Northern Spirit (20 page)

Tom’s face flushed, embarrassed as Kathy continued to fuss and he
pulled away from her.

‘I don’t want him getting hypothermia.’

‘He’s a fit lad. Anyway, walking will keep him warm.’ David argued as
he slid his empty porridge bowl into the dish water.

But Kathy took no notice and followed Tom. ‘I wish you’d wear a
different jacket. . . . Your school one’s thicker. And mind you wrap up too,
our Davey. It’s not just kids that get hypothermia you know.’

*       
*        *

They walked over the new bridge, across Easdale Beck, and David was as
silent as usual. Tom was telling him about the few days he’d just spent in
Lancaster with his grandparents; his conversation was non-stop as David
suspected. Then Tom picked up a stone and threw it in the beck. The dog was
quick to jump in.

‘Tom . . . ! We’ve only been gone half an hour and we’ve already got a
wet dog.’ David guessed she’d be in the water at some time before the day was
out, but didn’t expect it as early as this. ‘Come out Moss . . . you stupid dog!’
The dog leapt from the stream and shook herself, spraying their legs with the
dirty water. Tom laughed, but David wished he was still in bed.

The walk ahead took them gradually up to the falls. From the village
below, the froth on the water looked like someone had broken a giant bottle of
milk and it was dripping down the rocks. David stopped to look at the water as
it noisily tumbled down the hillside. He held the dog firmly by the collar, and
glanced down to the village; the cottages and houses were already dwarfed by
distance and across the valley he could just discern the tower at Keld Head
looming ominously as a formidable landmark.

The day continued grey and cold, but dry. They had little company in
the way of other walkers, but David could just see on the path below them
someone walking alone.

After a short break they steadily climbed until the terrain levelled.
And as they walked into Easdale, they could see the fells high above them
streaked with snow, as they swept down to the tarn. David was still quiet; just
managing to say a “yes” or a “no” to Tom’s barrage of questions, purely because
he was unsure of what else to say. He knew he was meant to be helping, but just
didn’t know how. He wished he could come straight out with it and ask Tom why he’d
been bullying, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He wasn’t even sure if he had the right to speak to the boy and thought
this problem shouldn’t be left to him. He couldn’t remember bullying anyone at
school. Although he’d been caught fighting in the playground once or twice, he
believed his own conduct was as white as white. He’d usually only been
protecting someone else, but invariably was the one to be caught, and David
wondered if that injustice had coloured Dorothy Hargreaves’s view of Tom. And,
if that were the case, he could recognise a sense of responsibility.

David was irritated to have been given this problem on such a pleasant
day. He knew what it felt like to be disciplined, when all you wanted was to be
loved. David had spent many hours alone with his father in the hills, but it
was rarely a happy experience. It was usually on an errand of mercy looking for
him, because he’d wandered off in one of his selfish moods or maybe crazed with
guilt after some argument with his mother. Then, if David did find him, they’d
spend an unhappy hour walking home, with his father saying he should have left
him up there to rot.

The tarn lay just before them; the water still and black as treacle. It
was a good place to stop and eat so they bundled their rucksacks down on the
shingle, as a flock of wild geese flew up swiftly and noisily from the water,
flapping their wings and making a great commotion.

David poured coffee from his flask, and as he sipped he watched Tom
gather up some stones and skim them across the water, counting each time they
bounced. David looked at the space before him and it settled him. He saw the
rocks bordering the lake, splendid in shape and form, black, grey and green.
The expanse of the hills and sky stretched out ahead of him; miles of freedom
if he so desired. He considered the choices he had today and wondered why he
was allowing himself to become embittered, rather than elated with his life.
Everything here was real, solid and tranquil, nothing was deluded or the
imaginations of a tired mind. He downed his drink, took in a deep breath of air
and felt exhilarated for the first time in weeks; the liberty was welcome, and
he would have fun today, so picking up a stone, he joined Tom at the edge of
the lake.

The game was entertaining and Tom responded to the challenge. But
glancing at his watch David realised they must get on. They’d plenty of walking
and talking to do and, although he knew his route well, the daylight hours in
March were short.

