Free Wishing Well by Trevor Baxendale Page A

things down here, living things, moving in the torchlight: snails and beetles and spiders. When the light hit the snails, their translucent antennae shrank to nothing; the insects and the spiders scurried away into the cracks in the wall.
    His walkie-talkie crackled and he jumped. Fumbling, he raised it to his lips. 'Hello?'
    'Hello?' said Martha, holding the walkie-talkie in both hands. 'Hello? Doctor? Can you hear me, over?'
    The only reply was white noise.
    'I can't get anything out of it,' Martha said.
    Sadie took the radio and fiddled with it, but the only sound was static now. 'He must've have passed out of range,' she said.
    Martha turned to Angela. 'Do you think we should pull him back up now?'
    'The rope's still going out,' Angela said, nodding at the brake. 'He's still descending.'
    'I didn't think it would be this deep.'
    'There's not much more to go now. We'll play it right out.'
    * * *
    The Doctor pulled a face at the useless walkie-talkie and slipped it back into his pocket. He didn't think he'd come far enough to be out of range. Perhaps something was interfering with the signal.
    He was still descending, which was good. He didn't want Angela to panic and start hauling him back up too soon. There was still a lot to see.
    He waved the torch around the walls. The snails recoiled and the spiders ran. There was a lot of the white weed here; in some places it grew so thickly the brickwork was completely obscured. Now there were lumps of it here and there, like a sudden growth of fungus, with spindly little twigs thrusting out like fingers groping in the darkness.
    The Doctor reached out and touched the twigs. They were warm. He frowned, unable to decide if they were plant or animal in origin.
    There was one particular patch where a number of thick, pallid branches had extended halfway across the shaft in a kind of fibrous web. It was almost as if the weed – or whatever it was – had grown around something. The Doctor took out his glasses and slipped them on for a closer look as he drew level.
    He pointed the torch at the lumpy mass. There was definitely something inside the weed. Carefully he reached out and tugged at some of the fronds, and they came away quite easily. Beneath there was something small and round and dark. The light picked out a tiny face with matted fur and whiskers.
    'Uh oh,' said the Doctor quietly.
    The dead cat was almost overgrown with the weeds. The Doctor pulled some more fronds away, exposing the ginger ears and an old collar with a name tag. Squinting, he pulled the collar around until he could read the name on the little metal disc.
    Tommy,' read the Doctor. 'Barney Hackett's cat. So this is where you ended up, eh, puss?'
    There was silence in the well-shaft as the Doctor stared sadly at the feline remains.
    Then the cat's eyes snapped open and it mewed at him.

ELEVEN
    'Did you hear that?' said Martha suddenly, waving a hand at Angela to stop her speaking.
    'Listen!' Martha leaned right over the well, straining to hear.
    'I can't hear anything,' said Sadie.
    'Shush,' Angela ordered. 'What did it sound like, Martha?'
    Martha swallowed. 'Well, I can't be sure... but...' She looked back up at the two women. 'Well, it sounded like a cat mewing.'
    Sadie actually laughed. 'Oh, come on! Don't tell me Barney Hackett's been telling you his ghostly cat stories!'
    Angela was smiling too. 'He still reckons his little Tommy's down there, calling back up to him...' She put a hand to her mouth and looked upwards, mimicking someone calling up a well-shaft. 'Miaow!'
    'No, I'm serious,' Martha objected. 'Listen, I'm sure of it.'
    They all listened but there was nothing.
    'Pull him back up,' Martha instructed Angela.
    'Don't be daft,' she said. 'He's nearly reached the end of the rope anyway.'
    'I said pull the Doctor back up.'
    Sadie put a hand on her arm. 'Martha, you're overreacting. It's just a story. Barney Hackett's cat fell down that well months ago. It's dead.'
    'I know, he told me.' Martha ran a