The Secret Hen House Theatre (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Granny

Teachers are ridiculous. They go on and on about how great it is to read for pleasure. Then, when they want to give you a really bad punishment, where do they send you?

To the library.

One day’s library detention. It could have been worse. She had to go to her teacher at the start of each lesson and collect her work, then return it at the end. She had to eat lunch alone, like a leper. And she wasn’t allowed to talk to anybody at all, all day.

Just before afternoon registration, Lottie sauntered innocently into the library and dropped a folded piece of paper on to Hannah’s desk. It said, in Lottie’s super-neat handwriting:
Meet me at tennis courts entrance after school. Important news!

“What news? Tell me!” Hannah mouthed back.

Of course, Mrs Trimble took that moment to look up. “Hannah Roberts, I hope you are not communicating with anybody. And you, young lady,” she said to Lottie, “I hope you are not attempting to communicate with Hannah while she is in detention. Go to registration now, please.”

Lottie winked at Hannah and left. Hannah dug her fingers into her forehead. How could she wait until after school?

Battered by bags and jostled by elbows, Hannah pushed her way through the crowd to where Lottie was leaning against the tennis-court fence.

“Well?” she said. “What’s happening?”

“Nice to see you too,” said Lottie.

“Just tell me!”

Lottie started walking towards the gates. “Guess what? Danny’s been suspended.”

Hannah stopped in her tracks. “Suspended? For what? For the vandalism?”

Lottie tugged at her elbow. “Keep walking. Well, everyone’s talking about it, but no one actually knows anything. But in geography, Priya looked out of the window and saw Danny walking out of school with his dad. And then at break this rumour started going round that he’d been suspended.”

Hannah’s head was whirling with so many questions that she didn’t know where to start.

“But why? Who started the rumour? What about Jack? Who went to the Head?”

“What?”

“Mr Collins said another student had been to see him and said it wasn’t Jack who did the vandalism, it was someone else.”

“That’s weird,” said Lottie. “Who else would know about the vandalism? Unless it was actually Jack who went to the Head. I bet he grassed Danny
up so he wouldn’t get the blame.”

Hannah grabbed her arm. “Oh, no!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“My granny. Look, it’s Granny. Oh no…”

“Why, what…?”

But all Hannah could hear was the terror thumping in her head.

Because there was Granny at the school gate. She was leaning on her stick, looking tinier and more frail than ever in the throng of teenagers.

Granny had never, ever come to school to meet her before.

What had happened? Was it Dad? Sam, Martha, Jo? The farm? They hadn’t been thrown off the farm already, had they? They couldn’t have been. Dad had just sold the cows. He must be able to pay the rent.

What if it was Dad? He wouldn’t have done anything stupid, would he?

Please, please, don’t let it be Dad, she prayed. Anything else you like, but let my dad be OK.

“Goodness, Hannah, you look as white as a sheet,” said Granny as Hannah reached her, out of breath. “Are you all right?”

“What’s happened? Who’s hurt?”

Granny squeezed her shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry. Nobody’s hurt. I just need to have a chat with you. Sorry, Lottie, is that all right?”

“Sure,” said Lottie. “I’ll call you later, Han.”

Granny turned in the direction of her bungalow. “Let’s go and have a cup of tea.”

“Tell me now,” said Hannah. “Whatever it is, tell
me now.”

Granny shook her head. “Too many people. You know what the gossip’s like in this village.”

Hannah felt herself boiling over. “No one’s listening to us! You have to tell me.
Please
.”

Granny looked at Hannah. “All right. But we’ll walk the back way.”

They turned left down Mill Walk, a tree-lined lane with grassy verges. The noise from the school gates faded into the background. A blackbird trilled from a tree. Hannah’s heart thumped painfully against her ribs.

“Your dad came round this morning,” Granny said.

There was nothing unusual about that. Dad went round to see Granny every Tuesday morning. He always said it was so he could check up on the mother-in-law and she always said it was so she could check up on the son-in-law.

“And?” said Hannah.

