‘Why? Will I suddenly become beautiful?’
‘No, silly. You’re meant to see the face of your true love standing behind you,’ she said.
‘Well, my looking glass will be blank, because I haven’t got a true love,’ I said.
‘When you’re older you’ll change your mind,’ said Janet.
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. I went and knelt beside her. ‘Janet, I love Jem so very much, but not in that way. He won’t ever be my sweetheart. I’m not right for him. But it’s clear as day who is.’ I took hold of her by the shoulders. ‘You are!’
‘I might want that, but Jem doesn’t,’ said Janet. ‘He only has eyes for you.’
‘Then – then I will go away,’ I said.
‘Don’t be silly, Hetty. This is your home now. Jem would be devastated.’
‘Only for a little while – and you could comfort him.’
‘You could never leave home! What about your mother?’
‘Gideon is much closer to her than I am. He’s wonderful at nursing her, and old Molly could always help out.’
‘You sound as if you’re serious. Have you been planning this?’ asked Janet, looking shocked.
‘No, I’ve only just this minute realized – but I think it’s what I have to do,’ I said.
‘But where will you go? Back to your father?’
I thought about Father in Monksby. I still felt great affection for him but I knew I would never make a fisher-girl – and would certainly never get on with Katherine. I might go back on a visit, but not to stay.
I had to earn my own living. I had my memoir almost finished, apart from its ending, but in my heart I knew it was highly unlikely that it would ever be published, let alone make my fortune.
I couldn’t go back into service because I didn’t have a character reference. I could set myself up as a seamstress, but I needed somewhere to live.
I clutched my head, feeling as if it might burst with all the thoughts buzzing around inside. Then I heard shouts from the street – the cries of excited children.
‘What’s that?’ asked Janet. ‘I hope it’s not my little class misbehaving! I wonder why they’re making such a noise? Should I go out and make a fierce teacher face at them, Hetty?’
I listened and then heard the strangest sound – an odd, high-pitched, strangled roar that was somehow familiar.
‘What on earth’s that?’ said Janet. ‘Are they playing some kind of musical instrument?’
‘No – no, it’s an elephant!’ I said.
‘What?’ said Janet, laughing, thinking I was fooling.
‘It is. Oh, Janet, I think it’s the circus!’ I said, running to the window. I threw back the sash and leaned out as far as I could go.
‘Careful, Hetty!’ she said, hanging onto me by my petticoats. ‘Oh my goodness, it is a circus!’
‘It’s my circus!’ I breathed as I peered down at a great wagon painted scarlet and emerald and canary yellow. It was hard making out the curly writing on the side from this angle, but I could see enough.
‘It’s the great Tanglefield Travelling Circus,’ I whispered, barely able to talk. ‘And there’s Elijah the elephant – look!’
‘You’re right, Hetty! It comes every year. Do you remember it from when you were little?’ said Janet.
‘Oh yes, I remember it,’ I said. ‘I think that’s Mr Tanglefield in the great coat and boots, leading Elijah, the largest elephant in the entire world.’
That’s how he was billed, but Elijah seemed to have shrunk a little, and was even more wrinkled about the face and belly – but still extraordinarily exotic to be plodding down our little village street. All the children ran along beside him, shrieking with excitement. A lion roared from another wagon and they all screamed, clutching each other.
‘Oh, there are the silver boys in their tights, though they’ve grown so, they’re not boys any more. But look, look, there’s a new tiny one . . .’
A little girl skipped along behind them, only about five or six, in a short white dress and silver ballet slippers. She looked just like a little fairy. She had a small silver tiara sparkling in her blonde hair and carried a wand with a star on the end.
‘Oh, the little lamb!’ said Janet, leaning right out of the window too. ‘Surely she can’t be part of a circus act, she’s much too tiny.’
‘I’d have given anything to be part of the circus when I was that age,’ I said. ‘And so would Gideon. I do hope he’s watching. He loved those silver acrobats. And I loved . . . Oh please, please, let her still be part of the circus!’
