Wishing Well (5 page)

The next morning was overcast, as if the sun had simply decided not to bother. The Doctor seemed not to notice or care; he was up bright and early, full of energy. He'd changed his suit and plimsolls and ditched his tie, but otherwise it looked to Martha as if he'd been awake all night.

She found him standing by the TARDIS, watching the dawn as it crept across the dry-stone walls and rolling Derbyshire hills around them. Not far away was Creighton Mere. They could see the church from here.

'It doesn't seem right,' Martha said after a while. 'Just standing here, doing nothing. What happened to Barney was just awful.'

'I'm not doing nothing,' retorted the Doctor. 'I'm thinking.'

'What about?'

'Did you used to have a garden?'

Martha nodded, instantly transported back to the good times when her mum and dad had still been together: everyone laughing in the Jones' back garden as she tried to organise a game of tennis between herself and Tish. She was always Venus Williams, and Tish had to be Serena. Leo was ballboy, although he spent most of the time running away with the tennis ball, forcing his sisters to chase him. Happy times and places. 'Yes, we had a garden. Why?'

'Did you ever pick up one of the big stones in the damp corner of the garden and have a look underneath?'

'Ugh. No.'

'I always did,' said the Doctor wistfully. 'I always wanted to see what was lurking underneath, living in the darkness. Bugs and worms and things. You'd lift up the stone and they'd all be exposed, running away from the sudden light. Except the worms – they didn't run, of course. They just sort of squirmed and shrank.'

Martha shivered. 'And the point of all this?'

The Doctor nodded towards Creighton Mere. 'That's what this feels like. We're going to go down there and look under the stone. See what squirms.'

They reached the village in less than half an hour, and Martha appreciated the simple, old-fashioned beauty of the place far more this time, largely because she hadn't been rattling around inside an old Land-Rover on the way in.

It was busier this morning. There were a few cars passing through and some children waiting for the school bus. A man was walking his dog across the village green, and on the far side were Angela Hook and Sadie Brown, standing by the well. The Land-Rover was parked nearby, the rear door open to disgorge a pile of equipment including tool boxes, buckets and coiled ropes of various lengths.

'Morning!' said the Doctor brightly as they approached.

The ladies seemed delighted to see them again. 'You're just in time,' announced Angela. 'We're expecting delivery of the new windlass any minute. Fancy lending a hand?'

'Love to!'

Martha eyed the patch of grass where Barney Hackett had turned to dust the night before. There was no sign of his remains now.

'We're measuring up for the new roof, too,' said Sadie. 'It'll cost a bit, but we've got to have one.'

'Otherwise rainwater and debris will just fall down the shaft and spoil the water,' explained Angela.

'I thought you'd want rainwater,' said Martha, trying not to think about Barney.

'No, the water comes from underground springs,' Sadie said. 'Or at least it should. One of the things we still have to check is whether the well really has gone dry.'

'You said something yesterday about seismic movement,' the Doctor said.

'That's right. It makes the most sense.'

The Doctor shrugged. 'The best thing would be to go down and have a look.'

'Well, yes, obviously,' Angela agreed. 'But we can't do that – we're not fixed up for that kind of project yet.'

'Why not? You're getting a new windlass fitted. Once the rope's in place someone could be lowered right down into the well.' The Doctor looked expectantly at them.

'You mean actually go down? One of us?'

'Well, I was thinking of me, actually.'

Angela and Sadie looked at one another. 'Do you mean that?'

He grinned and nodded.

'That would be marvellous,' said Angela, genuinely moved. 'We can't do it, after all. Too long in the tooth for that kind of lark – or that's what Sadie thinks anyway.'

'And I'm always right,' smiled Sadie.

The Doctor grinned. 'Then it looks like you're stuck with me.'

Are you qualified?' asked Sadie. 'There are health and safety issues, after all. We don't want to be liable for anything.'

The Doctor produced the ID wallet containing his psychic paper. 'Ah! So you're from the Council's Heritage Department, eh?' said Angela, peering at it suspiciously. The Doctor flipped it shut and slid it back into his inside pocket without saying anything. 'I thought you were tourists.'

'Well, you know...' the Doctor replied, and rubbed the side of his long nose with a finger in the universal gesture for 'Don't tell anyone'.

