Little Stars Read online

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Hetty Feather has begun a new chapter in her life story. Escaping from Tanglefield’s Travelling Circus with her friend Diamond, Hetty is determined to find them positions as music-hall artistes.

  The pair quickly become the Little Stars of Mrs Ruby’s show at the Cavalcade, alongside many colourful acts – including a friend from Hetty’s past, Flirty Bertie. But the music hall is both thrilling and dangerous, and Hetty must fight to protect her darling Diamond, who longs for a normal childhood. Meanwhile, Hetty struggles with her feelings for Bertie – and for Jem, whom she has never forgotten.

  Hetty dreams of a glittering future for herself and Diamond. The bright lights of London beckon – will Hetty become a true star?

  Starring a cast of wonderful characters, both old and new, this is the fifth fabulous Hetty Feather story.

  To Rhian Harris, with many thanks.

  Hetty Feather wouldn’t exist without you.

  I WOKE WITH a start, my head hurting, aching all over. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. Indeed, I felt so fuddled I didn’t even know who I was. Hetty Feather, Sapphire Battersea, Emerald Star? I had three names now.

  Was I Hetty, curled up in my soft feather bed in the cottage or shivering in the narrow iron bed in the Foundling Hospital? Was I Sapphire, tossing and turning on the servant’s truckle bed in the attic or still as a statue in my mermaid’s costume at the seaside? Was I Emerald, still reeking of fish in my nightgown, or exhausted in my caravan bunk, with Elijah the elephant trumpeting in the distance?

  I could hear shouting, thumping, scraping. I must be at Tanglefield’s Circus. Oh Lord, was Diamond in trouble? I had to protect her. Had that evil clown Beppo beaten her cruelly because she’d tumbled during her act?

  ‘Diamond?’

  ‘I’m here, Hetty,’ she murmured, clinging to me, strands of her long yellow hair tickling my face.

  ‘Oh, Diamond, you’re safe!’ I said, holding her tight.

  ‘Of course I’m safe. We ran away,’ she said sleepily.

  We ran away – yes, of course we did. I’d grabbed the clowns’ penny-farthing, little Diamond balanced on my shoulders, and I pedalled and pedalled and we got away from Beppo and Mr Tanglefield. I felt my ear throbbing. Tanglefield had caught the tip of it with his whip, making it bleed. But we’d escaped! We were miles away from the circus camp. We’d fetched up in this little town, and here we were, huddled in a shop doorway near the marketplace.

  I gently nudged Diamond to one side and sat up straight, stretching and yawning. I peered around anxiously, worried about the bicycle, but there it was, leaning against the wall beside us. It was still very early, but the market square was full of carts and burly men setting up their stalls with fruit and vegetables. I watched for a minute or two, fascinated by the way their great ham fists delicately arranged a row of apples, a ring of cauliflowers, a circle of salad stuffs upon the fake green grass of their stalls so that they looked like a prize garden in bloom.

  One man looked up and saw me watching. He frowned and started walking purposely towards us.

  I grabbed Diamond’s arm, giving her a little shake. ‘I think we’d better get going,’ I said urgently, because I trusted very few men.

  But as we stumbled to our feet and I tried to right the penny-farthing, he cried out to us. ‘Don’t run away, little girls! You mustn’t be frightened. I don’t mean you any harm. Why, I’ve brought up three little lasses of my own – plus a son, but the less said about him, the better. You look so cold and tired. Let me buy you each a hot drink.’ He seemed genuinely concerned. It was clear by his tone that he thought me not much older than Diamond. It was a curse to me that I was so small and slight, but sometimes it had its advantages.

  ‘That would be very kind, sir,’ I said.

  ‘And what are your names, little girls?’

  ‘I’m Hetty and this is my sister, Ellen-Jane.’ I used our real names. Emerald and Diamond would sound too fancy for this plain market man, and it seemed a wise precaution to keep quiet about our professional names. Mr Tanglefield might try to hunt me down, and Beppo would certainly do his best to find little Diamond. She’d become the star of his Silver Tumblers acrobatic act, a real little crowd-pleaser. He’d paid her father five guineas to own her, body and soul, and he’d certainly got his money’s worth.

  I glanced at Diamond, hoping she wouldn’t find it odd that I’d used her old name, but she was beaming. Her face was pale and tear-stained, her hair tangled and her clothes badly creased, but she still looked angelic.

  ‘Sister!’ she murmured, putting her hand in mine, clearly loving the notion.

  I squeezed her hand tight.

  ‘Aaah!’ said the market man. ‘Bless the little cherub! Well, I’m Sam Perkins, and that’s my stall over there. Perkins, pick of the crop! Finest root vegetables and greens.’ He gave a little bow.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Perkins,’ I said, bobbing him a curtsy, and giving Diamond’s arm a little tug so she’d do likewise. ‘We’re pleased to meet you too.’

  ‘Oh, you pets! Ain’t you got lovely manners! But look, the little one’s shivering. Let’s warm you with that hot cup of tea.’

  There was a small teashop at the side of the market, open from the crack of dawn for the market trade. We followed in Mr Perkins’s wake. I gave Diamond our little suitcase while I carefully wheeled the penny-farthing. I was reluctant to leave it leaning up against the wall of the teashop.

  ‘It’ll be safe there, don’t you fret,’ said Mr Perkins. ‘Hey, you – young Alfred!’ he called to a boy at the nearest stall. ‘Keep an eye on this here contraption, will you? Give us a whistle if anyone so much as walks near it.’

  Alfred gave a nod and a wave. Mr Perkins was obviously well respected at the market. He led us into the warm steamy interior of the teashop. It was thick with the smell of bacon and sausage, so strong it made us reel. I felt starving hungry. I also had another pressing urge. I went and whispered to the large lady behind the counter, and she let Diamond and me through to her WC at the back of the shop. When we had relieved ourselves, we had a quick wash in the basin and I tried to comb Diamond’s tangled curls with my fingers.

  ‘There now!’ said Mr Perkins when we came back. ‘Bessie, three mugs of tea and three special breakfasts, if you please.’

  ‘Certainly, Sam. Are these two your grandchildren then? Hello, dears! Have you come to see your grandpa at his work?’ Bessie asked. She was all over smiles, her round face rosy red, her curly hair damp, her white apron pulled taut over her plumpness.

  Mr Perkins led us to a table away from all the other market men. ‘Not mine, Bessie. Two new little friends,’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘And where do they come from, then?’ Bessie asked.

  ‘Ah, it’s a long story,’ said Mr Perkins, sitting down beside us. He lowered his voice. ‘I thought you’d maybe want to keep your circumstances to yourselves, rather than broadcast them to all and sundry.’

  ‘That’s so tactful of you, Mr Perkins,’ I said gratefully.

  ‘That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to know,’ he said. ‘Not just out of nosiness. I’d like to think I can help in some way. You’re a pair of runaways, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I said, because it was pointless denying the obvious.

  ‘Well, I’ll let you get your breakfasts first, and then I’ll want to hear the whole story,’ said Mr Perkins.

  I bent down, unlatched the suitcase and felt for my purse. ‘I can pay for the breakfasts, Mr Perkins. We’re not destitute,’ I said.

  He roared with laughter. ‘Bless you, dear, I didn’t think it for a minute. I can see you’re two nicely turned out little ladies. Such fine and fancy dresses clearly cost a pretty penny.’