The Secret Hen House Theatre (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

The Performance

Jo and Lottie took hold of the curtain strings. Alice and Sam stood in the wings stage left to wait for their cues.

Hannah laid her head on the pillow, closed her eyes and gave a thumbs-up sign. Lottie and Jo pulled the curtains open.

Appreciative murmurs came from the audience. Hannah gave them a few seconds to take in the splendour of the scene. Then she opened her eyes and stretched elegantly upright. She raised her chin and called, “
Maid! MAID! Come here at once! I command you!
”

And as soon as Hannah started to speak in the queen’s voice, she
was
the queen.

“
Coming, Your Majesty,
” called Lottie. She appeared instantly, with Sam in his footman’s costume behind her.

“
I have been waiting ages for you, maid! Calling until my face was blue and my throat hoarse!
”

The audience laughed. Hannah breathed in the laughter like oxygen.

“
For my breakfast
,” she said, fixing Lottie with
a haughty gaze, “
I need tea, avocado, bacon, eggs, kidneys, grapes and cheese. That will be all.
”

“
Yes, ma’am.
” Lottie curtsied and flicked her hand at Sam. He left to fetch the breakfast tray.

“
Now, maid,
” said Hannah. “
As of course you know, my daughter, Princess Esmeralda, will be sixteen on her next birthday. She will be married then.
”

In the back of her mind, Hannah thought she heard the stage door creak open.

“
Why on her sixteenth birthday, your majesty
?” asked Lottie.

Alice, in the wings, jerked her head up from her script like a startled rabbit and gawped backstage. What was going on?

“
It has long been the custom of my family
—” began Hannah.

A whirlwind of fury shot into the wings.

Martha! Oh, my goodness, it’s Martha!! What is she doing? She’s come to ruin the play! Oh, no; please no.

“
It is not your place to question this
,” Hannah said.

In the wings, Martha grabbed Alice’s arm, yanked her off the barrel and ripped open the Velcro at the back of her dress. Alice’s face contorted with indignation. Her arms flailed around her back and she slapped blindly at Martha’s fingers.

“
Is that clear, maid?
” finished Hannah. Luckily they had rehearsed this scene so many times that every word and gesture came automatically, while
inside her head she was praying over and over: don’t scream, you two. Don’t say anything aloud.

“
Yes, Your Majesty,
” said Lottie. Lucky Lottie. With her back to the wings, she had no idea of the pantomime being played out behind her.

“
Unfortunately there are no suitable princes in this area.
”

“
There is Prince Alfred—
”

Martha leapt on to Alice’s back and wrestled her to the ground.

What if they roll on to the stage? Get backstage! Now! Where’s Jo? Why isn’t she doing anything?

“
Have you taken leave of your senses, maid?
”

Alice waved her hands in the air in a desperate gesture of surrender. Martha climbed off her back and dragged her towards the dressing room. What was she going to do now?

“
I want you to send two men to search the country for suitable princes. They must be back within a year
.”

“
But, Your Majesty
—”

“
Silence, maid! Do you want to be imprisoned for treason? Now, go and start the search today
.”

“
Yes, Your Majesty
.”

Sam, in his footman’s livery, entered with a laden breakfast tray. “
Your breakfast, ma’am
.”

“
Take it away. I don’t want it. Whatever made you think I did?
”

Drawing strength from the audience’s laughter, Hannah swanned over to her dressing table. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Martha, in the
wings, climbing into Esmeralda’s costume. Oh, my goodness. What was she doing now?

“
Now, I must choose my dress,”
said Hannah.
“Let me see. Bring me my purple silk. No, no, not that one. My green damask, I think. And call my daughter
.”

“
Yes, Your Majesty
.”

As Lottie exited into the wings, Martha paused in the act of fastening her dress to give her a nasty twisting pinch on the arm. Lottie’s face contracted in shock and pain. She shot a murderous glance at Martha, but Martha had already glided onstage, her face serenely innocent.

“
Come in, Esmeralda, my dear
,” gushed Hannah.

Martha bobbed a pretty curtsy and said sweetly, her eyes demurely lowered, “
You wanted to see me, Mama?
”

The play went beautifully after that. Hannah was so caught up in the action that she didn’t look at the audience at all, just drank in their laughter and approval.

