Hetty Feather (13 page)

But at night-time I was utterly friendless. All the
little girls were lined up and washed by a big girl.
She had long plaits like my Harriet, but she was
nowhere near as kind. She scrubbed at our hands
and faces with the horrid carbolic soap, not caring
in the slightest if it went in our eyes.

Then we were led to the infant dormitory, a vast
room of fifty iron bedsteads. I was taken to a bed
right beside the door and my clothes pulled off me
by another big girl. She stuck a nightgown over my
head. It was so long it trailed on the floor. My shorn
hair stuck out wildly in all directions. Some of the
other girls laughed and pointed. I licked my fingers
and tried to make the tufts stick to my scalp.

'Stop doing that, you look so silly!' said the big
girl. 'Fold your clothes up neatly –
neatly,
I said –
and put them in your basket at the end of the bed.'

I did as I was told. I hid my lucky sixpence in
my basket too, resolving to find a safer hiding place
when no one was watching.

'Now say your prayers. Don't take too long about
it, mind. Then get into bed.'

I knelt down, put my hands together and shut
my eyes. 'Dear God, please get me
out
of this horrid,
hateful place,' I prayed. 'Please don't let the matron
and the nurses and the other boys be plaguing
Gideon. I know it is all my fault he cannot speak
any more and I am such a sorry girl. Please bless
my dear family at home and don't let me ever forget
them. Please especially bless Jem. Please—'

But the big girl was tugging me impatiently.
'That's enough. Into bed. Now!'

I opened my eyes and saw that all the other girls
were already under their covers. I hurried into bed
myself. The big girl dimmed the light and said,
'Goodnight! No talking now.'

She went out of the door and closed it tight.
Immediately a whispering started. The girls called
each other, chatting about their day. They started
talking about me as if I wasn't there!

'What about the new girl, Hetty Feather?'

'She looks a sight. That hair!'

'She's so small and scrawny.'

'I saw her sucking up to Harriet.'

'She's so stupid at darning.'

'She went down on her knees to pray, pretending
she's so holy.'

'She's just acting monk to make people sorry
for her.'

'I don't like her at all.'

I jumped out of bed and ran to the nearest girl.
'Well, I don't like
you
!' I cried, and I pulled her ear
hard. She screamed and I ran to the next bed. 'And
I don't like you!' I pulled another ear, then ran on.
'Or
you –
or
you
!'

They all set about shrieking, and then the door
burst open and someone stood there, an oil lamp
held high, illuminating her ugly features. It was
Matron Pigface!

'What is this terrible noise? How
dare
you behave
so badly! And who is this child
out of bed
?'

She seized me, shining the lamp in my face. 'Hetty
Feather! Behaving like a child of Satan on your very
first night here! Get back into bed this instant, and
if you put so much as a foot on the floor all night you
will be whipped severely.'

She smacked at me as I dodged past her and dived
into my bed.

'Now you are all to go to sleep
this instant
!'
Pigface commanded.

After she'd waddled out of the room there were
several muttered remonstrances, but soon every
girl was breathing heavily. Some murmured as they
dreamed, some snored. I was the only one awake.

I lay on my back, feeling so wretchedly lonely in
my narrow bed. I longed to snuggle up beside Jem
or Gideon. My arms ached for my dear rag baby. I
lay trembling hour after hour. I felt so small in this
huge room of spiteful girls. I seemed to grow smaller
and smaller as I lay there. I clutched myself in fear
that I was actually shrinking. I did not seem myself
any more. I gripped my elbows tightly and gritted
my teeth. I had to hang onto myself. I was not going
to become just another foundling girl in hideous
apparel. I might have to wear the dress, cap, apron
and tippet, I might have to obey all their dreadful
rules, but inside my head I still had to stay Hetty
Feather.