“He didn’t want me to know,” said Granny, “but I dragged it out of him.”

“Dragged what out?”

“Well, you know he sold the cows yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“The problem is, he got much less for them than he’d expected.”

Hannah’s throat was so tight that every word felt like pushing a boulder uphill. “Was … was it enough to pay the rent?”

“Just about. This time. But the problem is—”

“Next time. Now the cows have gone, there’s no money from the milk and there’s nothing left to sell, so how will he pay the rent next time? Especially since the landlord’s doubled it.”

“How do you know all that?”

Hannah shrugged. “I heard a few things.” She didn’t add: I think about nothing else these days.

“The problem is,” said Granny, “that it’s not just the rent. There are other things that have to be paid for too.”

“Like what?”

They had reached Granny’s bungalow. She unlocked the door. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you a cup of tea.”

“So what else has to be paid for?” said Hannah, as Granny filled the kettle.

“Well, he lost his barn and all its contents in the fire, didn’t he?”

The fire that was my fault, thought Hannah.

Granny opened a packet of biscuits and shook them out on to a plate.

“The problem is, the contents of the barn weren’t insured.”

She set the mugs out and poured the water into the teapot. She looked at Hannah. “Oh, darling, you’re completely white. Come and sit down.”

She took the tea tray into the little sitting room. Hannah sat down heavily on the sofa.

“I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” said Granny. “You’re too young to take on all these worries.”

“No! Tell me! I want to know. I hate that nobody ever tells me anything. Dad never talks about anything. Nobody told me anything when Mum was ill. It was all secrets, secrets. It’s horrible. And it doesn’t make anything better. All the horrible things still happen.” She picked at a loose thread on the embroidered sofa cushion. “If we’d won that stupid competition, everything would be all right.”

Granny put her arm around Hannah. “I’m afraid it would take more than that.”

“How much more?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Just like she had in the Head’s office, Hannah felt a strange sense of calm. Everything was over now, so how could knowledge hurt her?

“Tell me everything,” she said.

Granny pushed the plate of biscuits in Hannah’s direction. Hannah shook her head.

“Well, to start with, the rent is twenty-eight thousand pounds a year.”

“Twenty-eight thousand pounds!”

“Yes. Seven thousand pounds, four times a year.”

Hannah tried to take this in. “But how can anyone pay that much?”

“Well, it’s very difficult. Before the rent was doubled, your dad always managed, by selling crops and milk and stock, and doing contracting work for other farmers. But now…” She sighed again. Hannah kept her eyes fixed on the cushion.

“He’s worked so hard,” said Granny. “And he kept going, he made it work, up until now. All that
time, when everybody else ripped out their hedges and poisoned their fields with chemicals and turned away from mixed farming to specialised intensive units, he stuck to his principles and respected the land, and it was hard, hard grind for very little money, but he just about managed to keep it going.”

There was a crack in Granny’s voice and Hannah took her eyes off the cushion for a second to glance at her face. Her stomach tumbled over as she saw that Granny was blinking back tears. She fixed her eyes back on the cushion, picking fiercely at the embroidery with her fingernails.

“But … well … once you have to sell your assets to pay your rent…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. But Hannah finished it in her head.

Then it’s all over.

Hannah buried her face in the cushion.

She felt Granny’s hand stroking her hair. “I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry. I hate telling you like this. I just thought – well, I’m afraid it looks like you really will have to leave the farm, and I knew your dad would find it too hard to tell you, and I really didn’t want you hearing it from some village gossip.”

Hannah shivered. “What about the others? Are you going to tell them too?”

Granny got up stiffly and bent down to turn the electric heater on. The bars began to glow red. Outside, a car door slammed and somebody coughed.

“Not yet, I think.” She straightened up slowly. “I
wanted you to know first. Partly because, when the others do get told, you might have to be the strong one.”

“But I can’t be the strong one!” cried Hannah. “Why do I always have to be the strong one?” She buried her face in the cushion again. She wished she could sleep for a hundred years.