The accompanying twinkle in his big, dark eyes did the trick, and Angela nodded immediately. 'Oh, yes, of course. Right-ho. Mum's the word!'

Martha bit her lip to stop herself smiling too broadly.

* * *

Ben and Duncan had got to work straight after breakfast. Moving to the head of the tunnel they quickly and expertly set up the lights and started to dig. Duncan took the lead with the pickaxe while Ben ferried the loose earth away in the wheelbarrow.

Nigel was impatient. They were so close. He stood behind them and watched, smoking cigarettes with trembling fingers. He couldn't hold them properly because of the gloves. That had prompted a question from Duncan: 'What's with the black gloves, Nigel? You look like a criminal mastermind this morning.'

Nigel had smiled humourlessly at the jibe. 'I
am
a criminal mastermind,' was all he said, but he was thinking of the damage to his hands: when he had finally let go of the stone last night, he had been left with painful blisters all over his fingers and the palms of his hand. The blisters had wept blood for a while, leaving him literally red-handed for the rest of the night. He had collapsed onto his bed, exhausted, the image of Barney Hackett's fatal transformation burned into his mind. But it was worse than that: the Doctor and his friend had seen it too, had watched as the old man turned to dust right in front of them... and yet they hadn't started screaming or running for help or even gone to tell anyone about the remarkable event they had just witnessed. They had talked to each other quietly for a few minutes and then left on foot.

And that had scared him more than Barney Hackett's unseemly death.

'What happened?' he had asked the stone in desperation. 'What did you do?'

-the human form is so weak-

For the first time Nigel detected an element of frustration in the stone. And the more frustrated the stone was, the more it hurt him.

-the transmutation could not be controlled-

Nigel had gritted his teeth through the pain. 'I don't know what you mean. I don't understand!'

-next time... next time-

Now there had been a sense of anticipation, of urgency. Nigel knew that he had to move fast. Part of him had wanted to go and wake Ben and Duncan there and then, to start digging straight away, but he was too tired himself. Communication with the stone had left him exhausted. He had to literally tear his hands from it and there had been blood. Eventually he had drifted into a disturbed sleep full of dark dreams.

The next day started well, however, with Ben showing him and Duncan a schematic diagram of the tunnel on his laptop. 'I've done some more calculations. Judging by the angle of descent and the information we have regarding the well depth, I think we're even closer to zero point than I thought. The treasure vault is right off the main shaft, according to the information we already have. Just about here, in fact.' He pointed to a spot on the screen. 'We're that close to breakthrough.'

It was the best possible news, and they set to work with renewed energy. Or at least Duncan and Ben set to work while Nigel watched. Ben had estimated another two hours' digging would bring them to the vault.

'Hurry up,' Nigel said, as Duncan paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead after another half hour's toil. 'Another hour and we'll be the richest men in England.'

'Wait a second,' Ben said. 'What's this?'

Nigel turned back to find Ben kneeling down at the head of the tunnel, where Duncan had been clearing away a lot of loose shale and stones. There was something poking out of the earth, pale and shiny.

'Bring the light over here,' said Ben.

Duncan swung one of the lamps around so that the area was properly lit. Ben was already scraping away more soil, using his hands, until the buried object was revealed.

Nigel saw the teeth first, yellow and full of gaps, beneath a jagged hole and two empty sockets.

'It's a skull,' said Duncan.

Ben reeled back. 'Flipping heck!'

Working quickly, Duncan cleared away more stones and dirt until they could see the whole thing: a human skull, partly covered in dry, age-darkened skin stretched over the bone, still with wisps of brittle hair attached; then part of a shoulder blade and some ribs covered with rotted fabric.

'It's a body,' breathed Duncan. 'Someone's been buried here.'

'This far down?' Ben queried. 'Bit deep for a grave.'

'I don't like it,' said Duncan. 'We should tell the police.'

'Don't be stupid!' barked Nigel, his heart hammering with excitement as he stared into the empty sockets of the skull. 'Don't you realise what this is? It's the highwayman, you fools! The man who hid the treasure down the well! Don't you remember the story? He was thrown down the well after the gold.'

