The Farm Beneath the Water (10 page)

BOOK: The Farm Beneath the Water
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Dad stood up again.

“Are you going to show us the map you’ve drawn up showing exactly how much land you’re planning to take for your reservoir?”

“We’re still at a very early stage of our investigations,” said Nick Constable smoothly. “As soon as we have any map, we will obviously make it available to all interested stakeholders, but, as yet, we don’t have any detailed design or maps.”

Hannah sprang to her feet. “Liar!” she shouted.

Nick Constable’s smile disappeared.

“I beg your pardon?”

Every face had turned to Hannah.

“I know you have a map,” she said, “because I’ve seen it.”

The thin smile returned. He spoke as if he were talking to a five-year-old. “I don’t think you have.”

Hannah trembled with anger. “I live at Clayhill Farm and one of your survey people dropped some pieces of paper. I picked them up and they were maps showing the borders of the reservoir. So I know you have maps. You just don’t want to show them to us.”

He gave a fake laugh. “I think you must be mistaken. You’ve clearly misinterpreted something you saw.”

“There was writing at the bottom,” said Hannah. “It said,
Middleham Reservoir. Area to be flooded
.”

Everyone looked at Nick Constable. He gave a short laugh.

“I think you must have misread something and taken it quite out of context. Our surveyors may have made some tentative sketches, perhaps, but certainly nothing concrete. I don’t think there’s any need to waste more time over this.”

But Hannah was beside herself now. How dare he belittle her and make her look stupid? She
knew
what she had seen.

“And it’s not true that there’s no significant wildlife at the farm,” she cried. “There are some really rare
birds. My friend’s dad’s seen them. What are you going to do about that?”

He smiled indulgently. “Your friend’s father has seen rare birds?” he repeated in a mocking tone. “Well, how can our expert surveys possibly compete with that sort of evidence?”

Lottie jumped up. “There
are
rare birds. My dad’s been surveying them for years. And he’s not just some random amateur; he’s a member of the British Ornithological Society.”

“Well,” said Nick Constable, looking as though he was enjoying himself now, “how selfish of us to disturb the birds by trying to ensure that the people of Sussex have an adequate supply of running water to their houses.” He paused, putting on a thoughtful look. “I wonder what we should do about those birds. If only they could fly. Then they would be able to find other places to live.” He smiled broadly at the audience, and this time his smile seemed thoroughly genuine. “Wouldn’t it be nice, ladies and gentlemen, if birds could fly?”

There was a ripple of laughter. Nick Constable looked extremely pleased with himself.

“If there are no more questions, I think we’ll draw things to a close. Thank you all very much for coming. I hope you’ve found the evening interesting and informative.”

* * *

Hannah tried to read Dad’s face as they walked to the car. What was he feeling?

“Were you upset?” she asked eventually.

“Upset? What do you mean?”

“By all those horrible things he said about the farm, of course.” She couldn’t bear to repeat the actual words, but they were burned on her brain.
Poor quality … poorly maintained … unattractive … uninhabitable.

Dad gave a contemptuous snort. “Oh, that’s just the way these people behave.”

“But what if everyone believes them?”

“Well, that’s why we’re getting all this evidence together. Bats and birds and the like.”

“But they’ll just say their surveys are right and yours are wrong, won’t they?”

Dad stopped. “Blast, I left my jacket in there. You get in the car. I won’t be a second.”

He headed back to the hall and the girls got into the car.

Footsteps sounded on the tarmac. The locks on a nearby car clicked open and the lights flashed. They heard Nick Constable’s voice, speaking into a mobile phone.

“Oh yes, very straightforward,” he was saying. “Just a few locals with nothing better to do. Absolutely nothing to worry about. Like I said, it’s the perfect site. And with the landlord in favour, too…”

There was a pause while he listened to the person on the other end of the phone. He laughed.

“Yes, old Farmer Giles was there. Brought his kids along, would you believe? Oh, he wittered on a bit, but he’s got enough to do holding that mess of a
farm together. He’s not going to have the energy to put up a fight.”

Hannah stared at Lottie, fury bubbling up inside her. Lottie sat motionless, listening.

The person on the other end of the phone was speaking again. Nick Constable laughed. “It’ll be a piece of cake, this one. Easiest reservoir deal I’ve ever made.”

He opened his car door, the phone still held to his ear. But as he was about to get in, Hannah sprang out of the car and marched over to face him. He looked briefly startled, but he quickly rearranged his features.

“We heard every word you just said,” said Hannah, her voice unsteady with anger. “You think you know everything, don’t you? But you don’t know us. We’re not some stupid country bumpkins you can trample all over. We’re going to fight you every step of the way. You’ll see. You’re not going to win this one.”

