Northern Spirit (15 page)

‘Barry said she’s got Slow Fever and some exercise will help to get her
system going.’

Silver pulled her head down, determined she wasn’t going anywhere, but
David had other intentions and, with one huge tug, managed to get her as far as
the yard.

Tony stood watching David for some time, amazed at his patience, then
choosing his moment said, ‘Jo’s on the warpath, Dave.’

David, still struggling with Silver and only half listening,
breathlessly replied. ‘Warpath? What do you mean? Oh, don’t be stupid, animal!’
He growled at Silver, pulling her again. But Tony continued, ‘She thinks she
loves you!’

David heard clearly what he said but was silent for some time, then
quietly replied. ‘I thought as much, and don’t say I told you so. But what can
I do?’

‘Did you ever apologise?’

David stood motionless and couldn’t look Tony in the eye. And, as he
softly spoke, it was like he was speaking to Silver, as his mouth was close to
her ear. ‘I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.’

Tony breathed in deeply, his chest expanding, and then mercifully said,
‘Just keep your distance for a while then, and all being well, with your face
as hideous as it is with those stitches in, she might go off you. She’s
threatening to come and see you. Oh, and by the way, she hasn’t been to work
since we left for Blackpool.’

He left David struggling with Silver in the yard, unsure himself if his
sister would ever “
go off”
David, as he’d put it.

Later that afternoon, David started to tidy up in the milking parlour.
He managed to get the glass milking jars shiny and clean again. He scrubbed the
stainless steel bulk tank, and the little milking parlour with its grey painted
walls was starting to look better as he worked away in the familiar
surroundings that he’d so hated the night he bared his soul to Tony. He became
absorbed in his work, doing it like second nature. As the dairy herd slowly
wandered in for milking, he started the milk pump engine, put on his transistor
radio and started milking.

David heard some noise faintly in the background, as if someone were in
the dairy. He presumed it was his mother coming to get some milk. He listened
for a while and then, silence. Then he heard the noise again but this time was
startled.
Dr. Reed told me to stop looking behind,
he thought
.
Yes, he was just being irrational. But when he heard the sliding door slowly
opening, his body froze, and a burst of adrenaline shot through him, as he
looked anxiously at the door.

‘Don’t worry, Davey. It’s only me.’

David bit his lip. He was relieved in one way to see Joanne standing
there, but not in another.

She came down the steps into a small recess and stood close to him as
he resumed his work. David didn’t want any eye contact, and hoped she hadn’t
notice he was afraid.

‘They’re all talking in the village Post Office about you, and saying
that you’ve been beaten up. Oh, look at your face!’

David closed his eyes momentarily, not wanting to hear any more
comments about his face and, as she came close to him, he could smell her
perfume, pungent and tantalising.

She raised her hand in an attempt to touch his wound and, sensing her
movement, he walked away to check one of the cows. But Joanne followed him
closely and then pushed something into his hand.

David held up the little package to the light and relented. ‘I’m okay,
Joanne. I haven’t been beaten up. What’s this?’

‘It’s a present. I’ve missed you and you’ve been hurt.’

David wasn’t surprised she’d missed him, but wished she hadn’t. And now
this gift. He began to feel guilty about not giving her the snow scene globe,
but Joanne’s overwhelming affection was too heavy for him. He would have walked
away from her if he hadn’t been working. He desperately wanted her to leave,
but couldn’t tell her. He knew Tony was right with his assumptions and yet once
again felt powerless to do anything about it. He thought if he could just keep
his head, things would settle down. He tried not to look at Joanne as he
thanked her, and put the package down on the step, and promised he would open
it later.

Joanne stayed for some time, trying to draw out of him what they had
done in Blackpool, but David remained non-committal. He tried to play things
down, stressing only that he’d enjoyed the football match and the film they’d
seen, and he hoped his silence would make him a poor lover. But Joanne was
happy just to watch him working, and it wasn’t until Kathy called in for some
milk, that she decided to leave.

‘What did Joanne want?’ Kathy said as she cautiously balanced a large
enamel milk jug in one hand and held onto the door with the other.

