Make a Wish

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  Make a Wish

  Published by Stephen Aleppo

  Copyright 2012 Stephen Aleppo

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  This book is dedicated to

  Tina Teaspoon and the Hairy Gang

  Rocky, Sparky, Spooky and Codey

  A Special Hello to

  Danielle, Daniel, Tony and Logan

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  Chapter 1

  I’m late and there’s little time to take in the beautiful scenery stretching out on either side of the narrow lane as I pedal furiously into the last downhill stretch that will take me into the tiny village of Missendale. Maybe the ten mile trip has been over-ambitious on the new bike’s maiden voyage, especially with legs that have spent so long in plaster casts. But the steep descent eases my aching knees and I can’t help laughing hysterically as I pick up speed and the wind rips through my hair until I feel I will take off at any moment. The Overhanging tree tops blot out the light at regular intervals, turning day into night and back again every few metres and I grip the handlebars tightly as I lean into a right hand bend.

  The bike threatens to continue in a straight line and I have to fight to stop it dragging me into the undergrowth bordering the narrow road. But I can’t slow down and I know I don’t want to. The danger of it is as intoxicating as ever and I’m confident I can ride it out. My spectacular tumble down a French mountain the previous autumn seems little more than a distant memory now and I’m relieved it has not dampened my desire for a bit of risk taking.

  The bend gets tighter and steeper and the same sinking feeling I experienced in France just before my fall comes back to haunt me. I’ve overstretched myself again and the thought of another long stay in hospital brings me out in a cold sweat. I drift close enough to the dense shrubbery bordering the lane for it to slap me for my stupidity as I hurtle past it, threatening to drag me into a drainage ditch if I dare stray closer. It’s too late for braking now and I lean over to the right in an effort to coax the bike away from the danger and back towards the centre line.

  I don’t notice a big red four wheel drive car speeding up behind me. It comes in close as the driver aims the vehicle at the diminishing space between me and the hedgerow on the opposite side of the road and I instinctively pull on the brake levers too hard and too fast. The startling difference disk brakes make to a bicycle become apparent as the frame trembles in protest, struggling to check the impetus of over thirty miles per hour and the car’s wing mirror clips the tip of the handlebar, the tiny collision setting up a frightening wobble that’s impossible to right as it screeches around the bend and out of sight. I close my eyes and pray as the bike hurtles off the road with little chance of the tyres biting on anything that might save me and moments later I’m lying in the ditch, covered in whatever lurks at the bottom of these things, with the bike on top of me.

  For a few moments I drift in and out of consciousness, unsure if I’m dead or alive until I’m able to check myself over for broken bones. I run my fingers gently through the severe short haircut my Mum has been so unimpressed with, examining my scalp for any signs of blood. But there’s nothing and my only injuries appear to be skinned palms and a throbbing pain in the knee. The stinking black goo beneath me has acted as a kind of shock absorber and although grateful for it being there, I am covered in the stuff. I scramble up the bank, my anger pushing aside all fear of injury.

  “Maniac!” I shriek. But the car has long gone and the outburst only succeeds in making my head swim. I sit back down heavily on drier ground and survey the bike through half-closed eyes, hardly daring to focus on it for fear of what I might see. It’s scratched and covered in grime and the sight triggers the familiar tightness in my throat I have come to know so well as all the memories come flooding back. I burst into tears.

  “Stupid idiot!” I growl to myself, before forcing my rage down to a more controllable level. It had to have been a man but at the speed he was going it was impossible to be sure. But only a man would drive like that.

  I’m already late for the time set aside for public questions at the Town Hall Meeting and this disaster means I’ll probably miss it. Danny Marsden is notoriously reporter shy and hard to pin down at the best of times and now it looks as if my promise to the editor of the college paper for a few quotes from the millionaire property developer will come to nothing unless I get a move on. All I want right now is to head home, but I have arranged to meet Avril and only that thought forces me into action. I retrieve my notebook and pens strewn around in the dirt, but there’s little point in trying to wipe the mud from my clothes and I hope it will be dry enough to brush off by the time I get to the village.

