Hetty Feather (22 page)

We were lined up in the playground like a
miniature brown army, boys one side, girls the other,
in serried ranks of six, from the littlest five-year-old
fresh from foster care to the biggest, blowsiest girls
about to leave to go into service.

Matron Peters positioned herself at the front with
the infants, Matron Bottomly brought up the rear
with the big ones, while all the nurses and teachers
patrolled up and down the lines.

'Right! Let us all step out and look lively.
Remember, the entire reputation of the Foundling
Hospital rests
on you,'
Matron Bottomly bawled.

We set off at a quick march – one two, one two, one
two. It felt so extraordinary to go out of those iron
gates and walk down the road. The very air smelled
different, so clean and fresh and invigorating.

London would have looked wondrous to us in a
thick fog, but this sparkling, sunny June morning
made every great grey building gleam palatially.
Every window ledge was decked with bunting,
every lamppost embellished with bouquets, every
flag flapping in the light breeze. We were told not to
break step or loiter even for a second, though I craned
my neck and stared when we were marched along
Oxford Street, marvelling at the vast emporiums,
their windows a wonder of patriotic red, white and
blue decoration.

I couldn't get used to the crowds – such
huge numbers of people, all shouting, laughing,
screaming. Some of our little children started
crying in sheer shock, and even I felt frightened,
especially when we had to cross a vast road. There
were policemen who held up the traffic for us, but
they were only puny men. I did not see how they
could control so many cabs and carriages and
enormous omnibuses. But somehow we all
crossed safely, hanging onto each other, our palms
sweating.

It was a long, long walk and the little ones in
front started dragging their feet and limping in their
hard boots, but our spirits picked up as we passed
the great Marble Arch and entered the park.

There were ten enormous marquees and many
other smaller tents as far as you could see. There were
merry-go-rounds and helter-skelters and whirling
chairs and swingboats. Children ran around freely
everywhere, climbing on the painted horses, sliding
down the helter-skelter, squealing with fearful
joy in the chairs and boats high above our heads.
There were thousands and thousands of children,
from tiny tots in pinafores to great girls and boys
much taller than me. They were all wearing such
wonderful clothes! Many of the girls were dressed in
white or soft flower colours, bluebell, primrose, lilac
or pale rose-pink, skipping around in soft shoes.
The boys wore jolly blue and white sailor suits with
jaunty straw hats. They stared at all of us in our
ugly brown frocks and breeches, our silly caps and
aprons, our red-robin waistcoats and cumbersome
jackets, our stiff stout boots. Some openly pointed
and commented:

'Look, look, it's the children from the
institution!'

'Are they all orphans from the workhouse?'

'No, no, they're foundlings from the hospital.
Don't they look quaint!'

We stared back, still in our marching rows, red
in the face from the heat and our humiliation. But
then Matron Bottomly addressed us through a
megaphone.

'This is a message for the senior school! You are
allowed to play in the fairground for an hour, so
long as you stay within close proximity. All the rides
are free. But everyone must report back to marquee
number ten at one o'clock sharp for our festive
luncheon. Do you all understand?'

We gazed at her, barely able to take it in. Did she
really mean we were free to roam as we wished? A
few of the big boys made a dash for it before she
could change her mind, but a lot of us wavered
uncertainly. We were so used to having every minute
accounted for. We did not know how to
cope
with an
hour of freedom.

Well,
I
could cope. I ran to the merry-go-round,
circling it twice to select the finest horse. They all
had names painted on their arched necks. I looked
in vain for a Hetty, but I did find a Polly, a black-
and-white stead with a red saddle. I had to lift my
skirts in an unladylike fashion to clamber onto
her, but I didn't care. Some of the girl riders were
sitting demurely sidesaddle, but that looked so silly
and lopsided. I had ridden bareback with Madame
Adeline. I knew what I was doing.

The organ music struck up and the merry-
go-round started turning. I clasped the gold rail
and urged Polly forward. We went round and
round until all the children blurred and the great
green park seemed to be spinning on its axis like a
giant globe.

As I stepped off dizzily, I spotted Eliza looking a
little dazed amongst a cluster of infants. They were
being shepherded around by dear Nurse Winnie. I
dashed over to her.

'Can I take Eliza on the merry-go-round, Nurse
Winterson? I promise I'll look after her most
carefully,' I said.

