David didn’t want to disagree with his aunt about the chances of inheriting anything from George Keldas, and continued to sip his coffee and swallow two painkillers.
‘It’s because I stayed out in the rain for too long last night. It’s my own fault.’
‘Ah you young ones, you don’t know how to look after yourselves.’
‘Well it’s kill or cure I’m afraid.’ And David reached for his jacket and started to leave without eating breakfast.
‘Oh, Davey… . Not this morning. Please just rest?’
‘I can’t rest … I must walk it off… . I need to be fit.’ And he left without any explanation.
David limped all the way up the lane and onto the track to Claife Heights, feeling pain with each step. He was angry with himself now; how could he possibly walk Hannah up Scafell? He only had three days to improve.
The grass on the field was slippery from the night’s heavy rainfall and as he entered the forest, the lime on the metalled road stuck to his boots. Steam was rising from the trees as the late morning’s sunshine evaporated the moisture. The forest appeared to be on fire.
As David continued to walk, the pain in his leg eased as he got into a better stride, and he started to enjoy the fresh air. As it was mid-week, there were few people about, but David still chose his route carefully to keep some isolation, hoping to catch a glimpse of some wild-life. The dark shaded areas of the forest, densely planted with trees, managed to cut out most of the light; all he could hear was birdsong and a faint whistling of the breeze.
He lingered a while in one plantation. He’d walked here earlier in the spring and had spotted a young stag, standing majestically in front of him, its red coat glistening in the sunshine. They had watched each other, motionless, for some time, neither of them daring to move, wondering who was most afraid. He’d hoped he could see it again, and perhaps some young ones grazing with their mother, but today it was too late; they would have been up and breakfasted much earlier than him, and would have gone to ground in the forest, or be nestling in a pocket of bracken on the fell side.
As he walked slowly, he thought he heard a murmuring noise - perhaps the sound of someone talking. He wondered if he was closer to the public-footpath than he’d thought. Perhaps it was the voices of the foresters as they worked in a nearby plantation. He listened again, but there was silence, so he carried on walking.
As he continued, he began to hum to himself and went to sit on a rocky outcrop to take in the view. Again he heard voices and, this time, they were light and cheerful - perhaps a woman’s voice or some children playing. He walked on again and continued slowly, watching his footing as he re-entered the forest and, as he trod on wet tree roots, he slipped in the mud and sodden earth and just managed to keep standing.
The voices remained with him; neither louder nor softer, and he realised they were coming from behind him. He stopped to listen but the voices stopped again. He wondered if he was hearing things, and that maybe he had drunk too much last night after all, or was it just a ringing in his ears. David, amused by it, lightly tapped his head and continued. All was silent again.
He crossed another metalled road and re-joined the forest, when he heard what sounded like a child’s laughter. Again he waited and listened and it stopped. He was perplexed and was beginning to feel uncomfortable, when he heard another voice, and this time it was calling his name. It reminded him of the night at Keld Head when he’d retraced his footsteps in the snow, worrying who was behind him, afraid he was beginning to act like his father. But this time he had nothing to fear. It was just coincidence that it sounded like his name.
Then he heard it clearly, not just the name David, but David Keldas. Someone was really behind him; a woman or a child was calling his name and telling him to stop. Maybe it was Hannah he thought, and waited for her to catch up. When no one arrived he retraced his steps, and then off into the distance and into the trees, he caught sight of a red garment as someone ran away from him.
David heard the laughter again and, angered by the teasing, pursued. But he could hardly run; his leg and his back ached too much. He certainly wasn’t afraid of Betty’s fabled ferryman as he walked on, avoiding the footpath and followed the stalker deep into the forest.
In the density of the trees, he lost the figure and lost his bearings. He stopped and listened again and heard a whispering and laughing and instinctively headed for the noise. As uncomfortable as it was, he started to run, his leg painfully jarring as he stumbled again on some branches and tree roots and, as he jumped over the dead bracken and broken branches, he scratched his face and tore his jacket on some sharp stalks. He could make no advance on the stalker and yet continued on, not wanting to lose ground, gasping and panting with each breath.
