Kate in Violet Class entered a creative writing competition
Kate Rowsell Ryan, age 10
“What
happened?” Hetty gasped. “Where’s Tabitha?”
“Don’t
worry, Hetty,” Nurse Winterson answered in a warm tone. “Tabitha is in with the
rest of the girls having her breakfast.”
“Ow!
Ow! Ow!” Hetty screamed frantically. As she held her chest. “I can hardly
breathe. What’s happening? Ow!”
The
tiny puppy seated on Hetty’s chest started to whine at the sight of Hetty’s
pain.
“Oh
dear, oh dear,” Nurse Winterson cried wringing her pale, worn hands. “I shall
call for the doctor. Oh, and I will fetch Tabitha to come and get your dog.”
As
quick as a shot a flustered looking Tabitha rushed into the room, still fixing
her faded, mustard, ugly cap, and scooped up the worried little puppy and found
a neglected and worn potato sack to hide it in.
A
few minutes later a stout, plump man waddled into the flickering light of the
room. He was wearing a blue velvet suit, had a blue bowler hat perched on top
of his head, an expensive looking pair of half moon spectacles, and was
carrying a smooth willow cane. The man’s eyes were warm and welcoming, yet his
smile was not; it seemed he had forgotten to smile, like someone might forget
to wash their hands. Matron was following. Her grey bun pulling her back into a
pinched twist, but she looked sincerely worried, her strict act was as clear as
glass to Hetty.
Hetty
smiled at the thought about Matron being worried about her. Did she secretly
like all of the children? Matron cleared her throat in such an imperious manner
it snapped Hetty out of her suspicions.
The
smartly dressed man sat himself on the end of the springy but uncomfortable bed
and tool a marvellous, golden pocket-watch out of his waistcoat. He peered at
it before tucking it back in his pocket as though he was running out of time.
“Thirty
minutes,” he muttered in a surprisingly low voice.
There
was a thunderous slam as Matron closed the large, heavy oak door.
“Well.
Hello. My name is Doctor Wellston. What’s your name?” the doctor asked in a
kindly tone
“I’m
Hetty Feather,” Hetty said in a sad peepy voice, which is not how she would
normally speak.
After
quarter of an hour or so of tiring tests, the doctor went out for a chat
looking as worried as a rat being chased by cats. A few minutes later he came
back with Matron, both looking upset.
“Hetty,”
the young Doctor said in a painful way. “You have… you have…”
“What?”
interrupted Hetty anxiously.
“You
have asthma. You’re going to have to go to the countryside for treatment.”
*
Jacqueline Wilson and the Foundling Museum were so delighted with all the children that sent in their writing and illustrations that they sent the following message.
Congratulations again from all of us at
the Foundling Museum for being one of our Hetty Feather Competition
winners!
Jacqueline also wanted to pass along the
following message to you all:
I’ve been so thrilled to see all your
brilliant written episodes and talented artwork, and am very touched that so
many of you enjoyed sending in your entries. You’re a very talented
bunch. Well done to everyone.
Thank you so much for taking part during
Lockdown and over the Summer. I hope this competition gave you something
positive to focus on. I wish we could have included every single
entry in the final story, which I am very excited about and have just finished
for you.
You all seem to know so much about the
Foundling Hospital and the Hetty stories! You’ve been so clever writing
about Tabitha and Toby, and introducing the little puppy
Chocolate. I’m ultra-impressed with the clever plot twist using
Rose. You’ve made me want to write another Hetty Feather book now!
Please keep up with your creative writing!
I hope to meet up with many of you next year if we’re able to have a proper Hetty Feather Day at the Foundling Museum.
All the best from Jacqueline Wilson and
the Foundling Museum Team x
⭐⭐⭐🌟
A spectacular effort Kate!
Well done!
