The Farm Beneath the Water (3 page)

No. That would be crazy. They’d only just met.

Unless … unless they hadn’t only just met.

Maybe they’d known each other for ages. Maybe Dad just hadn’t bothered to introduce her to his family.

“Is that all you’d like to see?” asked Dad. “You don’t want to look around a bit more?”

“No, that’s fine, thanks. It’ll be perfect.”

“Well, I’m very grateful. This could be exactly what we need.”

Fury rose inside Hannah. What did he think they needed that she could possibly provide?

“Well, I can’t promise anything,” said Sophie, “but it all looks good. I’ll come and…”

But her words were drowned out by the blare of an alarm.

“That sounds like my car,” said Sophie.

Hannah’s stomach lurched. She heard Martha’s bedroom door open and Dad stride in. Martha’s was the only bedroom that overlooked the farmyard.

“That blasted sheep!” shouted Dad.

He ran out of Martha’s room and down the back stairs, Sophie following him.

With what she hoped was the face of a mildly curious onlooker, Hannah walked to the doorway of Martha’s room. Jo and Sam had their heads out of the window, laughing. Martha stood behind them, trying to look as though she wasn’t interested.

“He is
so
clever,” said Jo. “He can sense food from
miles
away.”

Hannah moved to the window and looked out into the yard. Jasper had his head through the open back window of Sophie’s car and was gobbling the contents of the shopping bag.

As they watched, Dad hurtled into the yard, grabbed Jasper round the neck and yanked him away from the car. Jasper held firm for as long as he could and, when he was eventually dragged away, he had half a paper bag hanging out of his mouth.

“You bad sheep!” growled Dad.

Sophie was laughing and pressing buttons on her key ring. The alarm stopped.

“I’m so sorry,” said Dad. “It’s my daughter’s sheep. Complete pest.”

“Hey!” yelled Jo, leaning so far out of the window that Hannah grabbed the back of her shirt in case she toppled. “Don’t be rude about Jasper. He understands, you know!”

Dad ignored her, but Sophie smiled up at the window and waved. “It’s no problem at all,” she said to Dad. “My fault for leaving the car window open. I thought it would be crime-free up here. I hadn’t reckoned on the animals.”

“Nothing valuable in there, I hope?”

“No, no, just a few groceries. I’m impressed with his appetite, though. A loaf of bread, a bunch of bananas, half a dozen eggs and a box of chocolate brownies.”

“That’s nothing for Jasper,” said Jo proudly to her
siblings. “To him, that’s just a little snack.”

“I’m very sorry,” said Dad. “Let me reimburse you.”

But Sophie waved his offer away. She was petting Jasper’s huge woolly head. “Honestly, it’s no problem at all. He’s a lovely sheep. It was a pleasure to feed him.” She reached over and touched Dad’s arm. “It was great to see the farm and the house. Thanks so much for inviting me. I’ll give you a ring.”

She got into the car and started the engine.

Martha, her face twisted with fury, pushed past the others and pulled the window shut.

“Get out of my room, losers.”

“She seems quite nice, doesn’t she, French Bean?” said Sam, as he and Jo ambled on to the landing. “For a Russian spy.”

“Hmm,” said Jo thoughtfully. Hannah noticed that they now carried yellow notebooks with “Bean Spy Club” written on the front. “They always pretend to be nice, Broad Bean. That’s what spies do. But you can never trust them. Not for a second.”

“We wrote down every word she said,” Sam told Hannah. “And it was very suspicious.”

Hannah said nothing. It
was
very suspicious. She only wished she could believe that Sophie was a Russian spy. That would be so much less disturbing than what she feared.

Chapter Three

The Cast List

As the car drew up at the bus stop on Monday morning, Hannah spotted Lottie walking through the school gates. She ran to catch up with her.

“Oh, hi,” said Lottie, as Hannah tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you nervous?”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I haven’t got a hope.”

“You never know. I mean, you did get to say some of your lines. She might have been able to tell how good you are. Anything’s possible.”

“No, it’ll definitely be Miranda. Bet you a million pounds.”

And yet Hannah still felt butterflies in her stomach as they approached the school building. Even though she knew she had no chance of getting the part, a tiny flicker of hope still burned inside her.

It was ridiculous, of course, but Lottie was right. Anything was possible.

They walked up the wide front steps and through the glass doors into the foyer, its shiny wooden floor pockmarked by the forbidden heels of bygone decades.

Beyond the glass-fronted trophy cabinet and the wooden boards bearing the gold-lettered names of previous Head Boys and Girls, four house notice boards hung on the pale-blue walls. Each house was named after a famous writer who had lived in Sussex and each had a different house colour. Conan Doyle’s board was green, Milne’s was yellow, Kipling’s was red and Woolf’s was blue.

Groups of people milled around the foyer but, judging by the low-key atmosphere, the cast lists hadn’t gone up yet. Hannah and Lottie walked over to the Woolf House board. It was bare except for the tatty picture of Virginia Woolf that had been there forever and a team sheet for an upcoming football match.

“Hey, Roberts,” said a voice behind Hannah.