Then he heard it again: ‘Run, David … run!’
He heard it time and time again; it wasn’t his imagination.
Pursuing faster, David slipped, struggled, and slid about in the mire, splashing through boggy patches black with peat that saturated his trousers. Out into the sunlight and then back into the shade. He was making headway now and the laughing stopped.
He saw the shape of a small slim frame; someone wearing a red knitted hat and dark clothes. It looked like a boy.
‘Stop… . What do you want?’ David shouted. But they ignored him and continued to run from him. And now he could only hear their breathless gasps.
With a strength David thought he didn’t own, he ran on faster and as he approached the stalker, he lunged out and grabbed their jacket, but they slipped from his grasp. And as the pain in David’s leg gnawed at him, he again shouted in despair, then stopped.
‘Please wait? Who are you? What do you want?’ But he was ignored.
David chased again, and this time he managed to catch hold of the person’s jacket and then, lunging his body onto the legs, grabbed hold, and both of them went crashing into the mud on the forest floor.
David held on tightly as the stalker tried to wriggle free, kicking him and muddying him. And as they wrestled together, both twisting and turning, David saw the face of a girl, afraid, and struggling to release herself from his grasp. She ran free and again David pursued. She grabbed a broken branch and hit him on the shoulder, but he knocked it from her. Then, finally, his manly strength once again knocked her to the ground.
As she struggled to free herself, David caught her shoulders, turned her body over, and knelt beside her. ‘What are you doing? What do you want?’ He shouted desperately as he looked into her muddied face, and could see clearly that it was Joanne. David held his head high and dared to look in her eyes.
‘Don’t hurt me, Davey, please. Don’t hurt me!’ She was gasping and laughing at the same time.
David didn’t release his grip but held her tightly by the shoulders, thinking her back must be as saturated and filthy as he was. ‘What do you want, Jo? You’re crazy!’ And he pressed her shoulders further into the ground.
She shook her head and tried to wriggle free, but this time his grip was too strong. ‘Do you want to kiss me again? Do you?’ she struggled for breath.
David didn’t want to kiss her; he wanted to slap her face, and it took every ounce of restraint not to.
‘What do you want?’ He shouted again, still holding tightly onto her. ‘Why are you following me? Why are you doing this to me? What have I done?’
‘No, you never think you’ve done anything wrong, do you, Davey… . You think you can mess around with my feelings!’
‘Joanne. I’ve never messed around with you!’ He gave her a look of deep reproach. ‘I only kissed you once – maybe twice, that’s all!’
‘Oh yes, it doesn’t seem much to you does it,’ she spat. ‘It didn’t mean much to your father either!’
‘I don’t want to know about him!’
‘No, I don’t suppose you do,’ she stopped struggling. ‘But you’re going to. That was just how it started with him, just a kiss - just like you … then one more … then one m
ore!’
‘Stop it, Jo. Just stop it!’ He shook her by the shoulders.
‘No, I won’t stop it… . That’s it … close your ears. I never will stop it, I never will. He thought he could come to me at his beck and call. I was only a kid, Davey … I was only fifteen. I couldn’t handle him. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid! He was manipulating me.’
David was stunned to silence.
‘Sometimes when you were out looking for him, and you thought he was on the fells, he was with me! Can you believe it? What a joke! Oh yes, he thought it was so much fun. He laughed at you all. But I couldn’t cope anymore. I knew it was wrong - him and his secrets, but I couldn’t stop him. So I started tormenting him, just like I tormented you. I threatened to tell your mother, but I didn’t want to hurt her. In that, I was loyal. So I told him you were trying to take over the farm, and that he should get back before you ruined things, but he still kept coming back, so I just carried on teasing him; following him day and night as often as I could. I harassed him so much; made him nervous and suspicious of everyone. Yes, it was me, Davey. I repaid him for all his abuse. Oh yes, and then you came along - just the same - just like him. But you, I’d longed for … ! I hoped you would save me, but you were just the same - just a kiss, that’s all, and then it stopped. That was just as bad. Just one kiss huh! Is that what you thought?’