“I’ll call you later,” said Nick Constable into his phone. He removed it from his ear and put it in his pocket.

“Did you hear what I said?” asked Hannah. “You won’t win.”

The patronising smile was back on his face. “You were at that meeting. You saw as well as I did what the situation is. So I think you’ll find that we’ve already won. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

He slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut. The engine started up.

Hannah marched back to Dad’s car, tingling with adrenalin. Lottie was standing by the car door, staring at her.

“No one’s going to fight it, huh?” said Hannah. “That’s what
he
thinks.”

Lottie paused. Then she said, “Well, who is, though, really? I mean, he’s kind of right, isn’t he? Look at that meeting tonight. It doesn’t seem like many people care.”

“Well, I care. They think they can lie to us and do whatever they want and no one’s going to have the guts to stand up to them. We can’t let them get away with it.”

“How can you stop them, though?”

“I don’t know. But you saw what he was doing tonight. The water company’s only telling one side of the story. I’m going to have to tell the other side. Because nobody else is telling it.”

“What about your dad? He’s protesting against it.”

Hannah made an impatient gesture. “He’s written a few letters and he’s asking people to do surveys, but Aqua don’t care about that, do they? No, I’m going to have to think of another way.”

Lottie looked at the ground. She thinks I’m mad, thought Hannah. She thinks it’s pointless. And maybe it is. But I can’t just sit around doing nothing while Aqua destroys the farm.

Lottie raised her head. “I’ll help you.”

Hannah stared at her. “Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Of course I will.”

Hannah threw her arms around Lottie and hugged her tight. “You’re such a good friend.”

“But what can we do?” asked Lottie, when Hannah let her go.

“I don’t know yet,” said Hannah. “But we have to stop them somehow. Because if we don’t…”

She couldn’t finish that sentence. The picture flashed into her mind, of her farm buried beneath a cold grey sheet of water. She forced it away. Into her head came something her granny had once said to her.

“We’ll think of something,” she said. “We’ll find a way.”

Chapter Thirteen

Rehearsing Miranda

From the centre of the school hall, Hannah cast a critical eye over the stage.

“Millie, could you take a step forward? Great. And, James, go down on one knee? Grace, move stage right of Harry. Perfect. And Miranda will stand there, when she turns up.”

It was Wednesday lunchtime and the entire cast, except Miranda, was assembled on stage. They took up the whole space, in an arrangement carefully designed to look casual. Some people stood, some knelt. Some were in clusters, some in pairs, some on their own. All had their backs to the audience.

“Right,” said Hannah. “Jack will play some Elizabethan music – where is Jack, by the way?”

She glanced over her shoulder in case he had shown up since she last checked.

He hadn’t.

“Anyway, it’s the start of the play, the curtains will be closed, you’ll all come on stage and get into position exactly as you are now, backs to the audience, looking at the floor. Then the curtains will open, the lights will go up and, on Jack’s sound cue,
you turn to face the audience, raise your heads and start the Prologue in unison. As we haven’t got the music, I’ll count you in this time.”

On the count of three, all twenty-five people turned to face the audience, raised their heads and began Shakespeare’s Prologue to
Romeo and Juliet.

“Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where—”

The rest of the line was drowned out by a burst of deafening rock music played through the speakers at top volume.

“Jack!” yelled Hannah.

Jack looked up from the sound system, turned the music down and raised his hand in greeting.

“Hey, Roberts. Was that the sort of thing you wanted?”

“Oh yes, it’s perfect. It’s only wrong by about four centuries, that’s all.”

Jack shrugged. “Oh well, if you’re going to be that fussy…”

“Have you actually found any Elizabethan music?”

“Not exactly. I thought this might liven things up a bit.”

Hannah could feel Lottie’s I-told-you-so look burning into the back of her head. Blast Jack. Why did he always have to prove Lottie right?

“Jack, we don’t have much time. Are you going
to do the music properly or should we ask someone else?”

“All right, chill out, I’ll find you some boring stuff.”

“Do you have the projections of Verona for the back wall, at least?”

“Ah, yes,” he said, opening his laptop. “Give us a minute. You carry on, don’t mind me.”

Hannah turned back to the actors, hoping she didn’t look as flustered as she felt. “Right. From the top.”

Everyone turned to face the back wall again.

“On the count of three,” said Hannah. “One, two…”

A huge projection flashed up on the back wall of the stage. Everyone burst out laughing. Lottie leaped from the stage and hurtled to the back of the hall.

“You
idiot
! Turn that off right now!”