I waited impatiently while Chino the clown capered past in his ridiculous clothes, deliberately tripping over his own feet, with his sidekick Beppo scampering after him, red mouth agape. I saw a woman in a fancy dress and gasped, but it was only Flora the tightrope walker, plumper than ever, but gamely marching along twirling hoops about her wrists, making a fine show herself.
Then, right at the end of the procession – oh, glory! – there was a woman in a short pink spangled skirt. She was riding on the back of a sprightly black horse which set off her pale pink costume and white limbs a treat. It was Madame Adeline herself, bravely powdered all over to give off a pearly gleam of youth, her long legs still shapely in her shining white tights, her bright red wig gleaming in the sunlight. She was my Madame Adeline in all her valiant glory, somehow managing to look glamorously beautiful even in the harsh daylight.
‘Madame Adeline!’ I called.
My voice was too hoarse to make much noise and she urged her black horse onwards.
‘Madame Adeline, Madame Adeline – oh please look, Madame Adeline!’ I screamed.
She paused and turned and looked up. I waved to her frantically. She could not really have recognized me. She probably did not even remember our two encounters – or so I thought. But she hesitated, then smiled, her crimson lips beautiful against her white teeth, and then she tapped the star decoration on the bodice of her dress.
Little Star! She had once called me her Little Star. My heart beat so fast I felt it would burst. ‘Oh, Madame Adeline!’ I called, tears rolling down my cheeks.
‘Hetty, Hetty, what is it? Who is she? Do you know her?’ Janet asked in concern.
‘Yes, I know her. I know her very well! And she knows me!’ I said.
Madame Adeline urged the horse onwards to catch up with the rest of the Tanglefield parade – but she turned and waved again, looking straight at me.
‘How do you know her? You can’t have seen her since you were four or five,’ said Janet, putting her arms around me.
‘I met up with her when I was ten,’ I said, still crying.
‘There now, Hetty. How you’re trembling! Did she come to perform at the Foundling Hospital?’
I stopped crying and burst out laughing at this preposterous thought. Janet still had no inkling of the harsh regime at the hospital.
‘No, no, it was when I ran away, when Queen Victoria had her Jubilee. I found Tanglefield’s circus up on Hampstead Heath, and Madame Adeline was so kind to me. She invited me into her caravan and made me tea and listened to my story. I begged her to let me travel with the circus and be part of her performing act. I loved her so. I wished she was my mother.’
‘Well, I dare say you can go and see her perform tomorrow. If Jem and Gideon want to go too, I will come and sit with your mother. Oh, I’m so glad the circus has come. It’s brought the roses to your cheeks at last. You look a different girl!’
I felt different. I could not wait until tomorrow. I flew home and told Gideon. I described the three acrobat brothers in their sparkly suits, and just for a moment fire flickered in his one good eye as he remembered.
‘Isn’t it wonderful, Gideon? We’ll go tonight – and tomorrow – and the day after! Wait till you see the tiny girl who seems to be in the troupe. She’s so little it’s hard to believe she’s part of the circus. Wouldn’t we have loved to be in the show and perform like that! Oh to be a circus child!’
<
br /> Gideon’s mouth formed an Oh too. But then he looked at Mother, he looked around the cottage, and he shook his head. ‘I’d sooner live here, safe and sound,’ he said.
Mother made a soft gurgling sound in her throat. ‘Good boy, Gideon!’ she said. She spoke slowly, her voice a little slurred, but it was clear enough. Gideon had been encouraging her day by day, and it was as if she was slowly coming back to herself, inhabiting her old body properly. It was so good and noble of Gideon – but it truly seemed to be what he liked to do most.
I wanted to talk on and on about the circus, though Mother shook her head and tutted.
‘Hush, Hetty. Mother doesn’t approve of circuses, you know that. She didn’t want us to go when we were little children,’ said Gideon.
‘But I still went. Jem took me!’ I said, making Mother tut more. ‘You never got to go that time, Gid. You must go now!’
Mother mumbled something.
‘Not if Mother doesn’t want us to,’ said Gideon.
I stared at him. ‘Are you mad?’ I mouthed, over Mother’s head. ‘She can hardly stop us now!’
‘I don’t want to upset her,’ he said.
