Hetty Feather

by Wilson, Jacqueline

  We found the spot where Sissy had valiantly attacked the vile foot-stroker, and gathered up as many fallen flowers as we could, though some had already been trampled underfoot.

  'We'll soon sort them out,' said Sissy, kneeling down and arranging them deftly. 'Lovely moss roses, these are, and gentlemen will pay a penny for a little posy. They make a sweet little surprise for a lady, my posies do. That's how me and our Lil do better than most of the other girls. We don't just sell flowers, we make 'em look special. When we sell our violets in the spring, we bind them with green leaves and a tiny piece of lace or ribbon. We beg them from this milliner who used to know our mother. Then we make such a pretty nosegay, some gentlemen might even pay threepence to show their ladies it's spring at last.'

  'How pretty,' I said, trying to copy Sissy, prinking the drooping little roses and arranging them just so.

  'That's right, Hetty, you're getting the hang of it already. Come with me then, girl. We'll go down St Martin's way. The gentlemen won't pay so much but it's safer there. Don't want no nasty men making off with you again, do we, Hetty?'

  I trotted along beside Sissy and sat with her on the steps of a great church by a huge square with fountains and vast lion statues. It was so crowded I wondered if the Queen was returning on another Jubilee procession, but Sissy said it was simply folk coming out to go to the theatre and the halls. Most of them ignored us, though I looked extra mournful and Sissy accosted them energetically.

  'Come on, sir, buy a lovely posy for the missus. Beautiful moss roses freshly picked! Make a girl happy, sir. Only tuppence – what a bargain!'

  It was a novelty at first and I enjoyed myself, but then it started raining and everyone hurried by under umbrellas, not even glancing in our direction. I hoped Sissy might give up, but she sorted the few coins in her pocket anxiously and said we had to stay.

  'We need at least another shilling, Hetty, hopefully twice that,' she said worriedly.

  'But you could buy a big meat pie and buns for you and your Lil with the money you've got,' I said, hoping she'd share a few pennies with me too.

  'Bless you, Hetty, it's not just a question of money for our food. I have to make the wherewithal tonight to buy fresh flowers from the market in the morning – these will all be withered by then. And then there's Father to consider. He'll start fretting for his drinking money. If I don't get home with enough for his beer, he'll take it out on me and our Lil.' She took a deep breath. 'Maybe I'd be better going back to where I was. I reckon I could earn a couple of quick sixpences there. You could stay here, Hetty, and I'll come and collect you, I promise.'

  I wasn't quite sure what she meant, but I clung to her nevertheless. 'No, Sissy, stay. We'll get the money here.' I cast my eyes around. I was used to weighing up the hospital visitors on Sunday, working out who might be generous with sweets. I saw a portly middle-aged couple and took a chance.

  I snatched a posy and ran up to them in the pouring rain. 'Oh please, ma'am, sir, would you care to buy one of my pretty posies?'

  They seemed taken aback.

  'What are you doing in the rain, child? And barefoot too! Why don't you run along home?' said the lady.

  'Oh, I daren't, ma'am, for my father will beat me viciously if I don't take him money for his drink. And then there's our Lil too, she's poorly.' I decided to embellish things a little. 'And then there's my sister Sheila, she's got the smallpox and is hideously disfigured, and my sister Monica, who's been kicked by a horse and is very dim-witted now.' I started going through half the dormitory at the hospital, inventing ailments and misfortunes galore. I took care to keep my tone tragic and my face a mask of mournfulness – but to my astonishment the lady and gentleman started laughing.

  'Be off with you, you naughty minx. You should not tell such stories!' said the lady.

  'Yes, it's very bad of you to try and con us – but here's a little something for your cheek,' said the gentleman. He fished in his pocket and handed me a couple of coins.

  'Oh thank you kindly, sir,' I said, bobbing him a curtsy.

  I thought he'd handed me a couple of pennies, but when I opened my fist I saw it was two shillings!

  'Oh, Hetty, you're a marvel!' said Sissy, giving me a hug. 'There, you've brought us luck! We can indeed go home now.'

  I stood still. 'But . . . I have no home,' I said.

  'You come along with me,' said Sissy. 'You can stay with Lil and me for now.'

  'Won't your father mind?' I asked anxiously.

