Northern Spirit (33 page)

‘This is all rubbish, Tony . . . ! This can’t be me she’s talking about
- it must be someone else. We’ve never done these things. I’ve never said these
things!’

‘Well it sounds like you, don’t it!’

‘That’s true, but . . .’ David was desperate to clear his name. ‘Tony,
you have to believe me. Most of the things in here are just incredible. The
product of a vivid imagination, or just wishful thinking.’

Tony flopped down on the sofa beside him. ‘Don’t worry, Dave . . . I
believe you, but there’s more. Look at this.’ In his hand was a small
photograph album.

The two men sat together long into the night flicking through its
pages. There were pictures of the late George Keldas, ones they’d never seen
before, taken some time ago. David was in some, but as a teenager. Then on the
back were inscriptions, dates and times. There were also photographs of David
sitting by the lake, walking alone, and working in the fields.

‘If she didn’t have some kind of a thing going with him - what’s this
all about then?’

‘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? F
ame 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 t-shirts. 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.