The Farm Beneath the Water (14 page)

Chapter Eighteen

The Special Guest

It was only ten past nine on Friday morning, but Mr Collins seemed to have been droning on for hours. He stood at the front of the hall, beside a table on which was displayed the enormous new House Play Shield. The guest speaker was late, and Mr Collins had decided to entertain the Key Stage 3 assembly with a lengthy reminder of the school rules.

When Hannah’s class had walked into the hall and caught sight of that trophy, Miranda had shot Hannah a poisonous look that clearly said:
If we don’t win this prize, it will all be your fault.

Hannah pretended she hadn’t seen the look. But she felt queasy. She couldn’t believe how enthusiastic the others had been about her plan. But the idea would only work if they could get rid of Miranda. And how could they possibly do that?

Hannah had spent half the night going over and over the problem in her mind, and she still had no idea what to do about it.

Now, trying to avoid Miranda’s evil looks, Hannah turned her head as if looking for someone in the row behind her. Jack caught her eye and winked. She
turned back to face the front, desperately hoping he hadn’t seen her blush.

Apart from Miranda, Jack was the only member of their group who hadn’t been at the farm yesterday. Lottie had considered this a great opportunity not to tell him at all.

“There’s no way we can trust Jack Adamson with something this important,” she had said.

“Do you
really
think he’d grass us up to the Head?” said Jonah. “Adamson’s the last person in the world who’d do that and you know it.”

“But he’ll mess it up, won’t he? Like he messes everything up. I mean, has he done one single thing right for
Romeo and Juliet
?”

There was no answer to this. Jack had not done one single thing right for
Romeo and Juliet.

“But actually,” said Hannah, “this is better. We’ll only need really basic lighting. Lights up, lights down. Even Jack can’t mess that up.”

Lottie looked doubtful, but Hannah could tell she was slightly reassured. Jonah had said he’d tell Jack the plan that evening. Hannah wondered now what Jack had thought of the idea. What had that wink meant?

“It has also been brought to my notice,” Mr Collins was saying, “that some students have been coming to school wearing jewellery which expressly contravenes the uniform policy laid out in the Student Handbook.”

Hannah looked at her Head Teacher and suddenly wondered how she could have been so stupid. She had
been so excited by her idea that she hadn’t allowed any doubts to creep in. She had even managed to carry the rest of the group along on the tide of her enthusiasm.

She must have been mad. There was no way on earth they would get away with this. Mr Collins would stop them the moment they started. And then they’d get into massive trouble and they’d probably all be expelled.

What on earth had she been thinking?

“And may I remind you all,” Mr Collins said, “that trainers, irrespective of their colour, are not an acceptable form of footwear except in PE lessons.”

The Deputy Head, Mrs Young, walked into the hall and made her way towards Mr Collins in an exaggerated tiptoe, so her heels didn’t clack on the wooden floor.

“And furthermore…”

Mrs Young whispered in Mr Collins’s ear. His face brightened and he rubbed his hands together.

“I am delighted to announce that our special guest has arrived.”

People sat up a bit straighter and looked towards the double doors. Hannah didn’t bother. She had more important things to think about. She really wasn’t interested in some “representative from a local company”.

“Will you please give a warm welcome to the sponsor of our inaugural house plays: from our water company, Aqua, Mr Nick Constable!”

Hannah gaped. Surely not.

Lottie’s eyes were enormous. “No. No way.”

But there he was, striding into the hall in a black suit with a pink shirt and a purple tie, lapping up the dutiful applause with his creamy smile.

“Good morning, everybody, and thank you very much for your warm welcome. As your local water company, Aqua is delighted and proud to be sponsoring Middleham Community College’s house plays.”

“I don’t believe it,” muttered Hannah to Lottie. “Of all the people…”

“We’re very keen,” Nick Constable continued, “to become more involved in the local community, and I always enjoyed drama at school myself, so this was a cause close to my heart.” He smiled his oily smile. “We put a lot of thought into what we could give as a really exciting prize to the winning house, and I hope you’ll agree that we’ve come up with something worth competing for.”

He paused. “But before I get on to that, I’d like to say a little bit about what we do.” He smiled the slimy smile again. “Of course, in a sense, we at Aqua are in your homes every day.”

“Ugh,” muttered James, who was sitting behind Lottie. “I wouldn’t have him in my home. Creepy old git.”