I felt like shaking him. ‘Then you’ll miss out on all the excitement,’ I said.
‘I think I’ve had enough excitement in my life, thank you!’
Gideon wouldn’t speak any more that day. He just sat holding Mother’s hands, gazing into the middle distance.
I could not fathom my brother. He seemed so strange now that I sometimes wondered if his accident had interfered with his intellect. But then he had always been an odd little boy, given to strange fears and fancies, retreating into silence whenever he was shocked.
It made me sad to see such a tall young man sitting holding onto Mother like a toddling child. All those grim lonely years in the hospital had stunted him. I remembered his one shining moment playing the Angel Gabriel in the tableau one Christmas. He’d looked so glorious, gracefully stretching out his arms and legs, as if his paper wings could truly fly.
Poor Gideon might now be a willing prisoner in the tiny cottage – but I wasn’t. I prepared our supper stew, tossing in carrots and onions willy-nilly, and paced about the cottage in a fever of impatience. When I heard Jem’s footsteps, I flew to meet him, running so fast my sixpence bounced on its chain and hit my teeth. I spat it out, laughing.
‘Oh, Jem, Jem, wait till you hear!’ I said.
‘Wait till you hear, Hetty,’ said Jem, seizing me and swinging me round and round the way he used to when I was little. ‘Farmer Woodrow came and worked with me today, watching me with the horses. He’s making me chief farm hand in Father’s place!’
‘Oh, that’s lovely for you, Jem, and much deserved – but listen—’
‘Don’t you see what that means, Hetty? My wages go up by five shillings a week! We’ll have so much more money to spare – isn’t that marvellous?’
I knew how worried Jem had been about money, with three dependents to support now, though I had done my best to earn my keep with my sewing.
‘It is marvellous, Jem! I shall buy a side of beef every Sunday now and cook you a meal fit for a king,’ I said.
‘That would be good for just one Sunday, Hetty, but I’m going to want to save a lot more too – for the future.’ Jem set me down on my feet. ‘Our future,’ he whispered.
The room stayed spinning round and round, even though I was standing still.
‘Now, Hetty, what’s your great news?’ Jem asked, steadying me.
‘The circus has come!’ I said.
‘Oh yes, I thought it was due. It always comes in the spring,’ he said casually, as if he were talking about May blossom. ‘Remember when I took you to the circus when you were little?’ He laughed. ‘We sneaked in under the tent flap. It’s a wonder we didn’t get whacked for it. You loved that circus, Hetty.’
‘I remember,’ I said.
‘There was one lady who had a whole troupe of horses—’
‘Madame Adeline.’
‘What? Yes, I think that was her name. Fancy you remembering after all this time! And she gave you a ride around the ring on one of her horses. You were only tiny and I was terrified you’d take a tumble, but you rode that horse like a little star.’
‘That was what she called me. She said I was her Little Star,’ I said. ‘Because you’d stuck a gingerbread star on my forehead.’
‘Did I? Well, anyway, I was that proud of you, Hetty. I’ll take you back to the circus tomorrow night if you like, but I think you’ll be too big for circus tricks now,’ Jem said, still laughing, ruffling my hair.
I dodged away from him. ‘Tomorrow? I must go tonight!’ I said.
‘Tonight?’ he said. ‘Don’t be silly, Hetty.’
‘I’m not being silly. I have to go,’ I said wildly.
‘There won’t be a show tonight. They’ll still be setting up, putting up the big tent and exercising the animals after the journey. There’s never a show the first night they get here. I’ll take you tomorrow, Hetty, I promise.’
I knew Jem was talking sense. He was being kind, as always. Why did I find it so irritating?
‘I’m going tonight. I’m going right now,’ I said, pulling my shawl around my shoulders.
‘What? Now?’
‘Yes! Why do you have to keep repeating everything I say?’ I said.
‘But you haven’t even had your supper yet.’
‘I don’t want my supper. I want to go to the circus.’
‘Then wait. Wait for me, Hetty,’ Jem said as I made for the door. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No. You eat your supper. I want to go on my own,’ I said, and I ran off as fast as I could.
