Hetty Feather

by Wilson, Jacqueline

  'You went off to that heathen circus, I'll be bound,' said Mother.

  Jem hung his head.

  'Shame on you, Jem! How dreadful to lead your sister astray,' said Father. 'You deserve a good thrashing.'

  'Oh no!' I said. 'I must be thrashed, Father, not Jem. I wanted to go to the circus to see Madame Adeline. Oh, Father, Mother, I rode with her on her horse and she said I was her Little Star!'

  Mother and Father barely reacted. At least Father talked no more of thrashing.

  'We must start up a proper search for Gideon. I thought you would all be fine together – but that little lad cannot cope on his own. He must be found. Do you think he tried to follow you to the circus?'

  'He certainly seemed taken with the idea,' Mother wailed. She glared at me, as if it was all my fault . . . which perhaps it was.

  Father and Nat went out together to look afresh for Gideon. Mother sent Jem and me upstairs to bed in abject disgrace. I cried and my dear brave brother cried too.

  'It will be my fault if anything's happened to Giddy,' he wept bitterly. 'Oh, Hetty, I should never have taken you to the wretched circus.'

  'You only wanted to please me, Jem. Don't cry so. It's my fault, not yours,' I said, putting my arms round him, trying to comfort him the way he had comforted me so many times.

  It was dark when at last we heard Father and Nat coming back. We jumped out of bed and ran to the top of the stairs – but they didn't have Gideon.

  'There's no trace of the lad,' said Father. 'We've had half the village out searching. We've even tried the woods, but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack.'

  The woods! I suddenly remembered what Gideon had said: Are you going to the squirrel house?

  'I know where he might be!' I shouted, running downstairs. 'Oh, Father, Mother, he'll be at the squirrel house. He thought that's where Jem and I were going.'

  'What squirrel house?' asked Father.

  'Oh, Hetty, don't start your silly games. Go back to bed,' said Mother.

  'No, Mother, Hetty's right,' said Jem. 'It's an old hollow tree. We used to play there. Gideon asked us if we were going there.'

  'Put your jacket on over your nightshirt, boy, and show me,' said Father. 'You come too, Nat.'

  I clamoured to come as well, but they wouldn't let me. I stayed shut up in the cottage with Mother and Rosie and Eliza and the baby – and one after another we all wept, longing for Father and the boys to come back, but terrified too, lest they didn't find Gideon.

  'I am very wicked,' I wept, sidling up to Mother.

  'Yes, you are wicked, Hetty,' said Rosie. 'Poor Mother, see what you've done to her.'

  Mother had her head in her hands and was crying hard, her whole face wobbling in a distracting fashion.

  'What shall I do if my little boy's dead?' she wailed. 'And what will the hospital say? They'll think I'm unfit to care for any more children. They'll take little Eliza away from me—'

  'They shan't do that!' said Eliza, cradling her little namesake in her arms. 'Oh, Hetty, this is all your fault.'

  I burst out crying afresh, because no one seemed to mind about me. I closed my eyes and pictured Madame Adeline.

  'Come, my precious Little Star,' she said, holding her arms out. 'Come and live at the circus with me. We will perform every night. I will be the Big Star and you the Little Star. I will give you your own white pony. You will dance on its back and everyone will clap and clap. No one shall ever scold you, dearest Hetty. Jem will come and see us perform in the ring every night, and he will clap and clap and you will wave to him. He will tell people proudly that you are his little sister. Rosie and Eliza will beg you to wave at them too, but you won't take any notice of them. You don't want them to be your sisters any more. You don't want Nat to be your brother . . .' But then my vision of Madame Adeline faltered. She could not say the word Gideon. He was my brother for ever and ever, my fellow foundling, almost my twin. If he ceased to be my brother, if he had perished somewhere in the dark woods, then I would go demented with guilt and sorrow.

  Madame Adeline faded until she was the merest glimmer of pink. I pictured Gideon instead, howling with terror in the great dark wood, calling for Jem and me until his voice cracked, running and stumbling and falling, lying there in the mud and the leaves, white and limp and broken. Wild creatures scuttled past him but he didn't blink his eyes. They were open for ever in his stark woodland grave . . .

