by Helen Peters
She pushed the door open and stepped into the auditorium.
Her body turned to stone. She opened her mouth in a gasp. But no sound came out.
“Hannah?” asked Lottie, behind her. “Come on, get inside. My arms are killing me.”
Lottie pushed past the chairs into the theatre. And froze.
Hannah stood absolutely rigid. She couldn’t move and she couldn’t speak. Her eyes huge with horror, she stood and stared at the scene before her.
At the crimson curtains, slashed to ribbons.
At the wooden panelling, scrawled all over with neon spray paint.
At the eyeshadows, blushers, nail varnish and lipsticks, smashed to pieces on the floor.
At the Persian carpet, smeared and splattered with stamped-on make-up.
At the perfume bottles from the queen’s dressing table, lying in shattered shards of glass all over the carpet.
Hannah couldn’t think. She couldn’t take it in. All she could do was stare and stare in disbelief.
With a great gasp, Lottie unfroze. She hurtled through the wings to the dressing room.
“Noooo!” she wailed. “Oh, no, no, no!”
Heart racing, Hannah darted backstage.
A scene of savaged chaos met her eyes. Drawers gaped open, the shoes and bags and scarves hurled across the floor. The jewellery lay trampled to pieces on the concrete and the empty costume rail sprawled on the ground.
This can’t be real, Hannah thought.
It must be a nightmare.
Lottie sank to her knees on the concrete floor. In her arms she cradled a bundle of costumes. “Look,” she sobbed, holding up a dress. “Look what they’ve done.”
Hannah gasped. A huge slash ran through the queen’s gown, slicing it apart from neck to hem.
“And this, look.” She held out Esmeralda’s blue silk dress. The bodice was peppered with stab wounds.
“Everything,” sobbed Lottie. “They’re all destroyed. Every single one.”
Hannah sank down on the cold concrete floor beside her friend and lifted up the costumes one by one. Dresses, shirts, jackets and skirts; everything was cut and torn and stabbed and ripped.
Fury boiled up inside her. “How could they? How could anybody do this?”
Lottie gasped and grabbed her arm. “Look!”
Hannah raised her head and looked. Scrawled on the mirror in blood-red lipstick were the words: GOT YOU BACK, YOU COW.
They stared open-mouthed at each other.
“Danny!” said Hannah, at the same time as Lottie said, “Danny and Jack!”
Hannah wanted to cry, “No! Not Jack. Jack couldn’t have done this.”
But she didn’t say it.
Because he could, couldn’t he?
That’s what Danny had meant in the antique shop.
“We’ll get you back for this.”
And they had.
Lottie swept the mutilated costumes back into her arms and buried her face in them. “I can’t believe it,” she sobbed. “How can anyone be that evil? How can they just ruin everything like that? How could they?”
Still Hannah said nothing. Lottie was right. How could they? How could people be that horrible? She put her arm around her friend while Lottie sobbed into her costumes.
Then suddenly Lottie sat bolt upright and stared at Hannah.
“Wait a minute. How did they know we had a theatre here?”
Hannah’s heart stopped. Her head flashed back to that moment on the floor of the bus shelter.
“Do you want to come to our dress rehearsal? It’s on my farm.”
What had she done? What had she started? How much had she destroyed with that one stupid, stupid invitation? If only she could go back in time. If she could just take back that one little sentence. She would give anything. Anything.
But you can’t do that, can you?
You can’t delete the past.
Lottie was pacing the theatre with furious energy. “Who could have told them? I haven’t told anyone except my family, and you’ve only told your granny. The Beans would never tell. So who … Oh!”
She swung round and stared at Hannah. “Martha!” she shouted. “She hates us and she hangs around with Danny’s sister. She told them, just to spite us!”
Lottie’s face was bright red. She looked as if she were about to explode with rage.
I have to tell her, Hannah told herself. I can’t let Martha take the blame.
But what would Lottie do to her when she found out she was responsible? Hannah shrivelled at the thought of it.
