The Farm Beneath the Water

by Helen Peters

  Sam went white.

  Jo gasped. “Has the money run out? Is the landlord going to demolish the farm and build houses on it?”

  Dad cleared his throat.

  “No,” he said. “No, it isn’t that.”

  “What is it, then?” said Martha. “Something’s going on. You have to tell us.”

  “We saved the farm,” said Jo. “Well, Hannah did. So you have to tell us.”

  Dad looked at the tabletop and ran his hands through his thinning hair. There was a long pause. Hannah held her breath.

  Eventually, Dad raised his head.

  “It’s not going to happen,” he said, “which is why I haven’t mentioned it, but I suppose you’d have found out anyway soon. They’ll be announcing it any moment now.”

  “Who?” said Hannah. “Announcing what?”

  “The water company. Aqua, or whatever stupid name they call themselves these days.”

  “The water company? What’s the water company got to do with anything?”

  Dad took a deep breath, as though he were preparing for a long swim underwater.

  “They want to take the farm.”

  They stared at him. This made no sense.

  “Take our farm?” cried Sam. “They can’t take our farm. What do you mean?”

  “Take it?” said Hannah. “Why? What does the water company want our farm for?”

  In a flat voice, Dad said, “They want to flood the farm and turn it into a reservoir.”

  There was a stunned silence.

  “What?” said Martha eventually.

  “Flood the farm?” asked Sam. “Why would they flood the farm?”

  “What’s a reservoir?” asked Jo.

  Hannah couldn’t speak. She had studied reservoirs in geography. She knew what a reservoir was.

  She stared at her father. “You’re joking. You are joking, aren’t you?”

  “No. It’s true.”

  “Daddy, what’s a reservoir?” said Sam.

  Hannah searched Dad’s face desperately for a sign that he wasn’t serious. But her father didn’t make jokes.

  “The whole farm?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Hannah couldn’t think straight. Her brain didn’t seem to be working.

  “But … but they can’t. Can they?”

  “No, of course they can’t,” said Dad. “It’s a ridiculous idea. So don’t you worry about it, all right? Now, I need to get round those pigs.”

  He left the room. The others looked at Hannah.

  “What’s a reservoir?” demanded Jo.

  Hannah felt flat and unreal. It was as though all her feelings had been switched off. In a daze, she rooted through her school bag for her geography book.

  “It’s a big artificial lake.”

  “What do you mean, an artificial lake?”

  “It’s a lake that’s made by deliberately flooding a valley. Sometimes they dam a river and sometimes they pump water into the valley.”

  “But why would they do that?” asked Sam.

  “To store water. They take the water from the reservoir and send it through the pipes to houses and factories and whatever.”

  “But how can they turn our farm into one of those?” asked Jo. Her voice sounded panicky.

  Hannah flicked through the pages of her geography textbook. “Look. This is a reservoir in Wales.”

  They looked at the picture of a large tranquil lake surrounded by green hills.

  “Eight hundred acres were drowned to make that. There are twelve farms and a whole village under that water.”

  “But what about the people who lived there?” said Sam. “Did they drown, too?”

  “No, they didn’t drown. But they all had to move out of their homes.”

  “Well, they were stupid, then,” said Martha. “They should have refused to go.”

  “They did. There were loads of protests. We saw a film about it. Marches and banners and chanting. But it didn’t make any difference. The government just went ahead and did it anyway.”

  “Are they going to drown our farm?” cried Sam. “They won’t drown our farm, will they?”

  “But our farm isn’t a valley,” said Jo.

  Hannah remembered what the woman in the sitting room had said that day.

  It’s a totally unsuitable site.

  She thought back to the tea party, and Sophie’s visit, and those people today. So that was why Dad had invited them to the farm. To help him stop it being turned into a reservoir.

  But what if they couldn’t stop it? What if the water company was stronger?