'Yes, of course you can, Hetty,' she said.
She looked longingly at it. 'For two pins I'd have a
ride myself!'

I lifted Eliza onto a black horse with a white
patch on his face. He was called Star. 'You shall be a
little star, Eliza,' I told her.

I thought she would be in ecstasy, but she shrieked
when the merry-go-round started going faster.

'Don't like it, don't like it!' she cried, squirming
around. 'Let me get
off,
Hetty!'

'You can't get off, silly, you've only just got
on.
Don't be scared, Eliza, it's
lovely
.'

'No it's not!' Eliza said, shutting her eyes tight
and clinging to me like a little monkey.

When at last the merry-go-round slowed
down, Eliza shot off to Nurse Winterson without
a backward glance. I shrugged my shoulders,
telling myself I was glad to be free of her. I saw
my other sister, Martha, near the helter-skelter
and I went rushing over to her, worried that she'd
fall trying to get up the steep steps inside. However,
she had her two friends, Elizabeth and Marjorie,
with her, and they elbowed me out of the way
impatiently.

'Martha's got
us,
Hetty,' said Elizabeth.

'She doesn't need
you
to help her. She says you
fuss far too much,' said Marjorie.

Martha herself simply smiled at all of us, blinking
behind her thick glasses.

'Very well, suit yourselves. That's perfectly
fine with me,' I said, sticking my nose in the air. I
pretended to recognize someone in the great crowd
and waved heartily. 'There's my friend! I must go,'
I said, running off.

I ran and ran, circling round all the fairground
rides, not quite sure which to select. It felt so odd
being all by myself when everyone else seemed to be
surrounded by friends.

'Oh, Polly, if only you were here,' I whispered.

I knuckled my eyes because they were
unaccountably wet – and then opened them wide,
because right in front of me was a tall dark boy in
foundling uniform, nodding at me shyly.

'Gideon!' I said.

'I came looking for you, Hetty,' he said.

I was overwhelmed that he had taken the trouble
to seek me out. In the past I had always been the
one to run after him.

'How are you, Gideon?'

'I suppose I am very well,' he said solemnly.
He spoke perfectly clearly and coherently, but
with a hesitant, mannered air, as if he rarely opened
his mouth.

'Oh, Gideon, do you hate it at the hospital too?' I
asked, clutching his arm.

He blinked in alarm at my forward gesture, but
nodded at me. 'I dislike it very much, but I dread
leaving it too. I do not want to be a soldier.'

'It's much, much better than being a servant,
you silly boy! Think of the excitement and foreign
lands and great battles!'

'Think of the fear and the blood and the
hardship,' said Gideon, shuddering. 'I dream
about it sometimes. I know I will not be able to
bear it. I do not want to live my days in barracks
and army camps. The other boys torment me
here, but I'm sure it will be far worse living
amongst men.'

'Then let us run away together, Gideon, and
escape our fate!'

'You're still dreaming, Hetty. Don't tell me you're
still planning to run back home to live with Jem so
that he can take care of you!'

'No,' I said shortly. 'Not now. I will make my own
way.'

'Well, that is good,' he said, clearly humouring
me.

'We will make our way together. We are still
special sister and brother,' I declared. I spun him
round and then focused on the fair. 'Oh, Gideon,
come on the swingboats with me!'

'They're swinging so rapidly. I think I shall be
sick,' said Gideon, but he came with me obligingly.

We crouched on either side of the boat, tugging
hard on the ropes so that we swung up and then
sharply down, as if we were riding a stormy sea. I
pictured the waves and the screaming seagulls and
the wild wind as we tossed our way over the ocean to
a distant promised land, gabbling this breathlessly
to Gideon while he laughed at me.

'You're still the same old Hetty,' he said. 'Oh,
stop pulling so – we're going too high!'

'Let's go higher and higher and higher!' I said,
tugging with all my might.

Gideon groaned and shut his eyes as the whole
park heaved this way and that beneath us, but I
stared out, seeing right over the huge marquees
and the milling throng of children. Way over to the
south of the park, beside the silver stream of the
Serpentine, I saw another big striped tent, a cluster
of wagons – and a great grey creature with a long
waving trunk.

'Oh my Lord! It's Elijah! It's the circus! Oh,
Gideon, stop pulling, we must slow
down.'

'Don't fret, I
want
to slow down,' said Gideon
weakly, his face greenish-white.