“I’m going to kill her!” Lottie said. “Stupid, stupid girl! We should have known she couldn’t keep a secret. I hate her. I hate her so much.”
The brambles crackled outside the stage door.
Lottie strode to the door and pulled it open.
Outside, in purple leggings and a tight black vest top, stood Martha, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Jo says why aren’t you coming to get the other chairs, you losers?” She stopped. “What are you looking at me like that for, freak?”
Lottie yanked Martha inside the theatre. “Was this you?” She gestured wildly at the chaos. “Did you tell them where our theatre was? Did you know they were going to do this?”
Martha’s eyes widened. “Oh, my lord, what’s happened?”
“Lottie,” said Hannah. “Lottie, don’t—”
But Lottie didn’t seem to hear her. “Don’t pretend you don’t know about it!” she screamed at Martha. “You told them, didn’t you? You told your stupid little friend about the theatre so Danny could come and wreck it. You told them it was the competition today and he came and destroyed our theatre to get back at Hannah.” She grabbed Martha’s shoulders and shook them. “How could you? How could you do that?”
Hannah dragged herself to her feet and touched Lottie’s arm. “Lottie, I don’t think—”
Martha pushed Lottie’s hands off her shoulders. “Get off me! What friend? What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything!”
Lottie scooped up an armful of mutilated costumes and thrust them in Martha’s face. “You know exactly what I mean. Danny Carr’s sister. Jade. Did you tell Danny where our theatre was?”
Martha took a step backwards and stared at her accuser, chin up. “You evil pig. How dare you? How dare you accuse me of this? You’re disgusting, horrible bullies, both of you. I wish I had wrecked your stupid theatre and I’m glad someone else did. And don’t think I’m ever going to be in your stupid little play now, because I’m not, so there. I hate you both and I hope you die!”
They stood motionless as the sound of Martha’s running feet faded away.
There was a terrible silence. Then Lottie slowly turned to Hannah. “You know what? I’ve got a horrible feeling she didn’t do it.”
Hannah’s insides felt like swirling soup. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just thinking … her face when she saw all this. She looked … shocked.”
Tell her, Hannah said to herself. You have to tell her.
But no words came.
“But if she didn’t tell them,” Lottie said, “then who did? They can’t have found it by accident. Unless they followed us.” She stared, wide-eyed, at Hannah. “That must be it! They followed us one day and found out where it was! Don’t you think? Hannah?”
The stage door rattled with three loud knocks. Hannah’s stomach flipped over. Nobody ever knocked at the door.
Was it Dad? Had Martha gone and told him everything? Already?
“Cooeee! Charlotte, Hannah!”
Lottie’s mum! Relief surged through Hannah. Lottie pulled a face and pushed the door open a fraction.
“What do you want?”
“Lovely to see you too, light of my life. I thought you might be in need of sustenance, with your busy day ahead.” She held out a box of biscuits. “Where’s Hannah?” She pulled the door open further and stepped in. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Good grief! What on earth
has happened here?”
They said nothing. But Vanessa’s eyes fell on the message on the mirror.
“‘Got you back’?” she said, and there was fear in her voice. “What does that mean? Who’s got you back for what? What’s going on here?”
They stood there, silent. Vanessa waited for a minute. Then she fetched three chairs from the auditorium and placed them in a circle.
“Right,” she said. “Sit down and tell me everything.”
The girls stayed standing. Hannah could feel Lottie looking at her but she couldn’t meet her gaze.
Lottie was obviously fed up with Hannah’s silence, because she sat down and said, with a distinct edge to her voice, “It was Jack Adamson and Danny Carr, from our class. They did it to get back at Hannah because Hannah found out they started the fire in the barn and she told the police.”
Vanessa actually seemed lost for words for a moment. “Jack and Danny burned the barn down?” she said eventually.
“Not on purpose,” Hannah blurted out. Lottie let out a snort and Hannah wished she had kept her mouth shut. “They lit a fire in there,” she explained to Vanessa in a tiny voice. “And they didn’t put it out properly.”