Apart from one strange moment.

In Scene Two, the queen is briefly lost in thought, trying to devise a test for the princes. As Hannah directed her faraway gaze at the auditorium ceiling, she thought she saw her father standing at the back by the door. But she had to whip her head round immediately to snap at the maid, and when she next got a chance to sneak a look, there was nobody there.

Had she dreamed it? Was it some sort of mirage?

Did she so want him to see her play that her mind and eyes had played a trick on her, like a parched traveller in the desert convinces themselves there is an oasis in the distance?

“Wow!” said Lottie as the curtains swished across the stage and the audience’s applause turned into chatter. “Can you believe how well that went?
So
much better than the dress rehearsal. Hannah, you were amazing. And so was Martha.” She turned to Martha. “Well done.”

Martha stuck her tongue out.

“Sorry again for yelling at you, Martha,” said Lottie. “You were fantastic in the play. Thank you so much for being in it.”

“Yes,” Hannah said. “You saved the day. Thank goodness you came.”

“Shut up, losers,” said Martha.

Lottie’s mum poked her head through the curtains. “Darlings, that was
wonderful
. Absolutely marvellous. Such fun. And Mrs Butler just asked me to say could you all come through to the auditorium once you’ve changed, so she can talk to you about your play.”

Hannah’s stomach turned over. What would she say? What if she said it was the worst thing she had ever seen and how dare they waste her time by having the nerve to enter this prestigious competition with their ridiculous little play in a shed? She sat down in the auditorium with a lead weight in her stomach.

The judge smiled around at the circle of nervous
faces. Only Martha managed to look completely unconcerned.

“Well, congratulations, all of you,” said Mrs Butler. “Now, I need to clarify at the beginning that I can’t give you any indication yet as to whether or not you’ve won a prize. The prizes will be announced at the festival’s closing ceremony next Thursday, which I hope you can all attend. But we do like to give you some feedback about the play now, as there isn’t time for that at the prize-giving. So I would like to start by saying how impressed I was with your production.”

Hannah’s heart leapt. Relief flooded over her.

“It’s particularly impressive,” continued Mrs Butler, “because I can see from your programme that you’ve done the whole thing yourselves. I gather you’ve had no adult input at all, is that right?”

They nodded.

“And one of your parents told me that your theatre was badly vandalised last night and you’ve had to spend the morning repairing it.”

More nodding.

“Well, I think that shows quite extraordinary commitment and resilience. A lot of people would have given up if that happened to them. You’re obviously a very strong team. And I have to say, I can’t see any evidence of the damage so you clearly did an excellent repair job.”

Yes, yes, Hannah wanted to say, but what did you think of the play? Is it good enough to win a prize? Tell us!

“So I guess what you really want to know,” said Mrs Butler, “is, what did I think of your play?”

Sparrows chirped loudly in the bushes. Inside the theatre, the silence was terrifying.

Mrs Butler beamed at them. “Don’t look so frightened. I loved it.”

She loved it!

Their play, that she had written, and the judge loved it! A little spring of joy bubbled up inside Hannah.

“I thought the script was excellent,” Mrs Butler said. “It was very funny, a nice fresh take on the fairytale genre, with some lovely characters. It was well cast and well acted and the pace was just right, which shows very good direction. Your scenery was excellent – so atmospheric with the panelling – and the costumes are quite stunning. Did you really make those all yourself, Lottie?”

“Well, Hannah helped,” said Lottie. “And my mum helped mend them.”

Hannah couldn’t let Lottie give away the credit.

“She pretty much did it all herself. And she designed everything.”

“I think that’s absolutely amazing,” said Mrs Butler. “You’re extremely talented, Lottie. Very few adults could do that.”

Lottie went scarlet. Hannah beamed at her.

“And finally, I want to say how well organised your whole production was. Your programmes are beautiful, you’ve created a lovely atmosphere in your theatre and you all knew exactly what you
were doing. So very well done, all of you.”

Mrs Butler smiled round at them and bent down to pick up her bag. “Well, I do have to go now. I’ve got to be at another performance at five. Though not in a hen house this time. I think yours is unique in that respect. Hannah, would you show me to my car? And Martha too, if you wouldn’t mind. I don’t want to get lost in the undergrowth.”

