Hetty Feather (4 page)

We all mourned Martha – but within a few weeks
we had almost forgotten her. I sometimes
dreamed about her and reached out in my sleep
for her hand or her hair, and then felt a pang. But
Martha's place was soon taken by another little girl,
a baby called Eliza.

'That's
my
name!' said our Eliza. 'Oh, let me hold
her. She's such a little darling.'

Eliza and Mother fussed excessively over
the baby. I thought her a plain, puny little
thing, with a mewling wail that was most
aggravating.

'Oh, Hetty, you should have heard yourself when
you were a baby! You shrieked like a banshee,' said
Jem, chuckling.

I was so relieved to see that Jem showed only a
mild interest in my new little sister. He was fonder
than ever of me, taking me everywhere with him.
Father wanted Jem to help out on the farm when
he wasn't at school, so Jem took me along too.
I helped with the harvest, I dug for potatoes, I
milked the cows.

I thought at first that they were
our
crops,
our
cattle, and all the land was
ours.
It certainly felt
that way, for all the other men treated our big
father with respect. Some of the young lads even
doffed their caps to him. But when Jem took
me to the harvest supper in the barn beside the
big farmhouse, I saw our father doff
his
cap to
Farmer Woodrow.

His wife, Mrs Woodrow, was pouring cider and
serving great plates of meat to everyone. She
laughingly gave Jem half a tankard and said, 'Only
give your sister a sip, young Jem.'

She was peering at me curiously. I stared
back at her, and she laughed and pulled one
of my red plaits. 'She looks a fiery one!' she
said. 'So she's one of your mother's foundling
children?'

Jem pulled me onto his lap protectively. 'Yes,
ma'am. This is our Hetty.'

'Well, it looks as if your mother's doing a good job
with her. How much does she get paid for looking
after her?'

I craned round. Jem was red in the face.

'I don't rightly know, ma'am,' he said. 'But our
Hetty's worth her weight in gold.'

'What did that lady say?' I asked when Mrs
Woodrow had passed along the bench to patronize
another village child.

'Oh, take no notice,' said Jem, which of course
made me notice more.

'Does Mother get paid for looking after us?'
I asked.

'I'm big, not little like you. I don't
need
looking after,' said Jem, not really answering
my question.

That Christmas Mother made me a doll – a rag
baby with a sacking dress and a scrap of white muslin
for a bonnet. She had little button eyes and a mouth
that smiled. I thought her the most beautiful doll in
the world and cradled her in my arms all the time,
even while I ate my roast chicken. Gideon looked
longingly at my soft, pretty rag baby, and begged
to hold her just for a moment. Mine was the
only
doll. The new baby, Eliza, was too little for
dolls, and big Eliza and Rosie great girls long past
the doll stage.

Gideon's own present was a little horse carved
out of wood by Father. It was an excellent horse with
its own brown leather saddle. Saul had a horse with
a saddle too, and made it gallop across the floor. Jem
and Nat got pocket knives, and Rosie and Eliza bead
necklaces, one blue and one green.

Marcus and Bess and Nora, the grown-up
children, were not given leave to come home, but
Mother had sent them parcels. She said she'd sent
another parcel too, a twin rag baby to mine, specially
for Martha.

'Will Martha have a lovely Christmas day like
us?' I asked.

'Oh yes, Hetty, she'll have a wonderful time with
all her new sisters. I dare say they'll all get lots of
presents and fancy food and they'll play games and
have such larks,' said Mother. 'Don't you worry your
little head about Martha, Hetty.'

I did still worry. Mother did too. When I trailed
downstairs that night to trek out to the privy (I'd
had two helpings of figgy pudding and had bad
stomach ache), I found Mother weeping in a corner,
holding Martha's old checked pinafore, clutching it
to her chest as if it was her own rag baby.

Mother took me out to the privy and held my
hand while I groaned – and then, when I was
better, she carried me back indoors. It was chilly
downstairs without a fire, but Mother wrapped me
up tight in Father's huge smock and cradled me in
her arms.

'There now, my lambkin,' she said. 'I have you
safe. Don't fret.'

Her voice was hoarse and I felt a tear drop
on my face. I wrenched a hand free from my
tight wrappings and reached up and stroked her
damp cheek.

'There now, Mother,' I said. 'Don't
you
fret.'

She laughed at that, but she was still crying too.
She murmured something. I didn't quite catch what
she said, but now I am absolutely certain it was: 'I
shall miss you so, Hetty Feather.'

