Hetty Feather (10 page)

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.

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've 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.

Jem reached up to Gideon in her arms and kissed
his white cheek. Then he bent and kissed me too, on
both my cheeks and then my lips.

'Goodbye, Hetty. I love you so,' he mumbled.

'I love you too, Jem. I love you, I love you, I
love you.'

'You won't forget me, will you, Hetty?'

'Never ever ever ever ever ever . . .' I still chanted
it as Mother tore our hands apart and bustled Gideon
and me past the barrier and the ticket man, urging
us towards the train. I craned my neck and saw
Jem waving and waving. I sawed my own free arm
wildly in the air until Mother found the third-class
carriages at last and tugged us up into the train as
the whistle went.

I sat on the seat by the door, my legs sticking
out. I fingered the leather strap to open the window.
As we started chugging slowly out of the station,
I wondered if I dared leap right out. I could jump
onto the platform, rejoin Jem, and then we could
run away together . . .

Mother slapped my hands away from the strap.
'Stop that, Hetty! Do you want to fall out to
your death?'

'Yes!' I declared, deciding I did indeed want to die
if I couldn't be with Jem.

As the train gathered speed and hastened
through the town and out into the countryside,
I pictured myself leaping out of the window.
My guardian angel would scurry down and
snatch me up in his strong arms. We would fly up
and up to Heaven. I would wear a snowy nightgown
and build castles in the clouds and jump from star
to star . . .

'I definitely want to die,' I declared.

'That's a dreadful thing to say, child,' said Mother,
shocked. 'You can't mean it.'

'Yes, I do. I'd like to go to Heaven right
this minute.'

'If you choose to kill yourself, you'll go straight to
the Other Place, Hetty,' Mother reminded me.

I thought about H-e-l-l. I remembered the time a
hot coal fell out of the fire and glanced against my
leg. It had hurt so badly I screamed and screamed
– and then I'd had to stump around with a rag
bandage for a week or more. I pictured burning my
whole body, cooking for all eternity.

I decided I didn't want to die just yet. I stopped
fiddling with the carriage door and slumped in my
seat, my chin on my chest. Gideon reached out and
clutched my hand. His eyes were wide with fear now.
He burrowed hard against Mother.

'There now, my lambkin, Mother's here,' she
said automatically.

Gideon kept quiet, but he started crying, tears
seeping down his cheeks. I cried too, clutching my
rag baby, using her soft legs as a handkerchief when
I got too damp and soggy. Mother pulled me closer,
her arms round both of us now.

The train started slowing down. I peered out of
the window in agitation. Were we there already?

Mother saw my expression. 'It's a long
journey, Hetty. A couple of hours until we get to
London town.'

Gideon wailed fearfully, understanding properly
now. The train stopped at a little country station and
a large woman in a purple gown squeezed herself
into our carriage. She smelled very sweet and her
cheeks were very red. I thought she must have been
running hard to catch the train, but Mother sniffed
slightly and edged away from her.

The purple lady beamed at all three of us. 'Hello,
my dearies. Why the tears and long faces?' She
peered at Gideon's pale face and dark-circled eyes.
'Oh dear, is he not well, the little lad?'

'He's been poorly,' Mother said shortly. She stuck
out her shoulder, trying to protect Gideon from the
purple woman's glance.

She looked at me instead. 'And what about
this little mite?' she asked. 'Why are you crying so,
my dearie?'

I sniffed, not knowing what to say. 'I don't want
to go to Hell,' I mumbled – though I wanted to go to
the hospital even less.

'Hetty!' Mother hissed.

The purple women shook with laughter. We could
hear her stays creaking. She threw back her head,
her chins wobbling. Then she reached into her
reticule for a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her
streaming eyes. 'Children!' she said to Mother. 'Oh
my Lord, the things they say!' She looked at me,
pinching my cheek with her fat fingers. 'Cheer up,
little girlie. Have you been a bad girl plaguing your
mother, is that it? Here, I know what will cheer you
up.' She ferreted around at the bottom of her bag
and came up with a fruit drop as red as a ruby. 'Aha,
what have we here? Pop it in your mouth quick!'

'Thank you kindly, but Hetty's not allowed—'
Mother started, but the drop was in my mouth
before she could finish her sentence.

'There, that worked a treat, didn't it?' said the
purple woman triumphantly. 'Shall we find one
for your brother now?' She discovered an emerald-
green fruit drop and offered it to Gideon.

Mother sighed. 'Oh, very well.'

She stoppered Gideon's mouth with the sweet.

'Say thank you, children,' said Mother.

I thanked the purple woman and Gideon nodded
his head.

'Think nothing of it, my dears,' she said. 'How
old are you, missy?' she asked me.

'I'm five going on six, ma'am,' I said.

'And what about you, little boy?'

Gideon said nothing. Mother didn't seem inclined
to answer for him.