“What a beautiful place this is,” Mrs Butler said as they crossed the field. “It’s like a valley lost in time. I didn’t think farms like this existed any more – with all the old hedgerows and barns, and chickens pecking about the yard, and the cows and sheep and pigs in the fields. And the birdsong! I’ve never heard so many birds. It’s just magical.”

Hannah wanted to say: “Then give us the prize so it won’t get covered in concrete.” But she just said, “Thank you.”

Mrs Butler got into her car. Then she looked at Hannah and Martha and said, “I didn’t want to single out anybody’s acting in there, but I did want to tell you two that you are both very talented actors.”

For the second time that afternoon, Hannah just laughed. It was a laugh of sheer surprise and shock. A professional judge had told her she was a talented actor!

“I mean it,” said Mrs Butler. “If it’s what you really want to do, you stick with it. And the writing too, Hannah. That was a very sophisticated script, directed with an extremely sure touch. Quite
exceptional. I shall be looking out for your name in the theatre reviews ten years from now. I can see you with your own company – an actor/writer/director in the Brechtian mode.”

Hannah stood there, wide-eyed. It was impossible to take in.

Was the judge making fun of her? She didn’t seem to be.

Her own theatre company! Imagine that!

Writing plays and acting in them and putting them on – for a job!

Was that really possible? Could she, Hannah Roberts, really do that?

Mrs Butler seemed to think she could.

What did “in the Brechtian mode” mean? She must look that up.

“And now I must go or I’ll be late for the next show,” said Mrs Butler. “It was a pleasure to meet you all, and we’ll see you next Thursday at the prize-giving. Goodbye!”

As they said goodbye, Hannah glanced at Martha. Her face was flushed with pride. Hannah felt a rush of affection for her sister. She caught her eye and smiled at her.

Martha scowled and curled her lip, and as soon as Mrs Butler started her engine, she stalked off into the house without a word.

Hannah stood in the yard, staring at the car as it bumped up the track. Her whole world was expanding. She could be an actor! She could be a writer! She could write plays and star in them on
the West End stage! She could be rich and famous and she could buy the farm and save it forever from anybody who wanted to take it away from them. And her wonderful new life would begin next Thursday, when she would accept a cheque for five hundred pounds at the Linford Arts Festival prize-giving and present it to her father.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Prize-Giving

The Linford Conference Centre was a big disappointment.

It was the biggest building Hannah had ever been inside. But there was no red velvet, no gilded wood, no sparkling chandeliers. Just rows and rows of drab grey seats facing a wide stage with bottle-green curtains.

Hannah had told Dad that Lottie’s mum was taking them all out for the day. Which was true – she just hadn’t said where they were going. And Vanessa had said she’d get them fish and chips afterwards, which was enough to bribe Martha into silence. Not that Dad asked any questions anyway.

Had
he been at their play? Or
was
it a mirage?

Nobody else had seen him there. He hadn’t said a thing about it since. And none of the children had mentioned the play to him either. His reaction when he’d come backstage hadn’t exactly made them want to bring up the topic. And the last thing Hannah wanted to do was remind him that he hadn’t actually banned her theatre.

So nothing was said.

Like on so many other subjects.

When they had arrived at the conference centre, the cavernous auditorium was nearly empty, but now the rows were filling up. Dozens of groups of children and teenagers kept pouring into the vast space, and the noise level rose and rose with the laughter and the chatter. But all Hannah could think about was the phone call she had overheard that morning.

Dad was talking on the dining-room phone when she came downstairs. “Sixty cows and ten heifers,” he was saying. “Yes, plenty of room in the yard. Good, good. Yes, we’ll give you a hand loading up. We’ll see you Monday evening then.”

Hannah’s heart raced as he put the phone down.

“Who was that?” She had aimed to sound casual but her voice came out about half an octave higher than usual.

Dad didn’t look at her. “Oh, just some bloke from Lincolnshire.”

Hannah wasn’t going to let him get away with vagueness. “Why’s he coming on Monday? What’s he loading up?”

He cleared his throat. “We’re selling some livestock.”

Hannah’s throat felt so tight she could hardly get the words out.

