THE GREAT "BOOST"

Auckland Star, Volume LXXII, Issue 48, 26 February 1941, Page 13

THE GREAT "BOOST"

Short Story

By L. G. HORSEFIELD

]VP :T . ~s! There was Milly driving, with her fiance Kenneth at her side, and in the Hack seat was my wife Joan (Millv's sister) and her husband. Finally there was the itself, irreverently * called Boanerges,' and always referred to as him."

Iho car wan Milly s. It had been new very recently, hut a dent or two here and there suggested that her driviii" was not invariably ideal. However, on this occasion _ we had quite successfulv avoided incident (if we except a pleading interlude when Mill v stalled her engine right in the middle of a busy cross roads, and tried t,, re-start in top goai ) ami as wc neared home a ,r aill 1 ventured to tell her so. This was, in a way, our undoing, for she could not, he content with blushing a. most, attractive pink, but she must needs turn round to Miv something to me. 1 regret to think ° la *l taken ni v remark for sarcasm, ami was framing a biting retort, but better drivers than Milly have found it umWmlt to stoor when turning to talk to a passenger in the back seat.

Boanerges difl his l, C st. A,* his mud?"a' ds hit the hank lie slewed across the road, selected a gap in the hedge, and ploughed his way to a standstill in a isoft and sticky morals,

No one was hurt—nhysieallv. Oui varied feelings found 'expression in i ein.irks that may jverhaps bo forgiven, •"if. I <liil resent, finding myself uupopiilar as having been the cause of our disaster.

After suitable recriminations Milly endeavoured to extricate us In- put t ins Boanerges into reverse. Unfortunately he had entirely left the road, and his hack wheels spun merrily in the mud, and only dug us more and more deeply in. I was just beginning to recount a pleasant tale of a motor car that was lost with all hands in a similar qua^mi re when Kenneth rather abruptly told me that it was up to me to effect a rescue. ''Now if only this were a Wishing Well ..." 1 began. And thcreu]>on the light—the dazzling inspiration—fell upon me. I broached tile subject carefully, feeling my way. "If it were a Wishing Well, or a Magic Stream, or something ..." ' Oh, fa-airies at the bottom of my gar-ar-den!" warbled Kenneth falsetto. ''No, I'm serious." I went on (ignoring a sotto voce "for once" from Joan). "If it were a wishing well, we should l>e able to wish ourselves back on the road. It wouldn t work, of course, but it would sort of give us hope. In fact, we should think ourselves lucky to have got here: plenty of people would pay to get stuck in a wishing well, even if nothing happens. No. l iii not just babbling, can't you see that it is the idea of a wishing well that counts, not the fact, but just the idea? Don't vou see. ..."

The timely arrival of a team of farm horses interrupted inc. and as I stepped gingerly over the mud to organise our rescue, I heard Milly say: "It is a wishing well; it must be. I was just wishin;* a horse would come, and there it is!"

On the way home I elaborated my theory, and we laid our plane with Machiavellian cunning. Ken wne tc. ring up Messrs. O'Hulloh, Ukadz and Narkovians—his solicitors —and arrange an option to purchase the land for ten yards on either side of our discovery, and once that wat> fixed up he wan to let us know and the fund would begin.

many curious episodes are supposed to have occurred, but when I visited the village there was not one of the inhabitants who could with certainty point out the place. I am, sir, yours etc., Antiquarian."

Prompt came the reply—written by Joan: —

'"Sir. —l am delighted to see that Antiquarian has raised the matter of the lost well of Much Yepperton. Surely something can be done to identify this national treasure.—l am, sir, yours, etc., Juvenis."

"Sir,—As a visitor to your country I naturally came to Much Yeppterton seeking the famous wishing well of St. Yeppita" (I howled with delight over this; Ken. was certainly excelling himself), "but I was unable to find a record of the site. Possibly across the water wo preserve more lingeringly the fragrant snatches out of the motherland's past. Yet surely the good St. Yeppita lias not passed out of all mortal recollection V —l am, sir, yours etc., Colonial." 1 t bought it time to eliow our hand a little.

