The Ribbon Weaver (17 page)
However, by the time the row of cottages came into sight, Amy’s footsteps had slowed again and she was deep in thought. The first flush of elation had receded and all she could think of now was the fact that she would be leaving her gran all alone. Never for a single day in her whole life had the two been apart, and the thought of leaving her and being so far away was daunting. Her gran was no longer a young woman, although if asked, Amy could not have stated her actual age. Once or twice over the years she had ventured cheekily, ‘So, exactly how old are you, Gran?’ and Molly had playfully cuffed her ear and replied, ‘I’m as old as me tongue, an’ a little bit older than me teeth, an’ that’s all you need to know, me gel!’
Amy grinned at the memories but then became solemn again.
What would I do if anything happened to her while I was gone? Who would take care of her?
Her thoughts ran on as she weighed up the wonderful opportunity that had been offered to her against the prospect of abandoning her gran, and by the time she entered the cottage she was in a sombre mood, as Molly was quick to note.
She was sitting at the old scrubbed table with Bessie, with a great brown teapot between them, and they were both furiously knitting what looked like a tiny shawl and a bonnet that Amy rightly assumed would be for Mary’s baby.
‘Why, you’re nice an’ early fer a change,’ Molly commented as she looked up. ‘That were right good timin’. The tea’s just brewed so fetch a cup an’ join us, love.’
As she was pouring the tea, Molly asked her impatiently, ‘So come on, then – don’t keep us in suspense. How did the visit go?’
Amy shrugged. ‘It went well. My wages have been raised to a guinea a week.’
Both Molly and Bessie’s eyes stretched wide with amazement and Molly’s chest swelled with pride. Yet knowing Amy as she did, Molly also guessed that there was more to come.
‘
And?
’ she persisted. ‘I know there’s sommat else, so don’t just sit there as if the cat’s got your tongue. Out with it.’
Amy sighed. She had never been able to keep anything from Molly; the woman could read her like a book.
‘Well … actually, the master
did
put a proposition to me.’ She squirmed in her seat as both sets of knitting needles suddenly became still and the two women eyed her expectantly.
‘The old mistress and Mr and Mrs Forrester have offered to take me to London for a month,’ Amy gulped. ‘They both feel it would stand me in good stead in my new position.’
There, it was said and now she sat back to wait for Molly’s response. It was Bessie who reacted first when she beamed and said, ‘Why, Amy, yer must be thrilled to bits. There’s not many girls round ’ere as will ever be offered an opportunity like that, I’ll be bound.’
As yet, Molly had said not a word and before she could, Amy announced, ‘It’s all right, Gran. I’m not going. I only told you because you’d asked.’
Molly’s mind was working overtime and a feeling of dread had overcome her. London. Samuel Forrester had offered to take Amy to London. It sounded like the other side of the world to Molly, and what about the cholera outbreak they had suffered there the year before? But then she had read in the newspapers that it struck mainly in the slum areas, and she couldn’t imagine Samuel Forrester having a residence anywhere like that. Even so, it had been a terrible epidemic, if what she had read was true. The poor souls had been dropping like flies. But then again, it
had
been over a year ago now, and Amy’s eyes were so full of hope …
Pulling herself together with an enormous effort, Molly almost sputtered, ‘What do you mean, you’re not going? Why, it’s the chance of a lifetime.
Of course
you’re bloody well going! You’d have to be soft in the head to turn down an opportunity like this.’
Amy’s chin jutted stubbornly as she crossed her arms and stared back at her.
‘Come on then. Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t go,’ Molly demanded, and Amy’s shoulders sagged.
‘I’d worry about you being here all on your own,’ she admitted miserably and at that, Molly roared with laughter.
‘You soft young madam you. Is that all it is? Well, I won’t be on me own, will I? I’ve got Bessie here, who’s not a stone’s throw away, as well you know. And besides, I’m not quite in me dotage just yet. I can still take care of meself, and happen it’ll do me good not to have to run about after you for a few weeks.’
As Amy looked up into her gran’s loving eyes they both smiled.
‘There, that’s sorted then,’ Molly said firmly. ‘You’re goin’, an’ that’s an end to it. Why, I’d never sleep easy in me bed if I thought you’d missed a chance like this over me.’
