Free Hetty Feather by Jacqueline Wilson Page B

but it's like looking for a needle in
a haystack.'
    The woods! I suddenly remembered what Gideon
had said: Are you going to the squirrel house?
    'I know where he might be!' I shouted, running
downstairs. 'Oh, Father, Mother, he'll be at the
squirrel house. He thought that's where Jem and I
were going.'
    'What squirrel house?' asked Father.
    'Oh, Hetty, don't start your silly games. Go back
to bed,' said Mother.
    'No, Mother, Hetty's right,' said Jem. 'It's an old
hollow tree. We used to play there. Gideon asked us
if we were going there.'
    'Put your jacket on over your nightshirt, boy, and
show me,' said Father. 'You come too, Nat.'
    I clamoured to come as well, but they wouldn't
let me. I stayed shut up in the cottage with
Mother and Rosie and Eliza and the baby – and one
after another we all wept, longing for Father and
the boys to come back, but terrified too, lest they
didn't find Gideon.
    'I am very wicked,' I wept, sidling up to Mother.
    'Yes, you are wicked, Hetty,' said Rosie. 'Poor
Mother, see what you've done to her.'
    Mother had her head in her hands and
was crying hard, her whole face wobbling in a
distracting fashion.
    'What shall I do if my little boy's dead?' she wailed.
'And what will the hospital say? They'll think I'm
unfit to care for any more children. They'll take
little Eliza away from me—'
    'They shan't do that!' said Eliza, cradling her
little namesake in her arms. 'Oh, Hetty, this is all
your fault.'
    I burst out crying afresh, because no one seemed
to mind about me. I closed my eyes and pictured
Madame Adeline.
    'Come, my precious Little Star,' she said, holding
her arms out. 'Come and live at the circus with me.
We will perform every night. I will be the Big Star
and you the Little Star. I will give you your own
white pony. You will dance on its back and everyone
will clap and clap. No one shall ever scold you,
dearest Hetty. Jem will come and see us perform in
the ring every night, and he will clap and clap and
you will wave to him. He will tell people proudly
that you are his little sister. Rosie and Eliza will
beg you to wave at them too, but you won't take
any notice of them. You don't want them to be your
sisters any more. You don't want Nat to be your
brother . . .' But then my vision of Madame Adeline
faltered. She could not say the word Gideon. He was
my brother for ever and ever, my fellow foundling,
almost my twin. If he ceased to be my brother, if he
had perished somewhere in the dark woods, then I
would go demented with guilt and sorrow.
    Madame Adeline faded until she was the
merest glimmer of pink. I pictured Gideon instead,
howling with terror in the great dark wood, calling
for Jem and me until his voice cracked, running
and stumbling and falling, lying there in the mud
and the leaves, white and limp and broken. Wild
creatures scuttled past him but he didn't blink
his eyes. They were open for ever in his stark
woodland grave . . .
    I frightened myself so badly I started screaming.
Rosie shook me hard.
    'Stop that silly shrieking, Hetty! Shame on you!
You just want to be the centre of attention. Stop it
this instant.'
    I couldn't stop. I managed to quell the noise, but
huge sobs still shook me every second, and tears
rolled down my cheeks in a torrent. After a long,
long while Mother held out her arms wearily. I crept
forward and climbed on her lap. She held me close
and whispered soothingly, but she was trembling too,
her whole body tensed for the sound of footsteps.
    Then at last we heard Father's big boots, the boys'
scuffles. Father strode into the cottage and this time he had Gideon in his arms. He was holding him like
a baby. Gideon's head lolled and his spindly arms
and legs dangled lifelessly.
    'Oh, he's dead, he's dead!' I cried.
    'Hush, Hetty. The little lad's sleeping, but he's
fair perished,' said Father.
    Mother leaped up, brushing me blindly out of the
way, and seized Gideon to her bosom. She wrapped
her