It was Saturday and Tovey had slept late. A week had now elapsed since the garden had been so mysteriously dug over. No-one had returned to finish the job, and Tovey had at last managed to shake off his apprehension and convince himself that he had done the work with his own hands, in a moment of mental aberration. Not only was this a cosy explanation- it was the only one that made sense!

It was around 10 am when Tovey woke, the sunlight streaming in through the window. Susan was already up... she was moving about downstairs.The smell of sizzling bacon assailed his nostrils! A knock on the door.
"You up John? Breakfast's ready and there's some post for you."
"Post??" Tovey jerked upright, a man remembering something important.
"Yes love, there's a big packet... looks like another editorial assignment. It's only the normal...."
Tovey cut her off "...... and the Hudson Typescript I bagged up last night?? You did give it to him??"
"Who?"
"The postman you nit!"
Susan frowned. "Oh no. Sorry love.... I forgot."
Tovey slapped his brow. "HELL! I'll have to go into the bloody village now! The deadline's up tomorrow. Why the heck didn't you remember??"
Susan exploded.
"I didn't remember because I'm not here to do your bloody job for you! I'm not your servant, here to wait on you hand and foot you know!! You expect me to do it all- cooking, cleaning managing the books and doing all your bloody dirty work! You moan at my cooking, you moan at clothes I make you. Nothing I ever do is bloody right."
"I'm sorry".
"Sorry?? But I don't see you getting up and making the breakfast. I'm getting fed up with it... you take me away from my family and friends and force me to live in this Godforsaken bloody place. And you expect me to like it!! Well I don't...I only put up with it because of you!"
"Don't cry love... I'm sorry. Come here." He held out his arms.
"You can get lost... that's your answer to everything with me isn't it? Well its no bloody use is it? I can't have a baby! What's the bloody point of it if you can't have kids?"
"There's lots of people I know would prefer it that way! Come on... it'll make you feel better."
"No... and I don't agree with you. Those people have a choice. They can have children if they want them".
"I dont love you any the less because we can't have kids you know Sue. I accepted that when we got married"
"Well maybe you did....but I didn't. Sometimes I think I never will. Your breakfast is on the table, you can come down and get it."

Accepting the tone of finality, Tovey realised that his wife had had the last word. Silently cursing Susan and her sex in general, he got dressed and ignoring boring formalities like a wash or a shave, shambled downstairs in pursuit of the proffered bacon sandwich.

Relations were strained for the rest of the day.It wasn't that she wasn't speaking to him, it was simply that despite the ease of casual conversation there had arisen a silent unspoken barrier between them, a barrier unmoved by cuddles, apologies or any attempt on Tovey's part to restore the household 'status quo'. Susan had obviously got 'the monk on' and Tovey realised that the best thing he could do would be to assume a low profile, and get out of his wife's way for a while. Tovey had decided. He would go to the village, attend to his business, and test the water later on when his wife was in a better mood. So with a tenner in his pocket, and 'Hudson' securely immured in his panniers, Tovey mounted up and pedalled off to sample the fleshpots of nearby Chipping Welburn.
Chipping Welburn was 40 minutes' bike ride away. Its 'fleshpots' consisted of one post office, one spar shop and the village pub- the 'Hark to Mopsey'. After having sampled the first two Tovey inevitably finished up at the latter. The pub was not entirely unfamiliar to him- he had stayed here on the holiday that had led to his discovery of Butterkeld, and had enjoyed a friendly relationship with Charlie, the landlord, who was an emigre Mancunian like himself. As he leaned on the bar Tovey realised he had not been forgotten.
"Hallo there. I wondered when we'd get round to seeing you again. What are you having?"
"Pint of dark mild please". Tovey paused. "So you remember me then?"
"Of course I do. How you doing out at Butterkeld then? Got yourself a right job on there!"
"Fine. But how did you...."
Charlie Mills laughed. "This isn't Owdham you know. Nobody misses owt around these parts. Frank Waddington told me you'd moved in."
Tovey smiled. "Of course...local building contractor. Drinks here regular does he?"
Charlie laughed. "A bit too regular sometimes. Sometimes I wonder how he manages. Strikes me all his profits go to Lancaster Breweries. His brother Seth usually works with him, but when Frank said he were workin' up at t'Well House he wouldn't have owt to do wi' it."