She heard Granny rummaging around in a cupboard. After a while, the cupboard door shut and Granny said, “Hannah, look at this.”

Hannah raised her head from the cushion and rubbed her eyes. Granny was holding a scrapbook. It had a faded blue cover, scuffed up around the edges.

Hannah sat up. Granny put the scrapbook on her lap.

“When I saw you in your play,” said Granny, “you reminded me so much of your mother. I know she would have wanted you to have this.”

Hannah’s heart beat faster. She opened the scrapbook.

On the first page was glued the programme of a play and a piece cut out from a newspaper.
Linford Evening News, 18th November 1981,
was written above the cutting in Granny’s handwriting. The headline said: “Comic Feast from Local Drama Group”.

Hannah looked up at Granny. “Rachel’s reviews,” said Granny. “From when she was in the village dramatic society.”

Hannah turned back to the short article. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes lit upon her mother’s
name.

“The production was greatly enhanced by a wonderful performance from sixteen-year-old Rachel Southwood. We hope to see more from this gifted young actress.”

Hannah turned the page. She searched the next cutting for Mum’s name. “The vivacious quality of Rachel Southwood’s acting is a joy to behold,” it said.

Hannah read on. There were so many programmes and reviews. Mum seemed to have been in two or three plays a year.

The last review was dated 5 May 1991. “Rachel Southwood’s acting goes from strength to strength.”

The rest of the pages were blank.

“For your reviews,” said Granny.

“Huh,” said Hannah. “Not much chance of that now.”

Granny gave her a fierce look. “Don’t give up. Never give up the thing you love.”

“Mum gave up. She gave up when she got married.”

“That’s because she’d found the thing she really loved,” said Granny.

Hannah stared at her. “But drama…”

Granny smiled. “Being a farmer’s wife and a mother. That’s what really fulfilled her. It was what she’d always wanted. You’re more passionate about theatre than Rachel ever was. And more talented too, I think. You’ve been lucky enough to find the thing that makes
you
happy, that lights you up inside.
Some people never do. Don’t let it go.”

“But what if—”

Granny put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “You’ll find a way. Whatever happens, I know you’ll find a way.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

A Revelation

Thursday morning was bright and sunny. Lottie and Hannah shot out of the science lab at morning break to grab their favourite bench in the corner of the playground.

“I’ve nearly finished the next play,” said Hannah.

“Really? But what about…?”

“Do you want to come up after school and read it through? And we could start designing the set. The others are going to Granny’s for tea.”

Hannah had been invited too, of course. She had said she had too much homework. Actually, she couldn’t face being with the others at Granny’s house, having to pretend everything was fine. She needed to take her mind off all that.

“Let’s get a costume book from the library at lunchtime,” she said.

Lottie elbowed her hard in the ribs.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Look!” hissed Lottie. “No, keep your head down. Over there.”

Hannah looked to where Lottie was pointing. It was easy to spot him, the only person in the
playground not wearing navy blue and grey. His eyes darted around as if searching for somebody.

“Danny! What’s he doing here? Isn’t he suspended?”

Danny’s eyes caught Hannah’s.

“Uh-oh,” said Lottie. “Looking for you, I think.”

He was heading straight for their bench, head down, fists clenched.

His stocky frame loomed over Hannah. His face was contorted with rage.

“There you are, you sneaking little grass. Thought you’d go crying to the Head, did you? Thought you’d go snivelling to Collins about how I trashed your wendy house? You stinking little sneak.”

Hannah sat rooted to the bench. Was he going to hit her? He looked angry enough.

“So it
was
you who vandalised our theatre, then,” she said.

“Said I’d get you back, didn’t I? Did you like your surprise?”

Drawing strength from Lottie’s presence, Hannah stood up to face him. “You’re a sad little coward, Danny Carr. And for your information, I never mentioned your name to Mr Collins.”

A small gaggle of people was gathering around the bench. Danny leaned in towards Hannah, his face bright red, eyes flashing. “You’re lying, you cow!”

