Hetty Feather

by Jacqueline Wilson

  '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!'

  'I can't go back! Oh, please, please let me stay with you!'

  'Dear child, I wouldn't be allowed to keep you. Folk would say I had abducted you. They would fear for your moral welfare here in the circus – and rightly so. No, after the show I will accompany you back to the hospital myself.' She looked at a
brass clock ticking on a shelf. 'I must start getting ready now. Do you want to watch me one more time?'

  'Yes, of course!'

  I thought she might send me out of the wagon while she got ready, but she let me stay to watch her transforming herself. She sat before her mirror, placed the great red wig back on its stand, and tied her own ruffled wisps back under a kerchief. Then she applied greasepaint to her pale face, a thick white, with bright pink on her cheeks. She put blue on her lids and outlined her eyes with black kohl, and then set her lips in a strange thin smile so she could fill them in with carmine paint.

  She went behind a screen, took off her dressing gown and put on her pink spangled dress and white tights. I heard her sighing and groaning as she struggled into the tight costume and squeezed her swollen feet into little pink ballet shoes. Then she emerged self-consciously and carefully put the red wig back on her head.

  She stood before me, my Madame Adeline, ready to pass muster in the circus ring, though now, close up, I could still see the lines on her face under the thick make-up, the sadness of her eyes beneath her blue lids, the sag of her ageing body in the unforgiving costume. I felt a fierce protective love for her, as if she was truly my mother.

  'You look beautiful, Madame Adeline,' I lied.

  She gave me a kiss on the cheek and then went to wipe the smudge of carmine away, but I protected it with my hand, wanting to wear the marks of my kiss with pride. She slipped her green dressing gown round her shoulders and took me to the entrance of the tent, open now, with people pouring in to see the show.

  'Make sure this child gets a good seat,' she said to one of the circus hands. 'I will come and collect her after the show to take her back home.'

  She went off with one last wave to me. I sat in the front, waiting tensely, while the audience chatted and chewed food and started calling out impatiently for the show to start.

  Then Chino came capering into the ring, followed by his clown friend, Beppo. Everyone laughed at their foolish antics, but now that I knew Chino was just a sad old man doing his job I could not find him funny. I did not even enjoy it when he ran rings round Elijah the elephant and performed the clockwork-mouse trick. I could not marvel at Elijah either as he wearily performed each plodding trick, his skin sagging, his tiny eyes half blinded by the bright flare of gaslight.

  I watched the lady walking the tightrope, grown very plump, though she was still as nimble dancing up in the air. I saw the silver-suited tumbling boys, three of them now, one as small as me. I wished Gideon was with me to see them leap and cartwheel. I saw the gentleman throwing daggers at the lady, the seals clapping their flippers, the man eating fire. It was as if they were all phantoms in a dream. I had pictured them vividly so many times, glorifying everything, so that now their real acts seemed a dull disappointment.

  'Now, ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, Tanglewood's Travelling Circus is proud to present Madame Adeline and her rosin-backed performing horses!'

  I sat up straight, fists clenched, scarcely able to bear the tension. Madame Adeline came cantering in on a piebald pony, another following close behind. The two horses stepped in time to the music, sometimes hesitating and missing the beat. They were old now, their manes yellow-grey, their flanks sunken.

  Madame Adeline stood up on the back of the lead horse, straight and proud as ever, smiling with her carmine lips. I watched her perform every trick, leaping precariously from one horse to another, swinging her legs, standing on her hands, jumping through hoops – my heart in my mouth in case she slipped.

  'Hello, children,' she called. 'Who would like to come and ride with me?'

  She looked straight at me and beckoned. I had to go to her. I felt foolishly conspicuous in my ugly brown frock. Small though I was, I was clearly the eldest child scrambling into the ring.

  Madame Adeline smiled at me and helped me up onto the first piebald horse, swinging herself up after me. We trotted round the ring while everyone clapped.

  'Shall we perform properly for them, Hetty?' Madame Adeline murmured into my hair.

  'Yes, yes!'

  Madame Adeline clucked and our horse gathered speed, galloping round and round the ring while I grabbed his mane and dug my knees in hard to keep my balance.

  'Your star turn now!' said Madame Adeline. 'Time to stand up.'

  It was much harder now that I was taller and Madame Adeline not so strong. I wobbled precariously, trying desperately to keep my boots connected with the horse's back. I could only manage a split second before I collapsed back onto the horse with a bump – though everyone still clapped.

  We slowed down and I scrambled off inelegantly, terrified that folk would see I wore no drawers. Madame Adeline held my hand and we took our bow together.

  'Well done, dear Hetty,' she whispered. 'Watch the rest of the show and then I will come for you to take you back.'

  I smiled and nodded at her – but after she'd left the ring I stood up and sidled my way along the row to the end. I slipped out of the tent.

