Northern Spirit (23 page)

David’s body was hot with the exertion, and he felt his chest and back
soaked in sweat under his heavy coat, yet his ears were aching with the cold.
He stopped to put on a woollen hat. The dog was still at his side; she too was
anxious of the dark and of the cold wind ruffling up her thick coat.

He pondered at how different the day had turned out, from the enjoyment
of walking with his brother that morning, then flirting with lovely Hannah that
evening, and now the chore of searching for Joanne when he should be in bed.
But, as he turned into Easdale for the second time that day, he felt a flash of
panic and sensed he was walking into a wall or some kind of trap. This was the
place that Wordsworth called (and for good reason) The Black Quarter.

David knew the fells here and he knew the people; the farmers and their
men; the mountain enthusiasts; the wild men and the gentlemen. He never feared
the spirits of dead poets who once walked these paths, or the vagabonds, rogues
and statesmen. Grasmere had housed a few characters and David was generally not
afraid of any of them, but he knew for a certainty, that many had been afraid
of his father and were fast becoming wary of him.

He stopped for a moment, unable to move, and put his back to the wind.
He felt a slight spray of water hit his face, but he had to continue
regardless.

He bent his head into the rain and trudged on.

*       
*        *

Tony had just passed the forestry marker and guessed he was
approximately halfway. Just a steep climb to the summit, then perhaps he would
be out of the wind and the rain and safely in the small basin that held
Kelbarrow Tarn. He could then search the tarn and shelter behind some rocks.
His thoughts of turning back diminished as he realised he was near his
objective; climbing higher and further away from safety, his head pounding
again and his breathing, fast and erratic. Apart from the wind, his beating
heart was the only other sound he could hear.

His flashlight grew dim as the batteries weakened, and he cursed David
again for not replacing them sooner. The tresses of his long red hair became
tangled and wet as they clung to his head and face. He tried to push his hair
aside and wished he’d worn a hat. He pulled up the hood on his army surplus
Parka and tied it under his chin, but the wind found every gap.

Safely reaching the flat plateau to the tarn, Tony started to hunt for
the space in the wall, struggling and stumbling over the rocks as he did so. He
found a gap and crept through to the other side, then fell to the ground behind
the slate to shelter for a moment.

He sat there on the sodden turf, no longer caring whether he was wet or
dry. The damp from the ground soaked his thighs and his buttocks through the
thin cloth of his trousers and coat. The torch was lying on the wet grass
beside him, its weak beam now fading upwards into the night sky and, in the
faint glow, he noticed the droplets that he’d thought were of rain contained
flakes of snow. Tony just wanted to stay there and sleep but knew he must make
one more attempt to shout and search around the tarn before he could go home.
He wasn’t sure if he had the kind of unselfish love needed to put his sister’s
life before his own as the tiredness he felt overwhelmed him, making his choice
harder.

‘Dear God, help me?’ he begged, as he struggled to his feet again. And
he walked on in the direction he believed to be eastward, as the wind swirled
around him in all directions. It was pushing him along, hitting the back of his
head and jacket, then blowing him aimlessly sideways, then head on into the
fell. Then, almost running, his feet splashed in water and he realised he was
at the edge of the tarn. Standing on the shingle, he struggled to keep his
balance to stop himself from falling. ‘Joanne . . . ! Joanne . . . !’ he
repeated. Then he shone the weak beam of the torch across the watery surface,
but he saw nothing, only the small waves of the tarn, whipped up by the wind
and splashing against some rocks.

Then he started to run around the tarn and, with his objective now
reached, it spurred him on to continue; running and stumbling, but he found
nothing, only himself, like a madman, circling the dark expanse of water.

*       
*        *

David’s fear intensified as he walked further into Easdale. Who was
behind him? Who was in front of him? Was the stranger he’d seen that morning
still there, sitting on the rocks, waiting for him? He thought he heard a
reply, but it was just the wind teasing him. He switched on his flashlight
again and tried to face full north, hoping the tarn would stand out before him,
but all he could see was a white haze, as snow began to fall, thickly and
rapidly. It was like the tinsel in his glass snow scene globe, safely placed on
his bookcase at home.