'He's five too,' I piped up.

The purple woman seemed surprised. She peered
at Gideon, she peered at me. Then she looked at
Mother. 'They're never twins! They don't look a
jot alike.'

'They're not twins,' Mother said uncomfortably.

'Oh my. But they
are
brother and sister?' She
pulled one of my red plaits. Then she lowered her
voice. 'Do they perhaps have different
fathers?
Neither child favours you, my dear.'

Mother snorted down her nose. 'I don't care to
discuss it. Particularly not in front of the children.'
She couldn't have been plainer if she'd said
Mind
your own business –
but the purple woman would
not be put off.

'No need to be so humpty-tumpty, missus,' she
said, chuckling.
'My
two kiddies have two fathers,
and neither father was my husband, but we've
managed just fine and dandy – and I've a real
husband now to support us all.'

She showed off the gold ring on her fat finger.
She was talking in riddles as far as I was concerned,
but Mother was outraged.

'I'm a respectable married woman,' she
said. 'These two dear lambs happen to be my
foster
children.'

'Really, my dear? Well, there's a thing! Foster
children, eh? That's a fine idea. So are their real
mothers dead then?'

'
No!
' I said.

Mother usually told me off when I used that tone,
but she patted my shoulder now. 'They've never
known their mothers. These are children from the
Foundling Hospital.' She said it with her head held
high, as if it was something to be proud of.

The purple woman certainly seemed impressed.
'The Foundling Hospital, hmm? I dare say they pay
you royally then. How much do you get for their
keep, if you don't mind me asking?'

Mother clearly
did
mind, but she murmured,
'Eighteen pence a week.'

'For the two of them?'

'Per child.'

'My Lordy, that's a fortune, especially as these
two are the size of sparrows, hardly likely to eat you
out of house and home.'

'I look after my children for love, not money,'
said Mother. Then her voice broke. 'And now I have
to take them back to the Foundling Hospital and my
heart is breaking.' She started sobbing. Her arms
were still stretched round us so she couldn't hide
her face. She wept openly, tears dripping down her
dear big face.

The purple women seemed taken aback. 'Don't
upset yourself so, dearie. I'm sure they'll be well
cared for. It's not as if you're putting them in
the workhouse, now, is it? They'll do very well back
at the hospital, and you can always get yourself
another baby or two to keep your income steady.'

'You don't understand,' Mother sobbed.
'I
didn't
understand. These children seem like
mine.'

We understood, Gideon and I. She was our mother.
She'd been Martha's mother too, and Saul's.

I threw myself against her chest, winding my
arms round her neck. Gideon was fairly suffocating
but did not protest. We three hugged each other
hard. All thoughts of Madame Adeline rode right
out of my head on that white pony. At that moment
I was hugging the only mother I wanted.

The purple woman was at last subdued. She
stopped talking until a new woman joined our
carriage at the next station. Then they set up a
conversation together, their voices low so we could
scarcely hear them. It seemed they were talking
about us.

We clung tightly to Mother the entire journey.
At long last the train hissed and puffed into a
vast echoing station with steel buttresses arching
overhead, like a smoky cathedral. Doors opened and
slammed, and there was a scurrying and clamour
that unnerved all three of us. We stood still while
people pushed us and jostled us and complained in
harsh, high voices.

'Let's go back home, Mother!' I begged.

Mother looked at us. Her hands tightened on our
shoulders. She bit her lip. For a moment I thought
she was actually going to bundle us back on the
train. But then she took a deep breath.

'We
can't
go back home, Hetty,' she said very
sadly. 'You are my dear children, but you are not
allowed to stay with me. You have to go to the
Foundling Hospital now.'

She led us across the station forecourt to a public
lavatory. This was such a novelty to us that in spite
of our misery we marvelled at the white porcelain
and brass chain and the proper paper for wiping
ourselves. When we had relieved ourselves, Mother
washed the train soot from our hands and faces and
then fumbled in her purse. She brought out two
bone lockets, each hanging on a silk ribbon.

'These are for you,' she said, tying one round
my neck.

'Is Gideon having a necklace too, Mother?' I
said, surprised.

I picked up my locket and peered at it. There was
a long number engraved on one side. I read it out
with difficulty: I didn't know my numbers yet the
way I knew the alphabet.

'This is your number at the hospital, Hetty.
You are foundling number 25629 and Gideon is
number 25621.'

'So are there thousands and thousands of children
at the hospital, Mother?'

'No, no, the hospital has been open a very long
time. All the first foundlings have grown up and
maybe had children and grandchildren of their own,
and now they are in their graves. So many children,'
said Mother. She bent closer to us. 'And you two
– and Saul and Martha – are the best foundling
children ever. Take no notice if folk spurn you or
cast aspersions because your real mothers could not
care for you. You hold your heads up high and let me
be proud of you.'