Wishing Well Read Free

the Doctor, who gave an amused shrug.
    'Sorry about that,' laughed Angela. 'Force of habit! That's Henry Gaskin's place and it's my sworn duty to be as big a nuisance as possible to him whenever I pass by'
    'Ah,' said the Doctor and Martha together, as if this explained everything.
    'Don't worry about it,' Angela said. 'Henry Gaskin is a right royal pain in the backside, and he'd do the same to me any day of the week. I'm just returning the favour.'
    The Land-Rover skidded to a halt at one corner of the village green and Angela switched off the engine. The vehicle settled with a cough and a rattle and Martha followed the Doctor gingerly out. Her legs were shaking.
    'Here we are,' announced Angela briskly. 'Creighton Mere.' She pointed a long bony finger in various directions. 'That was the manor, obviously. There's the pub, opposite the cross. It's called the Drinking Hole, which is a sort of joke.'
    The Doctor and Martha exchanged another shrug.
    'Those are the shops, for what they're worth,' Angela continued, 'and that's where the Post Office used to be until they closed it down last year due to cutbacks. Damned fools. That Post Office was the nerve centre of the village; it's like cutting out its heart.'
    'Oh,' said Martha, her gaze alighting on something nearer to hand. 'What's that?'
    'Ah,' said Angela with a little clap of her hands, as if she'd been saving the best for last. 'That's what I'm here for. That's the well'
    It looked to Martha exactly as it should – an old village well, albeit in a state of disrepair. It was quite big, about two metres in diameter, with a circular wall around it to about waist height. The brickwork was crumbling in places, and there were patches of lichen and moss clinging to the stones. Two stout wooden pillars stood on opposite sides of the parapet, holding a heavy-looking windlass. There was no rope and certainly no bucket, though. Martha guessed it had been a long time since anyone had drawn water from this well. It looked to have once possessed a little roof of some sort, but no longer.
    'It's lovely!' said Martha. 'I don't think I've ever seen a real well before.'
    Angela looked admiringly at the well. 'It's our pride and joy– or at least it should be. We're trying to renovate it. As you can see there's quite a lot of work to be done.'
    Martha leant on the parapet and peered inside. There was a deep, dark hole protected by a heavy iron grille cemented into the wall at ground level, presumably to stop people falling in.
    'Can I make a wish?' she asked.
    'You can try,' chuckled Angela. 'No guarantees, mind.'
    Martha checked to see what the Doctor thought of it. To her surprise, he was still standing some way back, hands in pockets, staring at the well with what could only be described as a grim expression. 'Hey, Doctor. What's up? Not going to make a wish with me?'
    The Doctor didn't reply immediately. His dark eyes continued to stare at the well, and then, with a sudden sniff, he looked up at Martha as if only just registering what she had said. 'What? Oh, no. I don't think so.'
    Martha fished in her jeans pocket for some loose change. 'I'm going to,' she said.
    'Actually,' said a voice from behind her, 'I'd rather you didn't.'
    Martha turned to see a small woman approaching the well at a brisk pace. She was wearing an anorak, old corduroys and heavy walking boots, and carrying a bundle of papers and files under one arm.
    'We're trying to check the state of the well-shaft,' the woman added by way of explanation, 'so we don't want all manner of coinage tossed down there, do we?'
    'Oh come on, Sadie,' said Angela. 'One more fifty pence piece won't make a difference. Let her!'
    Martha smiled. 'Actually, it's a pound coin. Big wish.'
    'I don't suppose one more will matter now,' Sadie agreed with a smile, but Martha felt the moment had gone. She'd feel really self-conscious chucking a quid down there now and making a wish. The Doctor watched her with an ironic smile.
    'Sadie Brown,' said