Hetty Feather Read online

  '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