The landlord's eyes averted their glance, their owner suddenly acquiring the guilty look of one who has said too much. "Er....that'll be one pound and five pence please...so you're settling in here OK then?"
Tovey paid up, but did not rise to Mills' obvious attempt to change the subject.
"Yes fine...er.. what's this about a 'Well House'? Waddington working on it now is he?"
The landlord looked sheepish. "Er no..." He smiled. "I suppose I'd better come clean. It's the local name for your place. That's what they call it around these parts - t'Well House."
"But this Seth Waddington.... why shouldn't he............"
Mills leaned over the bar and spoke in a low voice. "What do you think of the place?"
" Butterkeld..?? Fine...a bit lonely but very peaceful...why? What should I think?"
" Well would you be surprised if I told you that there's folks around here wouldn't go near Butterkeld for all the tea in China!?"
Tovey frowned. "Yes I would. Why??? is it supposed to be haunted or something?"
" Don't rightly know. What I do know is that the place has been derelict for years, somebody once told me that the last owners moved out in a hurry...something to do with the water."
Mills motioned towards the corner of the room where an old white haired man was playing patience on the cast iron table."That's Sam Brockley. He's lived hereabouts all his life. Treat him to a gill and he'll tell you all about t'Well house. If anybody knows about it Sam will."
Tovey felt embarrased. "But.... I don't really know the man, I feel a bit...."
Mills smiled. "Don't worry about that! Hey! Sam....... This is t'chap who's livin' out at Butterkeld, he's a mate o' mine!" (Tovey felt honoured indeed!) "He's tryin' to find out a bit about the place. Can you tell him owt?"
The old man raised his eyebrows and gave mills a knowing look. He grinned. "Aye Charlie, but it'll cost 'im!" Tovey grinned. Point taken. "What you having Sam?"
"Same as usual. Canst tha play gin rummy?"
Tovey grinned. "practically weaned on it."
"Well get thissen over here and I'll play thi."

Tovey got the drinks, joined the old man, and the game began in earnest.

"Reet. Tha shuffle." Sam took a gulp of stout, paused for breath and continued.
"Caldwells... they used ta live up at Butterkeld. Allus lived thur, as far back as anyone can remember. They weren't rich or owt like that, just foresters and farmers."
"Well what happened to them?"
"Nowt much. Just died out. Me feyther reckoned that owd man Caldwell had a reet big family- all girls. Well that weren't much use. They all married and buggered off- except for Miss Eliza that is, and when she died that were an end to t'Caldwell line you see."
"Miss Eliza?"
"Aye, she were old man Caldwell's eldest daughter. Strange 'un she were. They reckoned she were set to marry this soldier feller but it all fell through and she never bothered wi t' blokes again."
"You mean he jilted her?"
"In a manner o' speykin'. Me feyther reckoned t'bloke wanted to emigrate to Canada but Lizzie weren't willin' to leave t'farm. Well when it came to t'crunch he 'ad to choose didn't he?"
"So he emigrated?"
"Reet.... he went away an that were that. Eliza stayed on at t' farm. She stayed there for t'rest on her life."
"Did you know her then?"
"No. Leastways not to talk to. You mun understand that I were just a lad then in t' 1930's. I used to see her ridin' into t' village in her pony an' trap. She'd have been in her sixties then. She had black eyes and white hair tied in plaits I remember. She was only about five feet tall but she had shoulders like a man. She used to wear wellies and an old black dufflecoat tied with string. She was a queer old stick. My schoolmates used to call her an owd witch!"
"So what happened to her then?"
" Oh she died durin' t'war. She must hev lived at t'Well House on her own for about 20 years after her feyther deed. In t'end she couldn't manage an' place just went to rack and ruin. Village postman found her, reckoned she'd been dead awhile. She'd been digging a garden plot and collapsed."
"So Butterkeld's been derelict ever since then?"
"Oh no. Two brothers bought it after t'war. They'd both been demobbed and wanted somewhere peaceful to live, but they didn't reign long up there. They left after about a month. Jack (t'owd Landlord here) said they told him that t'water had gone foul. Then Ernie Waddington and his two lads moved in. Ernie were a contractor, he reckoned he'd sort t'water out, but he didn't succeed."
"Ernie Waddington.... was he Frank Waddington's.................."
"Feyther? Aye Frank and Seth are his two lads."
"I see.. so what happened then?"
"They went the same way as the others. Stuck it out there a bit, but in the end they finished up back in the village. Frank used to tell me that the water kept going funny. Seth hated the place. He reckoned it was lonely and oppressive. He said it was haunted by 'owd Lizzie Caldwell' who kept telling them to get out of 'her' house. In the end they took her at her word."
"So the house stayed empty?"
"Well yes. When t'Waddingtons moved out that were it. Once t'story got out nobody would go near the place. Colonel Smythe up at t' Hall bought it for t' grazing land. But he left Butterkeld well alone. He didn't want owt to do wi t'Well House."
Tovey drained his glass. "Just one thing. Why do you keep calling it the Well House?"
The old man looked puzzled. "Dost tha not know? Whur do you think you get your watter from??"
"Water? Its piped of course. It comes out of the tap. Presumably from the waterworks. Where else should it come from?"
Sam laughed. "Who told you this?"
"Well Frank Waddington plumbed it in."
"That figures. Looks like old Frank's been pulling a fast one on you. Farms hereabouts have their own water supply. Springwater. If you've got piped water up at your place its coming from t'Wellhouse."
" But what is this Wellhouse?"
The old man looked amazed. "You mean you really don't know? You haven't seen it? Bloody hell man, you cant miss it!"
"Well it seems that I have!!"
"Take a look around your back yard when you get home. I've only seen it once, when I was a kid, but as I remember it, its like a church with pointed windows!"