  The car park’s near full as I arrive and I guess most of their owners are attending the meeting within the building. Still furious, I look around for any sign of the red four wheel drive, certain the driver must have been coming here. But there are no red vehicles at all and I decide to forget about it and put the blame on some bone-headed tourist on holiday from the city, unused to the different tempo of life in the countryside.

  Avril Fellows sits on the low wall fronting the flowerbeds outside the building and her expression turns from accusing to concern as I slide to a stop beside her.

  “Cathy, what the hell happened to you?” She gasps. “You can’t go into the meeting looking like that!” She begins patting furiously but it has little effect.

  “I look even worse now it’s dried in.” I growl, looking down at the worn denim suit. The urge to head home is overpowering now and I climb back onto the saddle. “It took me an age to get ready too. I’m out of here.”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Avril says, grabbing my wrist as I put my weight on the pedals. “I’m not going in there alone, especially as you asked me to come along to keep you company in the first place. Besides, you’re not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what happened to you?”

  “I will, later.” I say. “But if I must stay, make yourself useful and go ask old Tom on the door if he’s got a clothes brush I could borrow.”

  Avril frowns suspiciously, considering the possibility of an escape while her back’s turned, before she hurries over to the main doors. I’m almost disappointed when she reappears a minute later with what looks like a horse grooming brush. But this is no time to be fussy and I allow her to set to work and the stiff bristles soon turn the dried goo into grey clouds which choke other late arrivals as they pass.

  “That’ll have to do.” Avril sighs, ignoring their irate glances. “Here take a look.”

  I check myself as carefully as I can in a one inch pocket mirror and I guess I’m passable enough if you don’t look too closely and I secure the bike to the railings before following her inside. But I still feel as noticeable as a mobile scarecrow, especially with Avril beside me looking glamorous in a classy looking print dress and pink suede heels.

  Inside the chamber about a hundred people are seated and at least fifty more stand huddled at the back near the main doors. The place buzzes with the sound of angry chatter and most of its coming from strangers I have never seen before. A lot of them look like travellers. Avril giggles as we squeeze through the milling bodies and make towards the front.

  “I don’t know what you were worried about.” She shouts above the din. “Next to this lot you look positively regal.”

  I cringe at the volume in the tall blonde’s voice, but thankfully no-one appears to notice and we shoehorn ourselves into seats near the front that have been commandeered from the local primary school. No one taller than four feet seems to want or be able to use them. I feel mildly ridiculous with my knees up so close to my chin and I study Danny Marsden, sitting at the centre of the conference table up on the stage. He’s a lot younger
than I’d expected and bigger than the men sitting around him. His bored, almost black eyes scan the sea of hostile faces beneath him like some evil ruler trying to spot the troublemakers that need executing amongst the throng. For a moment his gaze locks onto mine and I feel the skin behind my ears tingle giving me a peculiar desire to run for cover. That stare is filled with an aura of menace and it’s clear young Danny has styled himself on the dubious skills of his Father. Skills that will one day allow him to take over the running of Marsden Property Development.

  “My oh my.” Avril whispers in a sing song voice. She has a familiar look in her eye. “Isn’t it a pity we’re on opposite sides of the fence?”

  “Avril!” I hiss, while scribbling meaningless doodles in my notebook until I’m sure his attention is taken up elsewhere. “Stop looking at him with those stupid cow eyes and try to remember that he represents the enemy.”

  The Chairman, Councillor Grumman shouted then. “If order is not restored I shall have no alternative but to declare the meeting closed.”

  “Oh not again,” Avril murmured. “That’ll be the second time this month and we’re still no further forward.”

  The Councillor bangs the gavel harder but it makes no difference. “This meeting is crucial to the future of Becmead Woods and I would appreciate your co-operation in this matter, thank you.”

  The noise, mainly from the outsiders at the back of the hall shows little sign of abating. There are more of them here than before and I scan the faces trying to spot anyone familiar. A girl in a leather jacket, worn to suede in places, a black skirt and bin man’s boots steps forward, her voice shrill and righteous.

  “Don’t you people care about anything?” She screams. “You are going to destroy natural habitat for thousands of animals.”