'It's so wonderful! The circus!' I babbled, clutching
the edges of the swingboat to try to make it stop.

'Hetty, you'll tip us both out,' Gideon groaned.

'Oh, stop your moaning, boy! Come on, we can
jump out now.
Wheee!'
I made a leap for the ground
and landed lightly. Gideon jumped after me and
landed on his hands and knees.

'Ouch! Oh goodness, have I torn my breeches?'

'Of course you haven't,' I lied, pulling him up
by the hands. 'Come on, Gideon. I'm going to the
circus, and
this
time I'm taking you with me!'

'We
can't
go to the circus, Hetty!' said Gideon.

'It's not within close proximity! It couldn't
possibly be further away.'

'Oh, for Heaven's sake, who cares!' I said gaily.

'But it's nearly one o'clock. We have to be back at
marquee number ten. Didn't you listen to what the
matron said?'

'As if I care what Matron Stinking Bottomly
says!' I said. 'Come on, Gideon! Here's your chance
to see the circus for yourself at long last. Don't you
want to see Elijah close up – and wondrous Madame
Adeline and her horses? And remember the boy
acrobats in their sparkly silver clothes, don't you
want to see
them
?'

Gideon did waver then, looking longingly in the
direction of the circus, though we couldn't even see
the tip of the tent or the top of Elijah's trunk now
that we were down on the ground.

'And it won't cost a penny this time. Everything is
free today because of the Jubilee. Come
on,
Gideon.'

'We will miss our meal in the tent,' said Gideon.

'Never mind. Maybe we'll be back in time to
snatch at something.'

'But we'll get into such trouble.'

'There are so many of us I don't think anyone
will notice there are two foundlings too few. And
even if they do find out, what will we care? We will
have seen the circus!'

'You would care if you were a boy, Hetty. If we are
very bad, we get whipped.'

'Listen, I have been so fearfully bad I got
locked up without food or water in a bleak attic for
days and days,' I said, exaggerating slightly. 'I'm
going to go to the circus now even if they lock me
in the attic for the rest of my life. And so are you,
Gideon.'

I tugged at his arm but he pulled away.

'I
can't,
Hetty. I simply daren't. You go, if you
must, but I do so hope you won't get into trouble.'

I stared at his pale, obstinate face and knew there
was no way I could persuade him.

'All right, I shall go by myself,' I said. I gave him
a kiss on his white cheek. 'You will kick yourself for
not coming with me!'

I ran off in what I hoped was the right direction.
I looked over my shoulder to see if Gideon might
just be wavering, but he'd already been swallowed
up by the crowd.

'Oh, Gid,' I said, and even though I was sure he
couldn't see me, I waved to him.

Then I ran off to find the circus by myself,
though it was hard to work out which way to go.
The crowd was so thick. I had to dodge and weave
and dart between folk wherever I could. Troops
of children were gathering and marching towards
the marquees for their festive meal. My stomach
was rumbling. I couldn't help wondering just
how festive the meal would be. Perhaps cake?
Jellies? But I couldn't lose my huge chance out of
sheer greed!

People were peering at me strangely, laughing at
my bizarre uniform. I quickly took my cap off and
stuffed it down my tippet, but I had no way of hiding
the rest of my clothes.

A formidable woman with an official badge pinned
to her bosom seized hold of me. 'Aren't you one of
the foundlings from the hospital? No, no, my child,
you're going entirely the wrong way.' She consulted
a list. 'You're due in marquee number ten –
that
way!'

'Yes, ma'am,' I said, spinning round and walking
the way she pointed – but within seconds she was
out of sight, so I could turn and fight my way back
in the direction of the circus.

It took me a good half-hour before I was even
near. I was so hot my frock was sticking to my back
and some small child had smeared his hokey-pokey
ice all over my skirts. My cap had edged its way out
of my tippet and was now lost, ground underheel
by hundreds of feet. But when I spied the red and
purple tip of the striped circus tent, I forgot all
about my bedraggled appearance. I pushed forward
determinedly, so eager now I was nearly running.

I saw Elijah, standing tethered to a pole, wearing
a head-dress of gold in honour of the Queen. He was
smaller than I remembered, but of course
I'd
been
much smaller when I last saw him.

The crowd was even thicker now that I was near
the circus, and many small boys pushed and shoved.
When I pushed and shoved back, one little monster
kicked me hard on the shins. I kicked back harder
though, for once in my life thankful for my stout
institution boots, though my feet were hot as Hell
inside them.

