The Farm Beneath the Water (18 page)

Ben took a long, juddering breath. Looking at him, Hannah felt terrible. She stood up and turned to the rest of her cast.

“Listen, everyone, you’ve all been absolutely amazing, agreeing to this. But there is a good chance we’ll get into massive trouble. I’ll do my very, very best to make sure I take all the blame, but I can’t guarantee anything. So if any or all of you want to back out, just walk away now and I promise I’ll never say a single word about it. I can do it on my own if I have to. I know all the words.”

Nobody moved.

“Are you sure?” said Hannah. “Are you completely sure?”

“Yes,” said Katy. “It’s the right thing to do. Aqua’s just spreading lies. We have to go out there and tell everyone the truth.”

From the hall came whooping and cheering.

“Oh, help,” said Priya. She looked terrified. “
Twelfth Night’
s finished.”

Suddenly, Hannah started to shiver.

Lottie looked at her. “Are you OK?”

Hannah’s palms were sweating. She gripped Lottie’s arm. “Do you really think we should do this?”

“Just remember,” said Lottie, “it’s to save your farm. If you didn’t try now, you’d regret it for the rest of your life.”

Hannah’s legs trembled. She took a deep breath, which came out more like a shudder.

Lottie squeezed her hands. “He’s here,” she muttered.

Hannah looked up. And there was Nick Constable, swaggering down the corridor in the purple cloak and the velvet hat with an ostrich feather that Lottie had made, accompanied by Amy, wearing her Lady Montague dress and her sweetest smile.

“Well, hello, team,” he said, beaming around at them. “Aren’t we all looking splendid?”

Hannah forced a bright smile. “Are you all clear about everything?”

“Absolutely, boss,” he said, with a mock salute. “Learned all my lines, done all my homework.” He flashed a smile around the group. “I have to say, I’ve been very impressed with the standard of the plays so far. Do you think this one has a chance of beating them all?”

“Well, it should do,” said Jonah. “With you as our secret weapon.”

Nick Constable smirked. “I’m not sure about that.” But he definitely looked flattered.

“You know we’ve changed a few lines,” said Hannah, her heart thudding beneath her bodice. “You could probably tell from your script.”

“Well, yes, I did wonder where the ‘players of Woolf House’ were mentioned in the original.” He chuckled. “Although it’s been many years since I read any Shakespeare, so I could have missed that bit.”

They laughed obligingly.

“We just thought it would be nice to give you a
little introductory speech,” said Hannah. “Since you’re the guest of honour.”

“I’m very flattered. And I feel quite the Elizabethan gentleman in this costume.”

“Did Amy explain about the cue to remove it?”

“Yes. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I must say.”

“Well, we wanted to do something slightly different, you know? Modernise things a little. We know you like modernisation.”

“Oh, yes, I’m all in favour of modernisation. Good idea. And Amy here was saying that you want me on stage the whole way through, is that right?”

“Yes, please,” said Hannah. “We’re all going to be on stage the whole way through. Amy will be beside you all the time, so just follow her lead.”

Suddenly, the backstage doors were flung open. A torrent of noise flooded into the corridor: yelling, chanting, clapping, whooping, stamping. The cast of
Twelfth Night
surged down the stairs and spilled into the corridor, chattering and laughing. Hannah’s heart was hammering so hard she felt it might burst out of her ribcage.

As the last few Milne House actors tumbled through the backstage doors, Hannah turned to her cast and forced a smile. It felt tense and false.

“We’re on,” she said, and her voice didn’t sound like her own. “Let’s go up there and give it all we’ve got. And whatever happens, thank you, all of you. Thank you so much. You’ve been amazing.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Trial Begins

The noise from the hall was crazy as the Woolf House group took their places on the darkened stage. Peeping through the gap between the closed curtains, Hannah saw for the first time the four blocks of colour in the front half of the hall. Guilt flooded her as she stared at the chanting block of blue. All those people who had bothered to put on their blue PE shirts to support Woolf House’s play. And she was about to betray them.

“Woolf House! Woolf House! Woolf House!”

People at the front of the Woolf House area got to their feet, raising their arms above their heads and clapping in time with the chanting. Other houses started doing the same, all trying to drown out each others’ chants. The noise was deafening.

In the very centre of the front row was a trestle table, at which sat the three judges: Miss Summers, Mr Lawrence, the Head of Key Stage 3, and, in the middle, Josephine Baxter, the London theatre director. Her silver hair was swept up in a bun. She wore a grey wool jacket with bright-red buttons and a long patterned scarf, draped artistically round her
neck. One day, thought Hannah, I want to look like that.