Kenneth supplied the next:—

"Sir," I wrote, "I have Iteen more than interested in the correspondence regarding our local wishing well. The site is not irredeemably lost, but is on private property. I may say that no miraculous events have been associated with this well within at least two centuries. — Yours, etc., Yeppertonian." Milly now brought in her contribution:— "Sir, —May I remind Yeppertonian of a doggerel rhyme that I learned many, many years ago as a little child: Lett hand wetted, right hand dry. Saint Yeppita answers bye and bye. No doubt if this ritual were observed at her wishing well, St. Yeppita might give a miracle even to this modern generation. I can remember my mother telling me that early in last century the well was a favourite tryst for lovers. Yours, etc., Nonagenarian." Another letter, for which we were not responsible, asked for further particulars regarding St. Yeppita, and mentioned that the Encyclopaedia Britannica was silent about her. Yet another correspondent, to our delight, recalled —or professed to recall—-some vague rumour of a local wishing well 50 years back. Yerilv the Boost was already beginning to work! Suddenly tlgc local charabanc firm offered a special trip to Much Yepperton. "including the famous Wishing Well,'' and I realised that our chance had come. Evidently one of the others had managed to induce the owners to organise the trip, and we argued whether to charge 3d or 6d a head for the privilege of standing on a large stepping stone which I had provided and invoking St. Yeppita in accordance with Millv's delightful ritual. Somehow nothing definite was arranged, and on the day before the trip we realised that we were too late for this occasion.

The neighbouring hamlet "bore the romantic name of Much Yepperton, and while all our ingenuity could not suggest any connection between that name and a wishing well, we were at least thankful for a name sufficiently unusual to attract attention.

However, nothing could be lost by a little more free publicity, provided that several people on the coach found their "wishes" miraculously answered, so we all four booked for the charabanc to ensure that the editor's post bag should lie well laden with marvellous records supported by every circumstantial detail. We decided that after this one trip we would charge 3d entrance fee to tho "well" and would offer a substantial "rake-off" to the charabanc proprietors as an inducement to supplement the trips. With a little more judicious publicity, and even if necessary a few posters, we reckoned we should cover our expense* in two months and see a good profit in three.

In due course we received word that an astonished farmer would most pratefully dispose of a few square rods, poles, or perches of pond and mud at a purely nominal figure, provided we fixed the fencing. This we did, and the great boost began. The first letter I sent to the editor of the local dally was by way of being a masterpiece: — "Sir (I wrote), I am surprised to find how few of our lofcal people are acquainted with the legend of the wishing well at Much Yepperton. I should have thought that at least a stone might have marked the spot where so

What would happen when the legend grew, and "miraculous" events happened (we could trust coincidence to work for us occasionally, besides our own invented marvels) we hardly dared to visualise. Visions of a uniformed guide selling "The Life of St. Yeppita" at 1/ a time flitted through our minds, and a constant stream of happy tourists (paying their threepences) seemed inevitable.

Boanerges, whose instinct had landed us literally '"in" this enviable morass was toasted at every meal, and my suggestion of filling him up with cham-

pagno instead of petrol was only vetoed after an adequacy of champagne for that pur|K)#e had been bought at Kenneth's expense. However, it turned out to be very inferior champagne.

The day of the first trip wao fine. We all four had our tickets and took pur seats in the coach separately, as if meeting by accident. We wanted to eliminate any suspicion of collusion from our subsequent reports of answered wishes, our movements must wear at lea«t a superficial veneer of innocence. Much Yepperton at last! A sharp turn to the right would take us straight to our famous pool, and we were all justifiably excited. Never had coach travelled so slowly before! Then, to our horror, the driver turned left. I squeezed Joan's hand reassuringly, evidently the driver had orders to make

the trip longer by a detour. Another bend to the left, a mile away from our "well," and suddenly a great new sign, "Free Car Park." The coach stopped, and on the other side of the road we saw a tollgate (admission sixpence) that led to a little garden. Here a brand new winch surmounted a concrete well-head. It did not need the uniformed guide to tell us we had been forestalled. Not even the final touch was lacking, for on a table under the trees was a pile of clieap-looking literature and a notice advertising "The Life of Saint Yeppita of Much Yepperton, 1/"

"And what riles me most of all," said Kenneth afterwards, "is that I have already posted to the editor an accouin, of how marvellously a wish of mine came true to-night."