I felt very bad, knowing I was treating Jem appallingly, especially when he was so excited and wanted to celebrate his promotion – but I simply couldn’t help it. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go to the circus.
18
JEM WAS RIGHT. There was no show tonight. Men were still circling the bright canvas of the tent, hauling on ropes to raise it up, cursing and shouting to each other. Great Elijah trumpeted in frustration, tethered to a big oak at the edge of the field. The horses were being led round and round, the glossy black one too, but I could see no sign of Madame Adeline. Lions roared, bears growled from their cages and sea lions splashed in a pool of water. It sounded like a strange jungle, yet the scene seemed cosily domestic as folk sat on their wagon steps and cooked their suppers over small fires.
I stood in the shadows, scared they would see me and send me away. I was suddenly conscious of soft snuffles coming from the nearest wagon – from under it, I realized. They were very slight sounds but I knew instantly what they were. You can’t spend nine years at a foundling hospital without instantly recognizing the sound of a small child crying.
I bent down and peeped under the wagon. I saw a little girl lying there, sobbing into her hands, stifling the noise as best she could. Her hair was dishevelled and she wore a tattered petticoat with a grubby grey shawl draped round her thin shoulders – but I still recognized the little fairy acrobat.
I knelt right down to see her properly. She gasped when she saw me looming there, and tried to cover her head.
‘It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you,’ I whispered.
She looked up, trying to peer past me.
‘And I won’t let anyone else hurt you either,’ I said. ‘See my red hair? I am so fierce that everyone is scared of me. Even the biggest, ugliest ogre quakes when he sees me coming. Evil giants tremble and whimper at my approach.’
She made a little noise that could have been a chuckle.
‘But I never ever hurt little fairy girls,’ I said. ‘And you’re a little fairy, aren’t you?’
‘Please, miss, I’m the Acrobatic Child Wonder,’ she said dolefully, scrubbing at her eyes. Her nose needed attention too.
‘Here, I have a handkerchief,’ I said, thrusting it under the wagon.
She stared at it, o
bviously not used to the concept. ‘There’s a picture and letters!’ she said, touching the embroidery.
‘They’re flowers – and the letters are an S and a B, the initials of my name, Sapphire Battersea. Although no one calls me that now. All the folk here call me Hetty. What do they call you? Acrobatic Child Wonder is a bit of a mouthful!’
‘They call me Diamond, but I used to be Ellen-Jane,’ she said, still sniffing.
‘Oh, Diamond is a most beautiful name,’ I said. ‘Do wipe your nose on the handkerchief!’
‘It’s too pretty. I don’t want to smear the picture,’ said Diamond, and she pulled up her petticoat and used the ragged hem instead. She handed the handkerchief back to me reluctantly.
‘You can keep it if you like it so much,’ I said.
‘Really? For my very own?’ said Diamond, and she quickly stuffed it down her bodice in case I changed my mind.
‘Won’t you roll out so we can have a proper conversation?’ I said. ‘It’s not very comfortable kneeling down like this.’
‘I’m scared to come out, because Mister will get me,’ she said.
‘Mister?’
‘He’s my master and I hate him because he beats me,’ said Diamond, starting to sob again.
‘I’m sure he’s not allowed to beat you! You’re too little!’ I said indignantly.
‘He is allowed, because I am stupid and can’t learn,’ she sobbed.
‘Is he your teacher?’
‘I think so. He teaches me how to tumble and do tricks, but it hurts and I’m afraid and I won’t, so he beats me.’
‘Can you tell your father?’
‘No, miss – he sold me to Mister, and now Mister can do what he wants.’
‘Isn’t there anyone kind who will look after you?’ I asked, reaching further so I could pat her little shaking shoulders.
‘Madame Addie is kind,’ said Diamond. ‘She sits me on her lap and rubs my sore arms and legs and gives me cake.’
‘Oh, Madame Adeline! Yes, I am sure she is very kind. I have come looking for her. Will you show me her wagon, Diamond?’
‘I will take you, but don’t let Mister get me!’ she said.
Emerald Star (Hetty Feather) Page 22