The next objective was to scramble up the side of Belle’s Knott, which
was a large slab of rock, covered in moss and a damp black slime. Then there
was one last pull to the summit of the fell, and then an exposed walk on a good
path to Sergeant Man and High White Stones.

They spoke in broken tones, as they breathlessly climbed. Tom screamed
with boyish laughter as he purposely slithered on the wet rocks. The dog was
way ahead of them now. She stuck to the path and waited on each corner. And,
each time they approached her, she teased them and ran away again, wanting to
keep them at a distance.

David stopped to catch his breath and looked down to the valley way
below them. Keld Head was almost obscured in mist. He could still see a great
distance behind them, just one person sitting at the tarn at the same spot
where they’d rested.

Easdale was a popular route, especially at this time of year when the
weather was improving. The sight of other walkers usually comforted David, not
because he wanted the company, and not because he was afraid of the hills but,
in case of an accident, help was within sight.

He found himself peering into the distance at the solitary figure
sitting by the tarn and thought it looked like a woman. David became overly
concerned at their presence and, as he continued to amble up the fell, he
looked back over his shoulder several times in case they were following him. He
continued to watch and climb until, after a struggle, they reached the summit
and the stranger was out of sight.

Tom was far ahead of him now, using his energy to keep up with the dog.
He shouted back to David, ‘Come on. . . . Hurry up, Davey. What are you looking
at?’

David quickened his pace and with one last effort finally managed to
catch up to the boy. They climbed over the top of the fell and the wind was
strong as it hissed passed their ears. They had to shout to be heard. ‘This is
better than school.’ Tom screamed.

At this first mention of school David seized an opportunity. ‘You’ll
only have a few months at Junior’s left now.’ David shouted back.

‘I don’t want to go to Keswick in September.’ Tom came closer to hear
him, nudging into David’s body as he carelessly wandered the grassy path.

‘I’d make the most of the village school while you can, then.’

‘They say they push your head down the toilet on the first day. Did
they do that to you?’

‘No. . . . They couldn’t catch me. Don’t you worry about that. It’s all
stupid talk. You’re a big lad. They’ll leave you alone.’

‘Well, if they don’t, they’ll soon know about it!’

They pressed on over the grassy fell, keeping to the path and climbing
towards the next summit. ‘You want to keep out of trouble. . . . Take it from
me.’ David said more softly.

‘Oh yeah!’ Tom ran around David and, tripping carelessly on the cobbled
path, started to taunt him. ‘Is that how you got your busted lip down in
Blackpool then?’

David felt a sharp jab at the accusations. ‘Anyway. . . . You don’t
know what happened in Blackpool. . . . I was just in the wrong place at the
wrong time.’

‘Didn’t you hit him back then?’

‘No. I didn’t. I just got out of the way.’

‘I’d have let ‘im ‘av it!’

David laughed, but he really wanted to stop this aggressive talk and,
he realised, that without even trying, he was opening up what was in the boy’s
heart.

‘They call me Killer Keldy at school!’ Tom said.

‘What . . . !’ Stopping, David grabbed hold of the boy’s shoulders and
looked him square in the face. ‘What do they call you?’

‘KILLER KELDY . . . !’ Tom had a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he
shouted.

‘But that’s horrible.’

‘I don’t care what they call me. I can handle it!’

David thought,
Aye, but you don’t want to live up to it, though.
And
there was no more to be said as he’d discovered, with no surprises, the
overwhelming cause of the bullying and knew that his brother wasn’t to blame.
His father was a bully and he’d left them both with a bitter legacy.

David also knew that he couldn’t blame himself for the boy’s behaviour,
yet that was no consolation. The way Tom was talking, it would take more than a
pep talk from him to sort him out. He certainly didn’t know what the answer
was, but the school and its problems diminished, as his brother’s future became
David’s overriding worry. He would have to leave it to his mother; there was
nothing more he could do.

