The Neighbour

CHAPTER ONE

John parked the 4x4 on a raised piece of concrete, the base for long gone agricultural building They exited the car and walked hand-in-hand towards the new stock fence that enclosed the nearest field. In front of them, rolling green pastureland stretched out to a distant treeline. Wendy raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and thought to herself, ‘this is it. It’s perfect.’ They were joined by the landowner’s wife, who grinned at them, knowing full well the look in their eyes. Taking a deep breath Wendy asked, “How much did you say you wanted for the three fields?” she was trying to hide the excitement in her voice and was failing miserably.

“Seventy thousand.” Mary told her with a broad smile, she knew that look and could empathize with the young woman’s excitement. Mary knew what it was like to work the land and to fulfil your dreams and was pleased that these fields would be used, albeit in a different way. The farm itself was being sold off in separate lots.

“So…” Wendy turned around and looked across the road to the other fields that were also available, “Are these for sale as well.”

“Yes, but if you want my advice…” Mary grinned. “These are the best; you have a water supply and the electric transformer in the bottom field.” Mary winked and Wendy knew that she was hinting that there would be no cost for amenities to be put in.

“Ok then, it’s a deal.” Wendy turned and shook Mary’s hand, both knowing this gesture sealed the transaction better than any solicitor’s paperwork. Mary grinned back; she liked Wendy’s style, the girl had integrity. “We’ll get the paperwork sorted and the monies transferred. I’ll go home and break the news to the family.” Wendy was excited, this was it, they were on their way to fulfilling their dreams.

Wendy and John Hall had been hunting for their own piece of land for some time. Being experienced horse riders, they dreamed of running their own equestrian business and training facility. Wendy had always loved horses. People would be amazed at her instinctive gift with the equines she met. “She’s a natural,” they would say, “got horses in her blood.” Finally, with help from their parents, and the sale of their own house, they could now see all their efforts start to pay off.

Driving back from viewing the fields they put a disc in the CD player which began to blast out AC/DC, expressing better than words their excitement. This was it, the first step on the commitment they had made the year before.

The car wheels crunched on the gravel driveway of her parents’ house before coming to a halt. Taking a deep breath then opening the car door, Wendy stood straight and looked at the small group in front of her. Mum, and Dad were watching her with bated breath. One year ago, Wendy and John had stood in this very driveway with two suitcases of clothes and a couple of boxes of picture and ornaments. Mary and Arthur, Wendy’s parents, had kindly given up their spare room for the couple as they hunted for land to build their dream on, but it was tough going in the small house. They were constantly under each other’s feet and an almost scripted politeness in conversation permeated between them as each tried not to show their frustration at the lack of privacy. “Well?” Wendy’s mother asked.

“It’s ours,” beamed Wendy as she nodded to John, who wore a mixed look of relief and apprehension as the dream became reality. “I’ve given a verbal confirmation, so we need to get the paperwork sorted.” Mary and Arthur nodded quickly and hurried inside intent on calling solicitors to get the ball rolling.

The year of living with her parents had not been wasted for Wendy and John. They had carefully budgeted exactly where their frugal monies could be spent and had researched exactly what they needed.

They called the company specialising in stable construction which had already been commissioned for the first eight stables. A tractor had been purchased ready for delivery, an ancient 1974 model still going strong and gutsy, and an even older static caravan with Sixties décor, single pane windows but a working boiler and watertight roof was also poised ready to be placed in its last home.

They had some money to spare; not much, but enough to see them through the first year, if necessary, till the business could be established. John had found a part-time job with a gardening company to bring in some extra cash.

That night in her dreams; Wendy walked across the moonlit field towards the woodland. Although the ground was heavy with dew, she wasn’t cold. A warm breath tickled the hair on the back of her neck, and she smiled. “Hello my sweet.” Wendy did not speak these words aloud, and as she spoke there was a warm glow in her heart. A spectral horse appeared and walked at her side.

