The Ribbon Weaver (24 page)

‘Very well, if you won’t let me move the loom then you and I can exchange rooms,’ she told Molly sensibly. ‘My room is much bigger than yours and I don’t need much space. You’d be so much more comfortable in my room.’

‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Molly had protested, but on this point Amy would not be swayed and so she and Toby had spent the whole of one Sunday transferring Molly’s bed and possessions into Amy’s room. Amy then made sure that her gran’s new bedroom was warm and comfortable, with new curtains at the window and soft thick blankets to keep out the cold on the bed as well as thick rugs on the floor. In truth, there was no longer any need for Molly to weave. The money that she had once earned, each bronze penny so important back then, was no longer necessary. Mr Forrester was a more than generous master and Amy was now earning more money than they could spend.

Amy had also ensured that the rest of the cottage was made more comfortable too with some of her earnings, and although Molly grumbled Amy knew that she was secretly pleased with the things she had bought. Her old rocking chair, which she would not hear of being done away with, was now padded with thick cushions, and Amy had bought her a stool to put her feet up on. Bright rugs were scattered all across the floor and good thick curtains hung at the windows. The coal house was full to brimming, as was the pantry, and Molly felt as if she had never had it so good. She was a good girl, was her Amy.

‘Are you in for the night now?’ she asked hopefully as she returned the washed crocks to the dresser a short while later.

Amy was lying in the fireside chair with her stockinged feet stretched out to the warmth of the fire.

She stretched lazily. ‘No. I’ve promised the old mistress I’d take some of my new sketches to The Folly tonight for her to look at. In fact, I ought to be getting off soon or I’ll get so comfy that I won’t want to go.’ As she pulled herself out of the chair with an effort, Molly clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

‘You should never be going back out in weather like this,’ she scolded. ‘It’s fit for neither man nor beast, an’ I was hopin’ Toby might come round an’ have a glass o’ me special home-made wine wi’ us tonight.’

‘You two go ahead,’ Amy told her as she pulled her soft high-buttoned leather boots on. ‘And don’t worry, Gran, I’ll wrap up warmly. I shouldn’t be gone for too long anyway.’

‘Well, if you must go just get back soon as you can.’

Amy looked at the two little pink bonnets that Molly had placed on the table. They had taken the old woman weeks to knit, for her hands were not as nifty with the knitting needles now as they had used to be. She guessed that they would be for Mary, who was the very proud mother of twins, little girls who were as alike as two peas in a pod. They were toddling about on their sturdy little legs now and into all sorts of mischief, but both Molly and Bessie utterly adored them and the knitting gave Molly something to do when Amy was away from home.

Bending, she placed a gentle kiss on Molly’s papery cheek. ‘You just stay by the fire now and keep warm,’ she warned.

Molly grunted. ‘Huh! I ain’t hardly goin’ to be out gallivantin’, am I? Now get yourself off. The sooner you’re gone the sooner you’ll be back, an’ take care.’

Amy smiled as she stepped out into the lane, just in time to see Annie Hayden entering Bessie’s cottage – and the sight instantly swiped the smile from her face. Annie lived in one of the little ribbon-weaver’s cottages in Abbey Street and was the latest in a long line of girls to set her cap at Toby. Cathy Hickman had long since given up on him and had married a local lad the year before. Annie was probably visiting on some pretext or another to see Toby, although Amy doubted that he would mind. Her gran had informed her that he seemed to be warming towards Annie lately, and as Amy set off on her journey her steps were heavy. The relationship between herself and Toby had changed noticeably since her very first visit to London. She had wondered at first if perhaps he could be jealous of the fact that she was trying to make something of herself, but had dismissed that idea almost immediately. It wasn’t in Toby’s nature to be jealous of anyone. Then she had thought that perhaps it was because he was having more to do with Annie, who had, as Bessie had bluntly put it, gone all out to woo him. But then again, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t see why that should have affected their friendship. She and Toby had been close for as far back as she could remember. Eventually, she could only assume that the cooling was due to her hectic way of life and the fact that they had simply grown up and grown apart.

Whatever the reason, she found that his cool attitude hurt her and she missed him far more than she could have imagined. Oh, he still came round to Molly’s occasionally, and he still showed interest in Amy’s designs when she showed them to him, but the closeness they had once shared seemed to be a thing of the past.