  In her mind’s eye, Hannah saw the sheep grazing in the fields, the new calves in the barn, the ancient cowsheds with their roofs covered in moss and lichen, the swallows’ nests and the pigsties and the wildflower meadows and the oak trees, and her own lovely theatre, hidden in the copse. And she imagined a great creeping tide of water spreading over the farm, obliterating every inch of the landscape until the farm was buried beneath it. Forever.

  “They can’t take the farm,” said Sam. “Where would we live?”

  “And what about the animals?” said Jo. “What would happen to them?”

  Hannah looked at her brother and sister.

  “No,” she said. “They can’t take the farm. They won’t take the farm. Because nobody will let them.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Joanne,” said Dad, as they drove to school on Monday morning. “Of course you can’t stay up all night.” He signalled right as they approached the main road. “Hannah, move your head. I can’t see out that side.”

  “But it’s on a Friday,” said Jo, leaning forward from the back seat. “We won’t have to get up for school the next day.”

  “I don’t care what day it is. You’re going to bed as usual.”

  “Why do you want to stay up all night next Friday anyway?” asked Hannah.

  “Because Sophie’s going to be here all night,” said Sam.

  “Is she? How do you know?”

  “We heard Daddy talking to her on the phone.”

  “Oh, there’s Lottie,” said Hannah, spotting her friend on the pavement.

  “She’s going to watch the bats flying out of the attic and record them,” said Jo. “And we want to help her.”

  “I bet the last thing she wants is you two ‘helping’ her. She probably wants a quiet, peaceful atmosphere, not the poor bats frightened to death.”

  “We wouldn’t frighten them,” said Sam. “We are professional batologists.”

  “Batologists?” said Martha. “That’s not even a word, you weirdos.”

  “I thought you were archaeologists,” said Hannah.

  Jo gave Hannah one of her hard stares. “The Society of Bean has many branches.”

  “Please can we stay up, Dad?” asked Sam.

  “Well, we’ll see.”

  The Beans squealed with joy.

  “But it certainly won’t be all night, so don’t get that into your heads.” He pulled in at the school gates to let Martha and Hannah out. “Right, see you later, you two.”

  Hannah waited for Lottie at the gates, and they made their way across the playground to their favourite bench: the one in the far corner, in the full beam of the morning sun and with a view of the whole playground.

  “So you’ll never guess what,” said Lottie, giving the bench a quick scan and a sweep with her hand before sitting down. “It turns out my dad has known about the reservoir plans for ages.”

  Hannah stared at her. “What?”

  “I told him about it on the phone last night and he said he’d known for months.”

  “But … how come?”

  “He said your dad asked him to step up his bird surveys, so they’d have as much evidence as possible against the farm being flooded. But your dad asked him not to tell me, because he didn’t want you knowing and getting worried. He didn’t want to burden you with it when it might all come to nothing.”

  So Dad had known about this for mon
ths. No wonder he looked so tired, if he’d been secretly fighting the reservoir plans all this time.

  “I wish I had known,” said Hannah. “At least it wouldn’t have been so much of a shock.”

  “What’s a shock?” asked Jonah.

  Hannah looked round. “Nothing.” She hadn’t realised he was right behind their bench. He had gelled his hair into little spikes all over his head. He and Ben were kicking a football against the wall with another Year 9 boy. Matthew Barnes, Hannah thought he was called. He had brown eyes that matched his brown hair, and he always had a football in his hands or at his feet.

  “So we’re rehearsing at your farm now, as well as at school?” said Jonah.

  “Well, six weeks isn’t very long,” said Hannah. “I thought it would be good to get some extra practice in. Especially with the fight scenes – they’re going to be quite complicated. Hopefully the swords will arrive before Wednesday.”

  “Are you using real swords?” asked Matthew.

  “Samurai swords,” said Jonah. “Slice you in half like butter.”

  Hannah laughed. “They’re plastic ones Lottie ordered online. They look good, though. At least, they do in the picture.”

  “So do you get a budget for this play, then?” asked Jonah.