  Another male voice chipped in. “Some of those trees are three hundred years old.”

  There are more vocal accusations from the group until the whole protest escalates into little more than a personal attack on Danny Marsden. He doesn’t turn a hair as the swearing and abuse tumble on him. He’s probably used to it I guess and his expression remains impassive and cool.

  “Order.” The Chairman shouts, barely audible now above the racket.

  “Order nothing,” the girl screeches, “Don’t you people ever listen, you murderers!”

  That’s all it needed and soon the whole group are chanting “Murderers, murderers.”

  I worry a lip as I fight off the overwhelming urge to laugh when I notice some of the older residents of the village chanting right along with them, apparently having no idea what they are supposed to be chanting about but enjoying a bit of excitement all the same. The Chairman leaps to his feet, his face a worrying shade of crimson. “I declare this meeting closed.” He roars. “Ushers, clear the chamber.”

  The attendants around the room leave their stations and head for the back of the hall as Danny Marsden speaks to another man sitting beside him. He stands and throws the agenda papers onto the table and I watch as they slide over the polished oak and become airborne at the end of it. His actions betray his emotions more clearly than his face and he stomps down the steps looking immaculate in a grey business suit before he disappears through a door to the left of the stage. I realise he will have parked around the back in one of the secluded parking bays kept for visiting dignitaries. No outsiders know about them, but they’re common knowledge around the village.

  The mounting uproar behind me is perfect cover as the ushers are distracted by trying to quell the mini riot that has erupted all around them. But they are helpless until the police arrive. “I’m going to see if I can get a few words from Marsden.” I hiss in Avvie’s ear. “You speak to Grumman.”

  Avril frowns. “How come you get the best job?”

  “He knows you doesn’t he?” I reply. “Wasn’t it you who called him some choice names during the first meeting and got yourself thrown out for your trouble.”

  “Oh yeah.” She grins. “Grumman it is then. I’ll catch you afterwards in the Three Brewers, if you’re still alive?”

  I nod and squeeze past the bodies crushing all around me, the older folks amusing themselves trying to catch Marsden’s paperwork as it flutters back down to earth, before I slip through a door marked Staff Only and race through a narrow service corridor which leads to the rear of the building. Danny Marsden bowls out of the emergency exit just ahead of me and I pounce, allowing myself no time to even think about retreat.

  “Mr Marsden?” I say, although the mature title doesn’t quite seem to fit him. He looks to be in his early twenties as he spins around. The dark eyes are hard and expectant as he watches my sudden approach and he looks me up and down. I know I still look a terrible sight.

  “I’m from the Weekly News,” I lie. A man like Marsden won’t give the time of day to a college rag. “I just want to hear your views on what’s happening in there?”

  He relaxes a little. “What do you expect my views to be?” He says curtly. “Most of the people in there don’t live around these parts and the villagers aren’t getting a chance to air their concerns. The whole process has been hijacked by a lot of lunatics. It’s been a complete waste of my time and everybody else’s.”

  He’s a lot taller than me I guess. At least six feet with muscular broad shoulders set onto a wide chest. His thick dark brown hair looks maybe a little too long for a man wearing a classy suit. He looks tougher in real life than the pictures in the local paper had suggested when they’d run that story on him a week ago and there’s a kind of barely controlled Rottweiler quality about him that would send most hard nuts running for cover. But I slide closer and around him, forcing him to face the sun, refusing to be intimidated by his bull-like stance and black stares. “And despite all the strong protests and a petition,” I continue. “Your company still intends to destroy Becmead Woods and the Animal Rescue Centre?”

  His eyes blaze at my choice of words. “We are not destroying anything,” he growls. “The Animal Rescue Centre is a ramshackle eyesore which will probably fall down on its own soon. And as for the wood, my company intends to clear about a quarter of a mile of it at the Northern end. I can’t see what all the fuss is about. This isn’t even a very big project by our usual standards. Now if you don’t mind?”

  He walks around me to head for his car and I turn to watch him go when I catch sight of the familiar red four wheeled drive parked against a wall. An almost uncontrollable desire to kill him sweeps over me.

