Northern Spirit (49 page)

‘Okay, that’s enough!’ loving the distraction and the attention.

As evening approached, Kathy laid the table and set it for seven: she
and Linzi, Tom and Sarah, Alan, David, and Barry. She was relieved at the
success of the day: enough money to buy the new beef cattle and some to spare.
Her friends about her; her children, her son and her lover. There was an empty
chair at the head of the table opposite her.

She didn’t believe in spirits, but a wave of sadness overwhelmed her to
see George’s empty chair, as if his absence had struck her for the first time.
She looked across at his photograph on the wall, saw his handsome face and felt
his gaze. But Kathy was no longer afraid of George or his reproach, he had
deeply insulted her loyalty and his jealousy had probably caused his own ruin.
She could only thank him for a few important things: their beautiful children:
two daughters, and a strong son in Tom, a home and the livelihood she had.

She watched Alan talking to Barry, complaining about the price of
animal health products, and she was happy she’d been able to keep his
friendship. She looked at David and Linzi, who were now arguing because David
refused to take her to see Darren Watson that evening. The two youngest were
chasing their food around their plates with their knife and forks, eating only
the beef and the Yorkshire Puddings. Sarah tried to steal one of Tom’s
puddings, so he jumped up from his seat and, taking his dinner plate with him,
went to sit in the empty chair at the head of the table.

‘Tom. You get out of there! Get back in your own chair. If anyone
should sit there now, it should be Davey.’

David glanced across at the boy and then looked at his sister. ‘Leave
him be, Linzi,’ he softly spoke.

*       
*        *

It was late in the evening when David left Keld Head. He’d had a
wonderful day being with his family, but he had missed Hannah. He intended to
write to her tomorrow and tell her the details; she would be pleased he’d gone.
David had even taken a little pride in himself today, as he realised that it
was some of the breeding he’d introduced that had helped them get a good price
for the cattle. He also felt the way was open to return when he could, but only
to see the children. Tom would barely speak to him and David knew it would take
time for him to be forgiven. Sarah: she was more open and had accepted him
straight away; she really believed that David must have been in prison like her
father.

David was still uncertain where his future lay, it certainly wouldn’t
be at Keld Head; that, he’d resolved some time ago. The only thing he was sure
about was that he had to take care of Betty. As for Hannah, he would have to be
patient. He would never stand in the way of her studies; she had another year
to go at least, and that would give him time to get his life restored and maybe
save a bit of money.

He sped along the dark and twisting lanes back to Hawkshead, flinging
the old car around each bend, he was tired and content, but anxious he’d left
Betty for so long. He had managed to persuade Mrs Challenor to sit with her for
some of the day, but David guessed by now she would have gone and Betty would
be starting to fret. He hoped she would be in bed and anticipated glancing
around her bedroom door just to say goodnight. As he approached the cottage, he
saw most of the downstairs lights were still on.

Betty was sitting in her chair watching television, wearing her pink
nightdress and dressing gown ready for bed. ‘Oh, Freddie, you’re late tonight.
Where’ve you been?’ she whispered.

David went across, crouched by her side and kissed her on the forehead.
‘I’m not Freddie, Aunty. . . . It’s me, David!’

‘Let me look at you, Davey. Oh, I’m sorry love. I’m getting confused
again aren’t I?’

‘Would you like me to make you some supper, Aunty?’

‘Just tea, not too much milk. That would be lovely, Freddie.’

David stood up and went to the kitchen and, momentarily, shut his eyes.
He had learnt there was no point in explaining again.

He set a mug of tea on the table beside her and told her about the
sale.

‘Tell me again, why your father’s selling the cattle?’ she said.

‘Ahhh...’ he shook his head. ‘We’ll talk about it in the morning. Are
you going to bed now, Aunty? Do you want me to help you?’

‘No, love. . . . You get off. I’ll have my tea first then I won’t spill
it.’

He kissed her cheek and went upstairs, carrying his mug of tea in his
hand.

