The Farm Beneath the Water

by Helen Peters

  “Come on,” said Sam, tugging at Jo’s arm. “Let’s go and find Daddy. He’ll tell them they can’t come back.”

  The Beans ran up the field towards the track. Hannah stared at the devastation.

  “This is it, isn’t it? This is what they’re going to do to the whole farm. Flatten it and flood it.”

  She bent down and picked up a handful of dust and snapped twigs and chopped-up bark.

  “Just think how many creatures had their homes destroyed in that one minute. And then multiply that by thousands. All of this –” and they followed her gaze as her eyes took in the oak trees, the meadows and the ploughed fields, the hedgerows, the stream and the little pigs snuffling in the orchard – “this whole farm will be gone forever.”

  “What about your dad?” asked Ben. “Isn’t he doing anything?”

  Hannah sighed and shuffled her feet in the debris. “He’s had people up here to do surveys, which is great, and he’s written letters to the landlord and Aqua, but the landlord wants to sell the land to Aqua, and Aqua just ignore his letters, so nothing’s really happened. I think…” and she hesitated, because she didn’t want to admit this, “I think he doesn’t really know what else to do, and he’s so busy just running the farm that he doesn’t have the time or energy to do much else.”

  “We should get up a petition,” said Priya. “Loads of people would sign it.”

  “My dad says they don’t take much notice of petitions,” said Lottie. “It’s so easy to sign a petition, you see, so it doesn’t mean much, unless you get hundreds of thousands of signatures.”

  “Well then, what can we do?” said Jonah.

  Everyone stared at him.

  “We?” said Hannah.

  “What are you looking at me like that for?”

  “But … you’re all in favour of the reservoir.”

  “I was. But this…” He gestured around at the destruction. “They can’t be allowed to just come on to your farm without even asking permission from your dad, and start destroying his land. That’s crazy. There must be some way of stopping them.”

  “Letters,” said Lottie. “My dad said letters are really powerful. If enough people actually take the trouble to write a letter, they can change things.”

  “But Dad’s written all those letters and got nowhere.”

  “Maybe he’s been writing to the wrong people. Dad says you have to write to the government. The Environment Minister. She has to give permission for a new reservoir to go ahead and apparently she really does take notice of letters, if she gets enough of them. Well, that’s what my dad says, anyway. He’s already written.”

  “But loads of people think the reservoir’s a good thing,” said Katy. “So how many people are really going to write?”

  Hannah remembered Nick Constable’s words after the Croxton meeting.

  Absolutely nothing to worry about … piece of cake … easiest reservoir deal I’ve ever made … we’ve already won …

  He was right, wasn’t he? If nobody could be bothered to oppose the reservoir, he had won.

  “If we care,” said Hannah, “then we’re going to have to fight. And we’re going to have to make other people care, too. Make them care enough to write letters. After all, Jonah’s changed his mind. Maybe other people would, too, if they knew what was going on.”

  “Everyone who uses the farm,” said Lottie, “Scouts and Guides who camp here, walkers, horse riders – they should all be writing.”

  “So how do we tell everyone?” asked Ben.

  “We should make leaflets,” said Lottie, “like I said. Put them through everyone’s doors.”

  Marie wrinkled her nose. “People get leaflets through their doors all the time, though, don’t they? And they mostly just chuck them in the bin.”

  “Well, have you got a better idea?” snapped Lottie.

  “Call a meeting?” suggested Owen.

  Ben laughed. “Who’s going to come to a meeting called by us? No one likes going to meetings, so why would they turn up just because we asked them to?”

  “We need a captive audience,” said Katy. “Literally. Penned in a room so they have to listen.”

  A spark of an idea flashed into Hannah’s mind. She drew in her breath.

  “What?” said Lottie.

  Hannah said nothing. But her mind was whirring so fast she couldn’t keep up with it.

  A captive audience…

  The house plays…

  Hundreds of people would be there. Students, teachers, parents. Half the village would be there.

  What if…?

  “Hannah!” said Lottie. “What are you thinking?”

  But Hannah still couldn’t put it into words. Images whirled around in her head.

  What if…?

  In her mind’s eye, she saw the cast of Romeo and Juliet, waiting behind the closed curtains, ready to begin the Prologue. She saw the darkened auditorium, filled with the hush of expectation. She saw the stage lights go up and the cast turn to face the audience. She saw them raise their heads, open their mouths to recite the opening lines of Romeo and Juliet. And then…

  What if…?

  “What is it, Hannah?” asked Marie.

  Finally, Hannah looked at her friends.

  “I don’t know if we can really do it,” she said, “but I might have thought of something.”

  “Well, tell us, then,” said Priya.

  “You might not want to do it. It could get us into massive trouble.”

  Lottie made a noise that was remarkably like a growl. “Hannah, you’re driving us all mad here.”

  Hannah drew herself up to her full height and took a big breath.

  “OK. Come into the theatre and I’ll tell you. But you’ll all have to swear, whether you want to be a part of it or not, that you won’t breathe a single word of what I’m about to say. Not to anyone. Not to a single soul. Is everyone OK with that?”

  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 o
f 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 somethin
g?” 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.”