Hetty Feather Read online

  I was lost in the horror of losing Saul. I would never ever have the chance to be a good sister to him. I screamed until my throat was raw. I went on screaming until I slept. When I woke, I had no idea whether it was morning or afternoon. The house was horribly silent, though I could hear a little snuffling noise close by.

  I reached out across the bed, but there was no one there. The snuffling continued, from under the bed. I leaned out, hung my head down, and saw Gideon curled up beneath me.

  'Oh, Gid,' I croaked, barely able to talk. 'Come up into the bed.'

  But he wouldn't, so I crawled underneath beside him, lying on the cold dusty floorboards.

  'What are you doing, Gideon?' I asked. 'Are you pretending to be a chamber pot?'

  I said it to make him laugh but he went on snuffling.

  'You cry ever so quietly,' I observed. 'I scream and scream.'

  'I know,' said Gideon thickly.

  His face was so sodden with tears and snot he could scarcely breathe. I very kindly lifted up my nightgown hem and mopped him dry.

  'Is Mother back?' I asked.

  'Yes. But Saul isn't,' Gideon whispered.

  I swallowed. My throat hurt so much I held it on the outside, clasping my neck with both hands. 'I was a bad sister to him,' I said wretchedly. I wriggled nearer to Gideon. 'I shall be a lovely sister to you now, Gid,' I said, putting my arms round him.

  I was smaller than him, but he felt very little and spindly in my arms. I could feel him trembling.

  'Hetty, will Mother take us to this hospital?'

  'Hush!' I said sharply. It felt so much worse to have Gideon put it into words. I shook him a little and then felt bad. Hadn't I only just that minute promised to be a good sister?

  'Of course Mother won't take us,' I said as firmly as I could. I patted Gideon encouragingly. 'You are her favourite. She wouldn't ever take you. And Jem wouldn't let her take me. Mother won't take us. Never never never. Say it, Gideon. Never.'

  'Never never never,' we chanted.

  I thought I would ask Mother, just to be certain sure, but somehow the words dried in my sore throat when I saw her. She was grey with grief, clutching little Eliza to her bosom, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  I asked Jem instead.

  'You won't let me go to that hospital, will you, Jem?'

  'No, Hetty,' said Jem, hugging me tight.

  I looked up at his face. His eyes were very red.

  'Have you been crying, Jem?' I asked.

  Jem never cried. He didn't even cry the day one of the horses bolted and knocked him to the ground. He got kicked in the head, so that one side of his poor face was black with bruises for weeks.

  'I'm staying here for ever and ever, aren't I, Jem?' I said again. 'And Gideon is too.'

  'Yes, Hetty. Of course you are,' Jem said again and again, but he still didn't seem quite sure enough.

  I couldn't get to sleep that night, and when I eventually dozed off I dreamed of Saul. A large cruel nurse was picking him up and plunging him into the water butt, trying to drown him like a newborn kitten. I screamed at her and she seized me too, holding me fast by the scruff of the neck. I struggled in the butt and her hand pushed me down, down, down in the murky water. I woke with a start and found there was murky water in my own bed too.

  I thought Mother would be cross with me for being such a baby, but she scarcely said a word. She moved slowly about the house, her head bowed. She fed and changed Eliza, and cooked bacon and cabbage for all of us, but most of the time she sat staring at the floor, wringing her big red hands.

  Rosie ushered us out of the cottage to give Mother some peace. We were huddled miserably on the doorstep when Father came striding home.

  'Hello, chickens.' He ruffled our heads and sighed. 'Oh dear. No cheeps from any of you,' he said, stepping over us with his great legs.

  He said no more until he'd eaten his supper. Then he lit his pipe and called us to come and stand by his chair.

  'Nat, go down to the Otter Inn and fetch me a tankard of ale. No spilling a drop, do you hear? Jem, you go with him. Eliza, go and see to your namesake sister. See if you can quieten her grizzling. Rosie, take Mother upstairs – she needs to lie down. Be off, all of you. I want to have a word with Hetty and Gideon.'

  When they were all gone, he shook his head at us. 'Such long faces! Are you missing young Saul?'

  'Most dreadfully, Father,' I said.

  He blinked at me. 'Why, Hetty, you do surprise me,' he said. 'You two were always fighting! No doubt you're full of remorse now?'

  I nodded. I wasn't yet sure what remorse meant, but the cold, sour, sick feeling in my stomach seemed to sum it up.

  'Poor child,' said Father, patting me.

  I climbed up onto his great lap and nuzzled my face against his chest. I could hear his heart going thump against my cheek.

  'Mother won't take me away, will she, Father?' I said into the rough cotton of his smock. 'Nor Gideon?'

  I waited. I felt Father take several deep breaths.

  'Not till next year, my sweetheart, when you are both much bigger.'

  'No! No, not then, not ever!' I shrieked, pummelling him with my fists.

  'Stop that now, missy!' said Father, catching both my flailing hands in his large one. 'You've shrieked enough today, I'm told. There's no point wailing when it can't be helped. Now hush and listen. Mother and I love you, love Gideon, love little Eliza just like our own children. We still love Saul—'

  'And Martha,' I said.

  'And Martha,' said Father, seeming surprised I'd remembered her. 'But you're not our children, you're little waifs from the Foundling Hospital. You came to us as tiny babies. Mother has a knack with specially frail babies. She rears you up until you're fat and rosy-cheeked.' He gently poked me in the cheeks with his thumb and finger, but I wriggled free, a new thought having struck me.

  I was remembering the pig out in the back yard. Mother had a piglet every year, pale and puny. She fed it and fattened it until it could barely sway on its trotters, and then Father came along, and although we weren't supposed to watch, we heard squeal- squeal-squeal, and the next day there was fresh pork on our plates.

  'Is she fattening us up to eat us?' I said, gazing at Father as if he was an ogre.

  He stared back at me, slack-mouthed, and then he roared with laughter. 'Oh, Hetty, Hetty, you're a funny one,' he chortled. 'Of course no one's going to eat you! Mother will take you back to the Foundling Hospital when you're big enough, and you'll live with lots and lots of other girls. Martha will be there so you'll have one sister. And you'll be with the boys, Gideon, and Saul will be your brother.'

  'I want to be with Hetty,' said Gideon, but Father paid him no heed.

  'We need to be with you, Father. And Mother. And my Jem,' I said. 'Please can't we stay? I promise I'll be very, very, very good. I'll never shout or kick or cry ever again.'

  'You're a caution, Hetty,' said Father. 'We would love you to stay here with us. We'd like to keep all our dear foster children, but you do not belong to us. You belong to the hospital. All foundlings must be returned by their sixth birthday. Don't look so worried. I'm sure they will be kind to you as long as you are a sensible girl, Hetty. They will school you properly and teach you to be a good Christian child.'

  'Will we live there for ever?'

  'No, no, they will train you up to be a servant girl and you will go away into service when you are fourteen,' said Father.

  'Like Bess and Nora?' I said.

  'Just like our Bess and Nora,' said Father. 'And then I dare say you can come home to us once a year just as they do.'

  I pondered. Last Mothering Sunday I had admired my big sisters in their fancy print dresses and fine stockings when they'd travelled home on a visit. But they'd told Mother tales of cross cooks who beat them over the head with ladles and sly masters who tried to sneak kisses.

  'I do not want to be a servant girl,' I said.

  'Will I be a servant girl?' asked Gideon.