Linzi came across to Kathy and huddled close to her, dropping her head against her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry … I just don’t understand. I miss Dad, and I guess I miss our Davey as much as you do. I just want things to be the same again and I can’t bear to see him hurt.’
‘He isn’t hurting anymore, love. He’ll be fine now. He’s a strong lad. I can already see a difference in him. He’s had a lot to put up with, we all have, but it’s over for him now - it’s over for us all.’
*
David didn’t want to leave the village straight away; he had another errand to do. He hadn’t made a success of this visit, but he’d done what he’d intended, in getting his clothes. The wounds had also been repaired, but they would take a long time to heal, if ever.
His hands were trembling on the steering wheel as he drove carefully through the village street and looked for a place to park. Taking out the bunch of flowers and, unnoticed by anyone, he locked the car; just another face, yet more a part of this little town than most. He walked up the lane to the small churchyard and, shutting the gate, left the majority of the tourists behind; those who were looking for gravestones of a grander nature.
It wasn’t difficult to find his objective, as near the wall was a grave with a newly erected headstone, some wilting flowers lay neglected on the turf. David stopped and read:
In Memory of George Samuel Keldas. 1925-1974.
Forty-nine years old.
Loving father and husband
He glared at the inscription for a few moments and repeated the words to himself: ‘Loving father… . Loving husband.’ She was still telling lies, he thought.
David had had a repetitive vision of a man lying in a pool of blood and he needed to put this vision to rest. The only way he could do this was to be certain that George Keldas was actually dead and could no longer harm him, and today he was given the evidence he needed.
David stared at the grave for some time, assuming the flowers had been left recently by his sister. He wasn’t a man for praying, yet he felt if there were a God, he wouldn’t be too pleased with his actions. David couldn’t ask for forgiveness for himself, because neither could he give it and forgive this wretched man. But standing there alone, he felt some kind of peace, and hoped one day he could be completely exonerated for his actions.
He backed away almost respectfully, and then walked across to a more familiar headstone. It too was sparsely decorated with a simple inscription and a small empty vase lay on the gravel.
In David’s hand was the bunch of pink carnations that Kathy had thought were for her. He carefully unwrapped the cellophane wrapper, took the vase and filled it with water from a nearby tap and then, in a meaningful way, tried to arrange the flowers as neatly as he could.
He pondered for a while and spoke softly, ‘These are from Betty, with love.’ And unobserved, he left Fred Keldas’s graveside.
David returned to Hawkshead in sombre mood. Betty had an anxious wait for him; he’d told her only that morning of his intention to return to Keld Head to get his belongings, in a hope that she wouldn’t warn his mother. He’d begged her not to do so. It wasn’t so much as he wanted to surprise his mother, it was more that he doubted his own self-belief, and thought that he might back down at the last minute. He’d also asked her if he could stay at Foxglove Cottage permanently. He could no longer presume on her kindness and hoped she would agree. But of course it was all right, for Betty knew well if he left her now, she would miss him dreadfully. She’d already made up her mind, if he left, she would go too, and move to a retirement home to end her days.
She’d doubted she would live much longer and thought him leaving might even quicken things. She wasn’t afraid of death, she’d made her peace with God a long time ago, but now she just wished she could live long enough to see David find some kind of happiness.
Betty didn’t intend to tell David this. She didn’t want to influence him and make him stay against his will. He had become such a great part of her life, despite having to tolerate loud music playing on the radio and the football matches he constantly watched, and his comings and goings from the hotel late at night.
When David eventually returned with his belongings, he was quiet and pensive, and Betty guessed that things hadn’t gone well. She remained quiet as she watched him unpack his things and take them upstairs. When he finally came to sit down, she gave him something.
‘This postcard came for you this morning.’ And she held up a small colour print of Edinburgh.
