Hetty Feather (23 page)

I went with them, though I thought Rebecca very
silly and simpering, and I did not care for whiskery
Desmond either. I knew omnibuses cost money and
I had none, but as I'd hoped, Desmond paid the
pennies for my fare, scarcely seeming to give it a
thought.

'Thank you kindly, sir,' I said. 'Do you think we
might go upstairs?'

'Of course we can, little sparrow,' said Rebecca.
'Desmond, get them to make way for us.'

The omnibus was already so crowded we were
all squashed hip to hip, but Rebecca managed to
manoeuvre me right to the front so that I could
peer out. It was wondrous to have a bird's-eye view
of everything, almost as if I truly
was
a sparrow. I
stared down at all the hats and bonnets below me,
and then in the distance saw a long line of little
white caps.

Oh my lord, surely it couldn't be the foundlings
on their long march back to the hospital? I asked
Rebecca the time and she got Desmond to produce
his big gold watch from his waistcoat pocket. A
quarter to four! I felt faint. I had lost all sense of
time. I had thought I might somehow manage
to rush back to Hyde Park and join up with all
the others for the march back. But now it was
clearly much too late. Had they counted every
foundling at marquee number ten? Did Matron
Bottomly realize I was missing? She would be
so angry. I thought of the punishment attic
and shuddered. I could not go back to the hospital
now. Without quite meaning to, I had run away
at last!

The omnibus took us northwards, and I clutched
the rail of the bus, my heart beating hard. Rebecca
addressed me every now and then, and I said,
'Yes, ma'am,' and 'No, ma'am,' scarcely taking in
what she was saying. My eyes were open but I'd
stopped focusing on the sights of London. I was
praying fervently inside my head:
Please let me
find Tanglefield's Travelling Circus. Please let
me find Madame Adeline. Oh, please please please
let her somehow really be my mother so that I can
live with her.

The air grew fresher and the streets less crowded.
I glimpsed green fields and many trees. I was
reminded of the only real home I had ever known.
'Is this the countryside?' I said wonderingly.

'This is the start of the heath, little sparrow. And
look, there's the funfair, right over there!'

I saw it spread out across the heath, more
merry-go-rounds and helter-skelters, coconut shies
and shooting games and all kinds of swings, but I
scarcely gave them a glance. I saw several big striped
circus tents!

'Thank you so much,' I said as we all tumbled
down off the omnibus.

'Don't you want to come on the rides with us,
little sparrow? You shouldn't wander around by
yourself, there's all sorts here today,' said Rebecca.

'Oh no, thank you. I'll be all right. I'm meeting
someone here,' I said. 'Someone very special.'

'Ah, isn't she lovely, Desmond? Who is it,
little sparrow? You're surely too young to have a
sweetheart already?'

'It's my mother,' I blurted out – and then I rushed
away from them.

I ran towards the nearest tent, so agitated that I
tripped and nearly went sprawling.

Please please please let it be Tanglefield's – and
please please please let me find her!

I gabbled it out loud this time, not caring if folk
stared at me. I saw some words on a big placard:

THIS WAY TO THE GREAT
TANGLEFIELD'S TRAVELLING CIRCUS
!

Perhaps I was imagining the words because I
wanted to see them so badly. I knew all along that
there was only a
chance
that Tanglefield's would be
here on the heath. They could be at any town or
village in the whole of Britain.

I blinked to get the words properly in focus. Oh
glory, it really
did
say Tanglefield!

'Oh thank you, thank you, thank you,' I gabbled,
nearly sick with excitement.

I ran nearer. I saw Elijah tethered behind the
tent, the real Elijah, truly vast and more weirdly
wrinkled than ever, his great ears in the air, trunk
waving. I had found my circus! And now I just had
to find Madame Adeline and all my dreams would
come true.

The flap on the circus tent was closed. A notice
declared:
Next performance at five thirty.

I couldn't wait that long. I dodged round the tent,
nervously skirted Elijah, and timidly knocked on the
nearest wagon. An old man came to the door in just
his undershirt and trousers, his braces flapping.