It was Jack, messy-haired and muddy-kneed, wearing the school’s red football strip.

“If you’re hoping to get into the team,” he said, “you’re going to have to start coming to training.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“Or was it the cast list you wanted? Fingers crossed your piglet gets the part, eh? I’ve got high hopes for it after that audition. It’ll have to work on its bladder control, obviously, but it’ll look great in the costume. You know, with me as Romeo. I’ve never had a pig as a sidekick.”

“Yes, you have,” said Lottie. “You hung around with Danny Carr all last year.”

Jack tutted and shook his head sadly. “That’s not very nice.”

“No, it’s not,” said Hannah. “How
could
you compare that sweet little piglet with Danny Carr?”

Lottie ignored them both. “Anyway,” she said to Jack, “you didn’t even audition.”

“A man of my talent doesn’t need to audition. I’m far too busy for that sort of thing.”

Lottie gave a scornful laugh. “Sure you are.”

“What? I am. Do you know how many channels there are on my telly? It’s a full-time job.”

Jonah and Ben, both in muddy football strip, bowled up the corridor, jostling each other, Ben’s messy blond hair and freckled pink cheeks contrasting with Jonah’s straight dark hair and tanned olive skin. Since Danny Carr had left at the end of the summer term, Jack had started hanging out a lot more with these two. Ben was Lottie’s next-door neighbour, so (as Lottie’s mum never tired of reminding them loudly in public) they had known each other since they were in nappies.

Jack fell to his knees and clasped Ben’s hand.

“Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” he said in a squeaky falsetto.

Ben pushed him over.

“That’s not very romantic,” said Jack, “for someone playing the hot male lead in the house play.”

Ben looked startled for a moment. He stared at the notice board. Then he shoved Jack in the shoulder again.

“The list’s not even up, you prune.”

Jack looked down the corridor. “It will be in a second.”

The others followed his gaze. Miss Summers was walking towards the foyer, holding several sheets of A4 paper and a box of drawing pins.

Other people had seen her, too. Crowds started to form around the notice boards. Miss Summers smiled. “OK, everybody, stand back.”

She walked to the Conan Doyle board. Typical, thought Hannah. Always alphabetical order.

By the time the first three cast lists were up, the foyer was packed with people, swooping, chattering and screeching like a flock of starlings. Miss Summers manoeuvred her way out of the Milne crowd and walked towards the Woolf House board with her final sheet of paper.

You haven’t got a chance, Hannah told herself. You haven’t got a chance. But still the butterflies fluttered in her stomach. You never know, a voice inside her said. You never know.

“Out of the way, everyone, please,” said Miss Summers, as people inched back to let her through.

Once the last drawing pin was in and Miss Summers had left the throng, the crowd surged forward. Lottie gripped Hannah’s arm and dragged her through the mass of bodies until they were close enough to see the typed sheet of paper on the board.

Peering through the gap between two heads, Hannah zoomed in on the word “Juliet”. Next to it was a name.

Miranda Hathaway.

A big stone settled in Hannah’s stomach.

So that was that.

Well, of course. She had known it all along, hadn’t she? Why had she even allowed herself to hope?

Lottie groaned. “How totally predictable.” She put her arm round Hannah and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Han. I really hoped she might – you know – overlook the piglet incident. That’s
so
unfair.”

People shoved and jostled behind them. “Let’s get out of here,” said Hannah.

“Just a minute.”

Lottie ran her finger down the sheet.

Down and down and down.

Right to the very bottom of the list.

There was a pause before she said, “So you’re a Capulet lady. Same as me.”

A Capulet lady. Miming at the back of the party scene. Just as she had thought.

They pushed back through the crowd to the other side of the foyer, outside the Head’s office.

“I’m so sorry, Hannah,” said Lottie again. “That is
so
unfair.”

Hannah’s insides felt very tight, but she shrugged. “Not really. Not everyone can get the main part, can they? I mean, you’re a Capulet lady, too.”

“But I only
wanted
a non-speaking part. You wanted a proper acting part. And you should have got it. You’re a miles better actress than Miranda. Can you imagine how unbearable she’s going to be for the next two months? And she doesn’t even
deserve it. If only that piglet hadn’t got out…”

Hannah heaved a big sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No. Sorry.”

There was a chorus of squeals from the notice board. Hannah looked round.

She immediately wished she hadn’t. A group of girls was jumping up and down, hugging the glossy-haired person at their centre. Miranda.

Miranda caught Hannah’s eye. She extracted herself from the group and, flicking her auburn mane over her shoulders, put on the expression that Hannah hated even more than her smug one – the head-on-one-side fake-sympathetic one.

“I’m
so
sorry you didn’t get the part, Hannah,” she cooed, as if speaking to a toddler. For a terrible moment, Hannah thought Miranda was actually going to pat her on the head.

Hannah smiled brightly. “Oh, that’s OK. I’m quite busy this term, anyway.”

Miranda nodded, a concerned frown on her face. “Aw, it’s sweet that you’re putting a brave face on it. But you must have known you wouldn’t get it. I mean, Juliet has to be beautiful, doesn’t she?”

