Fred Elwell - A Life (Part 2) by Jennie Hart

Fred Elwell - a self portrait

Jo’s mind was buzzing as he drove home, he’d only gone to collect a painting and now he had fixed up a date with Sonya; well, a dig, not an actual date in the sense of going out together.

‘I know nothing about her’ he thought, ‘It’s years since school; and she might be married; or living with some guy.’ Jo mulled things over but decided Sonya would have mentioned it if she was; except of course, they hadn’t had any time alone together yet. He realised he’d not told her anything about himself either; hadn’t mentioned he had a girlfriend. Thinking about Ruby, he admitted their relationship had been floundering lately and it was time they discussed their future. He was fond of her but she and Jo’s ways of relaxing were almost incompatible; Jo sometimes thought they lived in parallel worlds. Ruby’s idea of relaxation was shopping, nights out with her girlfriends and watching lot of soaps and reality TV.  Jo preferred spending his spare time walking, an evening reading or watching a film.

The Fred Elwell painting had slipped down Jo’s priority list as more pressing subjects like Ruby and Sonya filled his mind. He unwrapped the precious painting and studied it, enjoying the feel of the carved oak frame. It was of an East Yorkshire landscape; a cluster of winter trees by a pale silver stream in silhouette against a colourless sky. Fred had captured the movement of the little river flowing over boulders and there was a glimpse of shingle beneath the light tones of the sparkling water. Jo planned to hang the picture in an alcove of his living room. His flat was already decorated with bright posters that he’d bought at random, but the Fred Elwell was in another category.

Ruby was on holiday for a week with her best friend and would be home this coming Saturday. Jo had suggested they explore the Yorkshire Dales together but Ruby preferred a week in Skiathos on a scorching beach. Jo felt a tingle of anticipation as he drove over to the Wetwang farm to meet Sonya and Phoebe. It was June, when one imagines the sun will never set and this evening the summer crops and grass verges were drenched in warm rays, very different to the landscape captured in the Fred Elwell painting. Jo turned into an overgrown lane alongside the famous farm and then onto a gravelled area in front of some outbuildings. He parked next to an old black Mini which wasn’t Sonya’s as he knew she  drove a red Fiesta..

Sonya appeared from beyond an open farm gate and waved for Jo to join her. In the distance were two more figures looking towards Jo. He made out someone tall and a young woman he assumed was Phoebe. He and Sonya walked over to join them.

‘This is Adam, Jo, he just called by; it’s not Adam’s thing to dig for buried treasure unless it’s on a computer game. Adam’s a planner for East Riding Council.’ Jo shook hands and the two eyed each other with a bit of a grin and something like slight suspicion.

‘Well I’ll be going,’ said Adam, ‘Have a good dig. Hope you find Aelle’s helmet and make headlines in the Driffield Leader – you’d be celebrities!’ Sonya smiled as he bent to kiss her cheek and squeeze Phoebe’s hand. A minute later, the mini revved up and was gone.

‘Adam lives in York and comes over sometimes to see how we’re getting on; he works in the next office to me at the council; that’s how I got to know him.’

‘Is he your boyfriend then?’ asked Jo. He could be blunt to the point of being rude but he wanted to know where he stood.

‘Well, yes and no, we’ve been out together a bit, but nothing serious. Adam calls in on his way to see my brother; they both like the same music and play computer games together. Are you into that kind of thing? It just doesn’t interest me; I can always think of more exciting things to do – like our dig! Sorry Phoebe, this is Jo. He knows about the chariot and all the amazing finds on your Great Uncle’s farm. That was before any of us were born but farmers still keep unearthing pottery and even jewellery. Jo’s keen to help us. We’re still hoping we might find a woolly mammoth aren’t we Phoebe!’