  “Yep.” Secretly, it was one of the things she found most thrilling. “Fifty pounds to spend on whatever I want.”

  “Doughnuts at every rehearsal,” suggested Jonah.

  “I have to keep accounts, though.”

  “Oh. Spoilsports.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah saw Miranda swanning towards them, with Poppy beside her. She steeled herself for the encounter.

  “Is Adamson coming?” asked Ben. “To the farm?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Lottie sarcastically. “He’d be really welcome on Hannah’s farm, wouldn’t he, after what he did last time he was there?”

  “Hi, Hannah,” cooed Miranda. “I saw your little note about extra rehearsals at your farm. I’m afraid I won’t be able to come.”

  “On Wednesday? Well, that’s—”

  “To any of them. I just don’t have the time, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t have the time? You’re Juliet!”

  “I just feel,” said Miranda, flicking her hair back, “that my time could be more productively spent rehearsing at home. And after all,” she said, smiling sweetly, “these are extra rehearsals, aren’t they? They’re not compulsory.”

  Hannah opened her mouth to retort and then snapped it shut again. Why was she trying to persuade Miranda to come to the farm? The rehearsals would be ten times more fun without her.

  “That’s no problem. We’ll do the scenes you’re not in. No problem at all.”

  Miranda looked slightly taken aback. Maybe she was expecting me to beg her on bended knee, thought Hannah.

  “So,” said Jonah, “will you still get to live in your house when they flood the farm, or will the house be underwater, too?”

  Hannah’s stomach somersaulted. “What?”

  “What are you talking about?” said Ben.

  “This new reservoir they’re building at Hannah’s farm. It’s going to be so cool. Windsurfing, sailing, scuba-diving…”

  Hannah’s heart started beating very fast.

  Matthew stopped kicking the football and looked round. “Diving? Where?”

  “Wait a minute,” said Lottie. “How do you know about the reservoir? They haven’t announced it yet.”

  “My dad’s mate told him. He’s on the council. My dad’s going to apply for the catering licence. He reckons he’ll make a fortune.”

  Ben stared at Hannah. “They’re building a reservoir on your farm?”

  “Yep,” said Jonah. “It won’t be a farm much longer. It’ll be a massive great lake.”

  “Are we really getting a reservoir in Middleham?” said Matthew, tucking the football under his arm and moving closer. “That’s awesome. We never get anything good here. Hey, will there be fishing?”

  “Bound to be,” said Jonah. “They’ll probably stock it with trout or salmon or something.”

  “So are they going to flood your whole farm?” asked Ben. “Where are you going to live? Will you get another farm?”

  Hannah couldn’t speak. The others kept talking, but their words seemed far off in the distance. Hannah felt sick, and the outside world was a meaningless blur.

  So people wanted the reservoir. They weren’t going to try to stop it. They thought a reservoir would be a great thing to have in the village. They were looking forward to it. They were excited about it.

  And, Hannah realised, why wouldn’t they be? What did most people in the village care about Clayhill Farm? The only thing the farm offered for everybody else was land to walk on. Whereas a reservoir…

  What were a few footpaths and a bit of birdwatching compared with scuba-diving and windsurfing, fishing and sailing?

  Lottie’s raised voice cut into Hannah’s thoughts.

  “There isn’t going to be a reservoir in Middleham, Jonah, so you and your dad can stop making plans for windsurfing and catering licences.”

  “There is, actually. You don’t know everything, even though you think you do.”

  “I know they’re planning to build a reservoir, but it’s not going to happen. The farm’s full of wildlife and we’re not going to let it be destroyed.”

  “Oh, wildlife. Big deal. There’s plenty of other fields.”

  “I went windsurfing on Rutland reservoir last summer,” said Matthew. “It was so cool. I can’t believe we’re going to get one here.”

  “I hope they start soon,” said Jonah. “Be great to have something to do in this stinking hole. Hey, if it freezes in winter we could go skating.”

