Hetty Feather

by Jacqueline Wilson

  Mother coaxed him, Father badgered him, the big girls petted him, Nat and Jem tried tricking him and I certainly plagued him, but he stayed resolutely silent.

  I could offer him some trinket that I knew he really coveted, perhaps a glass bead as blue as the sky. I'd put it on the table in front of him and say, 'Do you like this bead I found, Gideon?'

  He'd nod.

  'Would you like it?'

  He'd nod more eagerly.

  'Well, all you have to do is say, "Please may I have the bead, Hetty?" and it is yours.'

  Gideon's head drooped.

  'Come on, Gid, it's easy. You can say it, you know you can. You don't even have to say please. "Can I have the bead?" That's all you have to say.'

  Gideon's head drooped further. I took hold of his jaw and tried to make his lips mouth the words. No sound came out, though tears started to roll down his cheeks.

  'Are you hurting Gideon, Hetty?' said Mother, bustling into the room.

  'No, no, Mother, I'm simply encouraging him to speak,' I said.

  Mother paused, diverted by my quaint speech. 'You're a caution, Hetty. I've never known a child like you. I don't know what's to become of you – or Gideon either.' She suddenly sank to her knees and opened her arms wide, hugging both of us to her bosom.

  I cuddled up close to Mother. She might not have the starry glamour of Madame Adeline, she might be rough with her tongue, she might paddle me hard for my naughtiness, but she was the only mother I'd known and I still loved her dearly.

  'Don't send us to the hospital, Mother!' I begged.

  She started, as if I'd read her mind. 'I wish I could keep you, Hetty,' she said, looking straight into my eyes. 'I can't bear to let you go – and it breaks my heart to think of little Gideon there, especially not when . . . when he's not quite himself.'

  I wriggled guiltily.

  'You will look after your brother when you're at the hospital, Hetty?' Mother said earnestly. 'He can't really look after himself. He'll need you to speak up for him. Will you promise you'll do that, dear?'

  'I promise,' I said, though I was shivering so I could hardly speak.

  'It's not as if all the children will be strangers,' said Mother, perhaps trying to convince herself as well as Gideon and me. 'Saul will be there, and dear little Martha. They will look out for both of you.'

  I didn't have Mother's faith in my sister and brother. Besides, the only brother I wanted looking out for me was my own dear Jem.

  I started following him like a little shadow, tucking my arm in his, huddling close to him at the table, sitting on his lap. He was so patient with me, playing endless games of picturing: we were pirates, we were polar bears, we were soldiers, we were water babies, we were explorers in Africa – and the simplest and most favourite game of all, we were Hetty and Jem grown up and living together in our own real house, happily ever after.

  I was used to dear Jem indulging me, but Gideon was the family favourite. They treated him now like a very special frail baby, dandling him on their knees and ruffling his dark locks. Even Father stopped trying to turn him into a little man. He hoisted him onto his huge shoulders and ran around with him, pretending to be one of his own shire horses. Gideon squealed in fear and joy, though he still didn't speak.

  But suddenly I seemed to be the pet of the family too. Father took me out in the fields with him and held me tight while I rode on the shire's back. The horse was too big to be a comfortable ride and was a simple Goliath plodder compared to Madame Adeline's elegant performing pirate horse – but even so I kicked my heels and held my arms out, pretending I was dressed in pink spangles in the circus ring.

  Nat had started whittling simple toys from pieces of wood. He fashioned me a horse and Gideon an elephant. To be truthful, the only way we could distinguish them was by size, but it was kind of my big brother all the same.

  Rosie and Eliza were surprisingly sweet to me too, letting me play grown-up ladies in their best dresses, even tying my hair up high and fastening it with pins. We played we were three big girls together and they sprayed me with their precious lavender perfume and told me special big-girl secrets.

  Even little Eliza seemed extra fond of me and smiled and waved her tiny fists in glee whenever I picked her up.

  'You're like a real little mother, Hetty,' said Mother, sounding truly proud.