“Cows?”

“Yes.”

She forced herself to ask another question.

“All of them?”

He gazed out of the window. “Yes.”

Hannah had to ask one more question. It came out all croaky.

“And the calves?”

Her father seemed to look right through her.

“No point keeping the calves, is there?” He cleared his throat again and left the room.

Hannah had to grip the back of a chair to stay upright. Her knuckles were white.

So it’s really going to happen.

He must be absolutely desperate for money if he’s selling his cows to pay the rent.

But what will he do next time the rent is due?

Will there be anything left to sell?

And if not … what will happen to us?

Hannah was brought back sharply to the present. A voice she knew only too well sliced its way through all the thousands of other voices in the conference centre.

“Budge up, Ems, there’s dozens of us to fit in.”

Oh, that’s just perfect.

Miranda and Emily and a big group of people who must be members of their drama group were squeezing their way into the seats right across the aisle. Hannah bent down and shook her hair into her face, but Miranda’s eagle eye zoomed straight in.

“Oh, hi, guys!” she cooed. Hannah registered the sweeping up-and-down appraisal of her clothes, followed by a barely disguised smirk. “Isn’t this just sooo exciting? I can’t wait for the results, can you?”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned to the boy
on her right and started up a conversation, tossing her glossy auburn hair and trilling her fake laugh.

“I can’t believe,” muttered Lottie, “that in all this massive building they chose the seats right next to us.”

Hannah allowed herself a private fantasy of the outrage on Miranda’s face when the judge announced that the winner was the Secret Hen House Theatre. Then she cringed. How ridiculous it sounded. Why hadn’t they given their theatre a more sophisticated name? Honestly, look at all these people they were competing against. How had she ever let herself think her theatre might win?

At two o’clock precisely the house lights went down and the curtains opened. The Mayor of Linford, wearing a big gold chain, stood centre stage. Behind her was a long table at which sat what must be the judges. Scanning the row, Hannah saw Mrs Butler, and at the thought of her kindness, she felt a bit better.

But she knew, from the programme in her hand, that they were going to have to wait for ages. The drama prizes were right at the end of the youth section.

The music awards were announced first, then the dance ones. And for each category there was a long speech by the judge, then the actual prize-giving, and finally a performance of the winning piece.

Hannah shrivelled further and further into her seat as she watched perfect performance after perfect performance. How had she ever had the presumption
to enter this competition? All these people looked and sounded like professionals.

Would they be rehoused in one of those tower blocks they had passed on the way into Linford?

What would Dad do in a block of flats?

Hannah pictured him endlessly pacing the rooms, day after day, as angry and depressed as a caged swallow, gazing out of the windows at the fields far, far in the distance.

And what about Sam? It had taken him ages to settle into school. What would happen to him if he was taken away from the farm and had to start all over again in a city?

And Jo. How would Jo cope without her animals?

And what would happen to Jasper and Lucy?

If Mum were still here, Hannah thought, then maybe we would have a chance. She could comfort Sam in the way Hannah remembered she used to comfort her – sit on the floor and gather him in her arms and rock him backwards and forwards and tell him, don’t worry, everything will be all right. She would run her hands through Jo’s curly hair and say, never mind, we’ll get you a pet. She might even understand Martha’s moods and tantrums and manage to calm her down.

And she would smooth out Dad’s frown and give him a hug and make him laugh again, just like she used to.

But Mum wasn’t here. And how could they survive this without her?

The final dance performance was called
The 
Devastation of the Immortal Soul among the Incarnadine Forces of Modernity.
A group of solemn-faced teenagers dressed in blood-soaked bandages writhed, wormlike, on to the stage, to the sound of a single drumbeat.

Hannah felt giggles rising in her throat. She bit her cheeks and fixed her eyes on the carpet. She mustn’t laugh, especially with Lottie’s mum sitting right behind her. She bit her cheeks harder.

But then she made the mistake of looking at Lottie. Lottie was leaning slightly forward, watching the stage in a ridiculously exaggerated impression of someone who found every movement deeply meaningful. Her fingertips were pressed together and she was nodding earnestly, a frown of concentration on her face. When she realised Hannah was looking at her, she met Hannah’s gaze and raised her eyebrows.