Next to the judges’ table sat Mr Collins, looking distinctly uncomfortable at the rising levels of anarchy. Beside him sat Lottie’s mum, elegantly dressed as always, a serene smile on her face.

Hannah thought of Miranda, at this minute sitting in a classroom waiting to speak to the director, and her stomach lurched. How long could Miranda be fobbed off with excuses before she realised something was up? And when she did realise, how would the brave souls who had volunteered to hold her in the room be able to contain her?

At the far end of the hall, Jack sat at the lighting and sound desk, looking completely in control. Hannah felt a bit better.

Then she saw her father, sitting between Sam and Jo in the back row, and her insides felt as though they had dropped down a lift shaft. How would he react to all this? Would he be completely furious? And what if she got expelled? How would he feel then?

Beside Sam sat Granny. Sam turned and said something to her and she smiled and squeezed his arm. They both looked excited.

Miss Summers left her seat and walked up the steps on to the stage. She held up her hands for silence. Gradually, the hall calmed down to a fidgety murmur, but the pent-up excitement was palpable.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Miss Summers to the calmer back half of the hall where the parents
sat, “and students,” she continued, addressing the front half of the hall and the crowds of actors standing around the walls, some still in costume, many bearing traces of their performances – glittery cheeks, hair in odd unnatural styles – “we come to the final performance of the day.”

Her palms damp with sweat, Hannah moved to her place upstage, at the back of the Chorus. The entire cast stood in position in their Elizabethan splendour, their backs to the audience.

Downstage centre, in pride of place, stood Nick Constable, in his purple cloak and hat.

“Without further ado,” said Miss Summers, “may I introduce Woolf House’s performance of
Romeo and Juliet
.”

The eruption of cheering and stamping drove nails of guilt into Hannah’s heart. What would the audience do when they realised? Would there be a riot? Would they all walk out?

She couldn’t think about that. She had to do this. She had no choice.

Gradually, the noise subsided. Taking one last gulp of air, and feeling as though she were about to dive into a shark-infested ocean, Hannah gave the thumbs-up to Ed, the Year 9 boy in the wings who was operating the curtains. Then she stood with her back to the audience and her arms by her sides, her hands screwed into fists.

The curtains opened, the lights came up and medieval music played over the speakers. Hannah opened her hands. On cue, the entire chorus turned
to face the audience. Hannah heard an appreciative murmur from the hall. That must be for Lottie’s costumes, she thought, with a little glow.

On cue, the cast raised their heads to look at the audience. On cue, Nick Constable took a step forward. The audience hushed as the music faded and Nick Constable declaimed the opening speech that Hannah had written for him.

He gave a little bow and took a step back. Somebody clapped loudly (Hannah couldn’t be certain, but she was pretty sure it was Lottie’s mum) and other people joined in. Mr Collins applauded enthusiastically, smiling up at the stage. Sucking up to Nick Constable, clearly, thought Hannah.

Nick Constable looked delighted. With a broad flourish of his arm, he made a deep, theatrical bow. Then he stepped forward again and waited for the applause to end before beginning the Prologue to
Romeo and Juliet.

Hannah could feel the audience settling back to enjoy the show. In the front row, Mr Collins smiled
and nodded approvingly.

On the third line of the Prologue, the rest of the cast joined in, exactly as they had rehearsed it. Medieval music played softly and images of Verona appeared on the back wall of the stage. At least, Hannah hoped they were images of Verona, and not of Lottie’s head on a dancing gnome. Judging by the audience’s reaction, Jack had resisted that temptation.

When the chorus finished the final line of Shakespeare’s Prologue, they bowed their heads and turned their backs to the audience as the lights faded to black. A smattering of applause broke out, but it died away as a drum began to beat in the wings. On the first beat, the lights started to fade up. This time, though, the light wasn’t warm, bright and golden, but blue, eerie and dim.

On the second drumbeat, Priya turned to face the audience and began speaking Hannah’s Prologue. With each slow, portentous beat of the drum, another member of the cast turned to face the audience. And as each actor turned, they joined in seamlessly with the words.

There was a slight movement in the hall, like a breeze blowing through a field of wheat. Hannah’s
heart thudded. She glanced at Nick Constable, but his expression was as self-satisfied as ever. He clearly hadn’t yet realised that anything was wrong.