“By which I mean,” said Nick Constable, with a chuckle, “that every time you turn on a tap, that water has come to you courtesy of Aqua.”

“Shame we can’t turn him off like a tap,” whispered
Priya. “What a slimeball.”

“So we’re very keen to get more involved with the local community and raise awareness of what goes into bringing you clean water, since it’s something we all use every day.”

Lottie gasped and her eyes grew even rounder.

“What?” said Hannah.

But Lottie put her finger to her lips.

“However, I’m sure you don’t want me rambling on like this,” he said, with an ingratiating smile. “I’m sure you’re all waiting to hear what the prize will be.”

There was a murmur of anticipation from around the hall.

“As well as this rather splendid Aqua House Play Shield,” said Nick Constable, gesturing to the trophy, “every member of the winning house will have a day off school next term for an all-expenses-paid trip, courtesy of Aqua, to one of the country’s top theme parks.”

An excited burst of chatter broke out.

“So
that’s
why he’s here,” said Lottie.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you see? He’s trying to bribe us. He wants to make everyone love Aqua, so we’ll all support the reservoir.”

Hannah’s mouth fell open. “So
that’s
why he’s sponsoring the plays.”

“I’m glad we don’t have a chance of winning his stupid prize. I wouldn’t touch it.”

But Hannah glimpsed Bea and Millie, a few rows
in front. Everyone else in their class was chattering excitedly, but they were whispering to each other and looked distinctly depressed.

“I don’t know if everyone’s going to feel that way,” she said.

“They will,” said Lottie, “when they realise why he’s doing it.”

Mr Collins called for quiet and Nick Constable started talking about how much he was looking forward to watching their plays and what a marvellous thing school drama was. Hannah looked at him, so smug and pleased with himself, and all her doubts about her crazy plan were smothered by a burning desire to see this man publicly humiliated.

I wish we could get him up on stage, she thought. I wish we could put him under a spotlight, so the whole school could see his smug fat face when we expose his lies. I wish we could put him on trial, in front of everybody.

And then a really crazy thought sprung into her mind.

I wonder, she thought.

Could we pull it off?

I wonder.

Nick Constable finished his speech and Mr Collins moved forward to thank him and order another round of applause. With a final reminder to remain silent until they left the hall and to walk on the left at all times in the corridors, they were dismissed.

The Year 7s, under the watchful eyes of their form tutors, began to file out. Nick Constable was talking
to Mr Collins.

How long would he stay? She would have to catch him while he was still in the hall.

The second row started to leave. Two rows to go. Mr Collins and Nick Constable were laughing together now.

The third row stood up. Hannah felt sick. She couldn’t do this, could she? It was completely mad. It would definitely get her expelled.

And yet, if it worked…

She had to try, didn’t she? What choice did she have? They couldn’t wait for adults to act. There wasn’t time. They had to act now.

Their form tutor, Mr Richards, gestured for Hannah’s row to stand. They started to file out of the double doors. But Hannah turned and walked over to the table at the front where Mr Collins and Nick Constable were chatting like old friends.

“Hannah, what are you doing?” whispered Lottie. “You’re not going to hit him, are you?”

Hannah burst out laughing. “
Hit
him?”

“Well, you hit Jack that time.”

“Charlotte, Hannah, could you stop talking and leave the hall, please?” called Mr Richards.

“I just want to ask him something,” whispered Hannah. “I’ll tell you later. Say I have to see Mr Collins, will you?”

Lottie shrugged, looking slightly put out. “OK.”

“Thanks.”

Hannah walked towards the two men and waited, at what she hoped was a respectful but insistent
distance, for them to finish their conversation.

The Year 9s were straggling out now. But Jack was ambling across the hall towards Hannah.

“Oh dear, Roberts, called up to see the Head? What have you done now?”

“Nothing,” said Hannah. “I need to see Mr Constable. How about you?”

Jack shrugged. “Collins seems to have some sort of problem with the fact that I’m allergic to French homework. Fascist.”

Mr Collins turned towards them, frowning. Nick Constable followed his gaze. He started slightly when he saw Hannah but he quickly rearranged his face into its usual smug mask.

“Go and wait by the door, please, Jack,” said Mr Collins. “What is it, Hannah?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but I just wondered if I could ask Mr Constable something?” said Hannah in her politest voice.

Mr Collins frowned. “Well, quickly, then.”

Hannah looked up at Nick Constable through lowered eyes.