The laughing stopped and Joanne began to sob pitifully. David loosened his grip and she propped herself up.
‘Oh, but I loved you, yet you didn’t care, did you, just like him? I thought you were kinder, but you weren’t - you were just the same, so I started to follow you. I drove you crazy, didn’t I?’
‘Then you’ll follow me no more!’ David didn’t want to hear any more and he started to pull himself away, but she grabbed him by the collar.
‘That’s right… . Leave me here in this filth! That just suits you doesn’t it?’
But David no longer cared. He pushed her away, struggled to his feet and walked away. He realised how wet and cold he was. His leg was aching more than ever and he felt numb with pain.
David slowly walked down the hill and through the trees, away from her foolishness. He no longer cared, he wanted another woman and the chances of her loving him were a mere glimmer and he didn’t want to do anything that would put out that spark; thinking of Hannah - nothing but Hannah; her soft hair, her gentle manner, her large brown eyes. He wanted to say her name in reassurance, to protect himself from his own evil thoughts. Oh my, how this hurts, how this hurts! He staggered on like a man lost. His eyes wide open, yet walking blindly. He must get home and wash himself free of this disgust.
A blow hit him so hard in the back that he fell to the ground, gasping for breath, and his lungs stupefied in a spasm. David fell onto his knees, grasping his chest and, as he turned, he saw Joanne standing over him, holding a stump of wood in her hand.
Every ounce of strength left in his body surged as he threw himself at her again, knocking her to the ground. His whole body weight bearing down on her as she screamed. ‘Oh, yes, that’s it. That’s it, Davey… . Why not finish me off? You can’t take any more can you? You’re weak, you are, just like your father, and look how he ended up?’
‘He was a fool Joanne, but he wasn’t weak… . You killed him!’
‘Aye, but he killed me first.’
As eye met eye, and David reflected on what she had just said, his eyelids lowered. Then she continued, ‘I saw him point that gun at me, Davey. He wanted me out of the way. But you wouldn’t harm me would you? You’re different in that!’ He was so close to her she could smell him. ‘Huh, but then maybe he was telling the truth for once. Maybe you’re not even his son. What a shock for you, eh?’ And Joanne’s breathing laboured as David put his hands around her throat and tightened his grip.
‘Stop it … stop it. You’re hurting me!’ She clasped her hands around his wrists, but he was too strong for her.
David couldn’t resist. He desperately wanted her to stop talking - he must silence her, but she wouldn’t stop.
‘That would be some secret, Davey… . Some secret, if I let it out!’ her voice was fading.
‘God have mercy on us, Jo!’ And he squeezed her neck tighter.
David’s eighth life passed before him, and he’d survived. His only hope rested in the hands of this girl. He wanted to stop her slander and silence her forever, so he squeezed his hands tighter around her throat and saw the very life start to drain out of her.
Joanne stopped talking, her eyes reddened and she looked mercifully at him; her face turning blue. She squeezed her hands on his; desperately trying to pull them off her neck. She reached up and touched his face and managed to claw her fingernails into the soft tissue of his cheek and scratch at his eyes. It was the last pain David could endure.
Joanne struggled free as David fell over on the wet earth. She stumbled away from him, gasping, sobbing and crying out loud.
David crawled on hands and knees to find a dry piece of ground, his breathing was heavy and laboured and his jaw quivered with shock, as he propped himself up against a tree to support his back. He had so much to take in, yet his head was wet and cold; he couldn’t think straight. Once again Joanne Milton had got the better of him. Was it truth or lies she’d told; he no longer cared. She must do as she likes; say what she wants, he didn’t mind. All he knew was that he must see Hannah again and take her to the mountains. He would walk the valleys and hills with her and hope she would love him the more for it.