A home video of an infant-school nativity play was playing on the screen. A round-faced, gap-toothed Lottie, dressed as Mary, dangled the baby Jesus upside down by one leg while lisping “Away in a Manger”.

“Oops, sorry,” said Jack, grinning. “I must have accidentally opened the wrong file.” He stopped the film.

“You idiot,” spat Lottie. “Where did you get that?”

Right behind Lottie, the hall doors opened and Miss Summers appeared. “Is everything all right in here?”

With a huge effort, Hannah smiled brightly. “Yes, fine, thank you. We’re just rehearsing the Prologue.”

“Oh, lovely. I’ll sit and watch for a minute, if I may.”

Miss Summers settled herself on a chair at the side of the hall. With a warning look at Jack, Hannah turned back to the stage. “OK, I’ll count you in.”

Bang on cue, the actors spun round to face the audience and began the Prologue in perfect unison. Hannah felt a surge of gratitude towards them. At least the cast could be trusted.

The doors beside the stage opened and Miranda sauntered in.

“Where have you been?” muttered Hannah, as she approached. “You’re twenty minutes late.”

Miranda widened her eyes. “Am I? Aren’t you rehearsing the Chorus parts first?”

“But you’re in the Chorus. Everybody is.”

Miranda puckered up her mouth. “Hmm. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I think, as Juliet, I need to make a proper entrance.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes, I do. I’ve discussed it with my parents and they think so, too.”

The Prologue finished. Miss Summers clapped as she walked towards the stage. “Well done, everyone, that’s going to be a really effective start to the play. And the fight scenes are shaping up beautifully. I was very impressed with what I saw yesterday.”

“Thank you,” said Hannah. “We’re going to do Juliet’s potion scene now. In Room 2, because
Kipling need the stage.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Miss Summers. “I’m going to see how Conan Doyle are getting on. Well done again, all of you. I’m really looking forward to your production.”

“Thank you so much, everyone,” said Hannah. “That was great.”

As the cast left the stage, Miranda cocked her head to one side and gave Hannah a sympathetic look.

“It must be so hard for you, Hannah, doing this.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know, trying to organise a big cast and direct experienced actors like me. I mean, I know you’ve done a play in your little shed, but never a real production with an actual audience, have you?”

“Oh, that’s not quite fair,” said Jack, strolling to the front of the hall, his laptop under one arm. “I heard there were three pigs and a cow at their last show. I mean, granted, the pigs did get bored and leave in the interval, and the cow demanded its money back, but still…”

Hannah laughed. Miranda looked disconcerted for a moment. Then she said, “Oh, by the way, Hannah, I’ve got some really exciting news!”

“What?” asked Hannah, hoisting her school bag on to her shoulder and tucking her purple ring binder under her other arm.

“So,” said Miranda, as they walked into Room 2, “my mum’s friend runs a costume hire company and she’s offered to lend us all the costumes for
Romeo and Juliet
! Isn’t that amazing?”

Hannah felt herself tensing up all over.

“Lottie’s doing our costumes, you know that.”

“Oh, don’t worry. My parents will pay for the hire. You won’t have to fund it from that pathetic fifty pounds the school gave you.”

The classroom door opened and Jade and Martha walked in. Oh, great, thought Hannah. It would have to be them, wouldn’t it?

“Sorry, you two,” she said. “I know this is your form room, but it’s booked for our rehearsal this lunchtime.”

“All right, keep your knickers on,” said Martha. “I just need to get my hockey kit from my locker. If that’s OK with you?”

Hannah sighed. “Fine. Right, Miranda, let’s do the potion scene. From when the nurse leaves and you’re alone on stage.”

“Now, where’s my locker key, I wonder?” said Martha.

With infinite slowness, she settled herself on a chair, put her bag on the table and, at the pace of an ancient snail, inched open the zip.

“The point is,” said Miranda, “we can get proper professional costumes. Like Kipling will have. You know Zara’s mum’s designing theirs, and she’s a professional designer.”

“The point is,” said Hannah, “that we’ve got Lottie making our costumes, and she’s amazing and she’s in our house. I don’t care what Kipling are doing. Anyway, Miss Summers said we’d get credit for doing things ourselves, remember, so it might
actually help us win.”

“No, it’s not in that pocket,” said Martha. “Where did I put it, then? Maybe in this pocket? Hmm, let’s see.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit selfish of you to expect Charlotte to make all the costumes herself?” said Miranda. “Think of the trouble you’d save her if you hired them.”

“It might be hard for you to understand, Miranda, but Lottie actually
wants
to make the costumes. She’s done all the designs and they’re amazing.”

