Hetty Feather Read online

'You went off to that heathen circus, I'll be bound,' said Mother.

  Jem hung his head.

  'Shame on you, Jem! How dreadful to lead your sister astray,' said Father. 'You deserve a good thrashing.'

  'Oh no!' I said. 'I must be thrashed, Father, not Jem. I wanted to go to the circus to see Madame Adeline. Oh, Father, Mother, I rode with her on her horse and she said I was her Little Star!'

  Mother and Father barely reacted. At least Father talked no more of thrashing.

  'We must start up a proper search for Gideon. I thought you would all be fine together – but that little lad cannot cope on his own. He must be found. Do you think he tried to follow you to the circus?'

  'He certainly seemed taken with the idea,' Mother wailed. She glared at me, as if it was all my fault . . . which perhaps it was.

  Father and Nat went out together to look afresh for Gideon. Mother sent Jem and me upstairs to bed in abject disgrace. I cried and my dear brave brother cried too.

  'It will be my fault if anything's happened to Giddy,' he wept bitterly. 'Oh, Hetty, I should never have taken you to the wretched circus.'

  'You only wanted to please me, Jem. Don't cry so. It's my fault, not yours,' I said, putting my arms round him, trying to comfort him the way he had comforted me so many times.

  It was dark when at last we heard Father and Nat coming back. We jumped out of bed and ran to the top of the stairs – but they didn't have Gideon.

  'There's no trace of the lad,' said Father. 'We've had half the village out searching. We've even tried the woods, but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack.'

  The woods! I suddenly remembered what Gideon had said: Are you going to the squirrel house?

  'I know where he might be!' I shouted, running downstairs. 'Oh, Father, Mother, he'll be at the squirrel house. He thought that's where Jem and I were going.'

  'What squirrel house?' asked Father.

  'Oh, Hetty, don't start your silly games. Go back to bed,' said Mother.

  'No, Mother, Hetty's right,' said Jem. 'It's an old hollow tree. We used to play there. Gideon asked us if we were going there.'

  'Put your jacket on over your nightshirt, boy, and show me,' said Father. 'You come too, Nat.'

  I clamoured to come as well, but they wouldn't let me. I stayed shut up in the cottage with Mother and Rosie and Eliza and the baby – and one after another we all wept, longing for Father and the boys to come back, but terrified too, lest they didn't find Gideon.

  'I am very wicked,' I wept, sidling up to Mother.

  'Yes, you are wicked, Hetty,' said Rosie. 'Poor Mother, see what you've done to her.'

  Mother had her head in her hands and was crying hard, her whole face wobbling in a distracting fashion.

  'What shall I do if my little boy's dead?' she wailed. 'And what will the hospital say? They'll think I'm unfit to care for any more children. They'll take little Eliza away from me—'

  'They shan't do that!' said Eliza, cradling her little namesake in her arms. 'Oh, Hetty, this is all your fault.'

  I burst out crying afresh, because no one seemed to mind about me. I closed my eyes and pictured Madame Adeline.

  'Come, my precious Little Star,' she said, holding her arms out. 'Come and live at the circus with me. We will perform every night. I will be the Big Star and you the Little Star. I will give you your own white pony. You will dance on its back and everyone will clap and clap. No one shall ever scold you, dearest Hetty. Jem will come and see us perform in the ring every night, and he will clap and clap and you will wave to him. He will tell people proudly that you are his little sister. Rosie and Eliza will beg you to wave at them too, but you won't take any notice of them. You don't want them to be your sisters any more. You don't want Nat to be your brother . . .' But then my vision of Madame Adeline faltered. She could not say the word Gideon. He was my brother for ever and ever, my fellow foundling, almost my twin. If he ceased to be my brother, if he had perished somewhere in the dark woods, then I would go demented with guilt and sorrow.

  Madame Adeline faded until she was the merest glimmer of pink. I pictured Gideon instead, howling with terror in the great dark wood, calling for Jem and me until his voice cracked, running and stumbling and falling, lying there in the mud and the leaves, white and limp and broken. Wild creatures scuttled past him but he didn't blink his eyes. They were open for ever in his stark woodland grave . . .

  I frightened myself so badly I started screaming. Rosie shook me hard.

  'Stop that silly shrieking, Hetty! Shame on you! You just want to be the centre of attention. Stop it this instant.'

  I couldn't stop. I managed to quell the noise, but huge sobs still shook me every second, and tears rolled down my cheeks in a torrent. After a long, long while Mother held out her arms wearily. I crept forward and climbed on her lap. She held me close and whispered soothingly, but she was trembling too, her whole body tensed for the sound of footsteps.

  Then at last we heard Father's big boots, the boys' scuffles. Father strode into the cottage and this time he had Gideon in his arms. He was holding him like a baby. Gideon's head lolled and his spindly arms and legs dangled lifelessly.

  'Oh, he's dead, he's dead!' I cried.

  'Hush, Hetty. The little lad's sleeping, but he's fair perished,' said Father.

  Mother leaped up, brushing me blindly out of the way, and seized Gideon to her bosom. She wrapped her shawl around him, while Rosie ran for a blanket. Mother had kept the fire burning, so Eliza soon had a stone bottle filled with hot water and bound in a towel, to warm Gideon's icy limbs.

  Father knelt beside Mother and spread his own jacket around them both, cradling Gideon's pale face with his big rough hands. Gideon's eyes were half open but he didn't seem to see us. His mouth was open too, but when Rosie tried to feed him a little warm gruel, it dribbled down his chin.

  'He is dead!' I gasped.

  'No, no, he's breathing, dear,' said Mother, bending her head and putting her ear against Gideon's chest. 'We just need to warm him up a little.'

  'He found his way to the squirrel house all by himself,' said Jem. 'But he couldn't hitch himself up into the tree. We found him lying underneath it, shivering and shaking. He cried out when Father picked him up but he's not said anything since. But you mustn't fear, Hetty. I dare say he'll be fine by morning.'

  Mother and Father took Gideon to sleep in their own bed, circling him in their arms. I wanted to climb in with them, but they sent me away.

  'They don't love me any more because I am so wicked,' I wept.

  'Of course they love you, Hetty. You know I love you too,' said Jem, letting me scrabble under the covers with him. He wiped my eyes with the sleeve of his nightshirt and stroked my tangled hair. 'I'll always always love you, Hetty, no matter what,' he promised me.

  When I went to sleep at last, I dreamed that Gideon never woke up. He lay stiff and white in a glass coffin like Snow White in the storybooks. Mother prayed at his head, Father prayed at his feet, and my brothers and sisters prayed on each side along the length of the coffin. When I tried to join them, they elbowed me out of the way, even Jem.

  'Go away, Hetty. I don't love you any more. You are too wicked,' he said harshly.

  I crept away by myself. No one noticed when I slunk out of the door. I wandered disconsolately down the lane until I heard the sound of distant drumming. I quickened my pace. By the time I could see the circus I was running fast. There, galloping towards me, was Madame Adeline on her fine white pirate horse. She wore her beautiful pink outfit, with pink roses twined in her flame-red hair. A long gossamer train flew out behind her like a flag.

  'My Little Star!' she cried, and she leaned down and scooped me up beside her.

  'Oh, Madame Adeline, may I come and live with you?' I said.

  'Of course, my precious child!' she said, clasping me close, smelling wonderfully of sweetmeats and roses. She wrapped me tightly in her train. 'Indeed, you are my child, my own dear long-lost daughter, and now we will live t