Northern Spirit (22 page)

As the girls emptied their glasses, Tony ambled across, grabbed a stool
and sat at the table with them. ‘Another drink, ladies?’ he asked. ‘So you’re
the girl trying to kill off Dave’s cattle are you?’ He looked directly at
Hannah.

Hannah rose to the bait and with her view of Tony being coloured by
Linzi’s comments, took an instant disliking to him. She just smirked back.

Tony went to buy the next round of drinks, and David and Joanne came to
sit down. For the rest of the evening they remained altogether. Tony still did
most of the talking and, as usual, Linzi became irritated with him. He
continued to tease Hannah as David suspected he would. At first David found it
amusing but, gradually, he could see Hannah was agitated and that troubled him.

Hannah continued to eye David as she sat across from him. She watched
Joanne looking at him, and her intuition told her that this girl was in love
with David, but there appeared to be no reciprocation on his part. Joanne had
hardly spoken a word all evening and Hannah thought she was either shy, or
strange.

Then the more Tony drank, the more he fooled around, aiming most of his
jokes either David’s or Hannah’s way and repeating words she said in her Durham
accent. David sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, resting his beer
glass on his folded arm and only half- smiling at his friend’s jesting. Then,
as usual, Tony went too far and he didn’t have the self-control to stop.
‘You’re too small to be a vet, Hannah.’

‘I get on very well, thank you.’

‘I suppose it helps with the lambing does it? Getting your arm stuck in
a sheep’s backside and all!’

At this, David sat up and thrust his empty beer glass down on the
table. ‘Leave it out mate . . . !’

‘What’s the matter, Dave? You don’t normally stick up for women. She
must mean something to you?’

David looked across at Hannah. She had her head bent low and was
fumbling nervously through her handbag for something or other of no
consequence. He also noticed a blotchy rash, from embarrassment, on her neck.
He was incensed with Tony. Yet David should be used to it by now, but somehow
this time it hurt, especially as he realised Tony was right. David didn’t want
the feelings he had for Hannah to end just now, so he ordered everyone a fresh
round of drinks and was glad to escape to the bar, before he did or said
something he might regret.

Joanne had been watching and listening. She too had felt a little sorry
for Hannah. But with Tony’s suggestion that David had feelings for the girl,
she quickly changed her view. She’d also noticed David looking at Hannah, and
consequently felt hatred grow inside her so intense that she felt she could
actually do her some harm.

She began to study Hannah’s appearance and inwardly criticise her. Her
stature? Too small. Her voice? Too common. Her eyes? Too big. Her taste in
clothes? Too modern. The realisation of David’s new-found dress sense also took
on a greater meaning.

If anyone had been watching Joanne (and sadly, no one hardly was) they
would have noticed a change in the colour of her skin. If you could monitor her
heartbeat, you would find that it was beating at a rapid pace. Her teeth were
grinding together, and her jawbone was aching with the intensity.

Almost unnoticed by all, Joanne rose, took her jacket and left the bar.
It was only when the drink that David had just bought, remained untouched, that
anyone realised she’d gone. And, ironically, the one to notice was Hannah.

‘Your sister appears to have gone!’ She looked at Tony.

But the others all knew of Joanne’s turbulent nature and weren’t moved
or surprised by this. And Linzi, with a mercenary spirit, immediately started
to loot the untouched drink. ‘Well, there’s no need to waste it!’ she said.

David felt compelled to take charge of the conversation and steer it
into a more sensible direction. But soon a heated debate developed as to who
would make the best Prime Minister: a man or a woman. Then they argued about
music, employment and politics, the state of the Cold War, and David had to
change the subject again.

‘I took Tom up to High White Stones today.’

Hannah was interested as David continued to talk passionately about the
hills.

‘The little monster messed about on the rocks. . . . He’s no idea how
dangerous that place can be.’

Hannah, intrigued by the change she’d seen in him hoped she could find
out more about the walk. But Linzi didn’t want to let her brother turn, what
should be a happy evening, into a grim lecture on the dangers of fell walking
and she interrupted. ‘For goodness sake, Davey. Stop preaching!’

