Hetty Feather (5 page)

When they were all gone, he shook his
head at us. 'Such long faces! Are you missing
young Saul?'

'Most dreadfully, Father,' I said.

He blinked at me. 'Why, Hetty, you do surprise
me,' he said. 'You two were always fighting! No
doubt you're full of remorse now?'

I nodded. I wasn't yet sure what remorse meant,
but the cold, sour, sick feeling in my stomach seemed
to sum it up.

'Poor child,' said Father, patting me.

I climbed up onto his great lap and nuzzled my
face against his chest. I could hear his heart going
thump against my cheek.

'Mother won't take me away, will she,
Father?' I said into the rough cotton of his smock.
'Nor Gideon?'

I waited. I felt Father take several deep
breaths.

'Not till next year, my sweetheart, when you are
both much bigger.'

'No! No, not then, not ever!' I shrieked,
pummelling him with my fists.

'Stop that now, missy!' said Father, catching
both my flailing hands in his large one. 'You've
shrieked enough today, I'm told. There's no
point wailing when it can't be helped. Now hush
and listen. Mother and I love you, love Gideon,
love little Eliza just like our own children. We still
love Saul—'

'And Martha,' I said.

'And Martha,' said Father, seeming surprised
I'd remembered her. 'But you're not our children,
you're little waifs from the Foundling Hospital. You
came to us as tiny babies. Mother has a knack with
specially frail babies. She rears you up until you're
fat and rosy-cheeked.' He gently poked me in the
cheeks with his thumb and finger, but I wriggled
free, a new thought having struck me.

I was remembering the pig out in the back yard.
Mother had a piglet every year, pale and puny. She
fed it and fattened it until it could barely sway on its
trotters, and then Father came along, and although
we weren't supposed to watch, we heard
squeal-
squeal-squeal,
and the next day there was fresh
pork on our plates.

'Is she fattening us up to
eat
us?' I said, gazing at
Father as if he was an ogre.

He stared back at me, slack-mouthed, and
then he roared with laughter. 'Oh, Hetty, Hetty,
you're a funny one,' he chortled. 'Of course no
one's going to eat you! Mother will take you back
to the Foundling Hospital when you're big enough,
and you'll live with lots and lots of other girls.
Martha will be there so you'll have one sister. And
you'll be with the boys, Gideon, and Saul will be
your brother.'

'I want to be with Hetty,' said Gideon, but Father
paid him no heed.

'We need to be
with you,
Father. And Mother. And
my Jem,' I said. 'Please can't we stay? I promise I'll
be very, very, very good. I'll never shout or kick or
cry ever again.'

'You're a caution, Hetty,' said Father. 'We would
love you to stay here with us. We'd like to keep
all our dear foster children, but you do not belong
to us. You belong to the hospital. All foundlings
must be returned by their sixth birthday. Don't
look so worried. I'm sure they will be kind to you
as long as you are a sensible girl, Hetty. They will
school you properly and teach you to be a good
Christian child.'

'Will we live there for ever?'

'No, no, they will train you up to be a servant
girl and you will go away into service when you are
fourteen,' said Father.

'Like Bess and Nora?' I said.

'Just like our Bess and Nora,' said Father. 'And
then I dare say you can come home to us once a year
just as they do.'

I pondered. Last Mothering Sunday I had admired
my big sisters in their fancy print dresses and fine
stockings when they'd travelled home on a visit.
But they'd told Mother tales of cross cooks who beat
them over the head with ladles and sly masters who
tried to sneak kisses.

'I do not
want
to be a servant girl,' I said.

'Will I be a servant girl?' asked Gideon.

'Don't be dim-witted, lad!' said Father. 'No, no,
I dare say you will be a sailor or a soldier boy like
our Marcus.'

'I
will be a sailor or a soldier and go adventuring,'
I said.

'You are a very strange pair,' said Father, sighing.
'Now jump down and give me a little peace.'

'But you must tell us about the hospital, Father!'
I demanded.

'Hetty, I don't know anything about the
hospital. I've never even set foot inside it. I just
know it's a good place for little children and you
need never say you're ashamed to come from
there,' said Father. 'Now stop plaguing me, girl. My
head's aching.'

Father might never have been to this Foundling
Hospital – but Mother had.

'Come with me, Gideon,' I whispered as Father
sucked on his pipe and closed his eyes.

I tiptoed up the stairs, tugging Gideon
behind me.

Rosie was guarding the door to Mother's bedroom,
but I was bold.

'Father said we must talk to Mother,' I said.