I woke to the clamour of a bell. A new big girl strode
up and down the dormitory, shouting at us to get
up. It was cold and my bladder was bursting, but I
had to strip my bed, roll up my mattress and put on
my hateful uniform before I could shuffle to the privy.
A big girl – yet another, so
many,
how would I ever
learn who was who? – washed our hands, inspected
our necks and brushed our hair. Then we had to line
up and walk two by two to the dining room. I did not
have anyone to walk with. I decided I did not care. I
pictured to myself another Hetty, and we held hands
and walked downstairs together, whispering to each
other. Several times the other girls tried to elbow me
out of the way, but Hetty and I elbowed back. We had
small arms but
very
sharp elbows.

'Stop pushing and poking each other!' a nurse
called. 'Who is that girl there, the little one?'

'Hetty Feather,' the other girls chorused,
triumphant that I was in trouble again.

'You must learn patience and decorum, Hetty
Feather. We expect little girls to queue up quietly
for their food at the hospital, not trample and grunt
like little pigs in a sty.'

She said it humorously but she nearly set me off
crying again, because I thought of our pig in the sty,
and Jem and Mother, and a wave of homesickness
washed over me.

'So you're a new little girl,' said the kitchen
maid at the end of the table, serving out bowls of
porridge. She was small and slight – if it wasn't for
her careworn face I might have mistaken her for
one of the big girl foundlings. Her maid's uniform
hung about her, her skirts trailing past her boots.
'I'm new here too. It feels very strange, don't it?'

I nodded forlornly.

'I'm sure we'll both settle down soon,' she said.
'Here, specially for you!' She took a twist of paper
out of her apron pocket and sprinkled the contents
on the top of my porridge. 'Sugar!' she whispered.

All the other girls had entirely plain portions.

'Get on with it, Ida! There isn't time to
talk
to the
children,' the fat cook called from the serving hatch.

Ida winked at me. I did my best to wink back,
though I hadn't quite mastered the art and I fear
I squinted dreadfully. Ida's unexpected kindness
cheered me even more than the sprinkle of sugar.

I still had to face the ordeal of morning school.
We had a proper mistress, not a nurse, an elderly
lady called Miss Newman. She did indeed resemble
a new kind of man: she was tall and square-
shouldered, with a severe bun scraped back from
her wrinkled forehead. She could control her hair,
but her eyebrows wriggled in unruly fashion above
her small spectacles. She was plainly dressed
in a grey blouse with a white collar and a dark
grey skirt, with just a silver clasp on her belt to break
the monotony – but she looked exotically glamorous
in comparison with the dull uniform of all the
nurses.

She stood at the front of our classroom and
peered hard at all us girls. She saw me and raised her
formidable eyebrows. 'What is your name, little girl?'

'Hetty Feather, Nurse – miss.'

'You will address me as Miss Newman, if you please.'

'Yes, Miss Newman.'

'Did you attend school in your foster home?'

'No, Miss Newman.'

She sighed. 'Well, you are going to have to
concentrate very hard, Hetty Feather.'

She held up a large placard with four pictures.
There was a round rosy fruit, a big brown furry
creature, a yellow piece of furniture, and a black
and white animal waving its tail. Each picture had
writing underneath it.

'A is for Apple, B is for Bear, C is for Chair and D
is for Dog!' I declared.

Miss Newman stared at me. 'I thought you
said you had never attended school, Hetty Feather.'

'I haven't, Miss Newman.'

'So how have you learned to read?'

'My big brother Jem read to me,' I said proudly.
'So I learned all my letters.'

Miss Newman nodded approvingly. 'Then he was
a kind brother to you, child.'

'Oh, he
is,
the kindest brother in the whole
world,' I said fervently.

Miss Newman led all of us through the alphabet
with her coloured placards – and then we progressed
to the much duller but still interesting spelling out
of little words. It was not long before I could stutter
'The c-a-t is on the m-a-t', and in the second half of
the long morning's lesson I grasped a scratchy pen
and wrote line after line of shaky
a
s and
b
s and
c
s.
Then I wrote my first sprawling word –
c a b –
and
drew a picture of the London cab that had taken me
away to this grim new life.