David knew exactly what Linzi was trying to do and, as he glanced again
at Hannah, he guessed she would be watching him and waiting for a reaction, so
he winked at her.

Her face relaxed at his gesture. ‘No, please. I would like to know
more, David.’

As the evening passed and the bell for last orders rang, David felt
smug with his behaviour toward Hannah. He’d whitened his character and that was
enough. He walked home ahead of the girls, with Tony in tow. They headed for
the Milton bungalow for coffee and supper, assuming that Joanne would already
be home.

They bustled into the bungalow and the girls threw their coats down on
the kitchen table and headed for the sofa by the fire. David slung some sticks
and coal in the grate; his last act of chivalry.

Hannah thought the untidy condition of this house was a stark contrast
to the neat appearance of the farmhouse at Keld Head.

Tony shouted for Joanne at her bedroom door and, getting no reply,
gently pushed it open, but all was in darkness. He held onto the open door and
peering into the darkened room, momentarily wondered, but he knew worrying
about Joanne was futile.

*       
*        *

The cups of black coffee and cheese sandwiches wouldn’t be enough to
help any of the men become sober enough to drive Hannah home. It was too late
in the night to expect Kathy to drive, so Linzi decided they would share the
cost of a taxi. Tony was becoming irritable as he’d started to get a head cold
and was searching the house for remedies. David had fallen asleep in the
armchair and, unbeknown to Hannah, had done so out of contentment. No more talk
was needed. He wouldn’t take this any further. He remembered his promise and
was satisfied with her approval.

The cab arrived and Hannah picked up her coat to leave. David was now
in another world. She was dismayed at his lack of concern and reasoned that
those fleeting moments of kindness and playful glances, where just momentary
lapses in his normal chauvinistic manner.

Hannah left the bungalow and Linzi walked back up the lane to the farm
alone, leaving David sleeping in the chair and Tony still hunting around for
some aspirin.

Tony fumbled around in the bathroom and kitchen cupboards, desperately
searching for a cure. Then he noticed an envelope on the kitchen table, where
the girls’ coats had been only minutes earlier. It was addressed to David.

He picked it up and examined it and, seeing that the handwriting was
Joanne’s, threw it back on the table and went to put the television on. It
wasn’t until he heard the clock strike midnight that he worried about his
sister again. He went back to the envelope, rubbed his aching head and
pondered, and then went across to David. ‘Wake up, Dave. Wake up . . . !’ Tony
shook him by the shoulders.

David opened his eyes and, momentarily, didn’t know where he was.

‘Open this. . . . I think it’s from Jo!’ Tony thrust the letter right
in front of David’s face.

‘Jo. . . . What do you mean? Where is she?’ David sat up in the chair
and rubbed his forehead. His eyebrows almost meeting as he scowled.

‘Just open the letter, David!’ Tony insisted.

And still not certain whether he was dreaming, David tore open the
envelope and read:

Davey, I’ve gone to the tarn. I can’t bear to be without you.

I love you.

Joanne.

He then re- read the letter out loud to get the sense of it. But Tony
snatched it from his hand to read it for himself. ‘Stupid woman. . . . You
stupid woman!’ And went back to Joanne’s room and this time put on the light,
in a faint hope that she might be there. ‘This is all your fault!’ He shouted
back.

David struggled to stand and he held up his palms in defence. ‘Look. .
. . Let’s keep calm. It’s okay. She’ll be all right. We’ll get some torches and
go and find her. She won’t have gone far.’ Yet David felt anything but calm. He
was trembling and he’d been woken up far too quickly. ‘I’ll put some warm
clothes on and get the dog.’

Tony was almost distraught. ‘Which tarn does she mean? There are
hundreds of the blasted things!’

‘Did she hear me say I’d been to Easdale with Tom?’

‘No. . . . She’d gone by then.’

‘And surely she wouldn’t go up there at night! She must mean Kelbarrow
Tarn, she goes up there a lot on her own and she knows we go there with the
dog.’

‘That settles it then. You go to Kelbarrow and I’ll go to Easdale. I’ll
get my walking boots and tell Mum if we’re not back by - let’s say two-am - to
call Mountain Rescue.’