‘Thank God, I’m nearly there,’ he mumbled, when a sudden flapping noise
terrified him. He’d reached Easdale Tarn and the same wild geese that he had
seen that morning were startled into flight. And from the safety of the rocks,
David could only watch as the grey and white on their wings flashed up and
skimmed across the water, off into the darkness, leaving behind them an eerie
silence.

He lowered his hands, and like a blind man began to feel for the rocks,
then momentarily sat down to get his bearings. Moss stayed close beside him,
her wet body pressed against his legs and dampening his trousers. ‘Come on Moss
. . . find Joanne? Go . . . ! Go . . . !’ The dog panted excitedly as David
started to run behind her, trying not to stumble on the uneven ground, and
flashing his torch across the surface of the water. ‘Joanne . . . ! Joanne . .
. ! It’s David . . . ! It’s David . . . !’

On and on he ran, around the tarn; shouting and waiting, stopping and
listening, but hearing nothing. David feared that he was too late; Joanne must
have been gone hours. She could even be dead by now, if she’d misjudged the
weather. ‘Joanne! Joanne, please. Hello . . . ! Hello . . . ! Hello . . . !’
David shouted in despair, almost in tears; the snow was hitting him so hard in
the face that his skin was tingling and reddening with the cold.

He thought if she were out in this, she wouldn’t last long. If Joanne
wasn’t at the tarn then she must be sheltering, but where he didn’t know. He
knew no one could go much further unless they had a torch. Maybe she was too
afraid and had turned back? Belle’s Knott and Easdale Crag surrounded him like
a barricade. David knew there was no more he could do, except to hope that Tony
was right, and that she’d gone to Kelbarrow Tarn after all. Of course! That
would have been her best option. They did go there a lot. She could manage that
walk easily. Yes, that’s where she would be. Tony will find her, and Joanne
will be safe.

Reluctant to leave the tarn, he shouted once more and flashed his torch
to the nearby crags and stopped and listened. He looked at his watch under the
light and could see it was 1:00 am, and knew he must hurry back before his
mother called the rescue team. He could just do it if he ran; hoping all the
time that on his return, Joanne would be back at the farmhouse. ‘Be careful
now. . . . Don’t fall,’ he said to himself knowing he could easily break his
ankle or wrist. Then he began to run, lifting his feet high above the rocks
like a fell runner would. The wind was now behind him and he slipped on the wet
snow, running and jumping, his flashlight on all the time, pointing its beam to
the path below, watching for hidden rocks. Down and down steeply and on past
the falls. His lungs were aching with the cold and his heart was pumping hard.

He found a soft level piece of grass just by the ghyll, and for a few
minutes rested to shelter out of the wind.

*       
*        *

Tony continued to run around the tarn. Three-times he ran. First one
way, then the other, shouting her name in despair. ‘It’s no use,’ speaking to
himself for reassurance. ‘No use at all. She’s not here. She must be across at
Easdale with David. She must be. I’ll kill her when I see her. Joanne . . .
Joanne . . . I’m going home . . . I’ve had enough. I’m frozen . . . I’m done
for!’ And the beam of the torchlight became so weak that it was near useless,
so he hurled it across the water and it splashed into the tarn. He then walked
on blindly into the blizzard, stretching his arms out in front of him and
feeling for the perimeter wall again. Then stumbling on and over some rocks,
his body hit a solid object. Feeling it firmly with his hands to find the base,
he realised he was at the wall. Slate and rock tumbled with him as he slithered
to the ground for safety and, instinctively, Tony drew his legs underneath him
as he huddled into a ball, wrapping his arms around himself. Coughing, and in
total desolation, he remained on the ground.

*       
*        *

David couldn’t settle. He knew it wasn’t safe to stop for long. So,
with a momentary rest for his racing heart, he lifted himself again and was
about to leave when he thought he heard a faint cry, one so soft and weak that
it was almost a whimper. The dog’s ears pricked at the sound and she ran off,
and David followed her around the rocks, towards the ghyll. There it was again:
‘Help me . . . ! Help me . . . !’

‘Joanne . . . Joanne . . . it’s David. . . . Where are you?’

‘Help me, Davey. . . . Help me, please!’

The feelings of relief were sheer ecstasy, almost in a frenzy now as
David could see in his torchlight, huddled under the rocks and beside the
ghyll, the small outline of a woman.