Miss Newman liked my picture, she liked my word,
and when she had showed me how to sign my artwork
Hetty,
she embellished it with a gold star.

I was pleased and proud, but the star made
me think of the wondrous night of the circus and
Madame Adeline and then the awfulness of Gideon
going missing, and I had to fight to stop my tears
brimming all over again.

'She thinks she's so clever just because she
can read and write, but look, she's nothing but a
crybaby,' Sheila hissed to her friend, Monica. Sheila
was the fierce fair girl with the high forehead and I
already detested her.

However, Martha came and peered very closely
at my picture, running her finger along the lines as
if it helped her to see. 'Very good, Hetty. And you
have a gold star! I've never had a gold star yet. I
won't either. I am a total dunce.' She sighed, though
she said it cheerily enough.

'Well,
I
think you're very clever,' I said loyally. Even
if Martha did not remember me properly, I remembered
her.
We were still sisters, no matter what.

Martha was truly very good at our singing lesson.
We had to stand in lines and sing long dreary hymns.
I did not know the words yet so I could only hum
uncertainly to the piano music, but Martha's voice
soared high above the others, making me shiver
with its sweetness.

Wait till I tell Mother! She will be so proud that
Martha can sing like an angel, I thought. Then I
realized I would never be able to tell Mother. I had
to fight the tears this time, knowing that if I cried
again the other girls would torment me. I screwed
up my face desperately.

'Look at Hetty Feather!'
sang Sheila, keeping in time
to the hymn.
'She looks like she's about to w-e-t herself!'

I
did
actually need to go to the privy. I couldn't
get used to the idea of only being able to go when the
nurses commanded. My bladder and bowels had a will
of their own and I prayed I would not have an accident.
One girl was wriggling and jiggling towards the end of
the line and Miss Newman spoke to her sharply.

'Stop fidgeting, Sarah Barnes!'

Sarah jumped – and then water started trickling
down her legs, spreading in a pool about her boots. The
girls on either side of her sprang away, and everyone
stared and pointed. Miss Newman sent Sarah out of
the room in disgrace. She shuffled soggily away, her
head bowed, her face scarlet with shame.

I had a desperate private conversation with my
own bladder. I had seen a pig's bladder at home so
I had some idea of what mine looked like. I pictured
tying the end up tightly with string, making many
knots. It worked so well that when we were eventually
allowed a trip to the privy, I sat there for several
minutes before I could squeeze out a single drop.

'Come
along,
Hetty Feather. For goodness' sake, child,
you must be finished now! You're just being contrary.'

A nurse came and dragged me off while I was
still weeing. A little splashed down my legs, but not
enough to make a puddle. I thanked the Lord for my
long skirts, though it wasn't comfortable.

We had our dinner in the great dining hall. I saw
Harriet and tried to go and sit with her, but I was
hauled back to sit on a bench with the other girls
my age.

We had a different kitchen maid to dole out a few
morsels of boiled mutton and carrots and potatoes.
I received a standard portion, but when the other
kind kitchen maid passed behind my bench, taking
her great dish back to the kitchen, she slipped one
more potato onto my plate. It had a little dab of
butter on top and tasted especially delicious. She
watched me eat it up, smiling at me.

'Did that new kitchen maid give you an extra
potato, Hetty Feather?' Sheila demanded crossly.

'She had one left so she gave it to me. Because
I'm little and I look sweet,' I said. 'Not
like you.'

Sheila had a very high frowny forehead and a
fierce expression, her mouth drooping like a dog. I
pulled my own features into a Sheila-face, and the
two girls opposite laughed. Even Monica sniggered,
though she was Sheila's best friend.

It was a stupid mistake to ridicule Sheila,
especially as she was much bigger than me. She
cornered me out in the playground when there
wasn't a nurse in sight.

'I'll teach you, Hetty Feather,' she said, and she
punched me in the stomach, so that I doubled over.

Then she ran behind me and pushed hard.
I toppled down onto my chin. I grazed my
hands painfully, tore the knees out of both my
stockings, and sliced my poor chin right open.

