Chapter 5
The race goes well, and after a long hot bath Simon walks the few hundred metres to the nearest village. There is a small hotel with a friendly bar, an outside seating area, and a pint with Simon’s name on it. The fells are glowing in orange light, a mosaic of colours and shapes. A few walkers are coming down the ridge, and he notices one with more ambition heading up against the flow in spite of the late hour. He smiles at his own folly from earlier in the week. But there’s no cloud this time.
A landrover pulls up and Ian gets out, a dog at his heels, heading for the bar. Simon nods as he goes past.
“Oh, hello there. How did the run go?”
“Fine, thanks. 10th for my age group, no mishaps. Will you join me?“
“Sure, thanks.” Ian nods at the remains of his drink. “I guess you needed that. Can I get you a top up?”
“That would be kind, but just a half.”
The farmer heads for the bar, and returns a few minutes later with the drinks. He settles onto the bench and looks up at the fells. “You wouldn’t swap it for anything.”
Simon nods, and for a few minutes they watch the changing colours on the hillside. “I wish I could spend more time up here. Have you farmed here all your life?”
“Yes, the farm has been in the family for at least three generations. My father and grandfather were born, lived all their lives and died on the farm. But things change. I doubt if my son will stay here. There’s no money in hill farming now. Renting out the cottage helps; it is fully booked for the next couple of months. I should convert the rest of the barn.” He pauses and takes a pull of his pint. “ I don’t know. We don’t use that barn much.”
“I think I heard someone in there the other night when we had the storm. The guy who was helping you fix the gate, does he use it?”
“What do you mean? There wasn’t anyone else with me.”
“The storm woke me up. I saw you struggling with the gate, I was about to come out and give you a hand, but saw someone else there. And your wife mentioned that you have a brother, I think I have seen him a couple of times, he gave me a steer when I was up on the fell. Does he live on the farm?”
Ian is quiet for a few seconds. “What did she tell you?”
“Just that it might have been your brother I saw, I think she called him Nick”
Ian shakes his head. “Nick died; you couldn’t have seen him.”
“Oh, OK. But I think I saw the same person by the barn. He looks just like you.”
Ian speaks slowly. “I did have a brother; Nick was my twin. It’s strange that you think you saw him. I sense that he is here sometimes.” He looks up at the mountain. “It feels as if he is talking to me sometimes, he gives me strength. I think that he is up there somewhere looking out for me; for the farm.”
“I’m sorry. Was it recent?” Simon pauses at Ian’s reaction. There is grief in the farmer’s face. Ian looks away and takes a couple of breaths. Then he turns back to Simon. “He was killed in an accident on the farm.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He is quiet again, looking away from his pint towards the edge of the table. And he talks not to Simon but to a space that he can share his thoughts with.
“Dad wasn’t well, so Nick and I were doing more on the farm. There was an accident. Farm machinery is unforgiving, even with modern health and safety rules. I was just walking into the yard when I heard this scream. High, awful. Someone in real pain. Nick was lying in the yard, his leg crushed, blood everywhere. We couldn’t move him, and it took ages for help to arrive. Eventually we moved him into the barn, but he had lost too much blood.” Ian’s voice is soft and low and Simon has to strain to hear him above the sounds of the garden around them. “I was holding his hand when he died. It’s a strange thing, one moment he was there, the next he had gone. I remember the quiet, the smell of blood and animals, straw on the ground, spiky when you put your hand on it. Dad never really recovered from the shock. He had a weak heart, and he passed a few months later.”
Ian looks up, wipes his face with a large hand. “I’m sorry, you don’t need this.”
“It’s OK. Thanks for telling me.” Simon is quiet, embarrassed, looking for the right words. “It must have been a comfort having Louise here; and your son.”
“Oh no, they weren’t here, this was long before I met Louise.”
“But the person I saw, Nick, Nick’s ghost, was your age, looked just like you.”
“Could be. But Nick died 20 years ago. He was still a boy really.”
© Anthony Judge 2022