The horse spoke to her not in words but in thoughts, “Hello my dear.” Its words reverberated in her head, stirring memories from the past that brought a smile to her face. She turned to the horse who regarded her with large shining eyes full of youth and vitality. Wendy’s hand reached out for the mare as they entered the ancient oak circle seven towering trees interspersed with Hawthorn and Rowan. “We are home.” She could feel the power in her friend’s words, looking back across the field to a darkening sky.

The horse’s gaze bored deep into her soul. “It stirs, it feels your power.”

Wendy gazed at the mare confused. “What stirs?” she asked, a knot of anxiety tightened deep in her core.

The great horse spirit spoke again, “You must face a challenge, my dearest.”

Wendy buried her head into the horse’s chest. “This is the last time I’ll see you, isn’t it.”

Her words were but a whisper echoing between them as the mare spoke, “In this world, yes. There will be another to guide you and after that another, one a mirror of you.”

“I love you my sweet.” Wendy said.

“And I you.” The mare replied as slowly her form disappeared till it was only a fine mist that lay on the bluebells.

Wendy stood alone for a while and wondered why she was not awake. A strange rumbling grew around her. At first, she couldn’t quite understand the source. It was strangely comforting.

Looking around Wendy’s eyes fell on a large oak standing slightly apart from the others. As she stared, the tremor vibrated through her, and she knew it was the spirit of the oak speaking to her. She smiled and bowed to the ancient guardian then raised her head.

There was a pinkish glow as Wendy woke and felt the new day’s sun’s warmth on her face as she opened her eyes. Lying quietly for a while she pondered on her dream. The mare had come back to give her a message and she knew better than to ignore it. Her new horse had been sent to help her with the gift, a power that had to be channelled with discipline and control.

Her grandmother had, had the same ability but dismissed and kept it hidden for many years. Wendy was different, she embraced her spirit teachers knowing that when the time was right, they would make themselves known.

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CHAPTER TWO

On the fourth of April 2004, Wendy and John stood at the top of the track and viewed the land that was now theirs. A lot of thinking had gone into where the best place would be to put the yard they were planning to build, and they had settled on the bottom of the top field at its flattest point.

From this piece of ground, they had the fields in front, behind, and to their right. On the left was the woodland, and there were no close neighbours; after living in a terrace house for seven years, this was a godsend. At the bottom of the field on the right, they could just see the roof of the last dwelling at the end of the track as it crouched behind high hedges, just as the land dropped from the gentle gradient to the side of a hill leading to the river.

John kissed Wendy and jumped into the car. “You sure you got this?”

“Yeah, no worries, I’m just going to cut through the fence down there and make room for the tractor being delivered, it can sit on the field for the moment.”

“The haulage guy said they would be here by one, and some hardcore should be delivered for three. You can make a start on the driveway in with the tractor.”

John shut the door and drove away, frustrated he couldn’t help now, but his job was to bring in a living wage. Wendy waved him away then started down the track, wire cutters and thick gloves in her hand. The top strand of barbed wire would have to be removed from the fencing later. The main priority was going to be making a gateway into the field where they wanted to build. The sun was welcoming and warm on a fine spring day and Wendy couldn’t help but smile. She felt free, her spirit soaring as it drank the energy from the land.

“Ok,” she said to herself, “This will do nicely.” She started on the fence, clipping her way through the mesh and top strand, cutting it into sections and piling it to the side.

Once cleared, she grabbed the naked fence posts and rocked them back and forth till they slackened and could be pulled up. Ever the resourceful thinker, she stacked them in a separate pile in case they needed to use them again elsewhere.

As she finished and stood with hands on hips admiring her work, a cold chill swept over her causing her to shiver. The sound of a footstep further down the track made her turn and squint. A figure was making its way along the gravel towards her. He walked with a strange, rigid gait, was tall and as he drew closer, she could see the gaunt features of a man in his late fifties. His face had a yellow, unhealthy pallor and a dirty-looking beard clung to his chin. Despite being dressed in clean, casual clothes, there was something soiled and unkempt about him.

“Hi there, I’m the new owner of these fields.” Wendy smiled her best ingratiating smile, but her internal alarm systems were going wild as the shivers caused goosebumps on her arms. The stranger stopped and looked at her.