Amy suddenly rose and skirting the table, she flung herself into Molly’s arms.
‘Oh Gran, I
do
love you,’ she whispered.
Gently stroking the girl’s soft hair, Molly nodded as she said chokily, ‘Aye, darlin’. I know you do, an’ I love you an’ all.’ And the words were spoken from the heart.
On the morning of their departure, Molly chose not to go to the railway station to see Amy off. She couldn’t walk as far now as she had used to and besides, she had chosen to say her goodbyes in the privacy of her own home. Toby had carried Amy’s valise to the station the night before and left it in the ticket office for her, and now as Amy stood before her gran, her expression was anxious.
‘Are you quite sure that you’re going to be all right?’ she asked for the hundredth time that morning.
Molly clucked her tongue impatiently. ‘Just how many times do I have to tell yer? O’ course I’ll be all right. Now come here and let’s tidy you up a bit.’ She fussed with the ribbons of Amy’s bonnet that were tied beneath her chin, then standing back she surveyed her with satisfaction. Amy was wearing the new dress Molly had hastily made for her, working long into the night to have it finished in time, and on the girl’s head was a pretty poke bonnet trimmed with lace that was exactly the same shade of blue as her dress. Amy looked truly beautiful. She had brushed her hair till it shone and her dark eyes were bright. The flush of youth had lent a glow to her cheeks and as Molly surveyed her, her chest swelled with pride.
‘There then, I dare say you’ll do,’ she said gruffly. There was a great lump swelling in her throat and her heart was aching but she was dry-eyed and outwardly calm. ‘Let’s be havin’ yer then. If you don’t get a move on you’ll be missin’ yer train.’
She ushered the girl towards the door and once they were both on the doorstep, Amy pulled her into a last embrace.
‘Now remember what I’ve told you,’ Molly told her. ‘Don’t get goin’ out on your own. London is a big place an’ full o’ pick-pockets an’ villains, from what I’ve heard of it. And
don’t
get talkin’ to no strangers.’
Amy’s eyes were full of unshed tears and pushing her away seemingly impatiently, Molly flapped her hand at her. ‘Now don’t get startin’ that,’ she scolded. ‘You’re only goin’ for a month. You’ll be back in the blink of an eye, so just get yourself off an’ enjoy yourself.’
‘All right, Gran. I’ll try.’ Amy planted a last tender kiss on Molly’s thinning hair and then with a final wave she was gone.
Molly watched her until she had disappeared round a bend in the lane, then turning slowly she re-entered the kitchen. Already, it seemed empty, and as she sank down into her old rocking chair, the tears that had been threatening to erupt all morning suddenly flooded from her eyes and made their way down her wrinkled old cheeks. Deep inside she knew that her girl was on the verge of better things, just as she had always felt it was destined to be, and while one part of her heart rejoiced, the other part mourned the loss of the simple life they had shared. Somehow, Molly Ernshaw knew that from that day on, Amy was about to start another chapter of her life.
When Amy arrived at the station, she found a porter busily transferring numerous trunks, valises and hatboxes from the back of the horse and cart that the Forresters had sent ahead of them, into the rear compartment of the train. She stared at the mountain of luggage in wonder, wondering how anyone could need so much for just four weeks.
She had arrived in plenty of time and shortly afterwards, Samuel Forrester’s smart horse and carriage drew to a halt at the entrance. The master was the first to alight and after acknowledging her with a cheery wave he then proceeded to help his mother down from the carriage. Amy had to bite her lip to stop herself from giggling when the old woman appeared. With her heavily painted face and overly frilled attire she made an amusing spectacle at the best of times, but today she had truly excelled herself. The hat that perched precariously on her wig was so wide and so heavily laden with silk flowers that it barely fitted through the carriage door, and she cursed irritably as her son struggled to assist her down the steps.
‘Stop
pullin
’,’ she scolded him, slapping peevishly at his hand. ‘You’ll ’ave me go me length, man.’
Samuel merely sighed. He was well-used to his mother’s ways but eventually she stood in the road, straightening her hat and smoothing her voluminous skirts as she glared at him. When she spotted Amy standing patiently on the station platform she raised her hand in greeting and after waving back, Amy turned her attention back to the carriage. She had only ever seen Josephine Forrester from afar, and as yet had not been formally introduced.
