Little Stars

by Jacqueline Wilson

  Another foster sister in another flouncy dress started boasting about the dainty food she had, talking like some lady of the manor. This was Nora, who for all her fancy airs and graces was merely a lady’s maid. She spoke in an affected voice, and when she was persuaded to try a morsel of malt loaf, she ate it with her little finger sticking out in a ridiculous fashion.

  I tried chatting to her, but she practically ignored me, though she did look a little enviously at my primrose dress, knowing more about high fashion than Eliza. I went back to the table for another piece of malt bread, elbowing the children out of my way. (I had learned to elbow very effectively at the hospital!)

  I heard Nora hiss to Eliza, ‘Why is she invited to Jem’s wedding? She was only one of the foundling babies, wasn’t she?’

  ‘I know, but she stayed on after Father’s funeral and wheedled her way into everyone’s hearts,’ Eliza replied.

  ‘Like him,’ said Nora.

  They both sniffed.

  ‘Mother dotes on him now.’

  ‘He’s totally taken over.’

  ‘She thinks more of him than her own kin. Goodness knows why! I mean, look at him. And he’s always seemed a bit simple to me.’

  They were sneering at Gideon! How dare they talk about my brother like that! He had devoted his life to Mother. I didn’t give a fig what they thought of me, but their unkind words about Gideon burned my ears like a branding iron.

  I had to run upstairs to see Mother to stop myself punching both my sisters in their smug silly faces. Bess was combing her hair into a neat bun, while Rosie held up a looking glass so Mother could see and approve. Bess looked the same as ever, but Rosie had grown enormous. It took me a second or two to realize that she was heavily with child. Mother had her back to me, but she must have glimpsed me in the looking glass.

  ‘Het-ty!’ she said. She slurred the word a little, but it was still clear.

  ‘No, Mother, she lives too far away now. I don’t think Hetty will be able to come to the wedding,’ said Rosie, rubbing her back.

  ‘Yes I can!’ I said.

  ‘Oh Lordy, you startled me! My goodness, Hetty, you’re quite the young lady now,’ said Rosie.

  ‘There, Mother, you were right,’ said Bess, amused. ‘You knew who Hetty was, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course Mother knows me!’ I said, rushing forward and giving Mother a big hug.

  ‘Careful with her! You’ll make her topple!’ said Bess, though Mother’s large behind seemed firmly anchored.

  She was looking so much better! Her mouth was still twisted sideways, but her eyes were bright, and she even managed to lift her arms to return my hug.

  ‘Het-ty, Het-ty, Het-ty,’ she said. She took hold of a lock of my hair, which was already tumbling down. ‘Bright red. My bright girl!’

  ‘No, Mother, Hetty’s not one of your own girls. She was one of the foundlings.’ Rosie patted her huge stomach. ‘Imagine giving up your own baby. I don’t know how they can do it.’

  I felt as if she kicked me in my own stomach. ‘They don’t have any choice!’ I snapped. I patted Mother’s hand. ‘You look lovely, Mother. This must be a very big day for you.’

  ‘Jem,’ said Mother.

  ‘Yes, our dear Jem’s getting married.’

  Rosie and Bess bristled at my pronoun.

  ‘Where is Jem anyway?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s downstairs,’ said Bess.

  ‘No he’s not!’

  ‘Well, I saw him ten minutes ago, all got up in his wedding gear,’ said Rosie. ‘He was fiddling around with Mother’s chair because one of the wheels has started wobbling.’

  I ducked down the stairs again, noticing that someone had put a rail on either side of the stairwell to make it easier for Mother to be helped up and down. I found her chair in the corner of the living room, all the wheels intact – but no Jem.

  ‘Where’s Jem, Gid?’ I asked as he poured lemonade for the children.

  ‘I think he went outside to smoke his pipe,’ he replied.

  ‘He’ll be a bit on edge,’ said Frank. ‘And no wonder! It’s a big day in a man’s life. A turning point. Maybe he’s having second thoughts!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Eliza.

  ‘Just a joke, dear, just a little joke,’ he said quickly.