I got nearer and saw a tower of acrobats
standing on each other's heads, but they weren't
dressed in silver, they were all in red. Of course
those tumbling boys in silver spangles would have
new costumes now, and perhaps their younger
brothers had joined their act. I pushed my way
through the entrance, into the tent. It was boiling
like a cauldron, packed with children keen to see
the free show. I barged my way along the front row
to claim the only empty seat.

There were clowns running backwards and
forwards throwing buckets of water around. It all
seemed a familiar routine and I laughed hysterically
even though I did not really find them funny.

Then I heard a neigh and a thud of hooves, and
I tingled all over and cried out in joy. But where
was Pirate, the pale grey with the black patch?
These horses were all a glossy chestnut brown,
with purple plumes in their manes. And who was
this?
Two
women, with big chests and fat thighs,
in tight violet spangled dresses, with huge floppy
purple bows stuck in their hair, one blonde, one
dark.

Where was Madame Adeline?
These two dumpy
imposters rode round and round the ring. Their
act was a travesty compared to Madame Adeline's.
Surely they could not have taken her place? I knew
every turn she'd taken, every trick, every toss of
her beautiful red hair. I had pictured it so many
hundreds of times inside my head. These two purple
fools galloped round monotonously, waving their
hands for applause. I could not bear to clap them. I
clasped my hands in agony. When they cantered out
of the ring at last, I pushed my way back along the
row and elbowed my way to the entrance, taking no
notice of the mutters in my wake.

I clutched hold of a circus hand giving out flyers
for the circus.

'Where is Madame Adeline?' I demanded. 'When
will she be performing?'

'Madame who?' said the man. 'Never heard
of her.'

'Madame Adeline and her troupe of horses,' I
said. 'She's the star of this circus!'

'No she ain't! The only horse act we've got is Miss
Molly and Miss Polly, the Equestrian Twins. You've
just missed them,' he said impatiently. 'Now leave
me alone, girlie, I've got a job to do.'

He gave me one of his flyers and turned
away from me. I stared down at the strip of paper
in my hand.

Mr Geoffrey's Wondrous Whirligig Circus
it said
in big bold italics at the top of the page.

I blinked at it, even rubbing the words with my
finger as if I could reassemble them into any order
that made sense. Who was this Mr Geoffrey? This
was Tanglefield's Travelling Circus! I was sure
that was the right name. But I wavered as I slid
my eyes down the list of performers. Miss Lizzie's
troupe of
baboons
? Mr Lionel Luck, contortionist?
The Zebidee Family of Tumblers? I had not heard of
any of them. And then, in bold lettering:
Archibald,
the Infant Elephant!
What were they talking about?
I
knew
the elephant was called Elijah. I could not
have remembered it
all
so inaccurately.

'Why has the circus changed so?' I asked the
circus hand desperately, shaking his striped sleeve.
'Why isn't it called Tanglefield's Travelling Circus
any more? Why are there all these new people?
Why has Elijah's name been changed? And
where
is
Madame Adeline? You
must
have heard of her!'

'Will you stop pestering me? I've got a job to do.
Can't you read, child?' He tapped his wad of flyers
impatiently. 'It's there, plain as the nose on your
face. Does it say Tanglefield's Travelling Circus?
No, it does not. This is Mr Geoffrey's gaff – and he'll
have my guts for garters if he catches me chatting.
He's a sharp man, Mr Geoffrey, never one to miss
an opportunity. This is better than a ten-foot
advertisement on a hoarding. Now, on your way.
Ain't all you kids meant to be having a free nosh?
Little girlie . . .? Oh my Lord, don't start crying on
me. I can't abide it when kiddies cry.'

I was weeping in sheer frustration, still too
stunned to understand.

The circus hand sighed. 'I reckon Tanglefield's
will be up on the heath. I hear they've got all the
rag-tag-and-bobtail circuses up there.'

I stared at him. 'You mean there are
different
circuses?'

'There must be thousands, if you count all over
Europe – and America too. I was once part of the
Great Fernando's Travelling Circus in the States.
Now
that
was a gaff and a half. We'd start our
procession with twenty elephants –
twenty,
I tell
you – and two miles later you'd come to the very
last animal wagon, how about that? I'll wager this
Tanglefield's Travelling Circus you hold so dear
couldn't hold a candle to
that.'