Monica squatted down beside me, looking
aghast. 'Oh, Sheila, you've hurt her! She's bleeding
frightfully, look!'

'Only a little bit,' said Sheila, but she looked
worried too.

'What if she tells Matron?' said Monica. 'You will
be whipped, Sheila!'

'Good!' I said, struggling to my feet. I wiped my
stinging chin with my hand. I was startled when I
saw the bright red on my fingers but I decided to be
brave. I'd played soldiers often enough with Jem at
home. I knew you had to show courage when you
were wounded. I marched off, swinging my arms,
my dripping chin held high.

Matron Pigface came into the playground just
then, bell in hand, ready to ring for us to go indoors
for our needlework session. She took one look at
me and gasped. 'Hetty Feather! Whatever have you
done to yourself, you wretched child?'

Every girl in the playground stood still, staring
at me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sheila and
Monica clasping hands.

'Answer
me, Hetty Feather!' Pigface bellowed.

I did not want to answer her. I did not want to
admit to all the infant foundlings that Sheila had
knocked me down and I had failed to punch her
back. It was too shaming.

Matron Pigface was peering closely at my chin,
inspecting my hands, lifting my skirt to see my torn
stockings and oozing knees. 'Have you been in a
fight
?'

I shook my head, because I hadn't had the wit or
strength to fight Sheila back.

'So did some girl here
attack
you?' Pigface
demanded.

I opened my mouth at last. I looked at Sheila.
I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of
everyone knowing she had triumphed over me. 'No,
miss . . . Matron. No one attacked me. I fell over
because these blooming boots are too big.'

Pigface shook me by the shoulders for
impertinence until my head waggled. Then she
seized me by the wrist and hurried me off to the
washroom. She scrubbed at my chin and hands and
knees with carbolic soap. It stung horribly but I
stood still and stiff, because I was a wounded soldier
and would not show weakness to any enemy. Then
she painted my chin with strange purple liquid from
a medicine bottle. This stung even worse than the
soap and I wriggled just a little.

'Keep
still,
Hetty Feather,' Pigface said, but
when she'd finished applying the violet medicine
and replaced my blood-splattered tippet with a
fresh one, she gave me a nod that was almost approving.
'Run along to join the other girls at needlework, Hetty
– and watch where you're going this time!'

She did not accompany me. I was supposed
to know my own way around the building after
twenty-four hours' residence. I darted off, but I
was concentrating on the pain of my chin. I darted
in the wrong direction, to the left instead of the
right. I blundered down a long echoing corridor,
turned a corner – and seemed to find the washroom
all over again.

I stared at the big white room, my hands over
my sore chin, wondering how I could possibly have
come full circle – when a small snivelling
boy
came
rushing in, with ink all over his hands.

We stood staring at each other, equally taken back.

'What are you doing in the boys' wing, little girl?'

'I – I got lost,' I said honestly, then sighed in
irritation. Why, oh, why could he not be Gideon?

'You will get whipped if they find you,' he said.

'I know. I don't care. I'll go in a minute, but please
could you tell me first, do you know my brother
Gideon? Is he all right?'

'Gideon?' said the little boy, sneering. 'You mean
the idiot boy?'

'He is not an idiot!' I shouted fiercely. 'I shall hit
you if you say he is!'

His hands went to his mouth, smearing ink all
over his face.

'Now you're all black and it serves you right,'
I said.

I ran out of the washroom, right along the corridor
until I saw a whole troop of boys bustling out of a
big room. I peered hard at this army of brown, but
I couldn't spot Gideon at all. However, all the boys
could see me. They let up a whoop and a shout.

'Girl! Girl! Girl!'

A nurse came running, shouting at me furiously.
I knew I had to make a quick escape. I flew back
back back along the corridors, back to the safety of
the girls' wing, where I slowed down and walked
sedately, trying to look innocent. I joined my class
at their darning.

'Where have you been, Hetty Feather?' asked
Nurse Winterson. 'Oh dear, your poor chin! What
happened to you?'