“What idiots!” said Vanessa. “What absolute irresponsible idiots.” She shook her head. “Your poor father. How dreadful for him. I hope they get properly punished. And then to do all this!” She gestured at the wreckage. Then she frowned. “But how did they find your theatre?”
Lottie went through all her theories of how the boys could have found out. Then she looked at Hannah. “What do you think? Why aren’t you saying anything? What is wrong with you?”
Vanessa was looking at Hannah too. Hannah’s heart was thumping so hard against her ribs that she felt dizzy.
She had to speak. It was now or never.
In a strangled voice, she said, “It wasn’t Martha. It was me. I told Jack where the theatre was.”
Lottie stared at her, her eyes getting bigger and bigger.
“What?”
Gripping the back of the chair, with her eyes fixed to the floor, Hannah told them everything. How she’d invited Jack to the dress rehearsal. The conversation between Jack and Danny that she’d heard outside the theatre. And the part they already knew – how she’d found the matchbox and eventually told her father.
She didn’t look at either of them as she spoke, but when she finished, she glanced up at Lottie.
She wished she hadn’t. Lottie was glaring at her, eyes blazing with fury.
“You traitor! How could you? You stupid, stupid cow! All the time I thought it was someone else, someone who hated us, and it was you! What was the point of all the secrecy, all the work we did, if all the time you were just going to ruin it? What was it all for?”
She was standing up now, gesturing wildly and shouting into Hannah’s face. Hannah slid on to the chair and curled up in a ball. She wished she could just dissolve. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry. I was so stupid and if I could do anything to take it back I would.”
“But you can’t,” snarled Lottie. “So what’s the point of saying it? Of course you’re sorry now, when everything’s ruined. But that didn’t stop you inviting your precious Jack to our dress rehearsal behind everybody’s backs, did it?”
Vanessa stood up. Now she’s going to start shouting at me too, thought Hannah. And I deserve it, I know I do.
But Vanessa put her hands on Lottie’s shoulders and pressed her back into her chair. “That’s enough, Charlotte,” she said. “Calm yourself down.” Lottie pushed her mother’s hands off, but she sat down, with her jaw jutted out and her arms folded.
Vanessa turned to face Hannah. Hannah stiffened up all over. But instead of shouting at her, Vanessa knelt down, put her arms around her and gave her a hug. Then she moved back, but she stayed kneeling and kept her hands on Hannah’s arms as she said, “Now, Hannah, you have got to stop blaming yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Oh, sure she didn’t,” said Lottie.
Vanessa whipped her head round. “Be quiet, young lady.” She turned back to Hannah and her voice softened. “Think about it. All you did was invite somebody to your play. A friend – or so you thought. You didn’t burn the barn down. You didn’t vandalise the theatre. And you couldn’t possibly have known he would do those things either.”
“Yes, she could,” said Lottie. “Everyone knows Jack Adamson’s a pathetic loser.”
“Well, he’s always seemed perfectly charming to me,” said Vanessa. “And he’s a lovely-looking boy.”
Lottie snorted. Vanessa stood up and fixed her with a gaze. “And another thing, young lady. Who did you invite to your dress rehearsal and your performance today?” Without giving Lottie a chance to reply, she started counting on her fingers. “Your mother, your father, your auntie, your uncle, your cousins. And who did Hannah and her sisters and brother have to come and watch them? One person. Their grandmother, who, lovely as she is, is eighty years old and very frail. So just try to put yourself in your friend’s shoes for once, Charlotte, and maybe you’ll show a little more understanding of why she invited somebody else to her play. All right?”
Lottie scowled. But the tightness in Hannah’s throat slackened a little.
Vanessa stood up and clapped her hands together. “Right,” she said. “Now that we’ve sorted that out, the question is, how are we going to get all this mess fixed before the judge arrives?”