  I frightened myself so badly I started screaming. Rosie shook me hard.

  'Stop that silly shrieking, Hetty! Shame on you! You just want to be the centre of attention. Stop it this instant.'

  I couldn't stop. I managed to quell the noise, but huge sobs still shook me every second, and tears rolled down my cheeks in a torrent. After a long, long while Mother held out her arms wearily. I crept forward and climbed on her lap. She held me close and whispered soothingly, but she was trembling too, her whole body tensed for the sound of footsteps.

  Then at last we heard Father's big boots, the boys' scuffles. Father strode into the cottage and this time he had Gideon in his arms. He was holding him like a baby. Gideon's head lolled and his spindly arms and legs dangled lifelessly.

  'Oh, he's dead, he's dead!' I cried.

  'Hush, Hetty. The little lad's sleeping, but he's fair perished,' said Father.

  Mother leaped up, brushing me blindly out of the way, and seized Gideon to her bosom. She wrapped her shawl around him, while Rosie ran for a blanket. Mother had kept the fire burning, so Eliza soon had a stone bottle filled with hot water and bound in a towel, to warm Gideon's icy limbs.

  Father knelt beside Mother and spread his own jacket around them both, cradling Gideon's pale face with his big rough hands. Gideon's eyes were half open but he didn't seem to see us. His mouth was open too, but when Rosie tried to feed him a little warm gruel, it dribbled down his chin.

  'He is dead!' I gasped.

  'No, no, he's breathing, dear,' said Mother, bending her head and putting her ear against Gideon's chest. 'We just need to warm him up a little.'

  'He found his way to the squirrel house all by himself,' said Jem. 'But he couldn't hitch himself up into the tree. We found him lying underneath it, shivering and shaking. He cried out when Father picked him up but he's not said anything since. But you mustn't fear, Hetty. I dare say he'll be fine by morning.'

  Mother and Father took Gideon to sleep in their own bed, circling him in their arms. I wanted to climb in with them, but they sent me away.

  'They don't love me any more because I am so wicked,' I wept.

  'Of course they love you, Hetty. You know I love you too,' said Jem, letting me scrabble under the covers with him. He wiped my eyes with the sleeve of his nightshirt and stroked my tangled hair. 'I'll always always love you, Hetty, no matter what,' he promised me.

  When I went to sleep at last, I dreamed that Gideon never woke up. He lay stiff and white in a glass coffin like Snow White in the storybooks. Mother prayed at his head, Father prayed at his feet, and my brothers and sisters prayed on each side along the length of the coffin. When I tried to join them, they elbowed me out of the way, even Jem.

  'Go away, Hetty. I don't love you any more. You are too wicked,' he said harshly.

  I crept away by myself. No one noticed when I slunk out of the door. I wandered disconsolately down the lane until I heard the sound of distant drumming. I quickened my pace. By the time I could see the circus I was running fast. There, galloping towards me, was Madame Adeline on her fine white pirate horse. She wore her beautiful pink outfit, with pink roses twined in her flame-red hair. A long gossamer train flew out behind her like a flag.

  'My Little Star!' she cried, and she leaned down and scooped me up beside her.

  'Oh, Madame Adeline, may I come and live with you?' I said.

  'Of course, my precious child!' she said, clasping me close, smelling wonderfully of sweetmeats and roses. She wrapped me tightly in her train. 'Indeed, you are my child, my own dear long-lost daughter, an
d now we will live together for ever. You are not really called Hetty Feather. I named you—'

  'Hetty! Hetty!'

  It was Jem, tugging me.

  'Stop it, Jem,' I said furiously, struggling to stay in my wondrous dream.

  'But you've wound all the bedclothes right round yourself! You must share them, Hetty.' He tugged hard.

  'I'm not Hetty,' I said, tugging back because I needed them to be Madame Adeline's train. Then she could bind me close and keep me in the dream.

  But it was no use, the dream was fading fast. I vanquished the blanket and lay there, my heart beating hard against my ribs. I relived each dream moment, whispering Madame Adeline's words.

  You are my child, my own dear long- lost daughter.

  Could it be true? There had been this instant connection between us, almost as if we had recognized each other. We both had flame red hair, pale faces, slender bodies. I had ridden the horse almost as fearlessly as she. Why hadn't I realized sooner? Madame Adeline was my own true mother!

