Hetty Feather Read online

  I laughed and laughed and laughed. I even laughed while I was being paddled.

  Jem laughed too when I told him, but he said I must take care not to be so bad when I went to school.

  'Teacher has a big cane, Hetty, and she swishes it all day,' he said. 'She hurts much more than Mother.'

  'She swishes you, Jem?'

  'She swished my friend Janet for chalking her bs and ds the wrong way round, and when I said it wasn't fair, Janet had tried and tried to learn, she's just not very quick, Teacher swished me too and told me not to answer back.'

  'I don't like Teacher,' I said.

  I knew my bs from my ds already because Jem had taught me. But then I thought of Martha.

  'Martha can't write any of her letters,' I said. 'Will Teacher swish her?'

  'I won't let her,' said Jem stoutly.

  But Martha didn't go to the village school when she was five. Mother boiled up a tub of water one evening and gave Martha her own special scrub, even though she'd had a washday bath on Monday. Mother gave her a special creamy mug of milk for her supper and held her on her lap while she drank it.

  Father gave Martha a ride on his knees. 'This is the way the ladies ride,' he sang, jiggling her up and down while she giggled.

  Saul whined that it wasn't fair, he wanted a ride. Gideon said nothing, but he sucked his thumb and stared while Martha drank his milk. For once I didn't complain. I was too little to under- stand, but I saw the tears in Mother's eyes, heard the crack in Father's voice as he sang. I knew something was wrong – though Martha herself stayed blissfully unaware.

  She went to sleep that night as soon as her head hit the pillow. I stayed awake, cuddling up to her, winding a lock of her brown hair round and round my finger as if I was binding us together.

  Mother came and woke us very early.

  'Is it time to get up?' I asked sleepily.

  'Not for you, Hetty,' said Mother. 'Go back to sleep.'

  It was still so dark I couldn't see her, but I could tell that she'd been crying again. She gently coaxed Martha up and led her out of the room. I turned over into Martha's warm patch and breathed in her faint bread-and-butter smell, wondering why Mother had woken her so early. I decided I should creep out of bed and go and see, but it still seemed like the middle of the night and I was so tired . . .

  When I woke up again, the sun was shining through the window. I ran downstairs, calling out for Martha. She wasn't there. Mother wasn't there either. Rosie and Eliza were brewing the tea and stirring porridge.

  'Where's Mother? Where's Martha?'

  'They've had to go out,' said Rosie. 'Come and sit down like a good girl, Hetty.'

  I didn't want to be a good girl. I wanted Mother and Martha. My heart was beating hard inside my chest. I was very frightened, though I didn't quite know why. I started screaming and couldn't stop, not even when Eliza bribed me with a dab of butter and sugar, not even when Rosie slapped my kicking legs. Jem eventually quietened me, lugging me up onto his lap and rocking me like a newborn baby, but he seemed almost as anxious as I was.

  Rosie and Nat and Eliza knew something we didn't. They nudged each other and wouldn't look us in the eye over our breakfast. Jem questioned them persistently, I cried, Saul snivelled, and Gideon didn't get out to the privy in time and wet all down his legs. We couldn't manage without Mother. She was always there, as much a part of the cottage as the roof and the four walls. We were lost without her. And why had she taken Martha with her?

  'You know where Mother's taken her,' said Jem, standing on the bench so he was eye to eye with Rosie. 'Tell us!'

  'Stop pestering me, Jem. I've got more than enough to do without you and the babies fuss fuss fussing. Hetty, if you start that screaming again, I'll paddle you with Mother's ladle.'

  'Don't you dare paddle Hetty,' said Jem. 'She's not being bad, she's just fearful. She wants Mother.'

  'Well, Mother will be back presently,' said Rosie evasively.

  'Why did she go off without saying goodbye? Why did she take Martha with her?'

  'Poor little Martha,' said Rosie, suddenly softening. Her lip puckered as if she was about to cry.

  'Is Martha poorly?' Jem persisted, but Rosie wouldn't answer.

  When Gideon had been poorly with the croup last winter, Mother had called in the doctor. He had looked grave and said Gideon might have to be sent to hospital.

  'Is Martha so poorly she's had to go to hospital?' Jem asked.

  He lowered his voice when he said the word. We'd heard the villagers talking. Hospitals were terrifying places where doctors cut you open and took out all your insides.

  'She's had to go to the hospital, that's right,' said Rosie.

  Nat sniggered, though even he looked troubled, his eyes watering as if he was near tears.

  Perhaps Martha was very ill, about to die? But this was all such nonsense. I had cuddled up to Martha all night long and she hadn't been poorly at all.

  I clung to Jem and he rocked me again. He didn't go to school that day. He told Rosie he was staying home to look after us little ones. Rosie tried to make him go but she sounded half-hearted. She was glad enough to have him in charge while she scrubbed the cottage and set the cooking pot bubbling on the hearth.

  Jem played patiently with Saul and Gideon and me. When the two little boys had a nap after their soup, Jem took me to the forbidden squirrel house, trying his best to distract me. I was deeply touched but it didn't work. No matter how hard I tried to picture, it stayed a grubby hole in a tree. My mind was too full picturing Mother and Martha.

  Rosie had once won a Sunday school prize, a book called Little Elsa's Last Good Deed. It was a pretty book, bright blue with gold lettering, and I'd begged Jem to read it to me. He'd stumbled through the first few pages until we both got tired. It was a dull story and Little Elsa was tiresomely good. She didn't seem real at all. I leafed through the whole book, looking for pictures, but they weren't exciting like the Elephant and the Mandarin and the Pirate and the Zebra, my favourite pictures in The Good Child's ABC. I only liked the last picture, with Little Elsa lying in bed looking very pale and poorly, and an angel with curly hair and a shiny hat flying straight through the window to carry her up to Heaven.

  But now I kept picturing Martha as the ailing child in some grim hospital, a doctor sawing at her stomach, an angel at one end, intent on stealing her away up to Heaven, and Mother down the other end, hanging onto Martha's ankles.

  I sobbed this scenario to Jem and he did his best to reassure me.

  'Mother and Martha will come home safe and sound, you'll see,' he said. 'In fact I reckon they're home already, and when Mother finds I've stayed off school she'll be right angry with me. And if you pipe up we've been to the squirrel house, we'll both get a paddling.'

  We trailed back home. When we ran into the kitchen, there was Mother at the table, still stiff in her Sunday best, bolt upright because she was wearing her stays, though her head was bent. Martha was nowhere to be seen.

  'Where's Martha, Mother?' Jem asked.

  'Martha?' I echoed.

  'Martha's . . . gone,' Mother said.

  'The angels got her!' I said, starting to cry again.

  'What? No, no, she's not dead, Hetty,' said Mother. She took a deep breath. 'Where are the others, Saul and Gideon? Having a nap? Go and get them, Jem. I might as well tell all of you together. But Jem, wait – what are you doing at home, young man? Rosie, why didn't you make him go to school? Oh, never mind, make me a cup of tea, I'm parched.'

  We gathered around Mother, staring at her. I nudged up close to Jem. Gideon clasped my hand tight. Saul started snivelling.

  'There now, you needn't look so tragic,' said Mother, sipping her tea. 'Martha's very well. She's just not going to live with us any more.'

  We stared at her, baffled.

  'Where is she going to live, Mother?' Jem asked.

  'She's gone back to the Foundling Hospital, dearie,' said Mother. 'You were too little to remember when she came to the fam