'What do you want, missy?' he said, frowning at
me. There were traces of red on his nose and around
his mouth.

'You're Chino the clown!' I said.

'No I'm not, not when I'm taking my break! Now
be off with you. I need my forty winks.'

'I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr Chino. It's just I
must see Madame Adeline. It's very urgent. Oh,
please tell me she's still with the circus, Madame
Adeline and her six ponies?'

'Well, she can barely run to two now. She's a bit
down on her luck, our Addie. Past it, if you ask me.
But the circus is in her blood, you know how it is.'

'The circus is in my blood too,' I said grandly.
'I'll thank you not to talk disparagingly of Madame
Adeline. I am related to her.'

'Are
you now?' he said, peering at me doubtfully.
'Well, she's over in the wagon at the end, the
green one with the stars on the door. But she'll
likely be taking a nap and won't be too happy to be
disturbed.'

'She'll want to see me,' I said.

I had to believe it. I had no other dreams left.
I said it so passionately that the clown believed
me too.

'Go and knock at her door then,' he said, squinting
at me. 'Mm, maybe I
can
see a likeness.'

I walked over to the green wagon, trembling now.
I reached up and knocked timidly on the door. It was
painted all over with silver stars.
My Little Star!
I
waited. Perhaps I'd been
too
timid? I knocked harder,
rat-tat-tat.
I heard a murmur inside. Someone
shouted crossly, 'For pity's sake, who
is
it?'

My throat was so dry I could barely call out. 'It's
me, Hetty Feather,' I mumbled.

The door opened and an old lady with sparse grey
hair peered out at me. She was wearing a pale-green
silk dressing gown, rather grubby and stained, and
scuffed slippers on her splayed feet. Oh dear Lord,
I'd gone to the wrong wagon!

'Who did you say? Hetty Feather? What do you
want, child?' she asked, rubbing her eyes irritably.
Her hair was all awry at the back, and she combed
it with her fingers when she saw me looking.

'I'm so sorry, ma'am. I did not mean to disturb
you. I'm looking for Madame Adeline,' I whispered.

'And why is that?' she demanded. She held the
door, looking as if she might slam it in my face.

It was time to be blunt. 'Because I think I might
be her daughter,' I said.

The old woman blinked at me.
'What?'

I licked my lips and repeated it. She stood staring
at me, shaking her head in astonishment.

'Well, you'd better come inside,' she said at last,
beckoning to me.

I climbed the steps to her wagon and walked in
through the starry door. It was like a real little room
inside. There was a green velvet upholstered chair
with a lace antimacassar and a little table covered
with a fringed chenille cloth. A cabinet crammed
with china ornaments stood in a corner, though she
must have had to wrap and store every one of her
treasures while travelling. I spotted a little bed with
rumpled covers let down like a shelf from the wagon
wall. I peered at it, thinking Madame Adeline must
indeed be taking a nap – but there was no head on
the pillow, no body beneath the sheets.

'Sit down child,' said the old woman, indicating
a padded footstool beside the chair. She set a silver
kettle on top of a spirit stove and fetched two willow-
pattern china cups and saucers. She then produced
a slab of cake, checkered pink and yellow sponge
coated with thick marzipan. My mouth watered. I
had had no lunch at all and I was starving hungry.
The old woman looked at my face and cut a large
slice of cake.

'You look as if you need it!' she said.

'Oh, I do, and it's such lovely cake too! But mayn't
I meet Madame Adeline first?'

The old woman smiled strangely. There was
something familiar about her smile. Could she be
Madame Adeline's mother – and therefore my very
own grandmother?

'Are you perhaps recognizing me now?' she said.

I shifted uncertainly.

'Maybe this will help you?' she said, shuffling in
her down-at-heel slippers over to a wooden cabinet.
She opened the doors to display a little dressing
table with a large mirror. There was also a bright-
red head of hair balanced on a stand.

'My wig,' she said, and she picked it up and
carefully positioned it over her own grey locks. '
Tra
-
la!'
she said, raising her arms in an ironic flourish.
'Madame Adeline herself!'

I stared at her. She still looked like an old woman
in spite of her bright hair.

