Hetty Feather (8 page)

We searched the field for Gideon in case he'd
tried to follow us, but there was no sign of him.
Jem bravely tried creeping round the back of the
tent to see if he had strayed there. One of the circus
men shouted at him, raising his fists in threat.

'Please, sir, I mean no harm. I'm looking for my
little brother. He's lost!' said Jem.

'There ain't no little brother here. Now make
yourself scarce before I give you a boot up the
backside!'

'Madame Adeline!' I called, hoping she'd come
running to rescue us, but she didn't hear me. Other
men did though, and came hurrying out of their
wagons.

'Clear off, you little varmints. The show's over!'
one growled.

'Come on, you two,' said Nat. 'They're going to
cut up rough any minute.'

We all had to run for it. We stopped at the edge of
the field to catch our breath. I started crying again.

'We'd best take Hetty home, Jem,' said Nat. 'You
never know, Gideon might be back home himself
by now. I dare say he just hid himself somewhere in
the yard. He's that timid he'd never go dashing off
by himself.'

We hurried home, Nat and Jem holding me tight
by the hands, but even so I kept tripping. I thought
of Gideon, all alone, with no kind big brothers to
help him along, and I felt truly dreadful.

I stopped thinking entirely of myself and Madame
Adeline. Instead I said over and over again inside my
head,
Please let Gideon be safe at home!
But when
we ran up the path to our cottage and burst through
the front door, Mother was weeping, Father was
pacing the floor, Rosie and Eliza were wringing their
hands, and even little Eliza was crying piteously in
her cradle.

They looked at us, mouths gaping. Then Father
and Rosie and Eliza gave great whoops of joy and
relief, but Mother stared past Jem and me, her head
turning left and right.

'Gideon?' she whispered.

We had to shake our heads.

'Oh, Mother, he's not with us,' I said.

'You have lost your little brother?' Mother
gasped.

Gideon wasn't technically my
little
brother – he
was born five days before me and was a head taller,
though very spindly – but I knew it wasn't the right
time to be pedantic.

'Hetty and I went off together,' said Jem, his face
as pale as whey. 'Gideon was never with us.'

'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,
and 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.'