  I went outside, taking my suitcase with me. I didn’t want any of those unruly children peering inside. I looked up and down the lane. There was no sign of Jem. I walked round to the back of the cottage. No Jem again, but I found a new pig rootling in its pen. I scratched its back, remembering the pigs of my little girlhood. I had loved them all and wept bitterly every time one had to be slaughtered, though it didn’t prevent me from enjoying the bacon and ham.

  So where on earth had Jem got to? I went back to the front and walked along the dusty lane into the main village as far as the church. There were flowers in the porch, white roses and honeysuckle, their scent almost overpowering. I glanced inside, peering in the sudden gloom. A couple of families were sitting in the pews much too early, determined to get good seats for the wedding, but no Jem.

  Had he gone to Janet’s house? Wasn’t it supposed to be bad luck for the groom to see his bride before she arrived at the church? All the same, I walked along to the Maples’ house. There were trestle tables in the garden spread with white linen, with bowls of white roses in the middle, and place settings for the wedding breakfast. I knocked at the door and Mr Maple answered, still in his shirt sleeves, moving stiffly as if worried the sharp creases in his new trousers would concertina.

  ‘Hello, Mr Maple! Remember me? I’m Hetty. I once stayed with you,’ I said.

  ‘How could anyone forget you, Hetty,’ he said, smiling at me. ‘I expect you’ve come to wish Janet luck. She’s upstairs with her mother.’

  I couldn’t very well say I’d just popped by to see if Jem were there. I ran upstairs, marvelling at the quiet elegance of the house. I wondered if Janet would mind moving to a tumbledown cottage. She’d probably be happy living in a pigsty so long as it was with Jem. I remembered reading her diary and seeing just how passionately she loved him.

  I heard girls’ voices and knocked shyly on the bedroom door.

  ‘Come in!’ called Mrs Maple.

  I peered round the door. There was Janet standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by girls in pale yellow dresses, and her mother in a deep daffodil gown. Janet looked incredible. I’d always thought her rather plain, though I loved her gentle face and rounded figure and long fair plait – but now she looked serenely beautiful in her long white lace gown. She had white rosebuds woven into her hair and wore a simple pearl necklace.

  ‘Hetty!’ she cried, and held out her arms.

  I embraced her carefully, worried about treading on her gown or disarranging her hair, but she gave me a big hug.

  ‘Oh, Hetty, I’m so very glad you could come! And look, you’re dressed in yellow too, just like my bridesmaids. You’ll have to join in as we walk down the aisle!’ she cried. She introduced me to each of them – two vaguely familiar girls from the village and two little girls she’d taught in school.

  ‘You look a picture, Janet,’ I said, almost in awe of her.

  ‘So do you, Hetty. Your dress is beautiful. I wonder if you made it yourself? You became so nimble with a needle.’

  ‘My dressmaking friend made it for me,’ I said.

  ‘Ah yes, Jem said you had joined up with another lady in a gown shop. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity.’

  So Jem hadn’t even told Janet about my music-hall success!

  ‘Jem must be so happy to see you here for our big day.’ There was no edge to Janet’s voice at all. She was such a sweet lovely girl.

  ‘Well, I’m truly happy for both of you,’ I said. I hesitated. ‘I haven’t seen Jem yet, actually.’

  ‘He’s probably been shining his new shoes again and has got polish all over his shirt!’ said Janet. ‘You know what he’s like.’

  ‘Why don’t you ru
n and help him, Hetty?’ said Mrs Maple, gently pinning up my stray lock of hair and tucking two spare white rosebuds on either side.

  ‘All right, I will,’ I said. ‘Thank you for tidying me up, Mrs Maple. Well, I’ll see you in church.’

  I ran back up the lane, my case banging against my legs. I put my head in the cottage once more. Nobody had seen Jem.

  ‘Perhaps he’s gone for a little walk to calm himself,’ said Gideon, sounding worried.

  ‘Perhaps he has,’ I said.

  I suddenly knew where. I darted out towards the woods. When I turned off the path, I picked up my skirts and ran. I knew the way as if it were signposted. I would never forget as long as I lived. I hurried straight to the tall, many-branched tree, the squirrel house of my childhood – and there was Jem. He was leaning against the trunk, dressed in a dark suit, a tight white collar rubbing against his brown neck.

  ‘Oh, Jem!’

  ‘My Hetty!’