He carefully looked at the handwriting and, just as he hoped, it was from Tony. He read it slowly and it simply stated that he was working in Edinburgh and had a job playing sessions music. This brought a wry smile to David’s face as he wondered what sort of work it really was, and what pitiful lodgings he would be sharing this time.
Betty also told him of a phone call she’d had that morning. It was from a young woman who sounded much like the girl who had visited yesterday - in that she had some kind of an accent.
Betty complained about her hearing and apologised to David for not getting a proper message. She said the girl rudely hung up when she told her he wasn’t at home.
David went to his bedroom, perplexed, and put away his things, hanging some of his clothes in the old wardrobe; Betty and Fred’s things were shoved to one side. Next, he set up his stereo system, twisting and unravelling the cables and speaker wires, hoping it still worked. He wished his morning had gone better, and it hadn’t left him feeling in the mood he had wanted, so he tried to think about the evening he hoped to spend with Barry and the possibility of seeing Hannah again.
He ran the bath and lay in the soft soapy water and tried to relax; the warmth eased his aching back. Then scrubbing himself meticulously clean, as if he could wash away the past as David wanted to leave a good impression; he’d left too many bad ones with Barry and Hannah. Lying back, he sunk his head under the soapsuds and washed his hair, flicking water about him. As he lay soaking, he wondered why Hannah had telephoned, thinking she’d called to cancel their evening. Betty had obviously misheard much, as he couldn’t imagine Hannah being so rude as to hang up. He worried if Hannah had presumed too much, and that Barry might not want him there. But despite all his quanderings, afraid of a negative response, David wouldn’t telephone back; he would go to the surgery in Windermere, no matter what.
Images of Hannah had continually come flooding back to him, and these he hadn’t resisted. During the dark days in London he’d thought of her, and on the lonely fells in Hawkshead. He recalled his evening with her on the night of Joanne’s wild trek in the snow and wished he’d pursued Hannah then. He remembered being collected from the hospital and her kindness to him. And then the bitter rebuffal, when he’d invited her to visit Tony. When he saw her yesterday she was different; he hoped he was different. But why would Hannah, this attractive and intelligent girl, want any friendship with him anymore? He began to wonder if it was out of pure pity. Maybe Barry had told her to go easy on him, after all he had been a hair’s-breadth from death; not once, but twice. But David didn’t want anyone’s pity.
He recalled her appearance yesterday and how lovely she looked. Her brown hair was beginning to grow much longer, just touching her shoulders, and he recalled how soft it felt when he touched it; the smooth skin on her arms, tanned by the sun and, as he pictured her again standing in front of him, he tried to remember what she was wearing: a pink t-shirt and denim jeans, a silver chain around her neck.
He had felt so numb these past few weeks and whether David could believe it or not, his life was slowly rebuilding. Today he’d made some amends to his mother; she hadn’t blamed him for leaving and that vindicated his decision. Yet he was still alone, his self-imposed isolation had been of his own doing, partly brought on by a weak attempt to renew some of his promise. He couldn’t alter the fact that he’d left his mother, but he had been freed from his foolish decision to marry Joanne.
But David didn’t think that he c
ould continue this lonely existence any longer. Hannah Robson had thrown him a lifeline and he would seize it aggressively and pull himself out of this monastic life he was living.
Grabbing a towel, David raised himself out of the bath with such a surge, that the water and foam splashed all over the floor; he’d made a choice to see Barry and he was going to stick to that, no matter what. He vigorously rubbed himself dry, and was now prepared to go headlong into dressing and shaving and go to Barry’s house, even though his thoughts tried to persuade him not to.
*
David kissed Betty goodbye. She was satisfied with his appearance, as he stood before her dressed in his suede jacket and cream cotton shirt. He hoped his own clothes would mask his skinny body, but his trousers fit him badly and he had to pull the belt tight.
He had hinted to Betty that he might be late home, and David sincerely hoped that he would be. So he sped away; a man on a mission and full of hope.