  She would not have wanted to be parted from me when I was a babe – but how could she look after me when she rode her horses every day? Folk looked down on beautiful ladies at the circus. I only had to think of Mother's reaction. Perhaps my dear real mother felt she was giving me a better chance in life sending me to the Foundling Hospital? But now I was absolutely certain she was missing me sorely. Perhaps right this moment she was lying awake, wondering if the little child with the red hair and the star on her forehead could possibly be her very own.

  I sat upright in bed.

  'What is it now, Hetty?' Jem murmured sleepily.

  'I have to go to the circus,' I said.

  'What?' Jem caught hold of me and pulled me back into bed. 'Are you truly demented? It's half past four in the morning. And I took you to the circus and look what happened!'

  'You don't understand, Jem,' I said.

  'I know I don't understand! You really are the limit, Hetty.'

  'I have to go to the circus. Don't you see? Madame Adeline is my mother!'

  'What did you say? Oh, Hetty, really!' He started laughing.

  I pummelled him hard. 'Don't laugh at me! It's true. She told me in my dream.'

  'Yes, in your dream, Hetty. Not really,' said Jem patiently, trying to catch my wrists. 'Stop hitting me!'

  'But you have to believe me. It is real. We are so alike, Madame Adeline and me.'

  'No you're not! Not the slightest little bit.'

  'Look at our hair!'

  'Hetty, I don't think Madame Adeline's hair is really red, not that bright colour. I think she maybe dyes it.'

  'My hair is bright, and I do not dye mine. We are so totally alike. Take me to the circus and you will see for yourself.'

  'I'm not taking you back to the circus.'

  'Then I will go by myself.'

  'If you try to do that you will get lost. You are too little to find the way. It will kill Mother if she loses another child. And Father will most likely kill you if he finds you – and me, into the bargain. Now lie down properly and go back to sleep like a good little girl.'

  He forced me down on my pillow but I couldn't sleep, though I tried hard to seek refuge in my dreams. Eventually I heard Father getting up for work. I slid out of bed quickly and caught him as he went down the stairs.

  'Why are you up so early, little minx?' he asked.

  'I couldn't sleep, Father,' I said.

  'I'm not surprised. I dare say this whole circus escapade was all down to you, Hetty. You have a knack for leading the others astray. Jem's a sensible lad but he's soft as butter where you're concerned.' Father shook his head at me. 'I don't know what to do with you, child. Perhaps it's just as well you won't be with us much longer.'

  I felt as if Father's huge fist had punched me straight in the stomach.

  'Yes, well might you hang your head,' he said. 'That little lad in my bed was a hair's breadth from death when we found him. He's still icy cold for all he's swaddled in shawls like a newborn babe.'

  I dodged round Father and ran into his bedroom. Mother was lying in bed, propped up on one elbow, crooning a lullaby. Gideon was in a little huddle beside her. I edged towards him, expecting to see a little Jack Frost brother, hair hoary white, icicles hanging from his nose and chin. But Gideon looked almost his usual self, though he was very pale.

  I climbed up into bed beside him. Mother put her finger to her lips, frowning at me. She clearly wanted Gideon to sleep – but his dark eyes were wide open.

  'Hello, dear Gideon,' I whispered. 'Are you better now?'

  Gideon didn't seem able to tell me. His mouth opened and moved but no sound came out.

  'I can't hear you,' I said, nuzzling closer, so that my ear was inches from his face.

  'Hetty, Hetty, don't squash him! Go back to your own bed,' said Mother.

  'But I—'

  'I! I! Can't you think of anyone else but yourself, child?' said Mother sharply.

  Gideon whimpered at her tone.

  Mother glared at me. 'See, you're upsetting your brother. Go away!'

  All right, I thought. I will go away. You don't want me. Father doesn't want me. Even Jem has had enough of me. You're all sending me to the hospital soon anyway. So I'll go away now and save you the trouble.