  I basked in all this praise and attention. For a child considered ultra-sharp, my wits weren't working at all. It wasn't till the last night that it actually dawned on me. Rosie and Eliza sang baby songs to Gideon and gave us great kisses all over our cheeks until even my pale brother turned rosy as an apple. Nat gave us a bear hug. Father sat us both on his big knees and jiggled us up and down, playing, This is the way the ladies ride. Mother made us each a cup of cocoa brimming with cream, a rare treat. Just two cups, one for Gideon and one for me. I looked over at Jem. I knew he loved cream too.

  'Can't Jem have cocoa too, Mother?' I asked.

  'No, dear, it's just for you two little ones,' said Mother. 'Now drink it all up like a good girl before I get you both ready for bed.'

  I went to sit beside Jem, who had been very quiet all evening. 'Take a sip, Jem,' I whispered.

  Jem shook his head quietly. He kept his head bent but I saw he had tears in his eyes. My stomach squeezed tight. Why was Jem so sad?

  I saw Mother boiling up a great pan of water on the stove: hot washing water, though it wasn't bath night. Then at last it dawned on me. She was going to take Gideon and me to the hospital tomorrow!

  I'd known for years that I had to go back to the Foundling Hospital. For the past few months folk had referred to it openly and often – I had myself. But it had still seemed distant, long in the future, not anything to worry about right this minute. But now suddenly it had sprung upon me. This was it – my last night in the cottage.

  The sweet cocoa soured in my mouth. I crept so near Jem I was practically in his lap. He saw I'd realized, and put a finger to his lips, nodding at Gideon. My little brother was smiling as he sipped his cocoa. Mother pulled off his shirt and said, 'Skin a rabbit,' and Gideon made a bunny face, twitching his nose. He was almost his old self again, though he still wasn't talking. I knew if I cried out that we were going to the hospital the very next day, Gideon would be frightened into fits. So I closed my mouth, pressing my hands over my lips to make certain I would not talk.

  Jem hugged me tight. 'What a dear brave girl you are, Hetty,' he whispered in my ear.

  I didn't want to be brave. I wanted to scream and make a huge despairing fuss, but I could see that would spoil everything for Gideon – and for me too. So I held my tongue and choked down my cocoa, though I couldn't stop my tears brimming as I gazed around the little room that had been my home for the last five years. I could not bear to think I would never see it again. I could not bear to think I would not see Mother, Father and my brothers and sisters, my family. I especially could not bear to think I would never see my dear Jem again.

  The tears rolled down my face and I hid my head in my hands.

  'Look at Hetty, she's tired herself out!' said Eliza.

  'A quick bath in the tub and then you'll be tucked up in bed, Hetty dear,' said Rosie.

  I let my sisters undress me and lift me up into the soapy water. Mother washed me all over and rubbed the soapsuds into my hair so hard I thought the red might run away with the water. Then I was towelled vigorously, a nightgown thrust over my head, and I was carried upstairs. I kept my eyes closed all the time, even when everyone gave me a goodnight kiss. I was tucked up beside Gideon, who was already genuinely asleep. I lay there, waiting.

  Then Jem crept upstairs. He got into bed beside me and put his arms around me. I buried my head in his chest and wept.

  'There, Hetty. There, there, dear Hetty,' he murmured.

  'I don't want to go!' I sobbed. 'I shall run away. Yes, I shall run away right now.'

  'Where will you run to, Hetty?'

  'I shall find the circus. I shall live with Ma
dame Adeline,' I said. 'Perhaps she really is my mother.'

  'How will you find the circus? It could be right up in Scotland or way down in Cornwall. The circus is gone, Hetty.'

  'I'll still run away,' I said.

  'But what will you eat? Where will you live? Who will look after you?'

  'I will eat berries and nuts, and I will sleep curled up in trees and haystacks and barns.' I paused, trying to work it out in my head. 'And – and if you will run away too, Jem, then you can look after me.'

  'Oh, Hetty. I wish I could. I've tried to plot it out. I could maybe get farm work far away where they don't know me – though I'm not really big or strong enough yet. And you can't work for years and years, Hetty.'

  'You could do the work for me.'

  'Yes, but they wouldn't let you tag along too. They would say you needed to be cared for. They would seize you and put you in the workhouse, and that would be much worse than the hospital. So don't you see, Hetty, we can't run away, though I wish we could with all my heart.'

  'Oh, Jem, please please please don't let them take me away,' I wept, past reasoning.