David jogged up the hill to the farmhouse, not noticing the cold and
not thinking the situation through properly. He collected some food and drink,
gathered up the flashlights and called the dog, and told his mother not to
worry. But Kathy wasn’t as confident. Every time David went to look for George,
either day or night, she always feared for him. ‘I knew that girl would bring
trouble. I just knew it!’

*       
*        *

When David finally left Tony to search in the opposite direction, he
did so with a sense of foreboding. He knew Tony was a good walker, but his
headache and sore throat were probable signs of an imminent cold, or even flu.
The last thing David wanted himself was to return to the fells, especially at
night. He’d done this all before, and the memories were bad ones.

David really just wanted to go to bed. He’d had a pleasant evening;
he’d enjoyed the girls’ company and had been in good spirits. But now, as he
walked, his dog his only companion, he knew this problem was all his own doing.
Tony was right to blame him. He’d led Joanne along, when he should have stopped
it. He’d hoped it was just a crush she had on him and that it would soon pass.
He admitted to himself that he liked the attention, and he hadn’t wanted to
upset her by rejecting her; yet, his actions and his silence had probably hurt
her more than he’d imagined.

He walked on into the wind; the path took him up high to the valley
beyond. The night was, thankfully, a clear one. He wanted to save some of the
life in his flashlight and once his eyes became accustomed to the darkness,
used it only momentarily. Moss followed close at David’s heels and her presence
comforted him. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the crumpled envelope
from Joanne’s note, and the feel of it and the task ahead brought reality home
to him.

As he walked, he worried if he’d made the right decision and maybe they
should have stuck together. It would have been safer. He should have insisted
Tony took the dog with him. Then he tried to shout Joanne’s name but, again,
his voice was lost to the wind. He was glad it was dry and hoped she’d at least
put some warm clothes on. He’d worried, as Tony had, that his conduct had
driven her to this crazy scheme.

He shouted: ‘Joanne . . . ! Joanne . . . !’ David was breathless as he
reached the steep incline to the ghyll. He guessed he was near the falls as he
could hear the rushing of the water forcing its way to the valley below. In the
darkness he stumbled and almost fell on some hidden rocks, banging his knees.
He walked quickly, almost running at times as the gradients eased again,
walking much faster than he’d done that morning with Tom.

‘Man, I wish I was in bed!’ he cursed, and wondered what he’d do if
Joanne wasn’t at the tarn. Then he reassured himself, that Tony would probably
be at Kelbarrow by now and maybe he’d already found her.

*       
*        *

Tony tried to run up the hill, but couldn’t. He felt unfit and
unhealthy. His torch just managed to light up the path in front of him.

Coming out from the woodland onto the open fell, the wind hit him with
such ferocity it almost pushed him over. He desperately wanted to go back, but
couldn’t. He felt angry with David, which perhaps gave him the adrenaline he
needed to keep his body moving.

He couldn’t believe David’s behaviour. He was always putting him down
for fooling around and yet David’s constant need for approval and to be loved
was far more destructive. Tony also felt angry with his sister. She was just
acting crazy, thinking she wouldn’t have done this if their father hadn’t gone
away so much. Nevertheless, he too worried about her sanity - to have walked
out on a night like this, and expect David to run after her was mindless. He
thought about David on the other side of the valley; how cold it was here on
this fell side, and he knew it would be worse in Easdale.

In the hazy distance the lights from the village below comforted him;
Tony doubted that David would see anything. He knew he would reach Kelbarrow
before his friend reached Easdale and, although David was fitter, it was a much
longer walk. A faint noise of the clock chiming from the church below rang out
eerily as the wind carried the noise up the hills to him. He shouted, ‘Joanne .
. . ! Joanne . . . ! It’s Tony!’ but he didn’t get any reply. A few specks of
rain touched his face and it urged him to quicken his pace.

*       
*        *

David felt the terrain ease under his feet and could just discern a
path leading to the left, and knew he was over the worst of the climb. He
guessed he had left Sour Milk Ghyll behind and hoped he was still on the right
track. He shouted again but heard nothing. Maybe Tony could hear him as he
climbed across the valley, his voice blowing westward.