I heard Gideon gasp at my outright lie. Rosie
hesitated, but I pushed right past her determinedly.
It was dark in Mother's room, the curtains drawn
shut as if it was night-time. I could just make out
the shape of Mother lying on her back. I wondered if
she'd gone to sleep, but when I clambered carefully
up onto the bed, her arm came out and held me
tight. I hauled Gideon up too and he nestled on her
other side.

'My lambs,' she murmured.

'Mother, Father has told us about the hospital. Is
it truly a good place?' I asked.

I felt Mother stiffen. She swallowed hard. 'Of
course it is a good place, Hetty,' she said.

I wondered if Mother could be a liar too. I lay
thinking about it.

'Did Saul cry a lot when you said goodbye?'
I asked.

Mother might be a brave liar, but she wasn't
foolish. 'Yes, he cried,' she said.

'And did Martha cry too?'

'Yes, Martha cried too.'

'I shall cry,' Gideon whispered.

'I shall scream and kick and be so bad they
won't let me stay, and then Mother can take me
home,' I said.

I had loved Martha much more dearly than Saul
but I had mostly forgotten her. However, I could
not get Saul out of my head for months. I thought
of him living in this huge hospital with so many
other boys. I knew most boys weren't gentle and
protective like my dear Jem. The village boys
had often jeered and pointed at Saul, imitating
the lopsided way he walked. One boy had pushed
him hard and then laughed when he toppled over.
I thought of all the foundling boys laughing and
pointing and pushing Saul, and my eyes brimmed
with tears.

Then I thought of all those boys mocking Gideon
in turn. My fists clenched. I resolved to fight anyone
who dared hurt my special brother. I was certain
they would not dare hurt
me.
I was famous for my
temper in the village. I might be the smallest but I
was always the fiercest in any scrap. Mothers came
and told tales to
my
mother about hair-pulling and
kicking and sometimes outright punching. Poor
Mother was mortified. She tried reasoning with me
but I reasoned back.

'They called me names, Mother. Half-pint
and Ginger and Runt. I said my name was
Hetty and they just laughed. So I hit them and
they stopped.'

'Jesus said to turn the other cheek,' said
Mother.

Maybe Jesus wasn't teased the way I was. I
thought hard, trying to remember the Bible stories
I heard at Sunday school.

'God
said, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a
tooth,' I declared, imitating the solemn holy tone of
the Sunday school teacher. I hoped it would make
Mother laugh. I knew I was in danger of yet another
paddling.

This suddenly started up a new fear.

'Do they punish the children at the hospital,
Mother?'

'Not if they're good girls and boys,' Mother said.

This was not reassuring. I thought hard.

'Is that why they're there? Because they're
bad?'

'No, no, no. It's because their own mothers can't
look after them,' said Mother.

'Why can't they?' I asked.

Mother sighed. 'There never was such a girl for
questions. You make my head ache, Hetty.'

'Please tell, Mother!'

'Well, dear, some ladies have babies and they
can't look after them,' said Mother.

'Why can't they?' I persisted.

'Perhaps they're very poorly. Or they haven't
got a dear husband like Father to give them a
proper home. The ladies don't want to go into
the workhouse' – Mother whispered the word
and shuddered – 'so they take their babes to the
Foundling Hospital.'

'Do they cry when they say goodbye?'

'I'm sure they cry a good deal,' said Mother.

'Did my first mother cry?'

'I'm sure it fair broke her heart to part with you,
Hetty,' said Mother.

'Why can't I go and live with that mother now,
Mother, instead of being sent back to this hospital?
I don't need looking after.
I
can earn money. I
could sing and dance so that people throw pennies
at me.'

'You can't carry a tune to save your life, Hetty,
so maybe they'd throw tomatoes,' said Mother. 'No
dear, you don't belong to your mother now. You
belong to the Foundling Hospital.'

I did not want to belong to an institution. I
wanted a mother. I crept off by myself, squeezing
into the tiny space at the back of the pigsty and
the privy. It was private because everyone else
was too small to squeeze through the gooseberry
bushes and brambles to sit there. I wasn't
comfortable because there were nettles and it
smelled bad, but I didn't care. I pulled my skirts
down over my bare legs, put my head on my knees
and wept.

After a long time I heard them shouting for me. I
stayed where I was. Then there were footsteps.

'Hetty? Hetty!' Jem called.

I did not reply to him, but I was sniffing hard.

'Oh, Hetty, I know you're in there,' said Jem.
'Come out. Please!'

I did not budge.

'I'm too big to come in and get you,' said Jem.