“So, it’s you.” His voice was gruff with a nervous tremor wavering through the tone. “Well, well… I mean, you need to do something about your drainage.” Wendy looked at him perplexed; his rudeness had not been lost on her, nor his confrontational manner.

She wondered if he was speaking in some sort of secret code that only he knew. “Drainage?” she said as she put down the wire cutters and took off the gloves.

Seeming to gain courage, the stranger puffed out his chest and gesticulated wildly at the fields. “Your fields flood all the time and it’s causing erosion on my land. You need to get this sorted.” He motioned for her to follow.

Wendy felt her instinctive protective energy wrap around her; there was something very wrong about this guy. She looked at the field she had been working on. It had a gentle gradient leading down to the flat section they were planning to build on, and the grass was healthy and thick with no hint of stunted growth by perpetual waterlogging. She walked at a safe distance behind the stranger, who she had surmised lived in the last house.

“See, see, look at this.” Without permission, he boldly opened the gate and strode down the largest of the three fields that started with a gentle slope and finished with a steep hillside that made its way down to the river. “I mean, I had to pay for that hardstanding at the gate.” The man gestured behind him, and Wendy wondered why someone would pay for something to go down on someone else’s land. She looked down the hill. “It floods all the time there.” He pointed to a corner of the field. “You need to redo all of the drains in this field.”

By now Wendy was getting a bit angry with his attitude. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” she asked, knowing full well he hadn’t said.

“Reginald Jordan.” He glared.

“Oh right, do you like to be called Reg, Reggie…”

Before she could finish, he cut her off coldly. “It’s Reginald.”

“Right.” Wendy gritted her teeth. “Do you live over there?” She pointed to the hidden cottage.

“Yes, and this is my land.” He pointed to the fields in front of the cottage and below her field. “You’re causing erosion, you need to fix your drains.”

“So, you keep saying.” Wendy felt her fury rise. “Tell me, Reginald, is there some sort of strange anomaly in this area that affects the laws of gravity?”

Reginald looked at her perplexed, his mouth hanging open like a guppy fish at feeding time. “What?”

“Well, it seems that this is the only place on the planet that water can pool on the side of a hill.” Wendy looked at him. “That’s a three-to-one gradient, the grass is not stunted, and there are no reeds or rushes that you would see on any waterlogged ground or flood plain.”

Reginald took a step back in surprise. Wendy drove home her advantage; clearly Reginald had assumed she knew nothing about land or land maintenance, and he was about to be corrected.

“If your land is flooding or there is erosion, it’s not coming from my field. I can’t help the fact that you live at the bottom of the hill.” She watched with satisfaction as Reginald turned on his heels and marched back up the field. She followed, once more keeping her distance.

“Drainage… flood… need fixed…” Reginald muttered his mantra to himself as he hopped over the fence back into his own property. She watched him disappear into his house then walked back up to her newly made driveway entrance. The niggle inside her wouldn’t leave; there was something very wrong with Reginald.

That night, back at her parent’s house, as Wendy snuggled up next to John watching TV; she wondered how to describe that day’s events to him. “Met the neighbour today,” she began in neutral tones.

“Hmm…” John was only half-listening.

“Reginald Jordan, creepy looking guy.” She felt John sit up and look at her, his attention now fully on the conversation.

“Oh?” That innocent word held a multitude of hidden meanings – what the hell went on, did he threaten you, and do I need to go down and have a ‘chat’ with him?

All those intentions were contained in that one tiny word and Wendy knew it. “Yeah, kept going on about us having to sort out the drainage in the hill field, seemed a bit obsessive.”

“What is wrong with the hill field?” John genuinely sounded puzzled.

“Well, apparently, it floods something terrible and causes erosion on his land.”

John burst out laughing and looked at her incredulously. “How the hell can a hill flood?”

“That’s what I said, and he scuttled away muttering to himself.” Wendy started to chuckle herself at the ridiculousness of the whole scenario. Now it just seemed stupid and laughable, but at the time there was something else, an underlying air of threat, as though he expected her to rush into the field and start digging drains.

They both went back to watching TV and said no more about it, but in their minds, Reginald was sitting in a corner poking at their subconsciouses with a sharp stick.