Doctor Who BBCN19 - Wishing Well (7 page)

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–

48

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 break-through.’

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.

49

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.

50

‘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.’

51

‘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.’

52

‘He did seem a bit upset,’ the Doctor commented. ‘Is he right about the well? Is it protected?’

‘He’s never provided any proof at all,’ Angela said. ‘I just don’t believe him.’

Sadie said, ‘Until he shows us evidence that there’s any kind of preservation order on the well that could prevent us working on it, we’re going to carry on.’

‘Good for you,’ said Martha. ‘He’s a right old misery guts, isn’t he?’

Sadie smiled. ‘Don’t let all the bluster fool you. He’s not so bad. He’s done a lot for the village, really, and I think what he really resents is the fact that he’s not involved in the well refurbishment.’

‘Didn’t anyone ask him?’

‘It’s complicated.’ Sadie lowered her voice and glanced across at Angela, who was talking to the Doctor by the well. ‘Angela and Henry go back a long way; there’s a bit of a feud going on.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, only Angela can explain that. But it has something to do with her husband. Roger Hook was killed in a mountaineering accident in 1989. Henry Gaskin was with him, they were climbing together. So Roger died and Henry survived. I don’t think Angela’s ever forgiven him. . . ’

Martha nodded, feeling sorry for her. Angela seemed like such a strong, cheerful old lady, but in reality she was a widow of nearly twenty years and every time she saw Henry Gaskin it just reminded her of the painful loss. It certainly explained Angela’s bitterness towards Gaskin and clearly the dispute over the well was the perfect opportunity to express it.

‘Right then,’ said the Doctor, clapping his hands together in an effort to restore some purpose to the proceedings. ‘First things first: before we can get the new winding gear installed, we need to remove the grille.’

‘Won’t be easy,’ grunted Angela. ‘The wretched thing’s rusted into the brickwork.’

‘Oh, I might have something that’ll help,’ the Doctor smiled casually, holding up his sonic screwdriver.

53

‘That doesn’t look especially useful, Doctor.’

He shook his head patiently. ‘Don’t be deceived by appearances, Angela. Some people think I don’t look especially useful. Whereas in fact. . . ’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Actually you might have a point, but let’s see.’

Angela laughed uproariously at this. Martha watched her carefully, thinking that perhaps the Doctor reminded Angela of another energetic, enterprising young man she had known a long time ago.

54

The grille came away more easily than anyone could have hoped.

The Doctor loosened the concrete around the edges with his sonic screwdriver, and a couple of burly young men helped lift the metal trellis free. They dumped it on the grass by the Land-Rover.

The burly young men were from a carpentry firm in Congleton, and they had brought the new windlass. It was made of treated oak and extremely heavy, although Sadie assured them the well’s original uprights could take it. ‘It’s been made to measure,’ she said, ‘according to the plans and the engineer’s report. It’s perfect.’

The burly young men were happy enough to deliver the windlass, but they didn’t like the idea of helping to fix it in place – at least until Martha walked around from the far side of the Land-Rover. Then they were only too pleased, stripping off their shirts and arguing about which of them was going to take the heavier end of the windlass.

Martha smiled shyly at them, which only urged them to greater efforts, while Angela, Sadie and the Doctor all watched with amusement.

It took nearly an hour to install the spindle and the men were per-spiring by the end of the job. They collected their shirts and then looked for Martha, who smiled warmly at them and linked her arm 55

through the Doctor’s. The men glowered at the tall, skinny geek in the tight suit and then clambered wearily back into the cab of their lorry. Everyone waved as the engine started and the lorry drove off in a cloud of black exhaust.

‘Right then,’ said Angela, clapping her hands in triumph. ‘Let’s put it to the test!’

‘Already?’ Sadie asked.

‘Why not? At the very least it might help us see how deep the well is.’

The Doctor and Sadie installed the rope on the spindle, and then Martha wound it on. Her arms were aching by the time all one hundred feet was coiled around the windlass. Then it was simply a matter of attaching a bucket.