But where was the well? If the old man was in some way connected then it would have to be close, if not in the town of Cliff View itself. How would I find it? With no way of contacting Vincent, I would have to rely on my own policing – detective – skills. With the towel still wrapped tightly about me, I plucked up my iPad. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, I typed ‘wells – disused wells – cliff view – Cornwall – England’ into the search engine. Within moments, I was shown a list of results. The third link on the list read: Cliff View Heritage Association. I tapped the link with my finger to reveal a website run by the local council. It had been designed to attract tourists to the local town and area. There were a few pages of postcard-type pictures showing off the local beaches, hills, and valleys, but there was also a page with old ordinance survey maps. I clicked to this page. The map showed the locations of fountains, signal posts, pathways, disused railway lines, and old wells. The map also contained historical notes on the areas concerned. Dragging the tip of my finger over the map of the town and surrounding area, there were only three wells that I could find. All three of them were located outside of town and on farms in the surrounding areas. Two of them were described as nothing more now than ruins, and the well I had seen in my nightmare, although disused, still appeared to be intact. The third and most likely to be the one I had dreamt about sat on the edge of Michael’s father’s farm.
I looked up from my iPad. I remembered telling Michael I’d dreamt about falling into a well, and he had seemed a little confused by this. He hadn’t mentioned then that there was a well located on the farm where he lived with his father. Why would he? I’d only been talking about a dream, after all. Don’t lots of people dream from time to time that they are falling down holes, off buildings, and cliff edges? Maybe there was no connection for Michael to make. What did I really know about any of this? Was the girl I had seen in my dream even connected to the girl who Vincent had said had fallen into a well? And even if she was, it didn’t mean it was the well on Michael’s farm. But there was one similarity between what Michael and Vincent had told me. The girl had fallen into a local well ten years ago, which was about the same time Michael had left Cliff View to join the Army.
Chapter Fifteen
Over a light breakfast of tea and toast, I studied the map I had found on the website. There was a coastal path which led from the town and up towards Michael’s father’s farm and the well. It was remote and I was unlikely to bump into anyone from town if I took that particular route in search of the well. If I could find it, then I would know for sure if it was the one I had seen in my nightmares. If it wasn’t, then it was nothing more than a simple nightmare brought on by the upset of the recent accident I had been involved in. If it was the same well, then...then I wasn’t sure after that.
I threw on a sweater, jeans, boots, and a warm coat. Dragging my hair back into a ponytail, I fixed it in a knot at the base of my neck. I snatched up my iPod and earphones, took the torch from my police belt, and left my apartment in search of the well. I made my way down onto the beach, the wind blowing hard and sand stinging my face like needlepoints. I bent low, the sound of the roaring wind and waves crashing against the shore. Reaching the grassy dunes where Michael had appeared the day before, I made my way across them and found the path I had seen on the map. Once off the beach, and sheltered by a crop of trees to my right, the wind didn’t feel so harsh against me. I still walked bent forward, my hands thrust into my coat pockets to keep them warm. With my thumb, I switched on my iPod, wanting some music to keep me company on the long walk to the well. Without being able to see the track I was selecting, I hoped for the best. As long as it wasn’t anything by The Police. Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen started to play.
I threw a wish in the well...Carly started to sing. I rolled my eyes. Did every song I listened to lately have to appear to have some relevance to the shit I had gotten myself into? I continued along the solitary path towards the well. It wound upwards, along the cliff edges and high above the shore. Fields stretched away from me on my left, desolate-looking barns and farmhouses with smoke tumbling from their chimneys in the distance. How nice it would feel to be sitting in front of a roaring fire, a mug of tea warming my hands. I pushed those thoughts from my mind, and knew I would have to wait until I could feel warm again. The path wound its way through a crop of dense trees. I pulled out my iPod and brought up the map. I could see that I wasn’t too far now from the well. I turned off the music, placed the iPod back into my pocket, and followed the path through the trees. Birds, startled by my presence, fluttered from the branches overhead, the sound of their beating wings like gunshots in the eerie silence. Twigs crunched underfoot and soggy brown leaves stuck to my boots in a pulpy mush. I looked up and just ahead, I could see the well. To see it, made me stop in my tracks. With my heart starting to speed up, I stood and looked at the circular grey stone well, which stood out of the ground at about waist height. Taking a deep breath, my mind threw up visions of the girl at the bottom of the well humming along to Every Breath You Take. She wouldn’t be there though, she was just a part of my dream and not real. What about the old guy? Would he be down there? Would he be looking up at me, that flap of skin slapping against his emaciated face, as he whispered up at me, “Witch.”