  We ran into each other’s arms.

  ‘What are you doing here, Jem?’

  ‘I’m waiting for you. And you look so fresh and lovely in your primrose dress! Oh, the relief! I thought you’d be all dolled up in silks and satins, with red lips and cheeks.’

  ‘The idea! I’m an artiste, not a lady of the night! You truly are ridiculous, Jem,’ I said, ducking away from him.

  He caught hold of my hand, and felt the ring on my finger. ‘What’s this?’ He peered at it closely. ‘It’s not a wedding ring, is it?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’m far too young to be married,’ I said.

  ‘But some lad gave it to you?’

  ‘No, of course not. I saw it in a jeweller’s and took a fancy to it,’ I lied smoothly. It was simpler that way, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to hurt his feelings – perhaps that was it . . . I felt uncomfortable all the same.

  ‘Now come along, people are starting to worry,’ I said briskly. ‘You’re due at the church in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘I was waiting for you in the lane until I couldn’t bear the suspense any longer. I was walking up and down, up and down, and then my feet just started walking all by themselves, into the woods, to our tree,’ he said.

  ‘Eliza’s tree too,’ I said, still smarting from that revelation even now.

  ‘Stop it. It’s our tree, Hetty. Our place. Our time together.’

  ‘Well, when you and Janet have children, you can take them to the tree and play the squirrel-house game with them.’

  ‘I don’t want children with Janet. God help me, I don’t want to marry her,’ he said miserably.

  ‘What? Jem, don’t be silly, of course you want to marry her. You love her!’

  ‘I do love her. She’s the dearest girl and would make the best wife in the world.’

  ‘Then stop this nonsense and get to the church and marry her!’

  ‘But I don’t love her the way I love you.’

  ‘You love me as a brother – “Your loving brother, Jem”.’

  ‘Yes, I know I wrote that. I tried to think it. I tried so hard after you ran away to that wretched circus, Hetty. It broke my heart. I’ve never felt so lonely in my life. But Janet was there – such a dear girl, such a comfort. I tried to convince myself that we’d be happy together.’

  ‘You will be happy, Jem! You’re just anxious and worried now, because it’s such a big day. I’m sure everyone has their doubts before they marry. But you and Janet are made for each other. All the family think so. All the village!’

  ‘I don’t care what they all think. I only know what I think. I want you, Hetty. And you want me too, I know you do, or you wouldn’t have come all this way. You knew where to find me. I was waiting here, and I kept thinking, If Hetty comes to me, then it’s a sign that we’re soulmates and should be together. And you did come, you did!’

  ‘Jem, stop it! You’re going to be late for your wedding. Come with me now,’ I said, pulling at his arm.

  ‘No, you come with me! Look, you’ve even got your case with you. I don’t need anything. You’re the girl who’s good at running away. Well, run away with me. We’ll go anywhere you like. I’m strong, I’m handy, I’ll find a job on any farm.’

  ‘I work in a town, Jem,’ I reminded him gently.

  ‘Then I’ll come too. I can work in a factory.’

  ‘Oh, Jem! You’re country born and bred. You’d hate it anywhere else.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind, not if I was with you,’ he said. ‘And you want to be with me. I can see it in your eyes.’

  I shook my head – but part of me was wicked enough to glory in his words. I had yearned for Jem for so many years. He had literally meant the world to me. I had left him, I had hoped he would marry Janet – but it was still wonderful to know that he loved me best.

  ‘I love you, Hetty,’ he said, and he pulled me close again and kissed me.

  It felt so strange. He kissed so fiercely, with none of Bertie’s finesse – but there was something so direct and true and passionate about it that this time I didn’t turn my head and push him away. I kissed him back, my hand reaching up to his neck, my fingers clutching his brown curls.

  ‘There, Hetty!’ Jem said triumphantly when at last we drew apart for breath. ‘You love me too, I know you do. So come away with me. Now!’

  I pictured us running through the woods, joining the path, walking all the way to Gillford, Jem carrying my case. We’d get on the first train and go wherever we fancied. We’d start a whole new life and it would be everything I’d ever dreamed of when I was a tiny girl in a white nightdress pretending to marry Jem.