  “Will you just shut up about it?” said Lottie. “That’s Hannah’s home you’re talking about. And anyway, it’s not going to happen.”

  “Well, they’re having a meeting this Thursday about their plans, so we’ll find out then, won’t we? My dad’s going to go. He wants to get the catering contract before anyone else gets in on it.”

  “But they can’t flood your farm,” said Ben, “if your family doesn’t want to sell it. Can they?”

  Hannah’s voice came out croaky. “We don’t own it. We rent it.”

  She didn’t add: And the landlord will be delighted to sell it. That’s exactly what he wants.

  “It’s very run down, anyway,” said Miranda. “It’ll be much better to have something there that’s actually useful.”

  Hannah glared at her. “How can you say it’s run down? You’ve never even been there.”

  Miranda gave a bored shrug. “That’s what everybody says.”

  “Everybody? Who’s everybody?”

  “Anyway, you can rent another farm, can’t you?” said Jonah. “And it will be awesome to have a reservoir in the village, you’ve got to admit it.”

  “All you care about,” said Hannah, “is your stupid water sports. You don’t care at all about the wildlife. You’re so selfish.”

  “Actually,” said Miranda, “don’t you think it’s you who’s being selfish, Hannah?”

  Hannah shot her a look of loathing, but Miranda didn’t seem to notice. “I mean, we need reservoirs, don’t we? If everybody had your attitude, where would we get our water from?”

  Of course, thought Hannah, with a dull ache inside her. Of course that was how other people would see it. And maybe they were right. Maybe she was being selfish.

  “Anyway,” said Miranda, “it doesn’t matter what you think. The water company’s hardly going to listen to you, are they? If they want a reservoir, they’ll build a reservoir. There’s no point trying to stop them.”

  From the school building, the bell for registration sounded. Hannah had never been so glad to hear it. She couldn’t stand this for one more second.

  Lottie gave her a concerned look as they walked across the playground. “Are you all right? Don’t take any notice of
Miranda. She’s just being a cow.”

  “Is she?” said Hannah.

  “What do you mean? Of course she is.”

  Lottie ranted about Miranda all the way to their form room. But Hannah wasn’t listening. The conversation in the playground played over and over in her head.

  People would love a reservoir, wouldn’t they?

  And if the village wanted it and the landlord wanted it and the water board wanted it, what possible chance did her dad and a few eccentric wildlife enthusiasts have of stopping their plans?

  They had no chance, did they? Absolutely no chance at all.

  Hannah took a deep breath of clean Clayhill air as she crossed the road from Elm Lane on to the farm track that afternoon. It was a warm day again, the sky bright blue, dotted with low, grey-white fluffy clouds. But the harvest was nearly finished and the nights were getting colder. There was a definite feel of autumn in the air.

  A tractor pulled a seed drill across the freshly turned soil of Brook Field. It didn’t look like Dad in the tractor. It must be Adam, his new farm worker. Hannah wondered what he was planting.

  Into her head rushed an image of flood waters pouring into the shallow valley, washing away the delicate green shoots. Would there be another harvest at Clayhill?

  No. She couldn’t let herself think about that.

  She rounded the bend in the track, a turn she always loved. It was here that the farmhouse came into view, nestled right in the centre of the land.

  But today, as she turned the corner, she stopped dead.

  It looked as though a plague of giant wasps had invaded the farm. Dozens of people in bright-yellow fluorescent jackets swarmed all over North and South Meadows. Some were on their own, some were in groups. Some carried notebooks, some had tools, some held electronic devices and some were taking photographs.

  Hannah stood rigid, not even breathing. They weren’t starting already, were they? They couldn’t be, surely. They couldn’t just demolish the farm without permission.

  Unless … unless they had permission.

  What if the landlord had already agreed to this? What if it didn’t matter what she or Dad or anybody else thought? What if the landlord just had to sign a piece of paper and they could come in with their bulldozers?