'Well, yes, I know,' Ben stammered. 'But I thought that was just a story.'

'Well now you know it was true!'

'We should still report it, I suppose,' Duncan said.

Nigel scoffed. 'What? D'you think the police are going to start an investigation into a murder that took place over two hundred years ago? Talk sense! This is nothing to do with anyone except us, do you understand?' Nigel clapped his gloved hands together and gestured towards the corpse. 'Don't you see what this means? We're right on track! If we've found the highwayman, then the treasure can't be far away! We're right on top of it! Now, dig! Go on, start digging again!'

'I don't know, Nigel,' Duncan insisted. 'It doesn't feel right.'

Nigel stared at Duncan with eyes full of greed. 'I said start
digging again!'

The Doctor was peering down into the well again. 'How deep is it?' he asked.

'We don't actually know,' Sadie told him. She joined him at the parapet. 'It won't be easy going down there, Doctor. There's bound to be some decay, possibly subsidence... and undoubtedly a lot of vegetation – there will be weeds and so on clinging to the brickwork, maybe even tree roots breaking through.'

'Not to mention a blooming great metal grille across the top of it,' Angela added.

'It's supposed to prevent anything from falling down the well,' Sadie explained patiently.

The Doctor pulled a face. 'Yeah, it could do that,' he agreed. 'But have you thought it might also be there to stop anything getting
out?

'What?'

They all gasped as the Doctor suddenly vaulted over the parapet and landed on the grille. It shook under the impact of his trainers but held fast.

'Ye gods,' Angela roared. 'You've just taken ten years off me!'

The Doctor had dropped to his knees and was peering down through the metal bars, his nose practically touching the grille. 'Not enough light to see very far down,' he reported. 'But you're right about one thing – there are plenty of weeds down there, growing out of the brickwork.'

'What did you mean, stop anything getting out?' asked Sadie.

The Doctor's face popped up over the parapet, a picture of innocence. 'Did I really say that?'

A sudden commotion on the far side of the green snatched everyone's attention away. A long, gleaming Daimler had pulled up by the village cross and a large, rather angry man was getting out. He was dressed in a suit but wore an expensive Barbour coat over it. He had a bullet-shaped head with thin, receding hair the colour of old iron. As he strode across the green towards the well, Martha saw that his eyes, set deep beneath bristling grey brows, were glaring menacingly at Angela.

'What the devil's going on here?' he demanded haughtily.

'Uh-oh,' Sadie muttered. 'Here comes trouble.'

'Mind your own business, Henry,' said Angela shortly. 'Go on, clear off, you're not wanted here.'

Henry Gaskin snorted through his nose like a prize bull. 'You know perfectly well that this
is
my business,' he said. 'I have a duty of care to this village and you two are trampling all over – Great Scott, what the devil's he doing in there?'

They all turned to look at the Doctor, who was still standing on the grille. From this angle he appeared to be levitating at the top of the well. He raised a hand and waved his fingers at Gaskin.

'This is the Doctor,' explained Angela happily. 'He's from the council.'

'Is he, by God?'

And he's come to help with the restoration work.'

Gaskin glowered at the Doctor. 'Get out of that well, you damn fool.'

The Doctor stared back. 'Say please.'

Gaskin reddened, and then his gaze quickly took in Martha too. He knew they were strangers to the village. 'Creighton Mere's well is a listed building,' he advised them. 'You'll need official authorisation to come anywhere near it.'

'Show him your ID, Doctor,' suggested Sadie.

'ID be damned,' snapped Gaskin. 'You'll all leave here this instant.'

'All right, here are my papers,' sighed the Doctor, clambering out of the well and reaching into his pocket.

'You have no papers,' Gaskin declared emphatically. 'The necessary documents can only be obtained from the local magistrate – and as I am the local magistrate, I can confirm that you have not, and will not, be granted any kind of permission to touch this well. Do I make myself clear? You have one hour.'

With a final black look at Angela, Gaskin turned on the heel of his shoe and marched back towards the Daimler. They watched as the car started up, pulled around the green and then disappeared in the direction of Gaskin Manor. The exhaust smoke was still in the air when Angela said, 'Confound that awful man. He never stops trying to interfere.'