They stared at her.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Lottie. “There’s nothing we can do. There’s no way we can get it cleaned up in time. You saw the costumes. They’re slashed to pieces. We’ll just have to phone the judge and tell her not to come. And Miranda Hathaway will win the competition, like she wins everything.”
“So don’t let her!” said Vanessa. “Come on, you two. Everyone will help. Rachel’s old sewing machine must still be in the house somewhere. I’ll take it home. With Charlotte on hers too, we can mend the costumes and the rest of you can clear up in here.”
“But the judge is coming at three,” said Hannah. “And the theatre’s completely wrecked. Even if we tried to mend stuff it would never look as good. There’s no way we could win now.”
“Hannah Roberts,” said Vanessa, “that’s not like you. You’re not someone who gives up.”
But the full force of what had been done to them suddenly hit Hannah like a demolition ball. She curled herself up on the concrete and wrapped her arms around her head. “I can’t do it. It’s ruined. The theatre won’t ever be the same now.”
Vanessa crouched down and put her hands on Hannah’s shoulders. “Hannah, those boys have done a terrible thing, but you can’t let them win. The way you’re responding now, that’s exactly what they want. They wanted to demoralise you and make you give up. You must rise higher than them. Show them they can’t defeat you.”
Hannah didn’t move. “They have defeated me. They win.”
From her curled-up ball, Hannah heard Vanessa give an exasperated sigh. “Well, I’m going to take these costumes out to the car and then I’m going inside to find that sewing machine. Come home and help me when you’re ready, Charlotte. And, Hannah,” she called from the door, “if I have to squeeze into the queen’s costume myself and perform in front of the judge, then I will. But I couldn’t do it half as well as you could, and it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Is that really what you want?”
After what seemed like a very long time, Hannah felt Lottie’s arm on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
Hannah’s tensed muscles melted in surprise and relief. “Don’t say sorry. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” Her voice came out muffled through her knees. “I deserved it. I’m so, so sorry. But I know it’s no good saying that.”
“Well, you were unbelievably stupid,” said Lottie. “But I know you’re sorry.”
Hannah uncurled herself a tiny bit. “Thank you.”
“I’m still mad a
t you.”
“Yes.”
Lottie stood up and started to pace around the dressing room. When she spoke again, her voice was back to normal. “You know what? I think she’s right. We should fight back. We can’t let them defeat us.”
“I can’t do it. I haven’t got the energy.”
“Hannah, imagine how we’ll feel in the future if we don’t do this. If we just let them win. And, quite frankly, since you got us into this mess, you, more than anyone, should be helping to get us out of it.”
She slipped through the wings on to the stage. “Look, we will be able to clear it up, you know. It looks worse than it is. I mean, there’s loads to do, but if we get the Beans in, there’ll be four of us to do it.” She looked at her watch. “And we’ve got nearly five hours before the judge arrives.”
A chink of light sneaked into Hannah’s head. She lifted her face from her knees. Then she saw the shattered make-up and the crushed jewellery. “But what about all this? You can’t mend make-up.”
“No, but we can borrow some. Mum’s got loads of make-up. I’ll put it back before tonight. She’ll never know.”
Lottie was so brave. Hannah could imagine Vanessa’s reaction if she caught them using her Chanel eyeliner to draw moustaches on to ten-year-olds.
“And we don’t really need jewellery,” said Lottie. “I mean, I know it’s great to have it, but we can manage without.”
“But she’s a queen,” said Hannah. “She has to wear jewellery.”
“Oh, come on, Hannah. It’ll be a challenge. You like challenges.” She started to gather up the rest of the costumes from the floor. “I’m going to go home and help Mum mend these. You find the Beans and start clearing up in here.”
Maybe. Maybe it would be possible. Maybe they could actually put on their play.
But then, like a sledgehammer, it struck her.
“Lottie, we can’t. Martha won’t be in it. We can’t do it without her.”
Lottie stopped in the act of picking up Prince John’s jacket. “Maybe that was just a threat? She’s threatened it before and she always turns up in the end.”