Hannah looked straight into his scowling face. “I’m not lying,” she said. “I didn’t turn you in.”

“Yeah?!” he screamed. “Then who did?”

“Actually,” said a voice behind him, “it was me.”

Danny jerked his head up. Hannah and Lottie swivelled round.

Behind the bench stood Emily Sanders.

Emily?
Emily
had turned Danny in?
What?
When? Why?

Danny gaped at her. Then he gave a kind of spluttering laugh. “You? Don’t be stupid.”

Emily looked at him, her hands gripping the bench. “I thought what you did was disgusting. And you’re such a coward, you were just going to let Jack take the blame for it. So I told the Head it was you.”

“You stinking grass!” Danny looked like he was about to explode.

“Don’t get mad at me,” said Emily. “I didn’t burn a barn down or trash anybody’s theatre. You’re only getting what you deserve.”

Danny swung his arm back. But as it came flying towards Emily’s face, Jack Adamson sprang forward from the group of onlookers and grabbed it.

Across the playground boomed the voice of Mr Matthews, the head of PE. “Danny Carr! Come here this instant!”

Danny shook off Jack’s hands, turned on his heels and legged it towards the main gates. Mr Matthews stepped into his path. “Not so fast,” he said. “What do you think you’re doing on school premises, young man?”

The onlookers shifted their attention to this new drama. As Danny was marched towards the Head’s office, Hannah, her head full of questions, turned around and caught Emily’s eye.

“Not here,” Emily whispered. “Cloakroom.”

“So?” said Lottie, huddled on the wooden bench. “Tell us everything.”

“Well, after Hannah went nuts with Jack in the dining room, we asked him—”

“We?” asked Hannah.

“Me and Miranda. We asked Jack if he really had vandalised your theatre. And he wouldn’t say. But we knew it wasn’t him.”

“You knew?” said Lottie. “How?”

“Me and Miranda met up with him and Danny one day in the holidays, just after the fire in your barn. And Danny said to Jack, let’s trash their theatre to get back at Hannah for telling the police. But Jack said, no way. He feels really bad about the fire anyway—”

Lottie snorted. “Sure he does. Shame he hasn’t actually apologised or anything then, isn’t it?”

“I think he’s too embarrassed,” said Emily.

“Coward,” muttered Hannah.

“So Danny said he’d do it on his own. And we never thought he really would. But then in the dining room on Monday, after Hannah got taken out, Danny started boasting about how he’d vandalised it. And I was looking at him and I just suddenly thought, you are a horrible, horrible person. I couldn’t believe I’d actually thought he was fun and cute.”

Just like me with Jack, thought Hannah. Except Jack didn’t actually do the vandalism.

“Jack was looking at him like he was a piece of
dirt, and he said, I can’t believe you did that. And he and Danny had this big row, and Danny said, Well, go and run off to Collins then, and tell him it was me. And Jack said, I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a grass. So Danny went off in a mood, and Miranda and I told Jack he had to go to Mr Collins and say it wasn’t him, otherwise when you went in there, he’d get all the blame and Danny would just get off scot free. But he wouldn’t tell on Danny.”

“So you did,” said Lottie.

“Yes.”

They sat in silence. Emily looked more and more uncomfortable. Finally she said, “Erm, OK. I’d better go … the bell will ring any minute.”

She hitched her bag on to her shoulder.

Hannah looked up. “Thank you, Emily. That was really nice of you.”

“That’s OK,” said Emily. “He deserved it. And I’m really sorry about your farm. I know how you feel. Well, a little bit.” Her eyes welled up. “My parents are selling my horse. You know Manor Stables is closing, and there’s nowhere else around here to keep him. Everywhere we could afford is full and everywhere else is too expensive or too far away. So, anyway … I mean, I know it’s not the same, but…”

She shrugged and wiped her eyes.

“I know,” said Hannah. “It’s horrible to lose the thing you love.”

The bell jangled right above their heads. Emily stood up. “I’ve got to go. Miranda will be wondering where I am.”