I heard the bushes rustling, then Jem swearing.

'That's a bad word!' I said.

'I know it's a bad word. Anyone would say it
if they were scratched all over by brambles,' Jem
panted.
'Do
come out, Hetty.'

I simply wouldn't.

'Then I will have to try to get in,' said Jem,
sighing.

He forced his way forward, thrusting his arm
through the bushes until his hand j-u-s-t reached
my bare foot. He held it tight. I curled my grubby
toes into his palm.

'There now,' Jem whispered.

'Oh, Jem,' I said, sobbing.

'I can't bear you fretting about the hospital,' he
said.

'I'm not going,' I said.

There was a silence as we held hand and foot.

'I think you have to go, Hetty,' said Jem. 'But
perhaps I could go too. We'll pretend
I
am a foundling
boy. Yes, I can take Gideon's place and he can stay
with Mother.'

'Dear Jem! I wish you could. But Mother and
Father wouldn't let you,' I said.

There was another silence.

'I will be so sad,' I said. 'I will have to stay there
soooo long.'

Jem had taught me how to count to ten. I tried to
count on my fingers.

'I will be there one two three . . . lots and lots of
years,' I said dolefully.

'I think it is nine years, Hetty. And then you will
be fourteen and quite grown up. And do you know
what will happen then?'

'I will have to be a servant, and cooks will hit me
and masters will kiss me,' I said.

'Maybe for a short while. But then I will come
to fetch you and look after you, and as soon as you
are old enough I will make you my wife. I know I
am your brother, but not by blood so we can marry!
We will have our own cottage and work on the farm
and you will keep house and look after our babies.
It will be just like our games in the squirrel house,
but
real,
Hetty,' said Jem.

'Really
real?'

'I promise,' said Jem.

I didn't always keep my promises, but Jem
did. I seized his hand, kissed it passionately, and
then crawled out of my hiding place to give him a
proper hug.

Thoughts of the Foundling Hospital still
loomed, but at least I had a wondrous future
ahead of me. I just had to wait one two three
four five six seven eight nine years, endure a
couple more while I dodged blows and kisses as
a servant, and
then
I would be sweet sixteen and
Jem's bride.

I dressed up in Mother's best white Sunday
petticoat, clutching a posy of buttercups and daisies,
and tripped around on Jem's arm, picturing for all
I was worth.

'You are my lovely big handsome husband, dear
Jem,' I said.

'You are my very fine little wife, dear Hetty,'
said Jem.

The others laughed at us, especially Nat,
but we didn't care. Gideon didn't laugh but he
looked wistful.

'I want to be your husband, Hetty,' he said.

'No, Gideon, Jem has to be my husband, but
you may come and live with us and be our big boy,'
I said kindly.

I was out one day in the meadow playing Bride
with my husband and big boy when I heard distant
cheering and hurrahs, as if half the village were
coming to applaud our marriage. I looked over the
grass, squinting in the sunlight. I could see no one.
They must be processing along the other side of the
tall hedgerow.

Then I saw a gigantic grey head poking up above
the hedge – a
huge
head with wrinkled skin and a
tiny eye and the longest nose in all the world. I knew
what it was!

'Oh my stars! E is for
Elephant
!' I gasped. 'There
is an elephant walking along the lane.'

Jem was facing the wrong way. He did not
take me seriously. 'Has it come to our wedding
as a guest?'

'Don't picture T is for Tiger,' said Gideon. 'I don't
like his teeth.'

'I'm not picturing! The elephant is
real,'
I said,
tugging at them. 'Look!'

They turned and saw the head bobbing along
above the hedgerow for themselves. Jem shouted,
Gideon shrieked.

'Come on, let's see it properly,' I said, grabbing
their hands.

'No, no, it will eat us!' Gideon cried.

'Don't be such a
baby.
Come
on,'
I commanded.

Jem and I hauled him along between us. We ran
diagonally across the meadow towards the stile. The
clapping and cheering grew louder, the vast head
more wondrous the nearer we got.

When we reached the stile, Jem lifted me up,
and then Gideon, and then we all jumped out
into the lane. There was the elephant plodding
along the path, a real true elephant with such
wrinkled skin, such huge legs, such an immense
belly! A man in a military coat and great black boots
strode along beside the beast, leading him like a dog
on a chain.

Another man capered about beside them,
the oddest creature I had ever seen, with hair
sticking up on end and a bright red nose, his feet
in great black shoes that flapped comically. He
was banging a drum and dancing. Two big boys
danced along beside him, dressed in the oddest
clothes – sparkly silver shirts and very short
breeches and white
tights.
Jem's mouth hung open
in shocked horror, but Gideon pointed in awe.
These boys paused and suddenly went forward into
a tumble, over and over and up in the air and over
and over again.

