Free The Secret Hen House Theatre by Helen Peters Page B

week’s rehearsal was amess. I mean, half the cast haven’t even learned their lines yet. It’s pathetic. They need a dress rehearsal in front of an audience to make them take it seriously.”
    “Yes, you’re right,” said Emily. “That is so true. I was thinking—”
    “Oh, and did I tell you Jack’s going to come?” Miranda flicked a glance at Hannah, who felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She leaned over the bench to fold her hockey kit so that her hair covered her face.
    “To the dress rehearsal?” said Emily. “Oh, no, how embarrassing.”
    “That’s the whole point though, isn’t it? It’ll make people learn their lines at last. Anyway, I asked him and he said he’d come. Right, let’s go.” Miranda tossed her hair back and wafted across the changing room. Emily picked up her bags and scurried out after her.
    “Oh, by the way, Hannah,” said Miranda, turning at the door so that Emily nearly skidded into her, “I love your trousers.”
    “Cow,” said Lottie as the door banged shut.
    “What’s wrong with my trousers?”
    “Nothing. She’s just evil. What are you doing?”
    Hannah’s voice came out muffled from beneath the bench. “I can’t find my sock.”
    “Oh, Hannah, can you never get changed without losing something? Hurry up, we’re last again.”
    The door burst open as if a cannon had fired at it and their PE teacher, Mrs Frost, launched herself into the changing room. She looked like she was made from pipe cleaners, but despite that she somehowseemed to fill the room.
    “Come on, you two!” she barked. “Always the same ones, isn’t it? I’ve never seen such slowcoaches. Hannah Roberts, you’ve got mud on your face. I hope you’ve had a shower, young lady.”
    “Yes, miss,” Hannah said. She raised her head from under the bench and pointed to her damp fringe.
    “Huh. Well, get a move on. The caretaker’s locking up in ten minutes. And put those hockey sticks in the basket on your way out. Well played on the wing today, Charlotte,” she called as the door swung shut behind her.
    “How come she never loses her voice?” asked Lottie. “How can a person shout non-stop for eight hours a day and not get a sore throat?”
    Hannah scrambled to her feet, red-faced, her hair standing out all around her head.
    “It’s nowhere. How can a sock just completely disappear? That was the only pair I had without holes in.”
    “Is this it?” said Lottie, holding out a grubby grey sock between her thumb and forefinger.
    Hannah took it gratefully and pulled it on.
    From the corridor came the sound of jangling keys.
    “Let’s go,” said Lottie.
    Hannah took her coat off her peg and headed for the door.
    “Aren’t you going to take your bag?”
    Hannah turned round. Her school bag was still hanging on the peg. She heaved it on to her shoulder.It was heavier than usual – she had several textbooks and a science project in there as well as all her exercise books. She noticed that the stitching was unravelling on the strap. She must sew it up tonight.
    Except she knew she wouldn’t. Last night she had started reading the most fantastic book and there was no way she was doing any mending until she’d finished it.
    Dusk was falling as they left the PE building and walked towards the school gates. The wind stung Hannah’s face. She pulled her gloves out of her coat pocket. “Do you want a lift home? My dad’s at a meeting – he said he’ll pick me up from the bus stop at six.”
    “No, I’m going into Linford to meet my mum, remember. She’s getting an early train for once.”
    They walked past the bike sheds towards the main entrance. Attached to the railings was a laminated poster for the Scout jumble sale on Saturday. Lottie stopped to read it. “Hey, why don’t we go? I bet there’ll be loads of stuff for costumes.”
    Hannah hesitated. She was planning to go anyway, if Dad would give her some money to get clothes for Sam, but she couldn’t spend that money on