  'So long as he's got enough to drink he don't mind anything,' said Sissy. 'Come on, little Hetty. Come home and meet our Lil. She'll take a shine to you, I'm sure.'

  20

  Sissy led me through a maze of dark alleyways to her home. They were so dark that I kept stumbling on the uneven cobblestones, and when I tried walking in the gutter I stepped in something unspeakable in my bare feet. I hoped I might be able to have a proper wash at Sissy's house – but when we got there at last, it came as a rude shock.

  I was not a fool. I knew Sissy was very poor. I hadn't pictured her in a palace. I'd thought she would live in a very modest house, rather like the country cottage where I'd lived with my foster family.

  But Sissy's family didn't have their own house. They had one room in a large, bleak, five-storey tenement building, the bricks black with grime, the window glass mostly missing, the roof partly collapsed.

  I stared up at it in horror. 'Is it falling down?' I asked.

  'It soon will. It's been condemned a while now so the rent's cheap. Do you want to pee first? We're up four flights of stairs, so it's a good idea to go now if you want to.'

  There was no proper privy, just a stinking hole in a tumbledown shed in the back yard. Judging from the smell and the slime on the walls, folk simply tipped their chamber pots out of the window. There was a tap over a drain. Sissy turned it on for me so I could sluice my feet – but only a dribble of water came out.

  'That tap's no use. Never mind,' said Sissy. 'I'll go up to the pump at the end of the street later on and bring a jug back.'

  There were cockroaches crawling along the dark corridor of the fourth floor. Sissy stamped on them with her boots, while I walked on tiptoe, agonized. She opened the door of the room right at the end. It was very dark, but I could see it was pitifully small and barely furnished. There were two thin mattresses on the floor, and a rickety chair and a stool. Someone had hung sacking curtains at the narrow window and worked a rag rug for the floor, but these were the only homely touches. A big slovenly man sprawled on one mattress while a little girl huddled on the other, coughing and coughing.

  'Lil? Oh, dearie, ssh now. Here, darling, take a drink,' said Sissy, hurrying to her side.

  She helped Lil sit up and held an old tin cup to her lips. 'There now, my lovey, this will help,' she said.

  'Cough, cough, cough! It drives me mad,' said the father, scratching his head. 'She only does it to annoy, I'm sure. A man can't even have a little nap for that cough, cough, cough. Clear your throat, Lil, and then shut up.'

  He rubbed his eyes and then blinked at me. 'Who's this? Clear off out of here, this ain't your room!'

  'Hush, Father, this is my new little friend Hetty. She's brought me luck. She's a dab hand at flower-selling, almost as good as our Lil. Look what she's earned for us!' She held out one of the silver shillings.

  He snatched it, bit it hard and then shoved it in his pocket. 'Well, I'll be off for a little constitutional,' he said, not giving me a second glance now. 'I'll just stretch my legs and maybe take a drink to ease my parched throat. I'll be back within the hour.'

  He stuck his feet in his old broken boots, clapped a greasy bowler hat on his tousled hair and made his way over to the door.

  'Within the hour!' Sissy muttered. 'We won't see him till midnight – and good riddance. There now, Lil, take another sip, that's my good girl. Give Hetty a smile, dearie, and show her that someone in our family has good manners.'

  Lil tried valiantly to master her cough. Sh
e was a tiny scrap of a girl, her eyes very large in her peaky face. Her hair was limp and bedraggled, but tied up jauntily with a bright red ribbon, which sadly emphasized her eerie pallor. Her eyes popped as she coughed, her whole face contorting alarmingly – but as soon as she could draw breath she grinned at me.

  'Hello, Hetty! Oh my Lord, look at your red hair! That's a queer dress – do you like it? How old are you? Do you have a mother? How much did you get for one posy? I got threepence one day 'cos the gentleman took a shine to me!'

  'Now, Lil, give Hetty a chance to answer!' said Sissy, laughing. 'She don't see many folk now, Hetty, so that's why she's so excited to see you. You have a little chat with her while I run out for more water and some supper.' She jingled the coins in her pocket. 'We'll have a treat tonight, girls!'

  I sat on the edge of Lil's mattress and let her question me relentlessly. I told her all about the Golden Jubilee, and Madame Adeline at the circus, and my night on Hampstead Heath, and the Zoological Gardens, and the horrid gentleman who seized me before Sissy rescued me.

