had drawn his face out of recognition, with his short cropped hair and pale skin; his face much thinner, revealed even more his unusual eyebrows and deep set, blue eyes.
‘Well young man,’ the barber was triumphant, ‘you look a bit more presentable now.’
David fumbled in his pockets for some loose change. ‘That’s good, because I need to get a job.’
‘What line of work are you looking for?’ The barber knew who David was.
‘Doesn’t matter really… . Bar work, driving, I’ll have a go at anything.’
‘Jack of all trades, eh?’
David hesitated, ‘well sort of.’
‘Get yourself to the hotel across the road. They’re looking for a barman. Tell them I sent you and you’ll probably get the job.’ He wanted to tell David not to mention his real name because with the new haircut, he was unrecognisable as the surly young man everyone had seen in the newspapers.
*
The next few days were spent cleaning and washing. David cut the grass and weeded the garden; the semi-isolation of Foxglove Cottage suited him with no one to interfere with his life. He bought a postcard from the village Post Office and sent it to Tony, with a cryptic message as to his whereabouts. He made several trips to Bowness, shopping and doing errands for his aunt. Betty had a new lease of life with his presence; she was eating better, her house was cleaner and her mental anguish had subsided.
One evening after David had cooked a makeshift meal, they sat together at the table talking and eating, as had become their custom. ‘I spoke to your mother the other day.’
David was non-committal.
‘She’s glad you’re safe and with me … but she needs to ask you about the farm.’
David was uncharacteristically rude to her and stayed silent.
‘She wants to know if you’re going back, if not she’ll have to sell the cattle.’
This suggestion surprised him; he wanted to reply but only out of politeness. ‘She doesn’t need my advice, she can do what she likes with the farm; it’s hers not mine.’
‘So you do know about your father’s will?’
Of course David didn’t know, in fact, it hadn’t even entered his head that George Keldas’s will would have been opened in the first place. ‘I’m sorry … I don’t get what you mean.’ And the familiar quizzical look returned to his face.
‘David… . You do know there’s a problem with your father’s will. You know he’s not left you anything, don’t you?’
The words hit him like a sharp sword through his heart. This was the last cutting of any ties: the last insult. No son - no farm - no choice!
At one time, the anger would have made him run, but now he only froze with the realisation of what he’d just been told. He was slow to reply. ‘Then I’ve made the right decision… . I’ll start work at the hotel on Saturday and earn us a bit of money.’
Betty could see as he pushed his plate of food away, the sadness in his face. He was deeply hurt. He had clearly not known about the contents of the will. The poor lad, what more could be done for him she wondered? She took hold of his hand. ‘You will still stay with me won’t you? You won’t go away again and leave me?’
David took her tiny, thin hands in his. ‘I’ll have to stay now, won’t I. I think the world of you and I love this cottage - we’ll get on just fine, you and me… . I chose to come here last week, and although you’re no flesh and blood of mine,’ (she presumed he meant because she was only his aunt through marriage). ‘I’ve come to realise that blood isn’t thicker than water, as they say. I’ve been shown more love by strangers and friends recently than by my own family.’
*
The following day was Saturday and David was due to start his new job that evening. He’d bought a pair of black trousers, some brogue shoes and two white shirts. He’d nearly spent all his reserves of money and a trip to the bank confirmed that. He would have to take on as much work as he could get, firstly to pay some maintenance to his aunt, as he couldn’t continue to presume on her kindness, and then, for his own self respect.
When he got up that morning Betty was, as usual, up and dressed and hobbling around the kitchen with her two sticks. The back door was wide open and fresh, clean air was bursting in. The birds had been fed and the cat was still hovering for food. As he always did, David came to her, kissed her on the cheek and then went to the cupboard to find a bowl and fill it with cornflakes.
‘Come here, Davey … there’s something I want to show you.’
He could see she was excited as she pulled from her apron pocket a bunch of keys.
‘Come with me … come with me,’ she beckoned him.
He followed her down the garden path, passed the flowerbeds and neatly cut lawn. Concealed in a yard at the back of the cottage was a dilapidated wooden garage, painted with the remnants of flaky, yellow and green paint, and covered in ivy.
‘Open the door, Davey.’
She gave him the keys and he unlocked the fragile door.
‘Now pull it open … be careful … be careful, it may be rotten.’
David could see it was rotten and, as he slid the door ajar, she pushed passed him and tried to open it further.
‘Let’s get some light in here.’
David was wondering, yet smiling at her enthusiasm, and held her fragile arm to steady her.
The garage was full of old junk: paint tins, tools and bits of machinery, metal and wood, but taking up most of the space was a large object in the middle.
‘Now pull the cover off?’ she asked.
David tugged at the tarpaulin. Dust and cobwebs drifted over him, so he put his hand to his nose to stop himself from sneezing.
‘She’s yours now, do you want her?’
David saw his Uncle Fred’s Volvo Amazon. He hadn’t seen the old maroon coloured car in months. He slid his fingers across the rounded bonnet as he admired the coachwork and the large headlamps of the long forgotten car.
‘See if you can start her, Davey, please,’ and handed him the keys.
‘She won’t start now!’ he laughed. ‘Has she been stood in here since Uncle Fred died?’
&
nbsp; He unlocked the car doors and jumped inside onto the cold leather seats. He held firmly onto the steering wheel and grinned. Then he slid outside again and found the catch to release the bonnet. He looked at her and rubbed his hand on his mouth, ‘you mean I can have this?’
‘Well, I’ve been saving her for you… . Freddie always said that if anything happened to him, that you should have her. You do want her don’t you?’
He immediately fiddled under the bonnet. ‘Of course I want her, she’ll do me fine.’
‘Can you get her going then?’
‘I hope so, but not today. She’ll maybe need a new battery, an oil change and spark plugs… . The brakes might be seized up,’ then he hesitated, stopped and closed the bonnet. ‘I can mend her … but not just yet, anyway.’
‘You will if I pay for it! If you can do the work, I’ll tax her and test her and pay the insurance. I can’t have you walking and hitchhiking all the way to that ferry every day.’
David left the garage, and tightly held the keys in his hand and restrained himself from throwing them up in the air.
*
David spent the whole of the next week under the bonnet of the old car and, as he neglected his household duties, Betty wondered if it had been a good idea to give it to him straight away. She missed his company, as he spent most of his time in the garage, then the rest at the hotel. But Betty liked the idea of having a man around the house again, despite him littering her kitchen table with carburettors, air-filters and oily rags as he patiently cleaned them. He so much reminded her of Fred.
David absorbed himself in his new job too. He either walked or hitched a lift to the ferry each afternoon and then caught a taxi home. Most evenings, Betty was still alone. Sometimes, it was the early hours of the morning when she heard him come in and, if he did a split shift, he would stay in Bowness all day.
One morning Betty was sitting at the kitchen table looking out into the garden, David had stayed in bed most of the morning. He’d worked late the night before. He’d slept well but he needed to, as he was working hard, maybe too hard Betty thought. He didn’t go anywhere else other than the hotel, then the garage or the cottage, or walking the fells. And, on the few evenings he was home, he sat quietly and watched the television. Despite all its misgivings, the idea of giving him the car had been a blessing, as it kept him occupied, but Betty wondered how long he could keep up this isolation. Living with an old woman wasn’t ideal. But this morning David had spent a couple of hours in the garage and as she sat watching from the kitchen window, she heard him try to start the car engine again. It turned over as it usually did, but didn’t start, then this time - whoosh! Blue smoke drifted from the garage as the engine spluttered in full flow.
Northern Spirit Page 27