'Do you really think they'll be on this heath?' I
asked.

'Without a doubt,' he said. 'Hampstead Heath,
that's the one.'

'Where is that, sir?'

'Oh, for goodness' sake, what do you want of me
now – a map? You hop off home and get your pa to
take you.'

I hopped off. I didn't have a home and I didn't
have a pa. I would have to find Hampstead Heath
by myself. I'd never have another chance to find
Madame Adeline.

It took me a very long time to fight my way out
of the heaving park. I didn't battle back towards the
big marquees just in case someone from the hospital
spotted my brown dress amid the froth of fancy
frocks. I followed the shimmer of the Serpentine
instead. I marvelled at all the boats on the water,
longing to have a go at rowing myself up and down,
but I had a more pressing purpose.

I caught hold of a kindly-looking lady in charge
of a bunch of small children. 'If you please, ma'am,
can you tell me the way to Hampstead Heath?'

'Well, let me see now. I believe it's over in that
direction.' She gestured vaguely. 'But it's a very
long way off, too far for a little girl. Where is your
school party, child? Are you lost?'

'Oh no, ma'am, they're over there,' I said quickly,
and edged away before she could question me
further.

My heart sank a little at her words.
A very long
way off.
I was so very hot and starving hungry now,
and my boots were pinching dreadfully – but I was
still resolved. I would get to Tanglefield's Travelling
Circus and find Madame Adeline even if I had to
crawl there on my knees.

It was scarcely any easier making my way when
I was out of the park gates. The streets were so
crowded that I had to scurry along in the gutter,
though I trembled every time a cab or carriage
drove close, terrified of the iron-shod hooves of the
horses.

I walked along the wide, grand road of Piccadilly.
The crowds were thicker than ever. Then there
was a clamour and a cheer, and everyone surged
forward, teetering at the edge of the pavement,
nearly tumbling on top of me.

'Up you come, little 'un!' said a perfectly strange
man, picking me up before I could protest and
perching me on his shoulder. 'There now, you're
safe with me. See them coming? My, you'll be able
to tell your grandchildren one day that you had
a grand view of Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee
Procession!'

I saw many red-coated soldiers with white-
plumed helmets riding horses – and then a black
open carriage drawn by six grey horses – very fine,
but not a patch on Madame Adeline's. A small fat
woman sat in the carriage looking dazed, waving
her plump little hand mechanically.

'There now, you've seen the Queen!' said the
gentleman.

'Thank you very much, sir,' I said – though I
wanted to see Madame Adeline so much more!
'Would you say I am nearly at Hampstead Heath
now?'

'What's that? You're nowhere near, silly child.
There now, don't look so disappointed. You've seen
the Queen, God bless her!'

'Yes, sir, thank you, sir, could you set me down
now, please, sir?' I said.

I started walking as soon as he put me down. It
was hard to progress with the crowd thick as treacle,
still cheering, chanting, singing songs, some of the
younger ladies even lifting their skirts and dancing.
I struggled on, asking every kind face if I was going
the right way to the heath, but they either did not
know or told me it was too far a journey for a little
girl like me.

I was so tired and out of breath I could barely
speak, but when I tugged the sleeve of maybe the
fiftieth lady and asked if she could tell me the way
to Hampstead Heath, she smiled at me merrily.

'Yes indeed, dearie. Don't she look like a sparrow
in her brown stuff frock, Desmond?' She nudged her
companion, a red-faced young man with ridiculous
whiskers. 'Yes, little sparrow, Desmond and I are
going there too. There's a big funfair and a circus.'

'Oh! Pray tell me, is it Tanglefield's Travelling
Circus?' I asked desperately.

'I don't rightly know, my dear. I fancy there are
all sorts up on the heath. You're a quaintly spoken
child. Isn't she sweet, Desmond?' The lady nudged
him and he nodded obligingly.

'She's a dear little thing, Rebecca. Though you
are even dearer,' said Desmond.

Rebecca nudged him and laughed again. They
seemed so taken with me that I dared ask: 'If you
are going to Hampstead Heath, might I possibly
walk with you?'

'We're not
walking,
child!' she said, bursting
into peals of laughter. 'Especially not when I'm
wearing these heels! We're taking the omnibus at
Tottenham Court Road. You can come with us by
all means.'