The dig was already at a good depth and Jo soon learned to painstakingly use brushes and fine sieves to ensure no artifacts unearthed were damaged. They only found a few pottery fragments that night but these indicated they had chosen a good spot to search. Any tiny shard was placed in soft tissue wrapping on a wooden tray. Both the girls were impressed by Jo’s enthusiasm; he told them he lectured in history at the Scarborough campus for Hull university and had a passion for the past, but it had always been limited to research through reading. He had never met a true archaeologist before like Sonya, so couldn’t resist accepting when she encouraged him to join the dig. Now he knew two! At the moment, he was writing a biography of the Artist Fred Elwell and Sonya’s grandfather had provided another line of investigation to take up. It was strange thought Jo, to refer to Fred Elwell as an historical figure as he had only died in the nineteen fifties, but he was from the past and the theory that his family were descended from a Viking King, gave an extra kick to Jo’s desire to dig up buried treasure. He knew there was unlikely to be any link between Sonya’s bronze-age finds and the early medieval ancestry of Fred Elwell; they were probably separated by nearly a thousand years but every period of history was fascinating to Jo.

Phoebe suggested Jo might like to meet her Great Uncle Jim who had once owned this farm, because it was near the field where they were digging that the iron age chariot and skeleton had been discovered. ‘It was ages ago now,’ said Phoebe, ‘Nineteen eighty-four I think and Great Uncle Jim’s retired now and lives in the village. The new owners don’t mind us searching here; this is a hay meadow and we’re only digging up a corner so not spoiling a crop’. Phoebe arranged for Jo to go and see Mr Jim Thompson. He was happy to meet Jo and proud of the celebrity status of the farm, his former home. Jim had compiled a comprehensive folder of cuttings and photographs taken from local and national newspapers at the time.

 ‘They cem from all over the place ye know Jo to look at our land; some were from London; it was that important.’

Jo sat at an old deal table while Jim made a pot of tea and offered chocolate biscuits. Jo marvelled at photos in the folder showing two chariot wheels with iron rims still intact and black stains in the earth where the wooden framework would have been. Two bridle bits and some metal parts of reins had been found near the chariot.  And most impressively, the complete skeleton of a woman was uncovered, buried with the chariot. A metal mirror unearthed suggested an important burial. One or two reports told of other digs in the area with many more finds such as a sword and little chalk figurines. One article said the tribe were the Parisi who had migrated from an area around Paris in about the fifth century BC. Another article said these iron-age people were of the Arras Culture.

Jim was lonely, Jo felt, and glad of the company. He told how he’d lost his wife two years ago and how nothing could ever replace her. Jo thought of Oswald Hamilton and how he too was an elderly man alone, so mentioned Oswald to Jim. ‘I ‘ave met old Oswald’, he said ‘He did a bit a diggin’ on my land and in those days we were young an' fit, but I don’t drive any more so don’t go meeting folks much’.

‘Well if you like, I could take you over there one day’, said Jo, ‘It’s not far, I’m sure Mr Hamilton would like some company.’ Jim was quite touched by the idea and Jo promised to arrange it when next he was over that way. It was late afternoon as Jo drove home along the quiet country roads and lanes bound by lush grass verges. Sun flickered between high cirrus clouds and illuminated hogweed standing tall amongst red campion and meadowsweet. A tractor blocked his way when he wanted to turn into the main road so he reversed to a wider stretch of the lane to let it pass. Jo felt glad to be alive; he had enjoyed making new friends and hoped he could lessen the loneliness of the elderly Jim and Oswald.

Jo was aware it was time to face up to his own muddled life. It had only just become muddled but Jo had known for some time he must talk to Ruby about their relationship. Jo’s life had not been easy; at fifteen, he had moved to Flamborough with his mum because his parents had split up. Neither his mum or dad could afford to keep the Beverley house, so he’d had to change schools and leave all his friends behind. Nor did he see much of his dad who had remarried and moved to West Yorkshire. To be fair, his dad had made an effort to keep in touch but his mum was bitter about the separation and eventually also found someone else. Jo and his stepdad had never got on, so after college, Jo got his own place.

Jo didn’t want to hurt Ruby. He sometimes thought because of his hurt when his parents split up, it had affected his own relationships. He knew he could be difficult but Ruby was impatient and not very sympathetic. Ruby’s life had been more straightforward, her parents were still together and she could recall few hiccups in her life. Jo believed her untroubled upbringing prevented her understanding his often-complicated feelings and need to talk about them. Walking in quiet, uninhabited places helped him create order in his often-disorderly mind.

