Sapphire Battersea (38 page)

She nodded proudly, flexing her fingers. ‘Mrs Briskett says I have a really light touch,’ she declared.

‘Well, isn’t that just fine and dandy,’ I said. I looked at Sarah, who was taking off her bonnet, still flushed with excitement after her encounter with her mama. ‘Why did you not accompany Sarah to Madame Berenice’s?’ I asked prissy little Rose-May. ‘Did she not ask you?
I
used to go with her to make sure she didn’t have a swooning fit.’

‘I care about Sarah, of course, but I couldn’t possibly go with her to that meeting. I am a Baptist, and we don’t hold with spirit meetings and suchlike,’ said Rose-May.

‘Rose-May’s very devout,’ said Sarah, sounding a little in awe of her.

‘Mr Buchanan sent me to the Baptist Society to find a new maid of all work. He wanted to find a good meek girl who wouldn’t cause any trouble,’
said
Mrs Briskett. ‘He didn’t want to risk another foundling! But tell me, Hetty, what are you doing here? Did you meet up with our Sarah by chance?’

‘Hush now, Mrs B, poor Hetty’s been through a great deal. Her mother passed over this summer.’

‘Oh, dear child, I’m so sorry,’ said Mrs Briskett.

‘But Hetty has been reunited with her dear mother this evening. Isn’t that wonderful?’ said Sarah, still flushed and glowing with the excitement of it all.

‘I’m not so sure
wonderful
is the word I’d use,’ said Mrs Briskett. ‘Look at the state of the poor girl. White as a sheet, and skinnier than ever.’ She steered me gently to the table and sat me down on the bench. ‘Eat some pie, child,’ she commanded.

‘Poor Hetty!’ said Rose-May. She bent her head, clasped her hands, and said piously, ‘For what we are about to receive, may we be truly grateful. Amen.’

I
was
truly grateful to be offered a slice of pie, and I suppose it tasted delicious, but I found it hard to eat. I chewed long and hard on the rabbit meat, but I couldn’t seem to make it go down.

‘Don’t you like rabbit pie, Hetty?’ said Mrs Briskett. ‘Young Bertie brought us such a nice fat rabbit, ready skinned.’

‘He said he’d make me a little fur tippet out of all his rabbit skins,’ Rose-May said, giggling. ‘Like Baby Bunting.’

I stared at her sweet simpering little face. I wanted to push it straight into the wretched pie. My stomach heaved.

‘Excuse me,’ I gasped, my hand over my mouth.

I ran out of the kitchen, making for the horrible privy out in the back yard. I heard Sarah asking if I was all right, and Rose-May wondering if she should run after me, and Mrs Briskett saying, ‘Poor little thing, she really
is
an orphan now.’

I got to the privy just in time, for I was violently sick. Then I stood outside in the dark, staring up at the crescent moon, tears running down my face. I could not bear to go back into the kitchen. I didn’t belong there any more. I did not belong with anyone. I wasn’t special to anyone at all, only Mama – and now I had lost her for ever. I was an orphan.

You are NOT an orphan!

It was Mama’s voice, clear and distinct, as if she were standing right beside me in the moonlight.

‘Oh, Mama, is it really
you
?’

Of course it’s me, you silly girl. Don’t you know your own Mama?

‘But – but
how
is it you? Did Madame Berenice conjure you up after all?’

That dreadful turbaned charlatan! As if I’d ever lower myself to speak through HER! Now listen to
me
, girl. You are NOT an orphan. You still have one parent alive
.

‘You mean …?’

Why don’t you try to find your father?

‘But – but you said he doesn’t even know I exist.’

Then perhaps it’s time to tell him!

‘But, Mama—’

No buts
.

‘I’m not sure I
want
a father. I want
you
. I want to feel your arms around me! Can’t you materialize somehow?’

We don’t need materializations, darling. YOUR arms are around ME – because I am in your heart
.

I crossed my hands over my chest. I felt my heart beating wildly, blood throbbing through my body, so that I tingled all over. I stood there, still crying, though I was happy now. I wasn’t alone any more.

‘Thank you, Mama,’ I whispered into the dark.

I’ll always be with you, Hetty
.

‘I’m not Hetty any more, Mama, I am Sapphire Battersea – and I’m going to find my father.’

About the Author

Jacqueline Wilson is one of Britain’s bestselling authors, with 30 million books sold in the UK. She has been honoured with many prizes for her work, including the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award and the Children’s Book of the Year. She is the author most often borrowed from libraries over the last decade. Jacqueline is a former Children’s Laureate, a professor of children’s literature and in 2008 she was appointed a Dame for services to children’s literacy.