The late afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on Tovey's neck as he pedalled erratically up the road out of Chipping Welburn. He felt woozy and it wasn't just the dark mild. His mind was fast filling with anxious thoughts about Butterkeld, for somehow the idyll did not seem so idyllic anymore. He recalled uneasily Sam's words -" reckoned she'd been dead awhile.... collapsed digging a garden plot." He thought of the dug garden. He thought of Susan up there alone.
Only as he breasted the brow of the hill did the breeze of the open fellside blow away his apprehensions and fancies and restore his sense of well being. Drawing in the cool, fresh air Tovey scolded himself for his foolishness, marvelling at his sheer credulity. Old men's tales, told whilst in their cups- no more! Tovey leaned his bike against a stone wall and sat down on an adjacent boulder, a lone sentinel meditatively silhouetted against a bleak, endless skyline.
He sat there for some time, alone and silent, a tiny speck lost in the the vastness of the hills yet essentially its monarch- Lord of the sweeping views, king for the day! This was his day... yet somehow Tovey realised he was not the first 'thinker on the rock' and would not be the last. One day the winter snows would fall, and come the spring he would melt with them, pouring through the torrents and rivers, ever slowing, to an eternal rest in an eternal sea. Another day, and another monarch will reign here, he thought to himself . Sitting on this fellside, with the rolling hills and the distant views of the Lancashire coast Tovey could see the world go round, could perceive of it and of his reality within its structure, resting on the bed of a gaseous ocean spinning through a black void. Here, unencumbered by walls and trees and rocky valley slopes, Tovey could see the hand of that empty invisible God to which he could not (and would not) give a name. On this high hill, taking a moments rest upon the wind a man might find (and lose!) his soul......
Having rested,and got back his 'puff',Tovey remounted his bike and began the exhilarating glide down the narrow, rocky, track which wound steeply down to lonely Butterkeld, tucked away in its sleepy dell. As he entered the trees he felt the still warm air and could hear the buzz of insects, and as he rounded the bend, he could hear the gurgling sound of the beck below. As he approached Butterkeld, half admiring those two stone balls which perched on columns on either side of the front door, he stopped.
The front door was open and he could hear children laughing. Apprehensively, almost hesitantly, half afraid of what to expect he leaned the bike against the wall and silently entered.
The source of the sound proved to be the TV set in the corner of the lounge! Susan, who was sitting there, watching it from a cozy vantage point on the settee, looked questioningly up at him as he came in. Tovey smiled weakly back, again silently cursing his foolishness, and also uncertain (given the earlier domestic storms) of the kind of reception he was going to get from his wife. He felt like one who dips his toe into the bath to test the temperature. Hopefully the domestic status quo could be restored- a peace offering was in order!
"Hallo Love.... sorry I'm late. I got a bit held up in Chipping Welburn." The response was predictable.