Miranda sniffed. “Anyone can
draw
a costume. The point is, can she actually
make
what she’s drawn, or are we all going to be laughing stocks? I mean, we saw what you turned up in for your audition.”

Hannah felt her cheeks heating up. “That was a beautiful costume. It wasn’t Lottie’s fault it got covered in oil and piglet wee.”

Miranda curled her upper lip. “Priya said Charlotte goes to
jumble sales
to get the fabric for her costumes. If you really think we’re going to win with
jumble sale
clothes…” She shuddered.

“Our costumes are going to be awesome,” said Martha. “The designs are so cool. Did you know Zara’s mum’s an actual designer?”

“Are you still here?” snapped Hannah. “You could have sewn yourself a hockey kit by now.”

“Hi.” Lottie was standing in the doorway, a long white floaty dress draped over one arm. “I thought you might like to have the costume for this scene, Miranda. To help you get into character.”

Miranda recoiled. “Is that the dress Hannah wore for her audition? The one that disgusting pig…” She wrinkled up her nose as if she couldn’t even say the words.

“Yep,” said Lottie. “The very same. I haven’t even washed it. Have a sniff. Mmm.”

She thrust the costume at Miranda’s nose. Miranda shrieked and jumped backwards.

“Oh, don’t be so ridiculous,” said Lottie. “I’ve made this especially for you.”

Miranda gave her a suspicious look. She took the nightdress between her fingertips and held it up at arm’s length. She wrinkled her nose.

“It’s very shapeless, isn’t it? But I suppose a shapeless dress is easier to make.”

“I can make clothes any shape I like,” snapped Lottie. “This is a nightdress, that’s why it’s this shape.”

Miranda rubbed the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. She made a disgusted face. “I can’t wear this. It’s synthetic. It’s probably a fire risk.”

“Nobody will be able to tell what fabric it’s made from when you’re up on stage,” said Hannah.

“Anyway, I’m allergic to synthetic fibres.”

“No, you’re not.”

“And white’s not a good colour on me. I have to be very careful what I wear, with my hair and complexion, you see. White washes me out.”

“The whiter the better, then,” muttered Lottie.

“What did you say?”

“I said, wear the costume someone’s made for you
and be grateful.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. It’s very kind of you, of course. But I don’t want you to have to go to any more trouble for me.”

“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” said Lottie, “if you didn’t make it trouble.”

“Anyway, my mum’s friend has a costume that’s perfect for Juliet. Well, five, actually. One for each of Juliet’s scenes. So it’s really nice of you to go to all that trouble, Charlotte, but I won’t be needing you to make my costumes.”

Lottie’s eyes were very dark. “You can’t just wear whatever you want, Miranda. It’s a play, not a fancy dress party.”

Miranda smiled a patronising smile. “I can see how you’d worry about professional costumes showing up your work, Charlotte, but think how much it will help you. If you don’t have to spend time on my costume, you’ll have more time to work on everyone else’s.”

“I’m not worried about the time. Or about anything showing up my work. I’m worried about these costumes you’re bringing in having a completely different look from the rest of the costumes.”

“We’re so lucky, aren’t we, Jade,” said Martha, “having a proper designer doing all our costumes.”

“And a proper choreographer,” said Jade.

“What?” said Miranda.

“Jade! That’s a secret!” hissed Martha.

Jade clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oops. Sorry.”

“What do you mean, a proper choreographer?” asked Miranda.

“Oh, nothing,” said Martha. “It’s just a friend of Zara’s mum’s who’s helping a bit with the spirits’ movements. Come on, Jade.” She stuffed her kit into her bag and dragged Jade out of the door.

Miranda rounded on Hannah.

“You see? They’re having all this professional help and we’re getting nothing! They’re going to win and it will all be your fault. Well, I’m not wearing her costumes, even if everyone else is. I’ve got proper costumes and I’m going to wear them.”

“You—” began Lottie. But Hannah put a hand on her arm.

“Fine. Bring in your costumes and let Lottie see them. Then we’ll decide.”

Lottie gaped at Hannah, her eyes flashing with fury.

Miranda smiled at Lottie. “You’ll love them. They’re fabulous.”

Just humour her,
Hannah mouthed to Lottie.

Miranda’s eyes lit on a sheet of paper in Hannah’s open ring binder. “So you’re writing letters to the newspapers about this reservoir, are you?”

Hannah slammed the ring binder shut. “That’s none of your business.”

“You know it’s a complete waste of time, trying to fight the reservoir plans, don’t you? My dad says it’s a done deal. They pretend to consult the public and listen to objections, but really it’s all decided already. My dad says these big companies do exactly what
they want. They just bribe the government if they have to.”

BOOK: The Farm Beneath the Water
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