“Mr Constable,” she said, in what she hoped was a tone of overawed reverence, “I just wanted to say I’m so sorry for misunderstanding you before, about the reservoir. I hadn’t thought properly about it and I was just overreacting because it was our farm, but I’ve thought about it now and I can see you’re right. We do need a reservoir and I was just being selfish. So I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

A benign smile suffused Nick Constable’s features.

“That’s very mature of you, Hannah. I appreciate your coming to say that. And of course I accept your apology.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah noticed Jack, a few feet away, leaning against the doors that led to the dining room, looking at her curiously. She tried to ignore him.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “That’s really nice of you.” She paused. “Er … there was one other thing … I was just wondering … if I could ask you a favour?”

Mr Collins glanced at his watch.

“Please do,” said Nick Constable.

“Well, I’m directing the Woolf House play –
Romeo and Juliet
– and … you might not want to do this, and please say if you don’t, but you were saying how much you’d enjoyed drama at school, and so I just wondered … it would be such an honour … if you might actually come up on stage and act a small part in our play? Just a few lines. We could send them to you, so you wouldn’t have to rehearse or anything. I thought maybe you might like the opportunity to be really involved, you know, rather than just watching?”

Mr Collins was looking alarmed. “I’m not sure that’s—”

But Nick Constable raised his hand, palm up, to stop Mr Collins.

“What a charming idea. I’m very flattered that you’d like me to be in your play. Of course I’ll do it.”

“Oh, thank you
so
much. The others will be so pleased.”

“So do I get to wear a costume?” He chuckled.

“Lottie will sort all that out for you. She’s our wardrobe mistress. It will just be a cloak or something that you can wear over your suit. She’ll give it to you on the day.”

Nick Constable took a small card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Hannah.

“All my details are on there. Just email me with the lines and anything else I need to know.”

Hannah took the card. “Thank you so much.”

“Well, that’s very community-spirited of you, Mr Constable,” said Mr Collins, with a forced smile. “Rather you than me. Off you go, then, Hannah.”

Hannah turned away from the two men to leave the hall and her face broke into a huge grin.

“Over here, please, Jack,” called Mr Collins.

As Hannah passed Jack, he muttered, “What are you up to, Roberts?”

“Nothing,” said Hannah airily. “Nothing at all.”

Chapter Nineteen

Jack Makes an Offer

Lottie had a piano lesson at lunchtime, so Hannah headed across the patio to the library. She had science homework to finish before this afternoon’s lesson.

Jack was playing table tennis with Jonah on one of the outdoor tables. As Hannah passed them, Jonah smashed the ball across the table and Jack leaped sideways, whacked it back and crashed into Hannah’s shoulder. She staggered across the paving stones, trying to keep her balance.

Jack turned and grabbed her shoulder to steady her. The sudden contact made Hannah’s heart thump.

“Sorry, Roberts. His rubbish shot.”

Jonah was rummaging in the bushes for the ping-pong ball.

“So,” said Jack, “what’s with asking Mr Creepy to be in the play? What’s the cunning plan?”

Hannah looked at him. He would hear about it soon anyway. She had already told Lottie, and she would be telling everyone else at the next rehearsal.

So she told him. He listened in silence. When she finished, she braced herself for the sarcastic retort.

“Wow,” said Jack. “That is genius.”

“Look, I know it sounds mad, but it’s a desperate situation and—”

“Roberts, I’m not being sarky. I do think it’s genius.” Hannah stared at him. “Really?”

“It’s a brilliant plan. Once he realises he’s been set up, he’s stuck. Caught in the spotlight. If he walks out, he totally loses face.”

“Well, that’s the idea.”

Jack spun his bat between his fingers. “Have you thought about using multimedia?”

“What do you mean?”

“Got it,” called Jonah, emerging from the foliage with the ball in his hand. “Ready for my world-beating serve?”

Jack sauntered back to the table and struck a pose. “Bring it on, Hadley.”

Hannah watched them bat the ball back and forth. What exactly had Jack meant?

“Hey, Hannah.”

It was Lexie and Amber, both in Hannah’s tutor group and both in Woolf House.

“How’s the play going?” asked Amber.

Hannah felt herself going red.

“Oh, er, yes, not bad, thanks.”

They seemed to be waiting for more, so she added, “Everyone knows their lines now. And the costumes are amazing.”

Well, at least that bit wasn’t a lie.

“You’d better make sure we win,” said Lexie.
“Imagine if we had to watch everyone in Kipling skipping off to a theme park while we spend the day in school.”