For a time she shuffled along the lane, her steps dragging. She was deeply lost in thought but then as the bitterly cold wind began to find its way through her many layers of clothes she quickened her pace. The wind was whistling eerily through the trees, which bent their barren branches towards her as if they were trying to snatch at her. But Amy hurried on regardless. The night held no fear for her and she knew every step of the way to Forrester’s Folly like the back of her hand. Soon the chimneys belching their black smoke into the dark skies came into view and she cut across the white frosted lawns to the door of the big house, keen to be out of the cold.

Lily admitted her. As usual, she was immaculately dressed in a grey serge gown and a heavily starched apron and mob cap. She took Amy’s outer things and hung them on a mahogany hat-stand. Amy thanked her and hurried towards the study, passing Beatrice, who had her arms full of Mrs Forrester’s clean laundry, in the hall. Beatrice had taken Mary’s position as lady’s maid to Mrs Forrester after the birth of Mary’s children, and loved her new role. Now she winked at Amy cheekily and Amy beamed back at her. They rarely got to see each other now, apart from the odd Sunday afternoon when Beatrice had time off and Amy was at home, but even so they had remained firm friends.

Both the master and mistress were waiting for Amy and they smiled at her warmly as she entered. Crossing to a heavy cut-glass decanter, Mr Forrester poured some of its amber contents into a glass and after placing it in Amy’s hand he drew her towards the roaring fire.

‘Get some of that down you,’ he encouraged. ‘It will warm you inside and out.’

Amy obediently sipped at the drink and as the fiery liquid made its way down her throat her eyes began to run and she coughed.

Patting her on the back, Mr Forrester chuckled. ‘There you are, you see – didn’t I tell you it was warming?’

‘Burning’ was the term Amy would have preferred to use as her insides felt as if they were on fire but she politely said nothing as she tried to compose herself. Once she was seated, she began to tell them about her latest trip to London. Mr Forrester was more than pleased with the pile of orders she placed in front of him, and leaning back in his chair he praised her. ‘Well done, Amy. At this rate we’re going to have to start to think about moving to larger premises to meet demand.’

Amy flushed at the compliment, and all the time Josephine Forrester, who as yet had said not a word, was watching her closely. ‘You’re not finding all this too much for you, are you, dear?’ she asked now. To her mind, Amy looked tired.

‘Not at all, ma’am. I love what I’m doing,’ Amy assured her quickly.

‘All the same, I don’t want you making yourself ill. I’m quite aware of all the travelling you are having to do, so Samuel and I have come up with an idea that just might make things slightly easier for you.’

When Amy looked at her curiously, Josephine hurried on, ‘The thing is, there is an empty cottage within the grounds of Forrester’s Folly. If you were to come and live in it – with your grandmother too, of course, it could save you a lot of time, running to and fro. You could have the use of the horse and carriage and travel into Nuneaton with Samuel whenever necessary, to save you having to walk everywhere. And it could also take you to the station whenever you needed to go to London. It would be nice to have you near, now that Adam and Eugenie have moved into their own property in London.’

Amy’s eyes stretched wide with shock, but then the more she thought about it, the more sense it made.

‘I’d have to talk to my gran about it,’ she told her mistress.

‘Of course you must,’ Josephine agreed, and she prayed that Molly would see the sense in her suggestion. She herself liked the thought of having Amy close at hand, as she had become very fond of her and looked forward to her visits enormously. She was a little lonely since Adam had moved out, although she could not say that she missed his wife. In fact, The Folly was a much happier place without Eugenie’s tantrums, if truth be told. She now rose in a billow of silk skirts.

‘Right then, that’s agreed.’ She smiled. ‘You speak to your gran and if she’s happy with the idea, we shall have the cottage made ready for you in no time at all.’ Josephine sailed towards the door. ‘Will you be looking in on Mother-in-law before you leave?’ she asked, as she paused with her hand on the door handle.

Amy nodded.

‘Very well. I shall excuse myself now then and look forward to hearing your decision. Good night, my dear.’ She cast one last radiant smile at Amy and then she was gone.

Later that evening, when she was perched on the edge of the elderly mistress’s huge brass bed, Amy told her of Josephine’s offer.