As Mr Forrester helped her down from the carriage Amy saw that she was a very attractive woman. Although no longer young, her relatively unlined face was soft, and her auburn hair, although slightly faded in colour, was still thick and shining. But it was her eyes that were her best feature. They were a deep brown and, as Amy stared into them, she felt that she could almost have been staring into her own in a mirror.
The woman was dressed in a superbly cut velvet day costume in a rich ruby shade, and on her head was perched a jaunty little hat that Amy instantly recognised as one of her own designs. It was common knowledge in the town that Samuel Forrester had married far above his class, and from the way Josephine held her head high and her proud bearing, Amy could well believe it. Mary and Beatrice had told her that Mr Forrester obviously still adored his wife even after many years of marriage, and now that Amy had seen her she could understand why.
When they finally approached her, Samuel introduced his wife with pride. ‘Amy, this is my wife, Mrs Forrester.’
Amy bobbed her knee respectfully as Mrs Forrester smiled at her kindly and said, ‘How do you do, my dear. It’s so nice to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you, and I know my husband and my mother-in-law have very high hopes for you.’
Unbeknown to Amy, Josephine Forrester had in fact been watching her comings and goings at The Folly for some time, unobserved from her upstairs apartments. The first time she had glimpsed her she had thought she must be seeing a ghost, for Amy bore a striking resemblance to the daughter who she still grieved for daily. Now, face to face with the girl, she was more than ever reminded of her beloved Jessica and her heart ached afresh. Up close, Samuel’s protégée was very pretty, and Josephine warmed to her immediately. Unbidden, her thoughts slipped back to happier times but they were disturbed when the stationmaster blew his whistle.
‘All aboard!’
he shouted, and for the next few minutes they were all kept busy assisting the elderly Mrs Forrester into her carriage and settling her into her seat, which proved to be no easy task.
Amy finally stared out of the window, everything except the excitement of riding on a train for the very first time momentarily forgotten. She felt like a little girl again, all happy and bubbly inside, and it was all she could do to stop herself from laughing aloud with sheer delight.
Her excitement was not lost on the old woman, who winked at her son in private amusement. He grinned back, and as the last carriage door was slammed there was a final shrill whistle and with a jerk the train began to pull away from the station in a cloud of thick black smoke.
Just for a second, as all the old familiar places began to slip past the window, Amy’s face clouded as she thought of her gran all alone back at the cottage. But then excitement took over again and she gazed in awe at the fields as they sped along.
It took some five hours and three stops before they drew into Euston station, and by then Amy was in fine high spirits again. Euston was enormous compared to the small station back at home, and as they alighted, she stared about her in awe. There were porters pushing luggage and people rushing here and there, everywhere she looked. Compared to her relatively quiet home town this was truly like another world.
Once all their luggage had been placed aboard a horse and carriage she watched Mr Forrester give the porter a generous tip before ushering them all into another carriage, and they then began their journey to Sloane Street. The old lady was tired by then and kept dropping into a doze, but Amy was wide-awake and as they drove through the streets she gaped in amazement at the size of the buildings. Everything here in London seemed larger than life, and hordes of people thronged the streets. She tried hard to absorb every single thing so that she could tell her gran all about it when she got home. Here and there on the street corners were flowersellers with barrows full of colourful blooms, and all along the rooftops she saw fat pigeons perched high in the eaves of the buildings. Smart men in sombre suits and top hats scurried to and fro, and fashionable ladies in elegantly cut costumes meandered up and down the numerous shopfronts. Amy was sure that there were more shops in just one street here than there were in the whole of Nuneaton and as she continued to stare from the carriage window she was totally enthralled.
Old Mrs Forrester was fast asleep now, worn out from the long journey. She was snoring loudly, her chin drooped to her chest, but Amy didn’t even notice, she was too intent on the sights that they passed.
After some considerable time they turned into what appeared to be yet another very smart neighbourhood. On either side of the wide streets were rows of huge terraced houses. They were all four storeys high, and to Amy’s mind they almost seemed to touch the sky. Set into the brickwork here and there was fancy terracotta work carved expertly into the shapes of birds and flowers, and each house appeared to be trying to outdo its neighbour with the quality of the curtains and the heavy lace drapes.