David looked anxiously for the fell top and was pleased to see the
summit-cairn just peeping out of the mist. At that moment, he felt it the most
inhospitable place on earth. The wind was so strong they could no longer hear
each other shout, let alone speak. David took a woolly hat from his pocket and
pulled it down on his head and over his ears. He checked Tom to see if his
clothing was fully buttoned. He lifted the hood on the boy’s jacket and pulled
it up and over his head, and tied it, unceremoniously, under his chin, as his
young cheeks flushed with the cold.

They didn’t loiter, as David led them quickly across the grassy slopes
on to the jutting white rocks of High White Stones and then back to the head of
Far Easdale and the path homeward. With each step of descent, they quickly
escaped from the cold wind.

Tom, still charged with energy, began to run as he could see the way
before him, and Moss followed closely, glad to be out of the cold.

‘Don’t go too far in front!’ David yelled. But the wind carried his
voice away in a different direction, and Tom didn’t hear anything of what he’d
just said.

The mist began to clear as they descended into the valley below and the
whole of their walk home was stretched out before them. David checked his watch
and was happy they’d made good progress and decided that as soon as he could
catch up with Tom, they’d stop to shelter and have another hot drink and some
more to eat.

David had been thinking what it must be like to be a parent and have
the responsibility of a young life, but with the promise he’d made he doubted
he would ever be a father. He didn’t want the accountability anyway, and
neither did he want to inflict on anyone else this inheritance he had. He
considered their future and wondered if Tom, in time, would have to carry this
same load that he had to bear. Not that his own father had taken his commitment
seriously, and David understood that it was only due to his mother’s influence
that he’d had any kind of family life at all. The only way his father had given
him some consideration was that he’d shown him how to run the farm. But these
skills had been passed on with such a bitter tongue and, sadly, David had
struggled to live up to his standards. Neither did David do any fell walking
for pleasure with his father. Most of the happiest times on the fells had been
with Uncle Fred. They’d usually been on the same duty of looking for his
father, and the old man’s remarkable vitality and good company provided a
welcome release from the anxiety of the search. Yet, David loved spending that
precious time with Fred. But the beauty of the hills had often eluded him
because of the grim circumstances he’d found himself in; walking in the cold
and wet, when he would rather be in front of the fire. It wasn’t until he
started to walk alone for some peace that he learned to love the sanctity of
the hills. He had favourite routes; ones that didn’t hold any bad memories for
him and these were the ones he regularly took.

David was daydreaming when his boot struck a rock and it jolted him
back to reality. He realised that Tom and Moss were only a few feet away from
him.

‘Davey . . . ! I’m starving. . . . What have we got left to eat?’ Tom
tugged at the fastener on the rucksack.

‘Let’s get some shelter first. Look, sit by these rocks.’

David sat across from Tom on a spare pullover, leaning his back against
a rock. Comforted by the shelter, he crossed his legs and stretched them out in
front of him and he noticed Tom doing exactly the same.

‘I’ve been thinking of going to Old Trafford in a couple of weeks’
time. Would you like to come?’

Tom stretched his spine to make himself appear taller. ‘You mean it?’

‘Yeh, I mean it.’

‘What, just you and me, like?’

‘If that’s what you want.’

‘Who’s playing?’Tom asked.

‘Does it matter?’

‘No . . . no. . . . Oh man, yeh.’

They ate their sandwiches and David poured some more coffee. The dog
sat in front of them, hoping for something to eat. Her brown eyes drooped, and
her mouth drooled, hoping they would feel sorry for her.

‘Quickly eat up or we’ll get cold. We’ve done well today. We should be
home before it gets dark.’

At the mention of home, the worrying thought that David couldn’t recall
that morning as he lay in bed hurried back to his mind.
Hannah Robson was
coming out with them that very night!
Mixed feelings swam through his brain
as he quietly sat eating his sandwiches.
Linzi would have to entertain her.
She was her friend, not his.
He even considered staying at home. He would
be tired after this walk. But then, as he recalled Hannah’s Durham accent and
imagined Tony trying to imitate her and tease her, it brought a wry smile to
his face and he abruptly said: ‘Right. . . . That’s it, Tom. Let’s get on
home.’