David was soon asleep but, by two o’clock in the morning, was awake and
turning restlessly in bed and couldn’t settle. He’d eaten far too much that his
body had become unaccustomed to. David got up and fumbled in the bathroom
cabinet looking for some Rennies and then wandered back to his bedroom, but as
he glanced downstairs, there was a glow of light coming from under the stairway
door.

He crept downstairs and pushed open the door and could see Betty
sitting exactly where he’d left her. The mug of tea beside her was untouched.

‘Aunty . . . Betty, are you okay? What are you doing?’ He leant over
her and touched her hand to rouse her, but all he could feel were cold,
lifeless and rigid bones. He didn’t need to examine her further; his hands were
shaking as he put out the light and then, kneeling beside her, flopped his head
down into her lap.

In the stillness of the night and in the darkness of the room, lit only
by the orange embers of a dying fire, David wept, his shoulders heaving with
the weight of his loss.

He stayed with her until daybreak, not wanting to leave her alone.
David carried Betty’s small and fragile body back to her room and laid it out
gently on the bed. He pulled the bedclothes up to her neck and covered her in
the pink eiderdown, as if she was sleeping. He waited until a reasonable hour
before he called the doctor and the undertaker.

David didn’t know that Betty had died only minutes after he had gone to
bed. She’d been unwell all evening and had felt sharp, crushing pains in her
chest. She thought she was waiting for Fred to come home; she wanted to stay
alive so she could see him one more time.

Betty had looked into his face and seen his warm eyes and the love he
had for her, and was glad he was happy. She thought he must have been looking
for George on the fells.

*       
*        *

David Keldas hated funerals, especially when it rained but, today, it
was warm and sunny.

Kathy sat beside him on the front row of the chapel, with Hannah at his
other side. Sitting so close together, David felt warm and clammy, his body
sweating from the exertion of carrying Betty’s coffin on his shoulders, bearing
the weight with three others.

Hannah was glad the sun shone for Betty. This lady deserved a good day.

She felt David’s body trembling, so she rested her hand on his arm.
They stood for the hymn and then listened as the clergyman delivered his
sermon. He appeared to direct all he said to David. Hannah didn’t know how much
the eye contact was unsettling him.

The clergyman spoke about the courage of the young and their
willingness to take care of the elderly. He mentioned a few light-hearted
comments about Betty’s feisty character, people laughed in low tones, not
certain if they should.

David wished the clergyman would look at someone else; he didn’t want
to be the focus of attention and was glad that most of the congregation could
only see the back of his head; he was unaware of who was behind him.

After a prayer at the graveside, David threw a handful of soil on the
coffin. It wasn’t until most of the mourners had left, that he had the courage
to look around. Hannah was standing by his side, still holding on to his arm.

Hannah saw David smile and loosen his tie, letting it hang untidily
around his neck. He winked at her, happy that the serious part of the day was
now over. Hannah realised she needed reassurance, rather than him.

David didn’t particularly want to stay with the other mourners who’d
been invited back to Keld Head, but this was Betty’s day, and he must show his
respect for her. He couldn’t let her down and go on a drinking binge, as he’d
done on the cold wet November day of Uncle Fred’s funeral.

‘Aren’t you going to speak then, Dave? I nearly didn’t recognise you
with that haircut?’

David turned to see Tony Milton. He wanted to throw his arms around him
but was restricted by Hannah’s arm. But he couldn’t stop himself from moving
his body in closer. ‘Never mind my hair . . . where’s yours?’

Tony eyed Hannah who was holding even more firmly to David. Then taking
her hand in his, he kissed it. She was taken aback by his forwardness.

‘Are you coming back to Keld Head for a bite to eat?’ David asked.

‘Aye, if you’ll have me. . . . If you’ve still got time for an old
friend.’

David walked towards his car and Tony stopped. ‘Er, if these are your
wheels, I think I’ll walk, thanks. I need to take in some of this air. I guess
I’ve missed this place. Besides, I’ve got my image to think of.’

Out of the corner of his eye David was aware of a tall man approaching
and wasn’t surprised to see Angus Piercy. He warmly shook his hand.

‘Thank you for coming, Mr Piercy. Will you come back to the farm for a
drink?’