Jo checked his contact list and found Sonya’s number. He sent a message suggesting they meet for a drink and received an instant reply saying, ‘Thanks Jo I’d like that’. They met in a cosy pub in Sonya’s village and as they chatted Sonya told her own story. It was not too different to Jo’s. Her parents too had been unhappy together and their separation had hurt her a lot. The situation was so distressing she had gone to live with Grandad Hamilton while she studied in York and was still living there now. She still saw her dad and he did his best but was a committed drinker. Sonya blamed her mum for having an affair and hurting her dad but it hadn’t lasted long. Grandad Hamilton had been the one reliable person in her life and she loved him above everyone because he cared about her. Jo hadn’t realised that Sonya was living with her grandad. Perhaps he wasn’t quite so lonely as Jo had thought.

It was the summer break so Jo wasn’t at work; he spent the next day mulling over his dilemma; his renewed friendship with Sonya, he thought, was like an egg that hadn’t yet hatched; it was no more than a foetus but he was certain it was going to emerge as a beautiful bird given the chance. Jo already liked her more than he could say; they shared a past history and her re-entry into his life was like a miracle. He knew Sonya’s enthusiasm for the past would motivate him to work on his biography of Fred Elwell. The surprise conversation with Oswald Hamilton concerning the Elwell Viking ancestry was motivating. Examining the past and understanding the behaviour of people was a big part of Jo’s daily workload but now he had to also unravel his own life and decide in which direction he was going to go 

Jo had intended visiting his dad this week but because of collecting the painting then meeting up with Sonya he had postponed his trip. Ruby had messaged him to say she was home now so he knew he ought to call and see her and try and work things out. He drove over to Ruby’s flat on the edge of Bridlington. Perhaps it signified uncertainty that they had never moved in together. Light flooded onto the pavement from the large picture window so Ruby was at home. The front door was locked and although he had a key, Jo walked down the passageway to the back door which was usually open and went in. There was a spicy aroma from the wok on the hob and an interesting bowl of salad on the worktop. He walked down the narrow hall to the tiny dining room and stood motionless with surprise to see Ruby with a glass of wine in her left hand and across the table holding the hand of someone Jo didn’t know. Their conversation was obviously engrossing because only when the door whined as it opened further did Ruby and the stranger turn to see him.

‘Oh gosh!’, said Ruby, pushing back her chair. ‘I thought you had gone to your dad’s; this is Tim from the rugby club’. Jo decided Tim had no idea who Jo was because he casually raised his glass to Jo and said ‘Hi’. Ruby was flustered and began to explain that she’d invited Tim for a meal but he wasn’t staying long. Jo curtly said that from his observation, it looked like a long, relaxing evening as food was still cooking on the hob.

‘Anyway’, he said, ‘I have to go’, adding sarcastically, ‘I need to get a takeaway’.

Jo was fuming as he left the house followed by protests from Ruby that she could explain. Driving home he slowly cooled down; his pride was hurt, but wasn’t this a solution to his problems? He knew he hadn’t been attentive to Ruby lately so she naturally had turned to pleasanter male company. After all, had he not been doing exactly the same? He was a hypocrite if he didn’t admit it.

Ruby sent a text to Jo the following day asking him to come and talk and he agreed. He hadn’t slept much but his mind was clearer now and he knew it would be unfair to blame Ruby for her behaviour. Ruby was tearful and attempted to justify her friendship with Tim but was surprised when Jo acquiesced and suggested they end their relationship but remain good friends. Ruby began to cry and told Jo she was only flirting with Tim and that Jo was the man she cared for. Jo took her hand and said he cared about her too but it wasn’t working out. He decided not to mention that he had met up with someone from his past. Jo had made up his mind; he made an arrangement to collect his books and clothes from Ruby’s place. The break wasn’t easy but it was what Jo wanted. He already had a date to join another dig with Sonya and Phoebe followed by a meal prepared by Sonya at Grandad Hamilton’s. Jo hadn’t forgotten his promise to Great Uncle Jim that he would take him over to renew his friendship with Grandad Hamilton.

He planned to take them to Oswald’s local but that was second on his list; first was to have a proper date with Sonya; ‘No digging, no Phoebe, no Grandad Oswald, no Great Uncle Jim, just the two of them!’