Hannah was biting her cheeks so hard they hurt. Her insides were nearly seizing up with the effort of not laughing.

And then she looked at the stage.

A boy in a gold Lurex catsuit with a garland of sunflowers round his neck was crawling among the dancers, unwinding the bandages with his teeth. Lottie made a strange noise in her throat. Hannah’s shoulders started to shake. Her face went bright red and tears of laughter poured down her cheeks.

Finally the drumbeat stopped and, after a second, people clapped dutifully. Under cover of the applause, Hannah bent double in her seat and howled with laughter.

Vanessa leaned forward and tapped her hard on the shoulder. Hannah took deep breaths and wiped her eyes. The applause died down and Lottie nudged her. She looked at the stage for more entertainment, but instead the Festival Chairman and the Mayor of Linford stood centre stage.

Hannah’s stomach did a giant back flip.

This was it. The drama prizes.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the chairman, “I have great pleasure in inviting Fran Butler, the Chair of our Theatre panel, to announce the winners in the festival’s youth drama category.”

Every fibre in Hannah’s body tensed to breaking point.

But Mrs Butler began yet another speech about the festival and the prizes and how it was all judged and organised and on and on and on. After what seemed like hours, she said, “And now the bit you’ve all been waiting for – the winners!”

And then she pulled an envelope out of her pocket, and Hannah could neither move nor breathe.

“Our first category is the under-fourteens section,” she said.

Lottie gripped Hannah’s hand.

Hannah’s hands were sweating. If they won, they could give the cheque straight to Dad and he wouldn’t have to load his cows on to a lorry on Monday morning. Not all of them anyway. Five hundred pounds must be enough to save some of the cows.

Fran Butler had really liked their play. And they
had done it all themselves. That had to count for something. They would win. They just had to.

“We had some very strong entries in this category,” said Mrs Butler, “but in the end we had to decide between two excellent and very different productions. We can only have one eventual winner, but we wanted to single out both of these productions for a special mention. One of these was the Linford Youth Theatre, with their performance of
Plague
.”

Hannah and Lottie exchanged glances. Miranda’s group. Of course.

Miranda’s row rippled with excitement.

“This play,” said Mrs Butler, “was a subtle and thought-provoking meditation on a particularly tragic episode in our country’s history, performed with astonishing maturity and professionalism, using music and physical theatre with imagination and accomplishment.”

Hannah heard this with a heavy heart. How could they ever have thought they could compete against the Linford Youth Theatre? She didn’t even know what physical theatre was.

“The other play in our final two,” said Mrs Butler, “was
By Her Majesty’s Appointment
, written and performed by the Secret Hen House Theatre.”

What?

Had she heard right?

Hannah looked at Lottie. Lottie’s eyes sparkled and she was grinning an enormous grin.

She
had
heard right! She couldn’t believe it. They were in the top two!

“This play,” Mrs Butler was saying, “was a delightful comic fairytale, performed with verve and sparkle. What really deserves special mention is the fact that every aspect of the production – costumes, scenery, writing, direction and even the conversion of the building from a chicken shed into a theatre – was done entirely by the five members of the company, whose ages range from six to eleven. This was terrific ensemble work by a talented and passionate theatre group.”

Hannah felt as if she was about to take off with happiness. Here they were, in this enormous place with all these people, and their play in a shed was being singled out for special praise!

Vanessa leaned forward and put her arms round Lottie and Hannah. “Well done!” she whispered. But Mrs Butler was speaking again.

“After a lot of deliberation,” she said, “we did decide on our winner. The Wilmot-Fawcett Shield and a prize of five hundred pounds for the best production in the under-fourteen age range is awarded to…”

Hannah’s heart stopped. She sat rigid as stone, gripping Lottie’s hand.

“…the Linford Youth Theatre!”

The group across the aisle erupted into celebrations. They punched the air, cheered, whooped and hugged each other.

Hannah pulled her hand out of Lottie’s and clapped fiercely. She looked along the row to the Beans and Martha. “Clap!” she ordered.

So that was it.

The cows would be sold to pay the rent, and when the next rent day came round, there would be nothing left to pay it with.

And their farm and their home would be demolished.