“I bet we’ll win,” said Amber. “Vishali says it’s really good.”

Jack sprang sideways for the ball and landed squarely on Lexie’s foot.

“Ow!” she screeched.

“Oops, sorry,” said Jack.

Lexie hopped up and down clutching her foot. “You idiot. I think you’ve broken my toe.”

Amber grasped her arm and steered her over to a bench.

Jonah was searching for the ball again. Hannah grabbed her opportunity.

“What did you mean before? About multimedia?”

Jack tossed his bat from hand to hand. “Just that you can use other stuff as well as words to make your point. Projections on the back wall: visuals, statistics, quotes. And music to underscore your meaning.”

“Like what sort of thing?”

“Well, at that meeting you went to, you said the water guy was using images of the farm that made it look run down, yeah? So you can do the opposite.”

“Show the good side of the farm?”

“Yeah, but also you can show they’re lying, by quoting their own words alongside images that
show
the opposite. Ironic juxtapositions, see? So when the water-board guy says this is an unproductive farm, the images you’re projecting behind him show crops
being harvested, fields full of cows, that sort of thing.”

“And when he talks about there being no wildlife,” said Hannah, seeing possibilities now, “we can project pictures of the birds and trees and wild flowers.”

“Exactly. And you can flash up text, too, that contradicts what he’s saying.”

“Like Lottie’s dad’s bird results. Yes, that would be great.”

“You should use old photos of the farm, too. Film footage would be perfect, if you’ve got any. With some kind of emotional music playing in the background. Show people the history of the place. You have to approach it from all angles, you see.”

Hannah looked at Jack curiously, as though he had turned into somebody completely different.

“That sounds amazing. How do you know all this stuff?”

Jack shrugged. “I like film.”

“Hey, Adamson, are we playing or not?” called Jonah.

Jack turned back to the table-tennis table. Jonah served. Jack sliced the ball back across the table and it bounced off the edge. Jonah lunged for it but Matthew, who was standing watching, caught it and threw it to his friend Ethan. Jonah pounced on Ethan and they started scuffling.

Jack turned back to Hannah. “Tell you what, Roberts. I could come up to the farm if you like. Take some photos, do a bit of filming. Then I could
make you a sample. Put some images and music together, see what you think.”

For a moment, Hannah was overcome with gratitude. She opened her mouth to thank him.

“If your dad wouldn’t mind,” Jack said.

Hannah froze with her mouth still open.

What would Dad think if he saw Jack at Clayhill? What would he think of Hannah inviting the boy who had burned his barn down to come to his farm and take photos?

But if it was to save the farm?

Would Jack even produce anything worthwhile, though? What if he just messed about? After all, that was all he’d done so far. So why on earth should she trust him now?

Most terrible of all, what would Lottie say if Hannah invited Jack to the farm?

Hannah could imagine exactly what Lottie would say, and it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have.

Ethan freed his arm from Jonah’s grasp and threw the ball to another boy behind Jack. Jack intercepted it. He turned to Hannah.

“Listen, Roberts,” he mumbled, looking at the ground and tossing the ping-pong ball from one hand to the other, “I really am sorry about the fire. I never meant it to happen, you know that. And this plan of yours sounds like a laugh. So if I can help, that’s cool, you know?”

Hannah glared at him. “It’s not a
laugh.
It’s deadly serious.”

“Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

“And the show’s in two weeks. There’s so much to do. We don’t have time for anyone mucking about. And it’s not like you’ve done anything so far.”

“Fair point.”

“And it’s got to be good. Really good. It’s the only way we’ll get away with it without being expelled. I can’t let everyone down. I’m going to be getting people into enough trouble as it is.”

Jack looked into her eyes. “I promise I’ll be good, miss.”

Hannah made the mistake of meeting Jack’s gaze. Her insides melted.

“Well … OK, then. If you really promise.”

“Cool.”

“Come on, Adamson, what are you playing at?” called Jonah. “Your serve.”

Jack turned back to Jonah.

“I hope you’re ready for this, Hadley.”

He tossed the ball in the air as if to serve, but then he caught it again and spun round to face Hannah. “Last Saturday of half term? Around two?”

Hannah felt herself blushing. “Yes, thank you, that would be great.”

Jack turned to the table.

“Oh, but Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t mention it to any of the others yet, will you?”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

He raised his bat to serve. “Right. Game on.”