It had started to rain again and the warm dry air they’d just enjoyed, had turned to a damp and mizzly atmosphere; yet the warmth continued. The meadows lining the road to the ferry were lush and green, as brown and black cattle grazed. David could almost see the grass growing before him as he glanced across. He suddenly felt a tinge of nervousness. He hadn’t seen Barry for weeks and the last time he had seen him, he’d rudely walked away.
When David arrived at the practice it was Barry, with a reassuring smile that met him at the door. Barry was pulling awkwardly at a tie around his collar, but dropped it loose to shake David’s hand.
Barry held onto David’s hand for some time. ‘It’s good to see you, Davey. Come in, please come in. How are you?’ And his usual relaxed and friendly manner did what it always did for David and immediately put his mind at ease. David followed him into the large and impressive house, to a kitchen where he’d never been before.
‘Sit down, please.’ Barry patted David on the shoulder again, ‘Boy, you look tidier… .’ and, much like Kathy had, he playfully rubbed David’s short cropped hair. ‘I’m not quite ready yet, can I get you a coffee or something?’
‘No, please, I’m fine,’ David replied and sat at the kitchen table. He looked about him as Barry left, and he could see by the general untidiness that Barry was still alone.
David wondered where Hannah was. Perhaps she wouldn’t go with them; perhaps she’d intended that all along.
When Barry returned, ready and fully dressed, his dark hair neatly brushed back off his strong forehead, he pulled up a chair and sat beside David at the table. ‘So you’re living in Hawkshead. How’s your aunt?’
‘Oh, she’s very well, considering.’
‘So what age is she now? Ninety-one - ninety-two?
‘Yes, ninety-two, nearly ninety-three… . She’s incredible. I think she’ll live ‘til she’s a hundred!’ Bewildered with the small talk, a look of confusion appeared on his face.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. We’re waiting for Hannah. She’s been messing around with a hedgehog all evening. She’s only just gone to get ready. You don’t mind if she comes with us do you?’
Of course David didn’t mind and he enthusiastically shook his head.
‘Hannah’s a soft touch really. She’d rather look after pets than lumber around with cattle and sheep. She’s been a good student for me though, and has been brilliant these last few weeks - looking after me and all. Hannah told you about Eleanor, I gather?’
‘Yes … yes, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t you worry about me. I’ll get over it, I’m sure.’ Barry paused to control his fractured voice. ‘Once we get divorced. Er, have you eaten?’
‘Yes … well no. Not much really.’
‘You look like you need a good meal inside you. I’ll treat you both.’
‘Thank you, yes … that would be good.’
When Hannah arrived, the two of them were still making small talk. David was telling Barry of the repairs he’d done to the Volvo.
‘Ah, here she is at last!’ Barry stood.
Hannah was wearing a pink jersey dress. She had her hair twisted up in a knot and looked sophisticated. David was unsure of how to greet her so he politely rose from his chair and courteously dipped his head; he really wanted to take her hand.
Barry Fitzgerald always succeeded where others failed to bring the best out of David; a side to him that Hannah had rarely seen. She now found David agreeable and could see the good in him, just as Barry had said. And as they sat eating around the table in the restaurant, Hannah started to think of all that had happened to David, as she watched him and Barry chatting. She had pitied him, as David had suspected, but that pity had turned to respect. Yes, she had misunderstood him and she envied his courage and spirit.
Barry looked across and realised that Hannah was being left out of the conversation, although she was happy to watch the two men and just listen. ‘Hannah leaves me for Cardiff soon,’ and he patted her arm affectionately.
‘Yes, I believe so.’ David was sorry it was confirmed. ‘Will you miss the Lakes, Hannah?’
‘I sure will,’ she insisted. ‘I love it here. If it wasn’t for the training, I wouldn’t go at all. I just love walking these hills. We have hills in Durham, but not like these. I’m only sorry I haven’t been able to walk the high fells. Barry insisted that I never go alone.’ Then she joked, ‘And he’s not fit enough to take me. The other day he took me to see Dora’s field and he was so out of shape, I had to pull him up the hill by the hand!’