  Lil listened, wide-eyed. 'Dear Sissy! She's always looked out for me and she'll look out for you too, Hetty,' she said. 'When I die, perhaps you can be a comfort to her.'

  Her words came as a total shock. I blinked at her anxiously, not knowing what to say. 'I'm sure you'll get better, Lil,' I mumbled.

  'No, no, I'm coughing blood. That means you're dying. Can't fool me!' said Lil. 'I'll miss Sissy so when I'm dead.'

  'And she will miss you too, Lil, terribly. But at least you'll be with your mother then,' I said, trying to be comforting.

  'I'll be with Mother?' Lil echoed. 'Oh, I should like that very much! Are you sure, Hetty?'

  'Certain,' I said, trying to sound convincing. 'Your mother is up in Heaven, and when you die you will be an angel with her.'

  'An angel with wings? Will I be able to fly?' Lil asked.

  'Oh yes, you'll have great white feathery wings and be able to fly all over Heaven. Sometimes you might swoop down to earth and see Sissy and make sure she's all right,' I said, warming to this theme.

  'Oh, I'd love that! Will she be able to see me or are angels invisible?'

  'She might just catch a glimpse of you, or hear you whispering her name,' I said.

  I'd never glimpsed my brother Saul or heard him calling me – but I had sometimes felt a poke in my ribs, as if he'd prodded me with his old crutch.

  Lil spread her arms and flapped them like wings, but the effort made her start coughing again.

  'Oh, Lil, don't cough so,' I begged, frightened that she might die then and there in front of me.

  I tried to give her the murky water in her cup, but she just choked and spluttered. I patted her helplessly on her back, feeling her sharp little shoulder blades under the thin stuff of her nightgown – almost as if she was already sprouting small wings.

  'There now,' said Sissy, bursting into the room, bringing with her a warm savoury smell. 'Oh dear, Lil! Here's some fresh water. Clever girl, Hetty, it helps to rub her back. Now, Lil, see what a feast I've got – and some more of that nice medicine. Oh, how it will soothe your poor chest. We're going to get you better and running about in no time.'

  It was clear that Sissy wouldn't have any truck with talk of dying and angels. She held the medicine bottle to Lil's lips and made her swig a mouthful between coughs – and it did seem to help a little. Then Sissy unwrapped a waxed-paper parcel to show us three large potatoes and a quantity of fried onions. We seized a potato each and munched ravenously.

  They tasted very good, though they were not quite the great treat I had expected.

  'What did they feed you at this hospital place, bread and water?' asked Sissy.

  'Yes, they did give me bread and water,' I said, remembering my night in the punishment attic.

  'Was they really cruel to you, Hetty?' asked Lil.

  'Really, really cruel,' I said.

  'Did they beat you with a big stick?'

  'Well . . . they had whips,' I said.

  'Whips!' said Lil, her eyes round. 'Did they whip you till you bled?'

  'They were always threatening to whip me,' I said. It sounded a little lame. 'They once locked me up in a little attic room all day and all night, and that was far worse than being whipped. Imagine, Lil, being shut up in a tiny room, a total prisoner . . .' My voice trailed away, because Lil could imagine it all too well.

  'Did they go out and get sodden drunk and then come back and beat you in a fearsome rage?' asked Lil.

  I pictured Matron Bottomly and Matron Peters glugging from a gin bottle. It was such a bizarre idea I couldn't help laughing – and dear Lil laughed too.

  'No, they didn't drink, but they frequently got into fearsome rages, especially with me.'

  'Did they all hate you, Hetty?'

  'Yes! Well, both matrons did. Some of the nurses were all right. Nurse Winnie was very kind, but the teachers were very cruel. Miss Morley once beat my friend Polly with a ruler and I snatched it away and beat her back,' I said, getting a little carried away.

  'You had teachers?' said Sissy. 'Did they learn you to read and write, Hetty? Could you teach our Lil? She's very bright, I know she is. If she could only read, it would pass the day for her.'

  They had no books or paper but I improvised, 'writing' on the bare floorboards with a sooty stick. Sissy squashed up beside us on the mattress. I taught them a and b and c, making them sound out each letter. When Lil succeeded in spelling out cab, we clapped her. She got so excited she jumped about, and that started her coughing again, very badly this time, as if she would never stop. Sissy held her close and gently laid her down when she stopped at last.