‘I ’ave to agree it would make sense,’ Maude said thoughtfully. ‘But what do yer think your gran will make of it?’

Amy shrugged. ‘I’m not too sure,’ she confessed, chewing on her lip. ‘Gran is a bit set in her ways and not really one for change.’

‘Well, I suppose yer could always come and live in the cottage on your own if yer gran wanted to stay put.’

Amy shook her head vehemently. ‘My place is with her. I’d never even
consider
leaving her on her own.’

As the girl’s eyes flashed, Mrs Forrester said gently, ‘Then that’s to your credit, my dear. But why don’t yer just put the offer to her and see how she feels about it?’

‘I will,’ Amy promised, and soon she was on her way home with her mind in a spin.

Much later that evening, when Amy and Molly were sitting either side of the fireplace, dozing over a cup of hot milk, Amy plucked up her courage and asked cautiously, ‘Gran, how would you feel about moving?’

‘Where would I be thinkin’ o’ movin’ to at my age?’ Molly raised her eyebrows.

Amy peeped at her out of the corner of her eye. ‘Well … the thing is, Mr and Mrs Forrester have offered us a cottage in the grounds of Forrester’s Folly and I wondered what you thought of the idea.’

Molly’s shrunken old frame seemed to grow in stature as she almost choked with indignation. ‘
What?
Leave here, yer mean? The place that’s been me home fer nearly ’alf o’ me life?’

As Amy nodded timidly, Molly’s eyes roved around the familiar room. ‘No, never!’ she declared firmly. ‘This is all I’ve ever wanted. I’m too old to be thinkin’ o’ pickin’ up sticks an’ movin’ on now. The only time I’ll ever leave here is feet first in a wooden box.’

Her answer was exactly what Amy had expected and she stared gloomily into the fire. Molly reached over, and her indignation gone now, she gently squeezed her hand.

‘I’m sorry, lass. I know it would mean a lot less rushin’ about fer you, but I’m too set in me ways. Why, I’d wither away if I had to move to somewhere strange now.’

When Amy nodded in understanding, Molly felt guilty. There was nothing in the world she wouldn’t have done for this girl. Nothing, that is, apart from what she was now suggesting.

‘You … you could always go on your own,’ she said, and now it was Amy’s turn to be indignant.

‘That’s a silly thing to say, Gran. You should know I would
never
leave you, not even if they were to offer me a mansion.’ Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around Molly and whispered, ‘I promise I’ll never mention it again. It was selfish of me to even consider it. I know that you’re settled here, and anyway, if we were to go I’d miss Bessie and Toby.’

‘Shush then, darlin’. Let’s just leave it at that, eh? The least said on the matter the soonest mended.’ And the old lady returned Amy’s hug and stroked her shining hair, knowing that the subject would never be raised again.

The Forresters were disappointed at Amy’s decision but they also respected it. Loyalty like hers was hard to find. And so the offer was shelved and life went on very much as it had before.

Chapter Sixteen

As Christmas 1851 approached, the snow finally came and Molly, who now never ventured very far anyway, found herself totally housebound. Before setting off for work each morning, Amy would fill the coal-scuttle to its brim and make sure that her gran had everything she needed. If she was going to London, Toby would come round and get in the coal for her before he went to work and then do the same again in the evening.

It was on one such evening, when Molly was sitting at the table with him and Bessie that she brought up a subject that was much on her mind.

‘I don’t know what to get our Amy for her twenty-first birthday,’ she confessed.

Bessie pointed to a jar that was almost full of coins on the shelf. ‘I can’t really see what you’re frettin’ about,’ she said reasonably. ‘All you have to do is tell me what you’d like for her and I’ll go into town and fetch it for you. There’s enough money in there to buy her a lovely present.’

‘No!’ Molly said adamantly. ‘I don’t want to buy her anything with that money. It’s money that
she
earned. I want to get her something from me personally.’

They sat pondering on the dilemma for some time until Toby drained the tea in his mug and stood up. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you ladies to come up with a solution by yourselves,’ he told them, suppressing a yawn. ‘I’m off to my bed.’

Bessie nodded; he did look tired. ‘Go on, lad,’ she urged. ‘You get yourself away an’ tell yer dad I’ll be round shortly.’