Little Stars Read online

  ‘Do you really think so? I got one of the girls to teach me. I love sewing – though they laugh at me in the village when they see me at my fancy work, sitting beside Mother on the garden bench. They call me a great big lass,’ Gideon said calmly.

  ‘Tell me who says that and I’ll give them a piece of my mind!’ I said.

  ‘Oh dear, Hetty! You’ve always looked after me,’ said Gideon. ‘They don’t bother me. They’re only teasing. And it’s true – I love sewing, so I suppose I am like a girl.’

  ‘Men sew too,’ I said. ‘In Monksby where my real father lives, all the big burly fishermen spend their days mending nets, whistling as they sew. And what about tailors? Who do you think made that fine suit of yours?’ I picked up the patchwork. ‘You’re really good at sewing, Gideon. Your stitches are very tiny and even. Perhaps you could train to be a tailor?’

  ‘I don’t want to sew dull dark material. I like quilting with light soft stuffs,’ he said.

  ‘Then next time I come home I shall bring you a big bag of silk and satin scraps, that’s a promise,’ I said. ‘I know Jem and Janet will love your quilt.’

  ‘They’ll love your pillowcases more.’ Gideon’s finger traced the embroidery. ‘Will you show me how to do this stitch, Hetty?’

  At the wedding breakfast I sat next to Gideon and talked sewing, while Mother nodded at us both happily.

  ‘I have a notion Mother is fonder of us than of her real flesh-and-blood children,’ I whispered.

  ‘Apart from Jem,’ said Gideon.

  ‘Will you miss him when he goes to live in his new cottage with Janet?’

  ‘I shall miss him, but I still have Mother for company, and Jem and Janet say we must come and dine with them every Sunday.’

  ‘Perhaps one day you will want to marry too,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t think so!’ he replied. ‘What about you, Hetty?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I can’t make up my mind. Maybe foundling children are so starved of love they don’t know how to want to marry,’ I said, wondering if this were really true.

  I wasn’t worrying for Gideon. He seemed truly happy living his peaceful village life. I was worrying for me.

  I was tempted to have some of the cowslip wine being generously poured for everyone, but I remembered how terrible I’d felt after I drank too much at my foster father’s funeral. Besides, I had to make the long journey back to Fenstone and then perform my act. I sipped lemonade instead – and held this childish glass in my hand to drink the health of Janet and Jem at the end of the feast.

  ‘Make a speech, make a speech!’ folk clamoured. ‘Come on, Jem, say something, lad.’

  Jem shook his head, going scarlet. ‘You know I’m not one for making speeches,’ he mumbled.

  ‘You do it, Hetty!’ Gideon cried. ‘You said such lovely things at Father’s funeral.’

  My foster family frowned, but many of the villagers clapped and cheered in encouragement.

  So I stood up, my fists clenched. A hundred thoughts tumbled through my head. I had no idea how to organize any of them. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.

  ‘We’re gathered together today, family and friends, to celebrate the wedding of dear Jem and his Janet. We were children together. I worshipped my big foster brother and followed him everywhere, plaguing the life out of him. But he was always so kind and patient with me. He even indulged me in our own mock wedding. I ran around in a tattered white nightgown with daisies in my hair, a little five-year-old bride. But today Jem has his real true beautiful bride, my dear friend Janet, who will make him wonderfully happy. This is like a wedding in a fairy tale, and we’re all sure that the two of you will live happily ever after. Please raise your glasses and drink a toast to Jem and Janet!’

  We all drank to them – and for the first time Jem looked me straight in the eye. I knew he was saying goodbye. He was an honourable man. He would never speak words of love to me again.

  I left almost straight away. There was no point staying and I daren’t risk missing my train. I didn’t say a proper goodbye to anyone. I just picked up my suitcase and slipped away.

  I didn’t know how I was going to get all the way back to Gillford, but I trusted to luck – and a farm lad fetching his mother from market gave me a lift in his cart all the way to the station. I caught the train in plenty of time, and had a whole carriage to myself. It was just as well, because I did a lot of crying.

  By the time I got to Waterloo I knew I must be very red-eyed, but I’d managed to compose myself. I went to the station indicator board to find the platform for the next train to Fenstone – and saw the gold arrow pointing to one terrible word: Cancelled! I kept blinking and rubbing my eyes, hoping that when I looked again, the word would vanish. It stayed there, clear and ominous.

  I searched for a porter. ‘Please can you tell me, why is the Fenstone train cancelled?’ I asked desperately.

  ‘Some trouble on the line, miss. The one before was cancelled too,’ he said, setting down his load of cases and having a stretch.

  ‘So when is the next train?’

  He shrugged. ‘Couple of hours. If it’s running.’

  ‘But – but I have to get to Fenstone as soon as possible. Don’t any of the other trains go near there?’

  ‘Not unless they’ve put in another line overnight – which ain’t very likely, is it, miss?’ He guffawed and seemed to expect me to join in.

  I was nearly crying again. ‘Please, can’t you help me? There must be some other way of getting to Fenstone.’

  ‘Well, I dare say you could hire a hansom – if you was a millionaire.’

  ‘How much do you reckon it would be?’

  He chewed his teeth. ‘At least a tenner. No, fifteen. Maybe more. And I doubt they’d take you all that way as they wouldn’t get a fare back. You could try asking, though.’

  There was no point. I had two shillings in my purse. I wished I hadn’t been so extravagant with my wages, but it had been so wonderful to treat Diamond and take trips. I stared at the useless train ticket in my hand.

  ‘Can I get my money back on this?’ I asked. Maybe I could take a cab part of the way, and then walk, or even hitch a lift . . . I had to be back in time for the second act. I knew what would happen if I didn’t turn up. Mrs Ruby was ruthless. If you didn’t show up on time, it was instant dismissal – no arguing or excuses. Artistes performed with hangovers and head colds. I’d seen Peter Perkins throw up in a bucket at the side of the stage. One of the showgirls had danced an energetic routine when she was white as a sheet and bleeding badly, but she’d still managed to kick up her legs and smile.

  ‘Not sure about that, missy. If the cancellations are due to unforeseen circumstances, then I don’t see how the company can be held responsible,’ said the porter.

  ‘Well, what are these unforeseen circumstances, for pity’s sake?’

  ‘Most likely some poor wretch threw him- or herself on the line to end their misery. So they’re all right now, but they’re causing endless misery to the poor lads who have to clear up the mess, to their loved ones, and to you too, missy, and all your fellow travellers. Think on if you ever feel like ending it all in the same fashion. It’s a rotten selfish act, if you ask me.’

  I didn’t feel quite like jumping in front of a train – but pretty near. I couldn’t believe how unfair it all was. I’d tried so hard to work out the train times. It had all been entirely possible, and yet now here I was at Waterloo, completely stuck.

  The next hour and a half were the longest of my life. I prowled round and round the station, conspicuous in my primrose dress. Several young men followed me for a while, calling me duckling and going quack-quack-quack, but I managed to send them packing with a few withering comments. It helped to vent a little of my anger – though I was mostly angry at myself.

  Going to Jem’s wedding had been a terrible mistake. I had unsettled him, made him admit things that would torment him now. I had nearly wrecked the entire wedding and r