back through the hall.
“What’s going on?” mouthed Lottie.
“Ssshh,” said Hannah. She found the box of antibiotics and took it to her father. As casually as she could, she walked back into the hall. “Through the garden,” she whispered to Lottie. “He’s going out the other way.”
“I was nearly sick waiting for you,” said Lottie, sidestepping a cowpat as they scurried across the yard. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“It was worth it, though,” said Hannah. “Won’t it look great?”
Hannah made Dad’s cocoa at nine o’clock as usual,but he still hadn’t come in. She pulled her coat and boots on and stepped out into the farmyard.
The farm was cloaked in velvet darkness and the sky was dotted all over with tiny stars. The only sound was the occasional muffled grunt of a well-fed pig. As Hannah breathed in the silence, a barn owl swooped, feather-light, across the yard.
A dim glow came from the back barn. As Hannah approached, she heard the low murmur of her father’s voice. She tiptoed round behind the machinery to the far end of the barn, where a pen of calves was housed. One calf, bolder than the others, wandered over to the bars and sniffed at Hannah’s hand. She stroked its velvet back and let it lick her fingers with its sandpaper tongue.
The light came from an old-fashioned lantern strung over a beam with baler twine. It hung above a small enclosure made of straw bales. “There you are then,” Dad was saying to the sick calf. He heaved a bale from the stack at the side of the barn and added it to the straw wall. “Soon have you warm as toast. Don’t want any draughts, do we? We’ll put a few more bales around you here, get you nice and comfortable. Good girl, well done. I’m just going to see to the cows.”
He picked up a bucket in each hand, straightened up and saw Hannah. A look of fear crossed his face.
“What’s up? Something wrong?”
“No, no,” said Hannah quickly. “Everyone’s fine. Your cocoa’s ready.”
“Righty-ho. I’m just finishing here.” He movedtowards the cows’ winter barn.
All of a sudden Hannah felt she had to talk to him.
She forced the words out through the tightness in her throat. “Lottie says the landlord wants to demolish the farm to build houses on. He can’t do that, can he?”
Her father gave a short laugh, like a bark.
“Don’t you worry about that. Cashmore’s a greedy money-grabbing snake, but as long as we pay the rent every quarter, he can’t lay a finger on this place.”
“But how will you—”
“See that old thresher over there?” He pointed to an ancient, ramshackle machine at the side of the barn. It was so old that it was built entirely from wood, even the wheels. It had once been salmon-pink but its peeling paint had faded to a pale pastel.
“What about it?”
“Bloke who bought the Field Marshall wants the thresher as well. They’re fetching it in a couple of weeks. Saves insuring it too. Costs a fortune to insure these old machines. So next quarter’s rent’s all covered. Don’t you worry for a second, all right?”
“All right,” said Hannah. “Night, Dad.”
“Goodnight.”
Hannah walked back across the yard with a spring in her step. So Dad did have it all sorted.
She could hear him talking to the cows. “Hello, Clover. There you go, old girl. Plenty there to keep you going. All right, Bluebell? Good girl, here you are.”
He gave each of his cows a name on the day they were born. All the names were chalked up on a board in the milking parlour, and he knew every one of them.
She should just have trusted him. There was no way Dad would ever let anything happen to the farm.
Chapter Sixteen
The Dress Rehearsal
Hannah and Lottie spent every spare minute of the next week working on scenery and costumes. On Monday after school they made the queen’s four-poster bed. They tied fence posts to the corners of the chicken crates and cut up a big purple bedspread. Draped in
“What’s going on?” mouthed Lottie.
“Ssshh,” said Hannah. She found the box of antibiotics and took it to her father. As casually as she could, she walked back into the hall. “Through the garden,” she whispered to Lottie. “He’s going out the other way.”
“I was nearly sick waiting for you,” said Lottie, sidestepping a cowpat as they scurried across the yard. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“It was worth it, though,” said Hannah. “Won’t it look great?”
Hannah made Dad’s cocoa at nine o’clock as usual,but he still hadn’t come in. She pulled her coat and boots on and stepped out into the farmyard.
The farm was cloaked in velvet darkness and the sky was dotted all over with tiny stars. The only sound was the occasional muffled grunt of a well-fed pig. As Hannah breathed in the silence, a barn owl swooped, feather-light, across the yard.
A dim glow came from the back barn. As Hannah approached, she heard the low murmur of her father’s voice. She tiptoed round behind the machinery to the far end of the barn, where a pen of calves was housed. One calf, bolder than the others, wandered over to the bars and sniffed at Hannah’s hand. She stroked its velvet back and let it lick her fingers with its sandpaper tongue.
The light came from an old-fashioned lantern strung over a beam with baler twine. It hung above a small enclosure made of straw bales. “There you are then,” Dad was saying to the sick calf. He heaved a bale from the stack at the side of the barn and added it to the straw wall. “Soon have you warm as toast. Don’t want any draughts, do we? We’ll put a few more bales around you here, get you nice and comfortable. Good girl, well done. I’m just going to see to the cows.”
He picked up a bucket in each hand, straightened up and saw Hannah. A look of fear crossed his face.
“What’s up? Something wrong?”
“No, no,” said Hannah quickly. “Everyone’s fine. Your cocoa’s ready.”
“Righty-ho. I’m just finishing here.” He movedtowards the cows’ winter barn.
All of a sudden Hannah felt she had to talk to him.
She forced the words out through the tightness in her throat. “Lottie says the landlord wants to demolish the farm to build houses on. He can’t do that, can he?”
Her father gave a short laugh, like a bark.
“Don’t you worry about that. Cashmore’s a greedy money-grabbing snake, but as long as we pay the rent every quarter, he can’t lay a finger on this place.”
“But how will you—”
“See that old thresher over there?” He pointed to an ancient, ramshackle machine at the side of the barn. It was so old that it was built entirely from wood, even the wheels. It had once been salmon-pink but its peeling paint had faded to a pale pastel.
“What about it?”
“Bloke who bought the Field Marshall wants the thresher as well. They’re fetching it in a couple of weeks. Saves insuring it too. Costs a fortune to insure these old machines. So next quarter’s rent’s all covered. Don’t you worry for a second, all right?”
“All right,” said Hannah. “Night, Dad.”
“Goodnight.”
Hannah walked back across the yard with a spring in her step. So Dad did have it all sorted.
She could hear him talking to the cows. “Hello, Clover. There you go, old girl. Plenty there to keep you going. All right, Bluebell? Good girl, here you are.”
He gave each of his cows a name on the day they were born. All the names were chalked up on a board in the milking parlour, and he knew every one of them.
She should just have trusted him. There was no way Dad would ever let anything happen to the farm.
Chapter Sixteen
The Dress Rehearsal
Hannah and Lottie spent every spare minute of the next week working on scenery and costumes. On Monday after school they made the queen’s four-poster bed. They tied fence posts to the corners of the chicken crates and cut up a big purple bedspread. Draped in
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