The Farm Beneath the Water Read Online Free PDF Page B

mum.”
    She turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs. They heard her bedroom door open and then slam shut.
    Dad appeared in the doorway, holding a teapot. He was wearing his best jacket again. He frowned at Martha’s bedroom door. “What was that about?”
    “I’ll make the tea, Dad,” said Hannah, taking the teapot from his hand. “Come on, Lottie.”
    “Why are we making tea for them?” asked Lottie, as Hannah pulled her towards the kitchen.
    “I need to know what’s going on in there.”
    “You don’t really think he’s joined a dating agency, do you?”
    “No. But what are they doing? It’s so weird. He has never, ever invited people round for tea before. Ever.”
    “Except that woman the other day.”
    “Exactly. And now this. We have to find out what’s going on. If we go round pouring tea, we can listen to what they’re saying.”
    When Hannah walked into the sitting room with the teapot, the scene before her was even more bizarre than she had imagined.
    Somebody – not Dad, surely? – had laid the little round table in the middle of the room with a white, floor-length linen tablecloth, perfectly ironed. In the centre of the table was a three-tier china cake stand which Hannah had never seen before, filled with cupcakes and biscuits and slices of butteredfruit loaf. Hannah’s mouth watered at the sight of them. It was almost enough to distract her from the even more extraordinary sight of her dad sitting in an armchair in his best jacket, holding a saucer and drinking tea from one of her mother’s antique cups and chatting animatedly with a group of strange middle-aged women.
    As Hannah stood there, transfixed, another woman burst into the room like a tornado of enthusiasm. She had a cloud of fuzzy brown hair and wide brown eyes. She wore a long loose dress that looked as though she had made it herself from an old pair of curtains.
    “It’s amazing!” she exclaimed. “Incredible! These fields are an absolute treasure trove! You’ve got sneezewort, devil’s-bit scabious, dyer’s greenweed, creeping willow, carnation sedge – so many rare species. These meadows can’t have been ploughed in hundreds of years.”
    Who was she? Had she come here to find a husband with a farm full of exciting botanical specimens?
    “They haven’t,” said Dad. “There’s a hundred and forty acres of permanent pasture here, full of rare flora and fauna.”
    The fuzzy-haired woman made appreciative murmurs.
    Another woman shunted her chair across to join the conversation. Was there going to be a fight over Dad? Hannah couldn’t imagine that this lady was husband-hunting. She looked very nice, but she must be at least seventy.
    “It’s an incredibly important site,” she said.
    “It’s a completely unique environment,” said an intense-looking woman with a severe dark bob. “It’s absolutely vital that it’s preserved.”
    “They’re clever,” murmured Lottie to Hannah as she glided past with the cake stand. “Saying all the things your dad likes to hear.”
    “And the rare breeds,” chipped in a woman with a kind, round face and windblown hair. “Large Black and Middle White pigs, Southdown sheep, all sorts of rare poultry…”
    “Ooh, great tactic,” whispered Lottie. “Praising his animals. That’s the winner.” She set the cake stand down on the table.
    “And we’re just starting a herd of Sussex cattle,” said Dad. “Took delivery of the first calves last week.”
    Another woman, wearing a yellow shirt and an earnest expression, leaned across. “And don’t forget that it might well be an important site archaeologically. There’s strong evidence that there was a medieval hunting lodge here.”
    “Mmm,” murmured Lottie, busying herself with folding napkins. “Not such a good move. He’ll go for the one who likes his pigs.”
    Another woman came over to join the group around Dad. She was small and wiry, with cropped chestnut hair and brown-rimmed glasses.
    “The