This frank admittance by Hannah reassured David that their relationship was purely platonic and professional.
‘I’ve never been able to climb Scafell and I would have loved to.’
‘Maybe Davey will take you… . Will you?’
David was astonished at his suggestion and muttered a reply. ‘Yes … yes I’d love to. Do you have time before you leave, though?’
‘When can we go?’ She widened her brown eyes.
David’s veins surged with vibrancy; his body trembled with excitement. He had taken his chance and it had paid off. A day out with Hannah was beyond his imagination and yet he was quietly concerned. He still had a bad back from working under his car, and today the pain had begun to shoot down his leg, and his usual elegant stature was reduced to a slight stoop as he walked with a limp.
‘You enjoyed that then, Davey?’ Barry was now looking at the empty plate.
David stretched back in his chair and contentedly rubbed his hand down his stomach. ‘It beats tomato soup and sandwiches any day! That’s the extent of my cooking I’m afraid and Betty would survive on the soup if I didn’t make the sandwiches.’
*
David didn’t go straight home, but took a stroll along the shore of Windermere, alone. He didn’t care that it was still raining, as a hazy moon shone through the clouded night and lit his way. Cool droplets of rain curled down his hair and dripped onto his face. His boots crunched on the shingle on the lakeshore, as he wandered deep in thought, planning in his mind which route to take Hannah up Scafell; excited by her enthusiasm. But down in the recesses of his mind he had a heavy thought, as he knew she was leaving and he wondered if he’d left things too late; he wished it was more than rain that he could taste on his lips.
20
MAN OF CLAY.
When David awoke next morning he could barely move; his back had locked into a position that caused him to bend almost double. He struggled to get out of bed and could hardly stand straight as pain shot down the back of his leg to his knee. He cursed his own stupidity in walking out in the rain, and had assumed that at twenty-three he was indestructible.
David had become like a cat with nine lives. He’d already cashed in two of them by staring down the barrel of a shotgun. For recklessly driving his car down narrow country lanes, he could probably count another two; for being beaten up at a football match; one. And another for sleeping rough in London, where he could have caught pneumonia. He’d also experienced mild hypothermia from spending a night on
the fells looking for a desperate woman. That left only two lives intact; he must be more careful and preserve the breath he had left in him. He’d spent far too much, too early, as most of us do.
David struggled to wash and change and as he looked at the clock, he realised that it was later than he expected. He had slept through Mrs Challenor doing some washing; Betty hobbling backwards and forwards to receive the milkman, the fish man, the baker’s van. He had slept through the phone ringing several times; each time Betty was too slow to answer.
This particular morning with David absent, Mrs Challenor had plied Betty with endless questions of his whereabouts, as he was usually up by now; if not working, he would be gardening or walking, or tinkering about with the car. She thought he must have had one too many beers last night, and complained that the young men of today didn’t know when to stop drinking.
Betty too had wondered where David was, and why he was still sleeping. She hadn’t heard him come in at all last night and it was only the sight of the car keys thrown on the table that had reassured her he was actually home.
She’d stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened for any movement, but her hearing had failed her. If only she could hear some breathing, some snoring, any noise, just to tell her he was safe. Her weakened legs wouldn’t let her climb the stairs; the former dining room was now her bedroom. In frustration, she tapped her walking sticks on the floor, angry at her pitiable state. It was late in the morning when Betty heard the noise from the cistern flush in the upstairs toilet.
David came downstairs and looked rough. Betty thought he probably had a hangover. But, as David held his back and attempted to make himself a cup of coffee she saw the real problem. She reached for her handbag and, tipping the contents out onto the table, found some packets of painkillers and vitamins.
‘You’ll suffer with your back, Davey… . Your father did and your grandfather did - they both had arthritic spines. My Freddie got it badly too.’
Northern Spirit Page 31