  “You,” I gasp, barely able to form the word as I chase after him.

  He wheels around, confused. “What’s the matter?”

  “You. You stupid bloody fool.” I rage. “You could have killed me back there.”

  His eyes narrow and in two giant strides he’s within striking distance. “What did you say?” He growls.

  I sidestep, sensing the coiled anger in him and hurry over to inspect the car, looking for some tangible evidence I could point to that would back up my claim. But as I expect, there’s little to see apart from a tiny scuff mark on the edge of the wing mirror that could have happened at any time. Turning around, I fix him with a threatening stare of my own. “You knocked me off my bike in Hobbs Lane about thirty minutes ago. Surely you remember that?”

  His face relaxes a little. “Yes, I do remember you.”

  “Oh, you do remember now?”

  “Yes,” he replies, frowning down as he recalls the incident. “You were on that push bike out in the middle of the road with a weird look on your face weren’t you? I think you were laughing about something too.”

  “I was not in the middle of the road,” I snap. “Hobbs Lane is so narrow you could call any part of it the middle. You were going much too fast.”

  “I was well within the speed limit,” he replies frostily. “And what was so funny out there anyway?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Look,” he continues. “I had no idea I had knocked
you off your bike. I did see you wobble as I passed, but I didn’t realise you had come off. You were riding recklessly though, admit it.”

  I fold my arms and breathe deeply in an effort to control my temper. I’ve been out of the hospital for little over a week and already I’ve been involved in a road accident and am about to trade blows with a man twice my size. It’s the look on his face I find so aggravating. Danny Marsden is clearly the sort of man who will argue green is orange if it suits him.

  “I doubt you would have seen anything except a blur at the speed you were going.” I reply. “Do you know that animals cross there all the time and that its drivers like you that kill them or leave them lying in agony to die slowly at the side of the road?”

  His eyes narrow to little more than slits as he looks me over again, slower this time. My little speech on a pet subject has only succeeded in making him suspicious.

  “What paper did you say you were from?”

  “The Weekly News.” I growl. “For a successful businessman your memory is quite appalling.”

  “Let me see your press card then?” he says.

  I fight to control the guilty look creeping over my face. Lying has never been a strong point. “It’s in there, in my bag” I say, nodding towards the hall. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about your dangerous driving. I’m going to report you to the police you know. I mean it?”

  Danny Marsden grins and moves in close and the closer he gets, the more intimidating he is. I wonder how many deals he’s closed with one look from those eyes and I have to fight to prevent myself taking a step back. Against a man like him, a first backward step would invariably be the last. He raised a thick warning finger. “Good. Why don’t you do that?” He says. “And when the police come to see me I’ll tell them you were riding out in the centre of the road around a blind bend, looking up at the sky and cackling your head off like some deranged witch on a broomstick. And then had the nerve to pose as a reporter from the News while trespassing on council property and accusing me of a fictitious hit and run.”

  I sigh up at him. “I thought there might be an outside chance of you apologising, but I see that’s probably normal behaviour for you.”

  “I haven’t been given the chance to apologise have I?” he replies tersely.

  I tear my gaze from his hypnotic stare and focus on the building behind him instead, feeling very uncomfortable at the closeness of him, but loathe to retreat one inch.

  “Who are you then?” he demanded, after an agonisingly long silence. “You’re not one of those loonies in there are you?”

  “I’m a resident of this village.”

  “But you’re not a reporter?” he growls. “Not a proper one anyway!”

  “No.” I pause, anxious not to give too much away. “I start Uni in a few weeks for my Veterinary Studies. But I do reports for their internal news sheet if there’s an environmental angle to them.”

  He thought for a moment then. “Didn’t I see you at the Animal Rescue Centre when I went over to look the place over with our projects manager a couple of weeks ago?”

  I can’t believe he’s remembered me as I’d hurried out the back door as soon as they’d entered the front. “You may have done. I do a few days a week there on a voluntary basis.”

  Danny laughs and it’s strange how one simple expression can change him so radically.

  “It sure beats me how any animal manages to live at all in that place. It’s a crumbling ruin.”