He ran to her, his hands grasping on to the wet rocks as he steadied
himself, jumping down, still slipping and stumbling and calling her name.

Joanne couldn’t move. She daren’t move. She hoped the man struggling
toward her
was
David, and the sight of the black dog told her it was.
She sobbed tears of relief and happiness and knew what a fool she’d been in
doing this to him. But he had come. He’d searched for her in this awful
weather.

He crouched down by her side and the wet snow soaked his aching knees;
his whole body was trembling. Joanne used the last drop of energy she had to
cling to him, clutching at his body and hysterically calling his name. ‘Davey .
. . ! Davey! I love you . . . ! I love you.’ But he ignored her.

He stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her, then took out of
his rucksack a thick pullover for himself. ‘It’s alright Jo. . . . You’re safe
now. You’re safe.’

David took out some biscuits and gave her a drink of coffee from the
flask. His hands were shaking as he poured. ‘We’ll soon have you home,’ he
whispered and came up close to her face. ‘Don’t cry now. We must go quickly or
we’ll both be done for.’

He pulled her to her feet, but she clutched at his arm, resisting him.
‘Davey. . . . Say you love me, or I won’t come back!’ Snowflakes were sticking
to her face.

David couldn’t believe her defiance as he tried to pull her again.
‘Please come now! Tony’s up at Kelbarrow Tarn looking for you. We’ve all been
worried sick.’

‘Then tell me you love me. . . . Tell me! You must love me, Davey. . .
. Please, please say you love me . . . !’ She began crying hysterically again.
‘You must tell me. You must marry me! I love you so much.’

‘I do love you,’ David lied. ‘But I can’t marry you. You don’t know
what you’re saying.’ He looked hard through the darkness into her face, and
shook her by the shoulders, but she persisted.

‘Then, if you love me, you must marry me. Tell me you’ll marry me!
Please tell me. I’ll not leave until you tell me.’ She struggled to stand up
and pushed him away, and the snow whipped around their young faces.

David grabbed her to pull her to the path and tore the sleeve on his
coat, pulling it away from her shoulders as she resisted him again. He was
cold, he was wet, he could hardly see, he could hardly hear. ‘Joanne, stop
bitchin’ around. . . . Don’t be stupid . . . I’ll never marry anyone. No one .
. . ! Ever . . . ! How can I?’

‘But I love you, Davey. No one loves you like I do. So, say it Davey .
. . Say it, please! I beg you.’

‘I can’t say I’ll marry you. I’ll never say it to anyone. I’ll end up
as reckless as my dad. Can’t you see it! Who wants a fool for a husband . . . ?
Tell me, who?’ David pleaded. ‘Don’t you see it’s useless? It’s my inheritance.
Not the farm - not Keld Head, but just evil - evil stuff. The dice is loaded
against me, Jo.’

He pulled her again so hard, holding her by the wrists. He knew he was
hurting her, but he didn’t care; they couldn’t stay any longer. So almost
dragging her, they left the confines of the rocks and went together, stumbling
and falling, down the steep path below, on to safety, back to the village and
back to the warmth.

Joanne never said another word, she just cried. Some were tears of
anguish, some of pain at the feel of his strong hands, grasping hard against
her wrists and arms. Down they struggled, neither speaking, David with a sense
of total bewilderment. He’d felt that with one more plea from her, he would
have weakened. He was so close to giving up his promise for her, and it was
only brute strength that saved him from a careless declaration. But now he was
too tired to think anymore. His only objective was to get her to safety, back
to the village and not let her go. What happened after that he couldn’t think
or say.

The lights of Grasmere peeped through the white haze. The new bridge
and the easy path lay in front of them. Checking his watch he realised he was
late. It was 2:20 am and his mother would be worried senseless and would have
already called the Mountain Rescue. If only he could shout and tell her they
were safe. Just the walk across the village and then up the long and tedious
lane to Keld Head, and they would be home. Joanne was still struggling, but
with less defiance. But David couldn’t release his grip; he daren’t.

Grasmere was in silence as the snow falling steadily, sticking to the
pavements and trees. No one to see them or hear them, no one to worry. David
held on to her like a man with evil intent and, hoping all the time they
wouldn’t be spotted, he walked as quickly as he could, still clutching the girl
in his arms.