  'There now, my little Lil. No more excitement for today. You go to sleep, dearie. You should try and sleep too, Hetty.'

  I lay down beside Lil on the mattress, fully clothed. I had no nightgown and I could not take off my frock as I would reveal I had no underwear.

  'Have you read lots of books, Hetty?' said Sissy. 'How about telling Lil one of the stories to help her get off to sleep?'

  'Once upon a time there was a very little girl no bigger than my thumb,' I started. 'She was so tiny she curled up every night in a walnut shell . . .'

  We all curled up too and went sound asleep until the girls' father came stumbling into the dark room. I felt Sissy tense and Lil gave a little frightened whimper as he staggered over to our mattress. He bent over us, smelling horribly of beer.

  'All tucked up like birds in a nest,' he mumbled, slurring his words. 'Goodnight, my chicks. Cheep- cheep!' He laughed at his own joke and then crawled on his hands and knees to his own mattress. He fell on top of it and was snoring heavily in seconds.

  'Thank the Lord he's happy-drunk rather than roaring for a fight,' Sissy whispered. 'We never know how it will take him.'

  'Does he get drunk every night?' I said.

  'If he has the money. He's been so much worse since Mother died,' said Sissy. She sounded much younger now – and despairing. 'He used to work at the docks, but he can't hold down a job, the state he's in. I have to earn to keep us all. I never make quite enough.'

  'I'll help you, Sissy. I'll look proper mournful tomorrow and we'll make a fortune, you'll see,' I said.

  Sissy got up before dawn, moving slowly and softly so as not to wake Lil.

  'Sissy?' I whispered.

  'I'm off to market to buy my flowers,' she murmured.

  'I'll come with you,' I said, though I was dizzy from lack of sleep.

  I was already dressed and I seemed to have given up on washing, so I was ready in an instant. It was raining, which made my lack of boots particularly uncomfortable. My feet were numb from walking across the slippery cobblestones. It was a struggle keeping up with Sissy.

  We walked to the huge market at Covent Garden, abuzz with activity though it was still dark. Even though I was exhausted, I paused to marvel at all the wagon-loads of peas and potatoes, the barrows and carts piled high with tomatoes and lettuces, the great baskets
scarlet with cherries and strawberries.

  There were people fresh from the country, tall men in smocks like Father, round red-faced women like Mother, reminding me painfully of long-ago times. Sissy tapped me gently and we walked on to the flower market. Again I was dazzled, my eyes stinging with the shock of such bright colours, sunny yellow asters, hot orange pokers, fat pink peonies, blue and deep-purple lupins, my nose wrinkling with the overpowering smell of roses and great white lilies.

  Sissy sprang into action, bargaining with last night's money until she had a huge basketful of flowers. Then we sat beneath the big arcade, fashioning the flowers into bright bouquets and tiny posies. I tried to help her, though I still felt light- headed and my hands were clumsy. When at last we were done, she spent her last penny at the coffee stall, sharing the hot drink with me. We had no more money for buns or rolls, but Sissy kept a sharp eye on the floor of the fruit market and snatched up a discarded withered apple and a bruised pear, providing us with a meagre breakfast.

  We went to the steps of St Martin's, but another older flower-seller was there already, and she wouldn't let us stay too. Sissy tried Charing Cross Station, but again we were too late. We had to go to the square off Regent Street, though Sissy made me sit close beside her, and whenever any weird- seeming gentleman paused, she put her arm round me protectively. There weren't too many gentlemen, weird or otherwise, because the rain was relentless. I wasn't really cold because it was summer, but I felt chilled right to the bone, and by afternoon my stomach was rumbling pathetically.

  'Aren't you hungry, Sissy?' I asked.

  'I'm always hungry,' she said. 'But you get used to it.'

  I wasn't sure I would ever get used to this. Selling flowers had been a novelty yesterday, but now it was so tiring and tedious.

  'Buy my sweet flowers, sir. A posy for your lady, only a penny. Go on, sir, there's a gent,' I'd gabble, but nearly always they walked straight past, ignoring me. I didn't have to rub soot under my eyes or adopt a mournful expression – I am sure I looked genuinely ill and exhausted.