  He held me close and murmured stories in my ear about my time at the hospital. 'Everyone will like you – how could they not? – and you will make good friends there. You will learn lots at school and the years will go by in a blink, and then, when you are all grown up, I will come and find you, remember?'

  'We will truly have our own house?' I snuffled.

  'Yes, our own dear house, and we will live there together. And when I am an old old man with a grey beard and you are an old old lady, hopefully not with a beard—'

  I giggled in spite of everything.

  'Then we will scarcely remember we were ever separated. I promise we will be together and live happily ever after, just like the fairy tales.'

  He told me this over and over until I went to sleep in a soggy little heap on his chest – and whenever I woke in the night he whispered it all over again.

  Then suddenly Mother was shaking me, easing me out of bed. I clung frantically to Jem.

  'There now, Hetty,' he said. 'Let me dress her, Mother. You go and get Gideon ready.'

  Jem did his best to dress me in my best clothes, though I did not make it easy for him, keeping my arms pinned to my sides and curling my feet so they couldn't be stuffed into my boots.

  'Stop being so difficult, Hetty dear,' he said wearily. 'I will dress too and come with you as far as I can. Try to be a big brave girl.'

  I didn't feel big and brave. I felt very very small and very very scared, but I did not make a fuss as Jem fastened my Sunday frock, tied the ribbons of my starched pinafore and buttoned my boots. I washed my face and Jem brushed my hair for me, running his hands through the silky newly- washed strands.

  'At least I'll be able to pick you out from a crowd of hundreds, Hetty,' he said. 'No one could ever have as red hair as you. There! You look lovely now.'

  I gave him a fierce hug.

  'Careful! You'll crease your pinafore,' said Jem.

  'I hate silly pinafores,' I said.

  Oh, how I longed to be barefoot in my old flower- sprigged cotton dress, ready for a day's larking with my dear brother. I clutched him harder and he held me fast.

  'Ready, children?' Mother called.

  She had Gideon dressed now, but he was still half asleep, his eyes drooping. We went downstairs and Mother cut us bread and poured us milk. I was too fearful to eat and Gideon too tired. I sat on Jem's lap and Gideon sat on Mother's. It was as if we'd regressed five years and were back to being little babies.

  'It's time to go,' said Mother.

  Gideon wriggled a little, looking puzzled.

  'Come on, my pet. Let Mother carry you,' she said, hoisting him up in her arms.

  He held his wooden elephant tight by the trunk. I had my dear old rag baby and my new horse, but I wished Jem had made it for me and not Nat. But Jem had another gift for me, a tiny present in a twist of rag. I opened it up carefully and found a silver sixpence, polished until it shone. I stared at it in awe.

  'I earned it running errands. I'll earn you many more sixpences,' Jem whispered earnestly. 'Then, when you're bigger, I can take you to the circus in style.'

  'Oh, Jem!' I said. 'Dear, dear Jem.'

  'Keep it safe in your pinafore pocket. You can spend it on anything you like.'

  I held the sixpence tight in my hand. I knew I would never be tempted to spend a penny of it. I would do my level best to hang onto it for ever.

  Father was already out at the farm and Nat and the girls were still asleep. Even baby Eliza was quiet in her cradle. I could not say goodbye to them, so instead I whispered goodbye to my little stool and the scrubbed table and the coloured pictures on the walls. They were mostly scenes from the Bible – baby Jesus in the stable, Joseph in his coloured coat and Daniel in the lions' den. The picture I liked best hung halfway up the stairs: two chubby children in nightgowns with a tall white guardian angel spreading his wings over them protectively.

  I ran up to the angel picture and said goodbye. As I turned back to Jem and Mother and Gideon, I fancied I heard a beat of big wings, a sudden breeze in the thick air of the cottage, as if the angel had stepped right out of the picture and was arching his wings over me.

  I tried hard to picture him above us as we trudged down the lane towards the village. We got to the crossroads – and there was Sam waiting with his horse and cart. Gideon clapped his hands, totally misunderstanding. He thought this was a special shopping day. Sam was taking us to town to buy new clothes or new boots, a new kettle or a set of china plates or a washstand, and perhaps a toffee apple or a sugar cane for us children if we were very good.

