Doctor Who_ Wishing Well Part 3

'Then what?'

Nigel smiled. 'Cut him out, of course.'

Angela was telling Martha all about the plans to fit a brand new windla.s.s to the well the next day; it was all 'jolly exciting' according to Angela, which was the first time Martha had ever heard anyone say that and not mean it as a joke. She smiled delightedly and Angela took this to mean she found the whole prospect fascinating. 'You really should come and take a look tomorrow,' she insisted.

'Thanks, I will,' Martha promised, not sure if this was true or not.

She could be halfway across the galaxy by then, or sightseeing in the Palaeozoic Era. Instinctively she turned to the Doctor to check.

Only to find that the Doctor had vanished.

'Your friend left a few minutes ago,' Sadie told her. 'He said he'd see you outside. I think he's gone looking for Barney Hackett.'

'Oh. Where's he likely to be?'

Sadie pulled a face. 'Try the well this time of the day, he usually visits it to make a wish.'

'Thanks.' Martha grabbed her jacket and said cheerio to Angela and Sadie, promising to see them the next day. She hoped they didn't see her fingers crossed. She hurried towards the exit and ran straight into Duncan Goode, who was carrying drinks from the bar.

'Whoops!'

'Oh, sorry,' gasped Martha. 'Didn't see you there!'

He smiled. 'Well, I'm big enough.'

'Yes, you certainly are. Well, sorry and everything. Again.'

'Don't apologise. It was my pleasure, really.' He caught sight of her coat. 'Oh. Going so soon?'

Martha shrugged. 'I'm looking for my friend.'

'I could be your friend. Name's Duncan, Duncan Goode. Sorry, can't shake. . . you know.' He held up the three drinks he was holding together in his large hands. Martha smiled. 'Nice to meet you, Duncan. I'm Martha Jones. Look, I'm in a bit of a rush. . . '

'Wait! I haven't told you about my wish. . . '

'What wish?'

'My wish in the wishing well. It really works, see.'

'Yeah?'

'Absolutely. I came here a lonely man. I wished for a friend a lovely, dark-eyed friend of the opposite gender, to be precise. And look what happened!'

Martha smiled. She had to admire his nerve. 'Not just now, tiger. . . '

'Hey don't judge a banana by its skin.'

'Pardon?'

'Listen, I may look gormless but I played rugby for my University's First XV. Second row hence the nose.' Duncan briefly looked cross-eyed at his own, slightly crooked nose. 'Occupational hazard but good character-building stuff, so they tell me.'

'All right. So what's a bright boy like you doing with someone like Nigel Carson?'

Duncan shrugged. 'I just owe him a favour, that's all. And it's just a bit of fun anyway. But he's very intense. He can't help it poor bloke's never even held a rugby ball, so what does he know?'

Martha smiled. 'Well, exactly.'

'Right. Look, you're welcome to join us for a drink anyway. . . ' Duncan jerked his head at the far side of the pub where Nigel Carson and Ben Seddon were waiting.

When Martha glanced at them she saw they were glaring icily at her and Duncan. That immediately annoyed her. 'Do you know, I'd love to. . . but I really must see the Doctor first.'

Duncan frowned. 'Nothing serious, I hope. . . ?'

'What? Oh, no, not that kind of doctor. It's my friend. He asked me to catch him up.' There was an embarra.s.sing pause as the two of them looked uncertainly at each other, waiting to see who would speak next. 'Well, I'd better be going,' Martha said at last.

Duncan simply smiled at her. 'OK.'

Duncan put the drinks down on the table, spilling one of the pints slightly. 'Whoops. I'll have that one.'

'What were you talking to her about?' asked Nigel sharply.

'Who? Martha?'

'Yes.'

'Nothing.' Duncan took his seat. 'She just b.u.mped into me. I asked her if she wanted to join us for a drink, that's all.'

'What?' Nigel snapped. 'Are you terminally thick? What do you want to ask her that for?'

Duncan looked over to where Martha was just disappearing through the door. 'Well. . . I quite like her.'

'In case you've forgotten, Duncan, we're not here to fraternise with the locals.'

'I don't think she's a local.'

'I don't care! She's with that Doctor, isn't she?'

'I suppose so.'

'He's trouble,' Nigel said bluntly. 'I can tell. He might be from the council. That well could be a listed building or something. Those stupid old women, the ones who want to refurbish the thing, they've probably called him in as a consultant or something. The girl's probably his partner. I don't want you to have anything to do with them again, clear?'

Duncan sipped his pint and shrugged. 'All right, keep your knickers on.'

Nigel took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. 'Anyway, we're nearly finished here. By tomorrow lunchtime you could be one of the three richest men in the country. Ben and myself being the other two, of course. You'll be fighting off girls like her with a stick.'