  I stomped out of Mother's bedroom and then crouched at the top of the stairs, tucking my knees up under my nightgown and rubbing my cold feet. I longed for a warm jacket and my boots, but they were in my bedroom and I knew Jem would be suspicious if he saw me putting them on. I took Gideon's boots instead, lying on the landing, still caked with mud and grass from his trek into the forest. They were too big for me but it couldn't be helped. I had difficulty with the laces. I was used to Jem helping me tie neat bows, but I turned and twisted them until they held fast.

  I waited, shivering, until I heard Father shut the front door on his way to the farm. I couldn't count beyond ten but I had some idea of time and waited several minutes until I judged it safe. Then I tiptoed downstairs as best I could in my ill-fitting boots. I grabbed a hunk of bread from the larder, and wound an old sack about my shoulders in lieu of a coat. I could not yet write, apart from my name, so I did not leave them a note. I felt a pang for not saying goodbye to Jem, but it couldn't be helped.

  I went out the front door, and marched off to join the circus and my true mother.

  Oh dear, I am shaking now as I write this. I did not get lost. I was only five then, but I was a very determined child. I hurried through the village, glad that most folk were still in their beds because I looked a queer sight in my sacking and borrowed boots. I could not wait for my own dear mother, Madame Adeline, to clothe me in some beautiful pink outfit so that I looked like a little fairy.

  I found exactly the right hole in the hedge to scrabble through to get into the fields. I ran across one, the dewy grass soaking the hem of my night- gown. I stumbled several times, my boots rubbing my bare feet raw, but I was sure I would soon be shod in pink satin slippers. I reached the edge of the field. I fought my way through the second hedge.

  There I was, in the circus field – but where was the circus? I opened my eyes wide, staring all around. Where was the big tent, the wagons, the horses, Elijah the elephant? Where, oh, where was Madame Adeline?

  Had I come to the wrong field after all? Was it on through another hedge? Yes, I had simply miscalculated. But as I wearily started crossing the empty field, I saw the huge circle of crushed grass, scatterings of sawdust, the print of wagon wheels in the earth. Rubbish blew in the wind like gaudy flowers – all that was left of Tanglefield's Travelling Circus.

  I had found my true mother – and lost her again.

  8

  I trudged all the way back home again. What else could I do? I didn't know when the circus had gone. If they'd packed up and travelled all night after the show, they could now be many miles north, south, east or west. And I was too small and scared to run any further. I was freezing cold in spite of my sack, my nightgown was soak
ed through and stained all over with mud where I'd stumbled, and Gideon's boots seemed intent on paring every inch of flesh from my feet.

  I trailed all the way back to the cottage, and as I hobbled homewards I did think with satisfaction that they'd maybe make a fuss of me now. I must have been missing for hours. I thought of the to-do when Father returned with Gideon in his arms. I hoped for just such rejoicing when I limped through the front door. Mother would cast Gideon aside and swoop me up into her arms, Nat would clap his hands, Rosie and Eliza would kiss my pinched cheeks, and Jem . . .

  I gave a genuine little groan as I thought of dear Jem. How could I have left him without saying a single word of farewell? He would be heartbroken. He might be running crazily round the village this very minute calling for me, striding through the woods, wading through mud and mire, calling my name until his voice cracked. I could picture him so vividly . . .

  But I cannot always picture the banal truth. Jem wasn't out searching for me frantically. Jem was fast asleep in his bed, not having missed me for one moment. None of the family were aware that I had run away to join the circus. They were all still in their beds, snoring. Even baby Eliza was fast asleep in her cot, though it was past her feeding time.

  I thought I'd changed the world but no one had noticed. I got into trouble with Mother later because of the state of my nightgown, but she was too distracted with Gideon to concentrate on giving me a paddling.

  Gideon did not get properly better. He warmed up, he ate and drank, he walked around in his uncomfortable boots, he did his few chores – but he seemed like a ghost child now. He was more nervous and timid than ever. If I jumped out at him and went 'Booo!' he would cower away from me and cry, even though he could see it was only me. He could still laugh, just about, though I laboured long and hard at this. I pulled faces, I tickled him, I said silly rude things, I stood on my hands and waved my legs in the air so he could see my drawers – and yes, Gideon's nose might wrinkle, his mouth twitch into a tiny smile. But he didn't talk any more. He'd always been a quiet child – well, any child living with me would seem silent by comparison – but now he didn't talk at all.