  'Goodbye, dear Madame Adeline!' I whispered, blowing a kiss in the direction of her wagon.

  I could not return to the hospital and the terrible punishment attic. I had run away for ever. I had to fend for myself now.

  19

  I stepped out purposefully, though I had no idea where in the world I was going. The fairground smell of onions and fried potatoes made my mouth water. I had no money – but I watched a finicky lady nibble at a cone of fried potatoes, pull a face and toss them to the ground. I darted forward and snatched them up. I wolfed them down hurriedly. That was supper taken care of.

  It was starting to get dark, so now I needed a bed for the night. I wandered past the noise and glare of the fairground onto the wild heath. At first there were still couples all around me, strolling through the trees, rustling and giggling in the bushes, but after five or ten minutes' walking I seemed to be all alone. I knew the heath wasn't proper countryside, but it had the same good fresh earthy smell.

  I stared up at the stars and moon, marvelling in spite of my desolation. I had not seen the night sky properly since I was five. I held my arms up as if I was trying to embrace the constellations. I remembered Jem naming some of the stars for me, and my eyes filled with tears. I knuckled them fiercely. I had done enough crying for today. I had to be practical and find a safe place to sleep.

  In the dark I could not find a hollow tree to turn into a squirrel house, so I found a large bush instead. The ground felt dry and sandy underneath. I crawled under the thick branches and curled up in a ball, cradling my head with my hands.

  'This is better than a squirrel house,' I told myself. 'This is a cosy little burrow, and if I shut my eyes I shall picture it properly.'

  I pictured a sweet bedchamber with a patchwork quilt of buttercups and daisies and clover. It was very similar to the illustration of the field-mouse's burrow beneath the cornfield in my Thumbelina storybook. Oh, how I wished I had my precious gift from Ida with me now. However, I'd read it so many times I knew the story almost by heart. I repeated it to myself – and by the time Thumbelina flew off with her swallow I was fast asleep.

  I woke with a start in the middle of the night, cold and stiff and terrified. I could not make my picturing work now. I felt utterly alone, like the last child left on earth. I could not stop myself weeping then. I went back to sleep wondering if I might not even be better incarcerated in the punishment attic of the hospital.

  I felt more cheerful when I woke in the soft summer daylight. I rolled out from under my bush, stretched heartily and strolled about. I had no privy but it was easy enough to squat behind a tree. Now I needed a washroom. To my delight I found a series of ponds, gleaming silver-grey in the early sunshine. I had no idea how to swim, but I took off my boots and stockings and dress and had a quick splash in the shallows.

  I had no towel to dry myself so I ran madly all the way round the pond, and when I came back to my clothes I was nearly dry. I smoothed the creases from my dress as best I c
ould, and polished the dust from my boots with a clump of leaves. I let my hair loose, combed it with my fingers, and then replaited it as neatly as I could.

  Now I needed breakfast! This was more of a problem. I wandered around looking for nuts or berries but I could not find any at all. Perhaps if I found my way back to the fair I'd be able to forage for thrown-away scraps? But I'd wandered so far now I had no sense of direction. I simply walked on, not sure whether I was heading north or south, or simply going round in circles.

  I saw a blue wisp of smoke coming from a small copse, and as I drew nearer I smelled a wonderful savoury cooking smell. I crept closer and came upon a group of dark gypsies in strange bright clothes frying some kind of meat. I wondered if they might share their meal with me. For a few seconds I even had a fantasy of becoming a gypsy girl and travelling in their caravan and selling clothes pegs and telling fortunes, but their dog barked at me furiously and a ragged child started hurling stones at me.

  They were clearly not making me welcome so I wandered on, hungrier than ever. I reached the edge of the heath at last and walked out onto the pavement, feeling strangely disorientated to be back in the town so rapidly. I kept my eyes peeled for dainty ladies throwing away half-eaten food, but there were mostly gentlemen in the streets, walking quickly, glancing at their watches, running to catch omnibuses, obviously off to work.

  I walked on and on, peering in at the windows of all the big grand houses. I could sometimes see right down into the basement kitchens, with servants scurrying around.

  'I am never going to be a servant,' I said to myself, trying to lift my spirits. 'I am Hetty Feather and I am not taking orders from anyone. I am as free as the air. I can go anywhere. I can do anything. I can totally please myself.'

  But my spirits still seeped right down into my hard boots, and I was snivelling as I walked, unable to control myself. I was so tired and light-headed I sank to the ground, leaning against someone's wall. I covered my face with my hands so that folk passing by would not see I was crying. Then footsteps paused in front of me. Something landed in my lap. Oh Lord, was this another child throwing stones? I took my hands away from my eyes – and stared at a big bright penny shining on the brown stuff of my dress. I looked up and a kindly-looking lady nodded at me.