‘Oh, she heard I’d been beaten up,’ David laughed. ‘Can you believe it?
They’re already talking about me in the village.’

Kathy could believe it all too well. ‘Jo doesn’t look in very good form
these days. I wonder if we should persuade her to see the doctor.’ And, as she
glanced down, she saw the small gift on the step and noticed David blush.

Kathy’s interest in Joanne was not unusual. She’d kept a gentle eye on
both the Milton children since their mother left. Keith Milton, their father,
was a hard working man and had succeeded in providing well for them materially,
but perhaps the emotional support was minimal. And when David made no further
comment, his disinterest disturbed Kathy. She felt that he could have shown a
bit of compassion for Joanne and she sensed there was friction between the
young people.

Later that evening, David settled in his bedroom and lay on his bed,
wanting some peace from Tom and Sarah, who’d already begun to irritate him
again.

He was just dozing and then daydreaming, when he suddenly remembered
Joanne’s small package. He lazily slid off his bed, took the package from the
bedside table, and carefully removed the paper. He found a small box of mint
chocolates, and then, concealed in a Get Well card, were two photographs. One
was of his father, which he’d never seen before. And the other was of him,
taken by the lake. He couldn’t recall recently being by the lake with Joanne.

8

UP HIGH – IN DEEP

‘This wretched winter!’ Kathy mumbled as she stood over a calf, trying
hard to make it suck her fingers. Then she tried dipping its head into the
bucket of warm milk, but it didn’t want to co-operate, and consequently tipped
the contents of the bucket over her trousers and down into her wellingtons.
‘Blast . . .!’ she said, as her warm breath drifted like smoke into the frozen
air of the calf pen. ‘You poor thing. You didn’t ask to be born in February did
you, baby?’

The calf feebly suckled her fingers once again and warmed Kathy’s hands
with its soft mouth, but still refused to lower its head. She would have to
stop soon, as she was quickly running out of patience and only hoped the calf
would drink later when it was hungrier.

Next she started to scrub the milk buckets clean in an old galvanised
bath in the dairy, warming her cold hands in the hot water. Even the farm cats
wandered inside and rubbed themselves around her legs, with the hope of some
warmth and a chance of a few drops of leftover milk.

During the depth of the winter, Kathy had begun to feel restless; the
feelings of euphoria and freedom had gone and she found no comfort at the life
before her. Much like David, she had felt bound to Keld Head, and began to feel
contempt for the farm that had been her home and livelihood for some
twenty-three years or more. It was like Keld Head was fighting back.

The winter had made the place hostile. Drains were clogged up with ice
and the bath water wouldn’t run away as the downspouts became blocked. Falling
snow would freeze and then melt in the farmyard in regular cycles for days on
end. Each morning frost coated the inside of the bedroom windows with unique
mosaic patterns. Even the rain would be welcome now; if nothing more than just
a change from this hard winter.

‘Right . . . ! That’s it . . . !’ Kathy groaned; brooding about this
cold would do her no good, so she decided to do something constructive and
visit Aunt Betty. She hadn’t seen her for some time, only talked to her over
the phone and Kathy had guessed that if she was feeling depressed with this
winter, Betty would be feeling just the same. She didn’t know if she had the
ability to cheer anyone at the moment, but felt she at least wanted to try.

*       
*        *

Foxglove Cottage looked as welcoming as ever and as Kathy approached
from the lane, she could see smoke rising steadily from the chimneypot. Walking
through the front door, she was comforted by the sight of her late Uncle Fred’s
hat and coat still hanging on the hall stand.

Betty was thrilled to see Kathy and she was ushered into the warm room.
‘Come on, love, sit down and let me get you a cup of tea.’

‘No, you sit down,’ Kathy insisted. ‘Let me do it.’

Kathy settled the old lady down and took charge of the kitchen, hunting
for the best cups and saucers which she knew Betty would want to use for
visitors. But the china cups hanging on the dresser were grubby and tea-stained
and the worktops and kitchen sink were marked and dirty. This wasn’t like
Betty.

Kathy felt the pangs of a guilty conscience and had to bite her lip as
she
realised
that this old lady must have been
struggling for a long time without anyone ever
realising
it.