"At the pub you mean? If I don't know you now John Tovey I never will".
"I've been trying to find a bit out about this house, and its been something of an education I can tell you!"
Tovey received a blank, disinterested look, which quickly turned back to the programme on the TV. It was time for the humble pie.
" Look love...I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to be snappy with you about the postman".
"Oh yes you did!" she continued to watch the TV.
"Well I'm sorry. I've been boorish and inconsiderate. I'm not perfect you know. Peace treaty??
His wife glanced at him. She had half smiled but was giving away nothing. 'A smirky smile' he thought.
"Oh, we had a visitor while you were away."
" Really? It wasn't Paul from Mumps was it? He said he might drop in on us when we got settled in.
"No. It was an old woman. Strange sort she was, took me all my time to understand what she said she had such a strange accent."
"What?... foreign?"
"Oh no. Local I'd say. She gave me a bit of a start I can tell you!"
"A start? What do you mean?"
"Well I was out on the recliner in the front garden. I had my bikini on. You know how private it is here..... I was sunbathing topless!"
Tovey grinned. "Oh I see! Flashing again! No wonder you got a shock."
"Well I was there about an hour, soaking up the sun. I heard this bird flapping overhead, and a big gust of wind seemed to rustle the trees. I looked towards the gate and it was then I felt that someone was watching me."
"And was someone watching?"
"I'll say! I turned round, and there she was, standing right beside me! I nearly jumped out of my bloody skin!"
"So what happened?"
"Well as you can imagine, I erupted. I asked her who the hell she was and what was her business here? She seemed to me like one of those gypsies who come around trying to sell you lucky charms and clothes pegs. My immediate urge was to see her off the premises as quickly as possible."
"So what did she say?"
"She smiled at me. A very sorrowful smile. She spoke in a very soothing voice, like a mother talking to a toddler!"
Tovey laughed. "Oh come on Susan......!"
"I'm not kidding you. That's how she sounded. It took me all my time to understand what she said. It was something like 'bonny lass......tha's a bonny lass, whurs thi babbies? why dost not have t'key?' 'Key?' I said 'what do you mean?''Its ower t'door, she said,...ower t'door. Lizzie talks to hersen tha knows, allus tawkin ta hersen, feyther reckons shes nowt better to do! no babbies tha knaws, thers no babbies for Lizzie'
Tovey frowned. The moors had been wrong, and the wind had lied. Heart thumping in his breast, he asked the obvious question, hoping the answer might be different to that which he knew it must be.
"What was she like this old woman?"
"Will you stop interrupting! Like?? Like I told you, I thought she was a gypsy... dark eyes, white hair tied in plaits. She was wearing an old black dufflecoat tied up with string!!"
"Oh my God....!"
Susan looked up. "What's the matter love? You look white as a sheet. Are you O.K."
Tovey struggled to regain his composure. He would not tell her yet of what he had heard in the village.
"Oh nothing love. I think somebody must have walked over my grave!" Tovey half smiled to himself, amused, despite all, by his own sense of irony.
" So continue.... what happened to this old woman then?"
"Well she kept rambling on about 'babbies' and keys. I asked her if she would like a lift home, but she said something like 'my 'ome's wur I am, wur t'watters live'.... I was getting nowhere so I thought I'd go into the house, get some clothes on and take her into the village. She was obviously lost and confused, poor thing. So I told her to sit down on the bench and wait while I got ready."
"And......?"
"When I came back into the garden she'd gone. There wasn't a sign of her, it was like she'd never been there. That's when the strangest part of all happened."
"Well, I was just going through the front door, back into the house when there was this tremendous gust of wind. It was like a summer squall but there were no clouds and no rain. It rattled the windows. I was ever so frightened . Then I heard something fall off the stone lintel. I went back out, and I found this on the doorstep."
Susan leaned across to the coffee table and handed Tovey the object to which she referred. It was a rusty iron key.......!

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