‘I’d like that, yes please. But is there somewhere we could speak
privately, first?’

David hadn’t noticed the brown envelope he’d waved in his hand, but
Hannah had. She knew this was the solicitor that had helped David get out of
police custody, but she knew no more.

‘Please come to Keld Head. I can see you there,’ David was reticent.
And as he and Hannah drove slowly back through the narrow village street, up
the hill and on to the moor road, for the first time in weeks there was an
uneasy silence between them.

David took Angus Piercy across the yard into a small office that once
was a tack room. It still had some shabby saddles and bridles and other leather
items hanging on the walls. There was an empty glass cabinet that used to house
George Keldas’s rifles.

David offered the solicitor the only chair; he felt uneasy standing in
this small room with such a tall man.

‘I won’t sit down thank you, David.’ Angus Piercy sensed David’s
anxiety. ‘I would be happy if you did though. Relax will you.’ But David
continued to stand and put his hands in his trouser pockets and rested his
loins against the desk.

Angus Piercy pulled the envelope from his jacket pocket and David
shuddered.

‘Now, David . . .’ the solicitor put his glasses on. ‘I have something
important to read and it concerns your future,’ he looked at David down his
nose. ‘You will be sorry I’m sure, at the loss of your great-aunt, but in the
event of her death I’ve been instructed to act on her behalf to be the Executor
of her will. And I am happy to read to you her last Will and Testament. If you
would like to hear it.’

David legs trembled and in the heat of the small office, felt
perspiration trickle down his spine and probably stain the deep blue shirt he
was wearing. He brushed some sweat from his forehead with his hands. ‘Er, yes.
. . . Please - please do.’

‘This is the Last Will and Testament of Elizabeth Mary Keldas, of
Foxglove Cottage, Hawkshead, Cumbria, made on the first day of May, Nineteen
hundred and seventy-four.

I hereby revoke all former wills and codicils and other testamentary
provisions made by me and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament.

I appoint on the day of my death, my solicitor, Angus Robin Piercy,
of Preston House, Kendal, Cumbria, to act as my Executor.

I devise and bequeath that my great nephew, David Robert Keldas, of
Foxglove Cottage, Hawkshead, all my estate: financial, real and personal.

I witness hereof, and I have set my hand this day and year first
written.

Elizabeth Mary Keldas.

‘Do you want me to continue, David?’

He just nodded.

‘This is a very simple will, because you are the sole benefactor. Betty
has left you all her property - that being Foxglove Cottage and the land at Rye
Hills. You will inherit all her estate, personal goods and capital, would you
like to know how much that may be?’

‘I’m sorry. . . . But I can’t grasp what you’re saying.’ David shook
his head as if to waken his brain to activity.

‘Well, basically, you’ve been left everything she had. All her
property, money and shares, which, when calculated, will be a considerable
amount.’

David walked across the office and looked into the empty glass cabinet
at his reflection. ‘This can’t be true.’

‘Do you want to see it for yourself?’

David spun around and took the paper from him but could barely read its
contents. He only saw his name and he repeated it aloud: ‘Keldas . . . Keldas .
. . Keldas.’ He dropped his hands and still grasping the papers, said, ‘She
can’t do this . . . I can’t take this. I’m not her relative and you know that!’

Angus Piercy pulled the chair out from under the desk. ‘Sit down David
and listen,’ and this time he obeyed.

‘This is a legal document and it cannot without any great contest be
changed. It may be so that you’re not Keldas by birth, and perhaps your aunt
didn’t know that, but that’s the name on your birth certificate and, I assume,
that’s the way it’s going to stay. And although you’re not related to her by
blood, neither was she Keldas by blood, she only became so by her marriage to
Fred. This was still her dying wish that you inherit everything. The money she
had was left from the sale of Spickle Howe Farm after she bought Foxglove
Cottage. But let me tell you the circumstances of her writing this.’

The chair that David was sitting on felt like it was moving.

‘Her original estate was to be split between you and your brother and
sisters. But when you went to stay with her and look after her, as nobody else
had . . . ’