On the dim, blue-lit stage, a single spotlight picked out Bea, standing downstage left. As she continued to recite the Prologue in chorus, Bea reached her hands around to the back of her dress and ripped the Velcro open. She pulled the dress off her shoulders and it slid to the floor. She stepped out of it and threw it into the wings, speaking the lines the whole time. Then she faced the audience again in her black vest and leggings as though nothing had happened.

The spotlight picked out James, downstage right. He shrugged off his brocade jacket and stepped out of his Tudor breeches. He tossed them into the wings and faced the audience in black T-shirt and black jeans, speaking the lines all the while.

One by one, the actors stepped out of their costumes and resumed their positions dressed all in black, as they spoke the next four lines:

At the mention of the farm, Hannah saw Nick Constable give a slight start. He glanced around at the actors, a look of alarm on his face. Their composure seemed to reassure him, though, and, to
Hannah’s enormous relief, he turned back to face the audience. The spotlight fell on him and, at an encouraging nod from Amy, standing beside him, he unfastened his cloak, plucked the ostrich-feathered cap from his head and tossed his costume into the wings. Somebody in the audience wolf-whistled and there was a ripple of laughter. Hannah saw, to her amazement, that he appeared to be flattered.

Now only Jonah, Priya and Katy, standing at the back of the stage, still wore their costumes.

Jonah, Priya and Katy walked slowly downstage, as the chorus recited the next four lines:

Jonah, Priya and Katy turned to face the audience. At the exact same moment, they ripped open the Velcro fastening on their cloaks and let them fall to the ground in three puddles of blue, gold and scarlet.

At a nod and a smile from Amy, Nick Constable joined in with the last two lines of the Prologue:

Nathan, Zac and Harry bent down and picked up the cloaks. They fastened them back around
Jonah, Priya and Katy’s necks, only this time they were worn on the reverse side, so they all wore black cloaks with brightly coloured linings. Harry placed a judge’s wig on Priya’s head.

All the cast except Jonah, Priya and Katy turned and walked slowly to the sides of the stage, where they stood in two lines with their backs to the audience.

Millie and Bea brought out a small table from the wings and set it centre-stage. Grace carried on a chair and placed it behind the table, facing the audience. Owen, Nathan and Elsie brought on another table and chair, which they set up stage right, on a slight diagonal. James and Marie carried on the carved oak lectern that was occasionally used in assembly. They placed it stage left.

Hannah scrutinised Nick Constable’s face as he stood in the line stage right. He didn’t seem to suspect anything. The smug smile was still in place.

All the Year 7s moved downstage, stood in a row and addressed the audience in unison.

They bowed to the audience and moved back to their lines.

Hannah felt a restless shifting in the hall, a murmuring and whispering, like leaves rustling in
the wind. She saw Lottie’s mum lean towards Mr Collins, presumably saying something reassuring. With the house lights down, Hannah couldn’t make out the expression on Mr Collins’s face.

The drum beat its slow, solemn beat again as Priya took her seat at the central table. Her hands were trembling.

Go on, Priya, Hannah thought. They haven’t stopped us yet. We just might get away with this.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” said Priya to the audience, and though her hands were shaking, her voice was steady, “in view of rising demand for water in this, the driest part of the country, our local water company, Aqua, has decided that a new reservoir is needed, and that Clayhill Farm, in Middleham, is possibly the best site for this reservoir.”

Nick Constable jerked his head round, his forehead puckering into a frown.

“We are here today to determine two things,” Priya continued. “One, whether a new reservoir is really the solution to our water needs. And two, if a reservoir is needed, whether Clayhill Farm is the best place to site it. Mr Constable, could you take your place, please?”

By the last sentence, she had to raise her voice to be heard over a rising murmur from the audience. Hannah’s throat felt unbearably tight. She had to force herself to breathe.

Amy took Nick Constable’s arm. His movements were stiff and his eyes cast wildly around the stage as Amy took him to the other table and drew out the
chair for him.

On the white back wall of the stage, two words appeared in large black type.

MIDDLEHAM RESERVOIR

Matthew shone the spotlight on Nick Constable. Confusion, anger and embarrassment passed across his face as Katy walked towards him.

“Mr Constable,” said Katy sweetly, “could you possibly tell the residents of Middleham about the exciting new leisure facility you are planning for our village?”

Amy, standing next to his table, smiled at him encouragingly. He gave a nervous laugh. His features appeared to be fighting with each other as he made a huge effort to pull himself together. He cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said to the audience, “this is a bit different, eh? Not exactly the
Romeo and Juliet
you were expecting, I bet?”