  Then, far away, we heard the church bells chiming for a wedding. Jem’s wedding to Janet. I thought of Janet, so serene in her long white gown, as pure as the little white pearls around her neck.

  ‘Janet will be arriving at the church any minute. Jem, we have to go back. This is madness. I saw Janet when she was getting ready. We can’t do this to her. You’ll break her heart for ever. And I’ll break your heart someday, because I’m too wild and restless to settle anywhere for long. I’ll run away again, you know I will. Are you listening?’

  He broke away from me, his hands over his face. ‘I’m not listening.’

  ‘You must! This is your home, your farm, your village. All these people are like kin to you. They all know you and respect you, and you take pride in being honest and decent and trustworthy. They’ll hate you if you abandon Janet. And you’ll hate yourself too, I know you will,’ I told him.

  ‘You know too much.’ Jem’s voice was thick, and when I pulled his hands away from his face, I saw that he had tears in his eyes.

  ‘There now,’ I said, fishing out my handkerchief. I wiped his face tenderly. ‘Come on, Mr Bridegroom. Come to the church and see your Janet.’

  I took his hand, and he stumbled along beside me until we were out of the woods. I looked at him carefully, smoothing his hair, adjusting his jacket, using my handkerchief to rub the dust off his boots.

  ‘There! You look splendid, Jem. You’re going to be a wonderful husband to Janet, I know you are. You’re going to forget all about me,’ I said.

  ‘I shall never, ever forget you, Hetty,’ said Jem.

  THE WEDDING WAS like a dream – or perhaps a nightmare. I sat squashed into a pew with Eliza and her husband and squirming children, watching Jem and Janet stand before the vicar. When he asked if anyone objected to the wedding, my throat prickled with the effort of swallowing my words. Yes, I object! Jem belongs to me, to me, to me!

  I didn’t say a thing. I sat still and silent while Jem and Janet made their vows and were declared man and wife. Jem carefully lifted Janet’s veil and kissed her on the lips. Was he thinking of our kiss such a short time ago? My own lips were dry and yearning.

  Then suddenly it was all over. Jem and Janet walked down the aisle together arm in arm, Janet smiling radiantly, Jem keeping step with her, the bridesmaids parading afterwards in their yellow silks. Jem didn’t even glance at me.

  Outside the church
everyone threw dried rose petals. They whirled around like pink snow. Then there was the procession back to the Maples’ house for the wedding breakfast. Mrs Maple must have been up baking half the night. There were enormous savoury flans, egg and bacon, ham and mustard, cheese and tomato, all edged with curls of baby lettuce, so that they resembled gigantic sunflowers. There were sausage rolls too, and pork pies, and bacon patties – clearly more than one pig had been sacrificed. There were fruit pies too: apple, raspberry, cherry and rhubarb, all with jugs of cream and custard. There were jellies shivering gently whenever anyone brushed the table, strawberry red and lemon yellow, and two types of blancmange from a special mould, so that a pink and a chocolate castle graced the table. And there were cakes: fairy cakes, Victoria sponge, madeira cake, jam and cream rolls, a large charlotte russe – and, of course, the wedding cake. It had three dazzling tiers, with white icing rosebuds crisp enough to crack your teeth.

  There was another table where the wedding gifts were displayed, mostly helpfully practical for a young couple setting up home: a flat iron, a watering can, a set of pots and pans and a rolling pin, a patchwork quilt. There was a pile of bed linen too, rather coarse and unadorned. I laid my pillowcases beside it. I hoped they would guess who had made them – but if not, I had embroidered Hetty in tiny chain stitch across the smallest ivy leaf. For a moment I couldn’t help thinking of the brown head and the fair head laying on their pillows, and shook my head vigorously to make the image dissolve.

  ‘Don’t you like the presents, Hetty?’ asked Gideon, standing beside me.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course I do,’ I said hurriedly.

  ‘Do you like the quilt?’

  ‘I think it’s very fine.’ The soft worn hexagons were made from scraps of shirts and pinafores and summer dresses, arranged into pleasing patterns of pink and blue and white.

  ‘I made it!’ said Gideon proudly.

  ‘Good heavens, Gid, truly? I didn’t even know you could sew! And you have to manage with only one eye too. You’ve made the quilt beautifully.’