David and Linzi hadn’t mentioned the state of the cottage when they’d
last visited, but they probably hadn’t even noticed.

‘How are you feeling then, Betty?’ Kathy began.

‘My arthritis is bad at the moment - but I can’t complain.’

She never complained and that was the problem. If she had, maybe more
would have been done for her. Kathy noticed that Betty had been slow getting to
the door and was walking with two sticks instead of one. ‘Mrs Challenor’s still
helping you, isn’t she?’

‘I don’t know what I’d do without her. But she’s no spring chicken;
she’s seventy-five you know. And this will be my first winter without Freddie.
He was fit for a man of his age - he would get all the wood in and the like.’

Kathy reflected how honourably poor Fred had looked after Betty. He’d
been a healthy man for his age and his death was untimely. ‘You must miss him
loads.’

‘Yes, it’s no good without your husband, is it?’

Kathy didn’t know how to reply, for she knew that despite her feelings
today, she’d been much happier without George, so she turned the conversation
back to Uncle Fred.

‘I miss Freddie too. I miss him coming around the farm and I know David
thinks about him a lot.’ Kathy spoke with a hint of sadness.

‘Yes, he will love. . . . He will.’

‘I notice you’ve kept some of his things.’

‘It gives me comfort to see them around. Makes me feel a bit safer, you
know.’

Kathy smiled to think how safe Betty could have felt having a
ninety-year-old man around the house. Fred was well, but he wasn’t that strong,
yet despite the frailties of old age, this man had looked after his wife very
well.

‘You look a bit tired today?’ Betty said, sympathetic toward Kathy and
she carefully rose to put some more coal on the fire.

‘Oh, I’m just a bit fed up of this winter. It’s been a long and a sad
one.’

Kathy sipped her tea and started to think of David working out in the
cold and she hoped he’d come in for a warm up. He’d been struggling with the
tractor all morning; it too was refusing to work.

‘When did you last get a break?’ Betty asked.

There was a lapse in the conversation as Betty gasped and fell back
into her chair again and Kathy waited until she was comfortable. ‘Oh, I can’t
remember, Aunty. But, do you know, I feel like running away myself sometimes.
George had the right idea I think, wandering off from time to time.’ Kathy sat
back in the armchair with her hands cupping her tea. ‘At first, things were
such a relief to me, if you can understand that. I think I went into a state of
euphoria. Does that sound awful? Then I spent weeks worrying about David, but
when he came home from Blackpool he’d changed, so I relaxed again. David seems
to have resigned himself to his role now. I thought I had, but I’m feeling
unsettled again. I don’t know why. Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with
all this. I came to cheer you up.’

Betty leant across and put her cold hand on Kathy’s warm one. ‘It
cheers me just to see you and hear my David’s doing well.’ Then Betty put her
cup very slowly and deliberately back on its saucer and, by the customary pause
that came, Kathy knew she was about to get some advice. And so Betty started:
‘You’ve had a rough time of it my love, and so has Davey.’

Kathy wanted to say,
and so have you
.

There was a long pause again. ‘You’re both still young, and Davey . . .
well, he can make a new life for himself if he wants to.’

Kathy didn’t say anything to Betty but she didn’t like to think of
David doing anything that would take him away from her as well.

Betty continued, ‘You’ve got the two youngsters still left at home,’ as
if she was reading Kathy’s mind, ‘they’ll keep you busy for years and who
knows, Linzi may come back someday to help.’

Kathy didn’t think too much about the idea of Linzi coming home to help
either.

‘Why don’t you try to get away for a break. Maybe go to your mother’s
for a while?’

‘I have been offered the chance to go on holiday,’ but before Kathy
could continue Betty interrupted. ‘Then take it, and I’ll treat you to a new outfit
to go away in. How does that sound?’

Betty hadn’t even considered who the offer might have been from and
there was no way that Kathy would enlighten her. Then, before she could resist,
Betty pulled herself out of the chair, unlocked a walnut display cabinet and
took a wad of notes from the inside of an old teapot. She rolled the money up
and squeezed it into Kathy’s hand. ‘There. . . . You’ve got to go on holiday
now haven’t you?’