  “Of course it’s a crumbling ruin.” I reply. “If people weren’t so tight with their donations maybe it would be better. Most of the time Molly Preston’s out of pocket at having to supply the basics herself. It wouldn’t do people like you any harm to give them the occasional hand-out you know. It might actually make you feel a little better about yourself.”

  “I feel just great about myself.” He drawls. “I take it Molly’s the one who threatened me with that piece of piping?” He throws back his head and laughs again as he recalls the incident. At this moment I can understand the effect he had on poor Molly to drive her to do such a thing. I so wanted to smash him in the face with a heavy object too I could almost taste it. My pacifist ideals were slipping badly but thankfully there was nothing to hand. He leans back against his car and folds his arms, a self-satisfied smirk etched into his rugged features that only serves to irritate me all the more.

  “I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.” He says. “As I’ve tried to point out to you all many times before, no creatures in Becmead Woods will be injured. Any animal that is caught there will be held safely at my place in a specially constructed building until it can be relocated. My Father’s even offered to take Molly Preston’s animals into our care and with full medical supervision until they’re fit enough to be returned to the wild. But he was told where to go in no uncertain terms.”

  “And what about new arrivals?”

  Danny shrugs. “New arrivals will just have to be taken somewhere else. They’re not my problem. I think I’ve been more than fair. If you people had to deal with my Father, you’d find him not nearly so obliging and caring.”

  “Obliging and caring.” I hiss. “Is that how you see yourself? You haven’t even apologised for knocking me off my bike yet, so what chance would some poor defenceless animal have?”

  He gazes up at the pale blue sky, finding it difficult to disguise his thinning impatience.

  “Miss .er?” He asks.

  “Matthews, Cathy to my friends.”

  “I’m Sorry,” he says flatly. His lips are moving but his expression remains rigidly neutral.

  “You don’t say it as if you mean it.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. His strong white teeth standing out against the lightly tanned skin and when he smiles he’s a different man. “I suppose you want me to go down on my knees and say it? Is that it?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary.” I reply. “A sincere apology would be enough, but I can see sincerity isn’t one of your strong points. Crushed hedgehogs, badgers, foxes, cyclists. Nothing matters very much to you does it?”

  He seems genuinely offended. “Oh come on. That’s a bit strong isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever hurt an animal in my life. Not deliberately.”

  “You’re hurting them now.” I say.

  “The animals in Becmead Wood will not be hurt.” He sighs. “They will be re-located at a suitable site nearby at the earliest opportunity. What else can I say to you?”

  But I’m in no mood to let him off the hook so easily. My blood’s up and I want to argue, to confront him.

  “And what if they don’t want to leave the wood. It’s their home?”

  Danny’s jaw twitches angrily. “They’ll have no choice in the matter and neither will you once the Council has issued planning permission. It’s called progress Cathy. Isn’t it about time you lot moved with the times?”

  “Most of us like things just the way they are actually.” I sneer “The trouble is you don’t see things like that. All you care about is profit. You don’t give a damn who or what gets in your way do you? You’re an absolute monster.”

  A long agonising silence follows and his as his eyes bore into me until at last he speaks in a calm even tone. “Imagine the way things could be around here with a shopping mall literally on your doorstep. Just think how easy life could be for the younger families moving into the area. No longer a huge trek to the bigger stores. It will be right here and people will come for miles around to visit a place you will be able to take for granted.”

  “It will ruin everything,” I snap. “Do you want that on your conscience as well?”

  He scowls and his eyebrows drop like shutters, betraying his inner rage as he moves closer. At first I think he's about to hit me and I feel foolish when I realise he has to heave himself away from the car in order to get the driver’s door open. I ignore the sly knowing grin as he slides in behind the
wheel. He seems a little calmer as the window hums down.

  “Get used to it Cathy.” He says. “It’s called the future of Missendale. The shopping mall will be built. There won’t be as much death and destruction of our furry friends as you seem to think, but those buildings will be built I assure you.”

  He starts the engine and with a final look at me, drives across the car park as he heads for the road. I still seethe and I know it will be a long time before I calm down enough to think rationally. “We’ll see about that.” I shout, unsure if he hears me or not.