The enormity of what was to happen to me
didn't dawn until late spring, when Saul went.
For days Mother had been favouring him,
pretending not to see when he poked me with his
crutch, when he tripped Gideon, when he pinched
Eliza in her cradle. Mother rubbed his poorly
leg and encouraged him to stand up straight when
he walked.

'That's it, my little man. Step out like a soldier
– left, right, left, right.'

'Yes, I'm a soldier, like my brother Nat. I'm
a soldier and I shoot people with my gun,' said
Saul, aiming his crutch at me. 'Bang bang, you're
dead, Hetty!'

He banged so enthusiastically he struck me sorely
in the chest.

'No,
you're
dead, Saul,' I said, seizing the
broomstick. 'I'm a soldier and I'm on my horse,
gallopy gallopy, and I'm going to whack whack
whack you!'

'Hetty, Hetty, stop that now! Stop plaguing us! I
need a little time with your brother,' said Mother,
pushing me away.

I flounced off in a temper. Jem was at school so I
played with Gideon instead.

'We'll play whacking, Gideon,' I said.

'No! Don't want to!' Gideon whimpered.

'I'm not going to whack
you,
Gid. We'll whack
Saul. Whack whack whack.'

'Not really?' said Gideon, looking horrified.

'Yes, really. We'll whack him and bash him and
stamp on him,' I said.

'We'll hurt him!' said Gideon.

'He hurts us,' I said, pulling up my dress and
examining the angry red mark where Saul had
prodded me with his crutch.

'We must turn the other cheek.' Gideon was
parroting the Bible in a sickening fashion. He always
listened hard at Sunday school and absorbed the
moral lesson. I listened when there were tales of lions
and whales and animals walking two by two into a
great ark, but I didn't pay attention otherwise.

I didn't feel like turning my other cheek to Saul,
especially when Jem came home from school and
he
started making a fuss of Saul too. He gave him
a piggyback ride all around the house and then let
him play soldiers, taking pains to fall down dead
every time Saul potted a shot at him.

When I tried to join in too, Saul screamed, 'No
no no, this is
boys'
play, Hetty,' and Jem didn't
dispute this.

I stomped off and murmured darkly to my rag
baby, hating them all, even my Jem. I especially
hated Saul. When Mother bade us kiss goodnight, I
sucked my lips in tight and wouldn't kiss Saul. I did
not relent, even when Mother shook me.

'You will be sorry, Hetty,' she said ominously.

'No I won't,' I said, but it came out 'Mm mi mn't'
because my mouth was still shut into a slit.

'Please, Hetty, there's a dear,' Jem whispered
into my ear, but I took no notice.

Saul didn't care in the slightest. He laughed at
me triumphantly, eyes bright, cheeks scarlet with
excitement, the centre of everyone's attention. He
didn't have any idea what was going to happen
either, not till Mother woke him at dawn.

I heard him getting cross, then crying . . . then
screaming. I sat up, my heart thudding. I ran to
him. Mother had him half dressed in his best Sunday
clothes, but he was kicking hard with his good
leg and pummelling with his arms. All the while
he screamed, 'No, Mother, no, I won't, I won't, I
won't go.'

Rosie and big Eliza were trying to help Mother
get him dressed, while baby Eliza wailed miserably
in her cradle.

'What are you doing? Why are you dressing Saul
in his Sundays?' I asked.

'For pity's sake, Hetty, I can't be doing with your
questions, not now,' Mother gasped. 'Oh, Saul, my
sweetheart, try to be a big brave boy.'

But Saul scrunched himself up small and sobbed.
I stared at him. Suddenly I didn't care about all his
proddings and pinchings. He was Saul, my brother,
and I couldn't stand to see him so scared.

I plunged forward and threw myself at him,
planting eager wet kisses on his cheek and neck and
curly hair. Saul clung to me.

'Oh, Hetty, Mother's taking me away to the
hospital and I can't never never come back!' he
sobbed.

'No, you can't, Mother! You won't!' I shouted,
and I started hitting and kicking her too.

Jem and Nat had to carry me away while Mother
persisted with dressing Saul. I don't know whether
he continued to cry. My own shrieks were too loud
for me to hear anything else. Nat thumped me
hard and shouted at me, Jem held me close and
whispered soft words into my ear, but I didn't
respond to either brother.

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.'