David struggled to his feet and as his knees trembled under his bodyweight, the pain in his back, intense. He realised he was totally lost.
He took off his wet coat and rubbed some of the excess moisture from his trousers, then wiping his face with a handkerchief, he saw it was smeared with mud and streaks of blood.
*
Betty pulled a few dead leaves away from the red geraniums on her kitchen windowsill, and their fragrance delighted what few senses she had left. She watered them and placed them back on the windowsill, then she saw David coming into the garden with his coat folded up in a bundle and held under his arm. He looked wet and dirty and, with the dim eyesight she had, she saw blood on his face.
He bent over awkwardly by the door and tried to kick off his boots; throwing his coat down on the floor in the porch. David didn’t look at Betty, and acted as if she was invisible and went straight over to the kitchen sink, ran the hot tap and washed his hands and face, recklessly splashing water everywhere. Barely clean, he dried himself on a towel, soiling it with blood and grime.
‘Do - do you think I could have some more painkillers, Aunty?’ still not looking at her.
Betty put down the small watering can and went to look at him closely. ‘Whatever’s the matter? Have you fallen?’ Then she hobbled away to find her handbag and gave him the carton of pills. His hands were shaking as he fumbled to open the seal on the container and poured several pills into his hand.
‘Don’t take too many!’ Betty reached across to take the carton from his hand. ‘Oh my goodness! What have you done? You’re hurt?’ She came up close to his face and peered into his eyes.
‘I’m okay … I’m going to have a bath.’
David put his head down in shame and moved away, leaving Betty alone with her thoughts. Something was seriously wrong, and she had a feeling he wasn’t going to tell her what it was.
Poor Betty; unaccustomed and frustrated with the lives of young people, put the kettle on to make him a hot drink, but David never returned to receive it.
She heard the bath water running, then she heard it emptying, and then there was silence. She shouted upstairs: ‘Davey … Davey. I’ve made you a drink! You have to be at work soon.’ But he didn’t reply.
Betty knew it was futile to coax him downstairs. David knew that he was well out of her reach.
It was late in the evening before she heard him stir, and as he crept down the stairs wearing a clean t-shirt and jeans, he looked solemn as
he stood at the door. His skin was grey and his eyes were reddened.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve brought nothing but trouble for you, haven’t I?’ And he stood shivering in front of her.
‘You’re hurt, Davey… . Let me help you. Come and sit down by the fire. You’re no trouble.’
David sat down and held his aching back. Betty bustled into her makeshift bedroom and brought out a pink eiderdown and lovingly covered him with it.
He wanted to laugh at it, but couldn’t.
‘Let me call a doctor … or your mother?’
‘No, please …’ speaking in low tones. ‘It’s just my back again, that’s all. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
‘Did you fall?’ she asked him for the second time.
‘Yes - yes I fell. I slipped on some rocks on the hillside.’ He hated to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth; he didn’t know the truth. Joanne had confused him with her ramblings, that he no longer understood anything. So he wrongly believed what he said didn’t matter, either.
‘Do you want to me to telephone the hotel?’
‘No - no please it’ll be okay,’ he insisted.
Betty knew it wouldn’t be okay. He should have been at work two hours ago. He had let the hotel down and that wasn’t like him.
She went into the kitchen and started to cut a piece of ham off the bone, nearly cutting her fingers. She buttered some bread and opened yet another tin of tomato soup. She spilt half of the contents of the teapot on the kitchen table; her hands shaking, not just with age, but with anxiety.
Betty placed the meagre meal on a tray and set it down on his lap. He was laid back in the armchair, his head was on one side and his eyes were closed.
‘Please eat it, love… . It’ll do you good.’
Although David knew the meal had been lovingly prepared, he looked at it with contempt and wanted to push it away. He hadn’t eaten all day, yet he felt no hunger, only sickness.
*
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