  'Well, the little lad doesn't seem too down- hearted,' Sam said, chucking him under the chin. 'The little missy looks mournful though, bless her.'

  'Say goodbye to Jem now, Hetty,' said Mother, lifting Gideon up into the cart.

  'No! No!' I said, tears spilling.

  'I'll come on the cart with you,' said Jem. 'Hush, Hetty, I'm coming too.'

  'You'll miss a morning's school,' said Mother.

  'What's school, when I can be with Hetty an hour longer?' said Jem.

  'You can't come, Jem. Sam has business in town and won't be able to take you back in the cart.'

  'Then I'll walk back,' said Jem. He said it as if seven miles was a short stroll. He sounded so firm that Mother didn't argue with him further.

  Jem lifted me into the cart and jumped up after me. Mother settled herself with Gideon on her lap. He reached out to me and touched my wet cheeks, looking anxious now. Then he looked up at Mother.

  'Hush, my pet,' she said, as if he'd spoken.

  Then Sam clicked his teeth at his old brown nag and she started trotting along the road and up the hill. Jem held me tight. I craned my neck to see the village for as long as possible. As we got higher up the hill, I could just make out our own cottage on the edge of the village, like a little grey face with thatched hair on top. Then it blurred into a grey dot. I was starting to feel sick from twisting backwards, so I wriggled round and faced forward, my head on Jem's shoulder.

  9

  Jem and I were both numb with misery and so tired from our broken night that both our heads nodded in spite of ourselves. Every now and then I woke with a start and Jem murmured, 'There now, Hetty, I'm here.' Once I woke first, and when Jem twitched and started awake with a cry, I said quietly, 'There now, Jem, I'm here,' reaching up to put my arms round him.

  Then we saw smoke in the distance, and houses started to line the road, and we were almost at the town. On those rare shopping days in the past we'd wriggle around excitedly and start to sing. This time we were silent.

  'I meant to tell you a story all the way to comfort you, but the words wouldn't come,' Jem whispered.

  'Never mind, never mind,' I whispered back. 'I do love you so, Jem.'

  'I love you too, my Hetty. You have your sixpence safe?'

  'In my pocket, look. Oh, Jem, I'v
e nothing to give you!'

  'Give me a kiss, Hetty, that's all I want.'

  I leaned even closer and carefully blew a big kiss into his ear.

  'There, my kiss is inside you now,' I said, imagining it flying around like a little caged bird.

  Sam drove his cart through the crowded streets of the town towards the big station. It loomed above us, its great steel archway a gaping maw. I'd always loved peeping inside at the huge trains blowing out steam with a roar like gleaming dragons – but now I shrank back. We clung to the sides of the cart, shivering. Then Mother saw the great clock and gasped.

  'Look at the time! Oh Lordy, we'll miss the train if we're not hasty. Set us down, Sam.'

  She jumped from the cart, taking Gideon in her arms. He moaned at the noise and hid his head under her shawl.

  'Come, Hetty. Jem, you have to go home.'

  'Let me go on the train too, Mother, I beg you.'

  'No, son. I haven't got the fare for you. The hospital sent the exact amount, one third-class seat and two children.'

  'I can hide from the ticket man, Mother,' said Jem. 'I can run right through the barrier and—'

  'Nonsense! Do you want to get us all into trouble? Now we're late, the train is due to leave any minute. Get down, Hetty!' She pulled me from the cart, twisting my arm in her haste, so that I started bawling.

  'Stop that noise!' said Mother. 'We must go to find our carriage.' She looked anxiously at Jem. 'Take care going home, for goodness' sake. If you lose your way, find a kindly-looking lady to set you on the right path. Promise me you'll be a sensible lad and go straight back. I can't take any more worries.'

  'But, Mother, I have to come too,' said Jem, jumping down from the cart and putting his arms round me. 'Hetty needs me so. I have to look after her.'

  'You can't look after her. You're only a silly little boy,' Mother snapped in her distress and frustration.

  It was as if her words were some dreadful antidote to our magic spell. Jem had always towered like a giant, but now he shrivelled into a small boy scarcely bigger than me – a boy who started sobbing.

  'Say goodbye now, Jem,' Mother commanded.