The Secret Hen House Theatre
Page 22
“No point. Milk prices are so bad, small herds just aren’t viable any more. I thought we’d run some Sussex beef calves instead.”
Mrs Thompson nodded. “Good idea. People like rare-breed meat these days.”
“I’ve been talking to the local butcher, and he’ll take all we can produce. Wants the lamb and pork too.”
Mrs Thompson laughed. “Is that student of yours putting new ideas into your head? I hear you’re taking him on full time. I bet you could do with some help.”
Dad smiled. “He’s a good lad, Adam. Wants us to apply for the Countryside Stewardship Scheme too. Put the arable back to grassland and concentrate on stock-rearing.” He leaned over and let a calf lick his hand. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you, eh?” He straightened up. “He’s got some funny ideas, mind. Planning to set us up with a computer, for goodness’ sake.”
“Good Lord,” said Mrs Thompson. “It sounds like you’re going to be dragged into the twenty-first century at last.”
“Well, it’s about time,” said Dad. “Things have stood still for too long at Clayhill.”
When they got home, the others disappeared up to their rooms. Hannah rummaged in the cupboard to find something for tea. She emerged with two cans of baked beans, to see Dad standing in the doorway holding a long thin cardboard package.
He held it out to her. “This came today.”
“For me?”
He nodded.
Hannah put the beans down on top of the cupboard. She pulled the tape off the parcel and opened it up. There was a layer of bubble wrap under the cardboard. She pulled that off too. Then she drew in her breath. “Oh! Oh, it’s beautiful!”
It was a black metal sign. Around the edge was a border of brambles, with a silhouette of a hen in the bottom left-hand corner. And inside the border, in elegant curving iron letters, was written The Secret Hen House Theatre.
Hannah ran her hands over the smooth cold metal. She pictured the sign nailed to the door of her theatre. “It’s gorgeous. It’s so beautiful.”
Then she looked at her father. “But how did you know? How did you know the theatre’s name? And how did you know our logo – the brambles and the hen?”
Dad pulled a grubby piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.
It was the programme of By Her Majesty’s Appointment.
So he had come to their play. It hadn’t been a mirage. And he had kept the programme all this time. Not only kept it, but had a sign made from the design. He had done all that for her.
“Thank you, Dad. Thank you so much.”
“There’s something else,” he said. “Up in your room. Something I thought you should have.”
Hannah ran upstairs, the sign under her arm. She opened her bedroom door.
A tingle spread all over her body. Under the window stood her mother’s bookcase, filled with her mother’s books.
Hannah let out a cry of delight. She ran across the room and knelt in front of it. She hugged the bookcase and stroked the spines of the books – the row of tatty scripts from the plays Mum had acted in, with her handwritten notes in the margins; the theatre handbooks; the biographies of actors and actresses; and the big green hardback that Mum had won as a school drama prize: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
Hannah propped her new sign up on the window sill above the bookcase. She looked at the bookcase and the sign and the farmyard outside, with the lichen-covered tiles glowing in the afternoon sun, and she was so happy that she felt as though she was glowing too.
Then she took out her mother’s scrapbook from under her bed. She turned the pages until she reached Mum’s final review. At the top of the facing page, she wrote: “The Secret Hen House Theatre. Our First Production”. She glued in the programme for By Her Majesty’s Appointment. And below it she pasted the Linford Arts Festival report from the local paper. “Farm Theatre Wins Judge’s Praise”, it said.
Hannah closed the scrapbook, kissed it and stood it next to Mum’s theatre books on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. Then she picked up her beautiful sign and the exercise book containing her new script. With a sigh of pure happiness, she closed her bedroom door, ran down the back stairs and skipped across the farmyard to meet Lottie.
This book was inspired by my childhood adventures in the Lucky Horseshoe Theatre. Thanks to all the members of the theatre, and especially to Elizabeth Pratt, who co-wrote By Her Majesty’s Appointment with me when we were thirteen, and kindly allowed me to use extracts from it in this book.
I was lucky enough to grow up with three fantastic siblings. Enormous thanks to Hazel, Mary and Mark, loyal and hilarious companions through life. Thanks to Mark also for his advice on farming matters.
To my wonderful parents, Robert and Ruth Peters, who gave me a love of reading and a childhood on a farm, thank you so much for your unfailing support.
I am very grateful to Gabrielle Blond, Jo Courage, Brian Courage and Fiona Courage, who kindly read the story in its earliest form and gave me encouraging and helpful feedback.
This book would not have found a publisher without the advice and inspiration I received from SCBWI events. Heartfelt thanks to all the amazing volunteers, and especially to Sue Hyams, retreat co-ordinator extraordinaire and all-round lovely person.
To the writers who offered such helpful comments on my work throughout the revision process – Joe Friedman, Candy Gourlay, Miriam Halahmy, Paolo Romeo and Christina Vinall – many, many thanks. Thanks in particular to Nino Cirone, who generously read draft after draft of the manuscript and always gave exactly the right advice at exactly the right time.
Huge thanks to Kate, Kirsty, Adrian and everyone at the fabulous Nosy Crow, for making my dreams come true.
Big thanks and hugs to my children, Freddie and Dorothea, whose enthusiasm and enjoyment have made the journey even more exciting.
Lastly, and mostly, and always, an enormous thank you to my husband, Oliver, who suggested that I write this book and whose unwavering support, encouragement and belief made it all possible. Thank you for everything.
Copyright
To my parents and in memory of my grandparents
H.P.
THE SECRET HEN HOUSE THEATRE
First published in the UK in 2012 by Nosy Crow Ltd
The Crow’s Nest, 10a Lant Street
London SE1 1QR, UK
This ebook edition first published in 2012
Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and / or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd
Text copyright © Helen Peters, 2012
The right of Helen Peters to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblence to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978 0 85763 066 7
www.nosycrow.com
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