'You will have to imagine the greasepaint and the
costume for now. I'm not getting ready for the show
just yet,' she said.

'You are really Madame Adeline?' I gasped.

'Your obvious astonishment is not very flattering,
child,' she said, yawning. 'Strange that you didn't
recognize your own mother!' She laughed a little.

I felt my face flaming. She bent down beside me,
suddenly gentle.

'Whatever put such a strange fancy into your
head?' she asked.

'You said I was your Little Star,' I said.

'Did I?'

'You came to our village and picked me out from
all the other children and I rode on Pirate with you,'
I whispered.

'Oh, my dear Pirate,' she said, sighing. 'He
broke his leg three years ago. He had to be
destroyed and it nearly broke my heart. I've never
had another horse like him. So I came to your village
long ago?'

'Five years.'

'You must have been very young then, and yet
you remember it so vividly. How old are you now,
about eight?'

'I'm nearly eleven, ma'am.'

'So why did you fancy I was your mother? Don't
you have a mother of your own?'

'No I don't. I'm a foundling. I've never known
who she is. But I just thought, as you were so
kind to me, and we look a little alike, and we both
have such red hair . . . well, so I thought . . . I just
so
hoped
. . .' I was crying now, gulping with great
ugly sobs.

'Oh dear, Hetty, you poor little creature!' She
bent down and put her arms round me. I smelled
her own sweet powdery smell and howled. She held
me close, rocking me as if I was a baby – her baby. I
cried all over her green silk dressing gown, but she
didn't seem to mind.

'There now, you poor love,' she said when at last
my sobs slowed.

She lifted me up and sat me in her own armchair,
then poured me a cup of tea and gave me the big
slab of cake. I ate and drank with gusto in spite of
my sadness. As I munched my excellent cake (she
cut me another slice as soon as the first vanished),
she coaxed me to tell my story. She laughed with me
when I described my antics with Jem back in the
village; she looked as if she might cry herself when
I told her about the miseries and humiliations at
the hospital.

'You poor little pet, no wonder you had such
a strange fancy! But I'm still bewildered that I
made such a strong impression on you that you
remembered me all this time.'

'Of course I remember!' I looked at her imploringly.
'Don't you remember me, your Little Star?'

I saw her hesitate. I realized in that moment that
I must have been one of many many many 'Little
Stars'. Perhaps she picked a likely child for every
performance. How could she possibly remember me
among so many?

'Of course I remember you,' she said quickly,
but I knew she was lying to save my feelings. 'The
very little girl with the flame-red hair. Yes, you were
indeed a Little Star. And yes, in the ring, we must
have looked like a real mother and daughter.'

'But – but you're absolutely certain that I'm
not
your daughter?' I blurted out.

'Oh dear, Hetty! I wish I could pretend, but no,
I am absolutely certain you are not my daughter.
Though rest assured, if you
were,
I should never
have given you to this Foundling Hospital, no
matter what my circumstances. I would have
dearly loved a baby.' She bent her head, biting
her thin lips. 'I cannot have children. There was
an accident when I was a child myself. I fell while
training one day, and one of the horses galloped
over me and kicked me violently in the stomach.
I was told it was my own fault – I should have
remembered to curl up to protect myself. My womb
was ruptured and I could not ride again for more
than a year.' She held her stomach now as if it still
hurt her.

'Can't we pretend, Madame Adeline? Can't we
make out to everyone that I really
am
your daughter?
Chino the clown believed me, I'm certain. You could
train me up and I could ride with you and – and I'd
take care of the horses and look after you – I could
sew your costumes –
anything.
'

'Dear Hetty, I've never had such a dear, kind,
tempting offer! But the circus is no life for a child.
There's such hardship, such struggle, such pain.
I've seen tiny children of three and four screaming
as they're bent in two, their limbs twisted this way
and that by their own parents to crick them into
the right kind of bendiness for an acrobat act. It's
especially no life for girls, with all the men leering
at their brief costumes in the ring. Terrible things
happen, Hetty, terrible things. No, you must go back
to your hospital and try to be a good girl so you don't
get punished any more!'