Duncan laughed softly. 'Maybe I will. But I won't believe it until I actually see the treasure. My mum always told me never to count my chickens before they're hatched.'

Ben tapped his computer. 'I've checked our progress. By my reckoning, this particular chicken will be hatched by tomorrow teatime.

That's if we start at nine o'clock sharp. It's a full day's digging, but we're very nearly there.' Nigel rubbed his hands together. 'Gentlemen! A toast. . . ' He raised his gla.s.s. 'I give you the future specifically, tomorrow!'

'Here's to the treasure!' said Ben happily.

'Power,' said Nigel.[image]

Martha found the Doctor standing in front of the well. 'Come to make a wish?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'Nah. I can never think of what to wish for.

Well, no, I can, actually: lots of things. Too many things. I wouldn't know where to begin.'

'Gets complicated, doesn't it?' Martha hugged herself for warmth.

The evening had turned chilly. 'So what's up, then? Come on, you can tell me: I'm nearly a doctor.'

He smiled. 'I just needed some fresh air, that's all.'

'What, you?'

'It's the dandelion and burdock. Goes straight to my head, always does.'

'It's the well, isn't it?'

'Something's not right, Martha.' He walked slowly towards the well, as if it was some kind of slumbering beast.

Martha joined him, peering over the parapet into the dark depths.

There was a cold, strange odour rising from it, as if something had fallen down it and died. With a shiver she thought of Sadie Brown's story about the highwayman. 'You think it's something to do with that treasure?' 'Possibly. It's interesting, because wells are traditionally places of power. They're frequently holy places the name Holywell crops up all over the place, for instance. And they are often thought to be guarded by spirits that's how wishing wells started. People would come to get some water and offer up a prayer or a coin in return.

Sometimes they'd ask the spirit of the well to grant a wish.'

'D'you think there's a spirit in this well?' Martha leaned over the wall and peered down.

'Difficult to say.' The Doctor looked at her with one of his wry smiles. 'Sometimes the wells weren't guarded by a benign spirit they were guarded by a monster.'

'Well, I don't think there's any monster down here,' said Martha, her voice echoing down into the darkness of the well. It was dusk, and she couldn't really see a thing, but the well appeared to be empty.

'Are you sure?' said a dry, old voice behind her.

Martha gasped and looked up. Standing very close to her was an old man with dark eyes framed by a tangle of dirty grey hair. 'Oh, it's you!' she said. 'You really made me jump!'

'It's Mr Hackett, isn't it?' said the Doctor brightly.

The man frowned at him. 'How do you know my name? I don't know yours!'

'It's all right,' Martha smiled. 'Someone told us you'd be here. But we haven't been properly introduced, have we? I'm Martha Jones.

How do you do?' She held out her hand, but Barney Hackett just stared at it as if he'd never seen a hand before. But this didn't put Martha off; she'd done enough training hours in A&E to know how often the elderly and confused just needed a quiet chat and a smile to help them along.

'I hear you're quite an authority on this well,' said the Doctor.

Barney glared at him. 'Who told you that?'

'Angela Hook.'

'She ought to know better, that one.' Barney sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his parka. 'An' she ought to leave the well alone. It isn't safe.'

'Why?' asked Martha. Barney looked at her as if the answer was obvious. 'People can fall down a well like that!'

'Really?'

'Yes like Tommy.'

'Tommy?'

'Yes! He fell down the well only six months ago.'

'You're kidding!' Martha was shocked. 'Someone fell down there six months ago? How? What happened?'

'Tommy was just walkin' around the wall,' said Barney, regarding the stonework sadly. 'I think he heard something inside I don't know what, but he kept peerin' down, down into the shadows. Then he just. . . fell in.'

'But there's a metal grille look,' Martha said, pointing. 'That's been there years by the looks of it. How could anyone fall down?'

'Well, if they're small enough. . . '

Martha looked again at the bars criss-crossing the well-shaft. 'Small enough?'

'Tommy was just a normal-sized cat, you see.'

'Ah.' Martha looked back down at the thick metal grille. The gaps between the bars were certainly wide enough for a cat to slip through.

She swallowed hard. What a way to go. 'I'm sorry,' she said to Barney.

'I'm really sorry. It must have been awful.'

'Oh, it's all right, love,' said Barney. 'He can't get out, but he still calls up to me every so often.'

'But I thought you said he fell down six months ago.'

'That's right.'

'But how can he have survived that long? He'd starve to death.'

'I know,' Barney said with a wet smile. 'But he still calls up to me.'

'Brrr,' said Angela. 'Look, I've got goose b.u.mps!'

Sadie looked at the arm held out for her to inspect and pulled a face. 'It's pretty warm in here.'