“Miranda!” said Priya, who was standing nearby. “Don’t be so rude.”

Miranda turned to her, eyes wide with what seemed to be genuine surprise. “I wasn’t being rude. I was just telling the truth. And Hannah doesn’t mind, do you, Hannah?”

Before Hannah could form a reply, Poppy swooped
down and enveloped Miranda in a hug.

“Yay for you, Mims! Juliet!”

“Aw, thanks, Pops.”

Linking arms with Poppy, Miranda sashayed away down the corridor as though a red carpet were being rolled out in front of her by uniformed footmen. Hannah was filled with an overwhelming desire to punch her.

“Told you,” said Jack’s voice.

Hannah looked round. But Jack wasn’t talking to her. The crowd around the notice board had thinned out and Jack was standing in front of the cast list with Jonah and Ben.

Jack clapped Ben on the back. “You’ll be a beautiful Romeo. It almost makes me cry just thinking about it.”

“I didn’t even notice who’d got the other parts,” said Lottie to Hannah. They joined the boys at the notice board.

Jonah pulled a face. “Miranda Hathaway as Juliet? Rather you than me, mate. You’d have been better off with Hannah.”

“I was rooting for the pig myself,” said Jack, “but Roberts would have been my second choice.”

“So Priya’s the prince,” said Lottie. “And Katy Jones is Lady Capulet.”

“Who’s Katy Jones?” asked Hannah.

“In Year 9. You know, really tall, with long dark hair. Goes around with Marie.”

“Who’s Marie?”

“She’s playing Juliet’s nurse. Quite small, with
fuzzy blonde hair.
Really
blonde.”

“Oh, yes, I know who you mean.” Hannah looked at the board again. “So you’re Tybalt,” she said to Jonah.

“I have totally got the best part,” said Jonah.

Ben grinned at him. “But I get to kill you, remember?”

“Hmm. We might have to change that bit of the script.”

Miss Summers, who had been talking to a group of Kipling students, turned and smiled at them.

“Good morning, miss,” Jack said, with suspicious politeness. “Could I have a word about this cast list?”

Miss Summers looked wary. “You can have a word. But the list is final and I’m not going to discuss any casting decisions.”

“No, of course not, miss,” said Jack. “I’m just a bit concerned, that’s all.”

“Concerned?”

“Yes. About how the casting blatantly contravenes equal opportunities legislation.”

Hannah stared at Jack.

Miss Summers raised her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, this is meant to be a school, isn’t it? An educational establishment where all pupils are given equal opportunities. People with incontinent pigs and people without.”

Hannah’s cheeks burned. Would people never stop going on about that pig?

But Jack continued. “Just because a piglet happened to relieve itself on Roberts in the audition – which I agree was unfortunate – she’s been totally victimised. She doesn’t even get a speaking part. I call that blatant anti-piggist discrimination.”

Miss Summers looked as though she was trying not to smile. Suddenly Hannah felt angry. It
was
unfair that the pig had messed up her audition. There was nothing remotely amusing about it.

The bell rang for registration.

“Off you go, all of you,” said Miss Summers. “And thank you for pointing that out to me, Jack. I’ll check the anti-discrimination laws.”

Oh, ha ha, thought Hannah. Hilarious.

Miss Summers walked off up the corridor. Hannah turned to Jack.

“Will you
ever
stop going on about that pig?”

“Hey, what are you getting at me for? I was sticking up for you. You wait. She’ll check those anti-piggist laws and then she’ll have to sack Miranda and make you Juliet.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, Lottie.”

But Lottie had drifted back to the notice board.

“I dunno, mate,” Jonah said to Jack. “It might all backfire. I reckon she’ll make the pig Juliet.”

Hannah’s frustrations boiled over. She wheeled around and glared at the boys.

“WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP ABOUT THAT BLASTED PIG!”

The door of the Head’s office opened. Mr Collins appeared in the doorway. When he saw Hannah, his
eyebrows shot up.

There was a long pause during which he kept his eyebrows raised and his eyes locked on Hannah.

“Sorry, sir,” Hannah muttered eventually.

Mr Collins raised his eyebrows even further. Then he turned round, walked back into his office and shut the door behind him.

Hannah turned on Jonah and Jack.

“Oh, thanks very much, you two. Thanks a whole bunch.”

“What?” said Jack, with his most wide-eyed, innocent look. “It wasn’t
us
screaming abuse in the corridor.”

“Look,” said Lottie, pointing to the small print at the bottom of the cast list. “There’s a meeting for the whole cast tomorrow lunchtime, plus anyone who wants to be involved backstage.”

“That’s great,” said Hannah, trying to feel properly excited for her friend. “You’ll get to be costume designer for the whole show.”

“If she lets me.”

“Of course she’ll let you. You’re brilliant.”

“So do we all have to go to this meeting tomorrow?” asked Jonah, as they wandered up the corridor to their form rooms.

“Yes, you do,” said Miss Summers, passing them in the opposite direction, carrying a pile of exercise books. “I want everyone involved with the house plays to be there.” She glanced at Hannah. “I’ve got some important announcements to make.”