'Oh my stars!' said Jem, overcoming his scorn
at their girlish garb. He could go head over
heels and stand on his hands, and frequently did
so to amuse me, but he couldn't possibly caper like
these boys.

Then came great wagons painted scarlet and
emerald and canary yellow. There was a message
written in curly writing on the sides of each one.
I knew my alphabet but I couldn't figure words
properly yet.

Jem read it for us:

'The Great Tanglefield Travelling Circus.
Observe Elijah, the largest elephant in the entire world.
See the exotic animals in our vast menagerie.
Gasp at Fair Flora dancing on the tightrope for your delight.
Chortle at the antics of Chino the Comic Clown.
Marvel at Madame Adeline and her star troupe of horses.
Hurrah for Tanglefield's Travelling Circus!'

Almost at the end of this magnificent procession
rode a beautiful lady in sparkling pink – wearing
no dress at all, just the merest stiff frill. Her long
flame-red hair tumbled past her bare shoulders.

'Just look at that lady with scarcely any clothes!'
said Jem.

'See her tiny shoes! Oh, I wish
I
had little shoes
like that instead of big ugly boots,' said Gideon.

'Look at her hair!' I said in rapture. 'She has red
hair just like mine! See, see!' I repeated, jumping up
and down.

The wondrous woman raised her hand and waved
to us, and we waved back wildly, honoured to be
noticed.

Another comical man with a red nose and bizarrely
big breeches came capering along at the very end,
speaking into a large horn so that his voice boomed
out above the hubbub.

'Come to Tanglefield's Travelling Circus tonight
at seven, or Saturday at two. The show will be
in Pennyman's Field: adults sixpence, children
threepence – a total bargain, so come and see and
wonder. Come to Tanglefield's Travelling Circus
tonight . . .' He recited it again and again until
the procession was out of sight and his voice a
tinny whisper.

'Oh, Jem, Gideon, we must go to the circus!' I
said, jumping up and down.

'We must, we must, we must!' said Gideon,
jumping too, pink in the face.

'But we haven't got ninepence,' said sensible Jem.
'I have the two pennies that Mrs Blood gave me at
the Otter Inn for collecting up all the tankards, but
that is all.'

'We will ask Mother,' I said.

But Mother shook her head. 'Of course I haven't
any spare pennies for such a senseless thing as a
circus. And even if I had, I wouldn't let you go. Rosie
told me they were near naked in that procession!'

'They were so lovely, Mother, especially the lady
all in pink spangles on a white horse. She had red
hair, just like mine!'

'Yes, pink spangles!' said Mother, shuddering. 'A
grown woman flaunting herself in front of decent
folk, and men capering about foolishly, and a dreaded
beast all set to run amok and trample everyone. It
shouldn't be allowed. Of course I'm not spending
precious money on such a wicked show.'

'Don't spend your money, Mother, spend mine!'
I said.

'What do you mean, Hetty?' said Mother,
frowning. 'You don't have any money, you silly
little girl.'

'I do, I do! The Foundling Hospital gives you
money for me.'

'Don't talk such nonsense, child. That money is
to feed and clothe you, not send you to a heathen
show like a circus.'

'Well, don't give me any food any more, and don't
make me new frocks or buy me boots. I'd much
sooner go to the circus,' I declared.

'I'll certainly send you to bed without any supper,'
said Mother. 'Now hold your tongue, miss.'

I
couldn't
hold my tongue. I wanted to go to
the circus and see Elijah the performing elephant
and all the other animals I'd heard grunting
and growling inside the wagons. Maybe there
were lions or tigers, wild wolves, even a white
unicorn with a silver horn. I wanted to see Flora
dancing on the tightrope, I wanted to see the
comical clown, and oh oh oh, I so wanted to see
Madame Adeline, the flame-haired lady in pink
spangles.

I started to protest bitterly but Jem put his hand
over my mouth. 'Be quiet, Hetty,' he said, tugging
me away from Mother.

'But I don't want to be quiet! I want to go to the
circus!' I persisted.

'Ssh! I might know a way,' said Jem. 'Just keep
your mouth shut and wait till I tell you.'

I clamped my lips together and stomped off after
him. Gideon stayed with Mother, climbing up onto
her lap. He always hated it when I grew stormy. He
was so fearful that I'd get paddled – far more fearful
than me.