The Ribbon Weaver (9 page)
‘She should never have gone out on a day like this,’ she fretted. ‘Why, it ain’t fit for a dog to be out.’
She and Bessie were huddled up by the fire, and reaching over, Bessie patted her hand comfortingly.
‘She’ll be all right, love,’ she reassured her. ‘She might not be very big but she’s young and strong. Anyway, she’s been gone well over an hour now; happen she’ll be back soon.’
Molly hoped she was right. ‘I need to get back to me weaving,’ she told Bessie. ‘The money I had put by has almost gone, but me damn hands don’t seem to want to do what me head tells ’em!’
Bessie sighed at her dilemma until all of a sudden a solution to Molly’s problems occurred to her.
‘What about the locket?’ She had never mentioned it once in all the years since Molly had brought Amy home.
But Molly discounted it immediately. In truth, she had almost forgotten about it herself. It was still hidden in the back of the attic in the tapestry bag where she had placed it so long ago.
‘I know it seems wrong to sell it, but then desperate situations call for desperate measures, and were yer to sell it, it would probably fetch enough to keep yer both for years,’ Bessie sensibly pointed out.
‘That’s Amy’s legacy,’ Molly said firmly. ‘It’s all I have to give her of her poor mother, apart from them clothes she were found in. I know you’re only trying to help, Bessie, but if I sold that, I’d never be able to forgive myself.’
Bessie sighed, and the two women sat, trying to think of some other solution, but try as they might, nothing came to mind.
That evening, when supper was over, Amy plucked up her courage and dared to broach the subject that Molly had avoided for so long.
‘Gran … did you know that the money in the jar is almost gone now?’
‘I know well enough,’ snapped Molly, ‘but don’t go worritin’ over that. I’m feeling better by the day now. Why, I’ve already decided that come tomorrow I’m going to get back to me loom.’
Amy sighed in despair. ‘But you’re not properly well yet, and anyway, it’s freezing up in that room. If you go up there too soon, you’ll be back to square one and in your sickbed again.’
They glared at each other for a moment, each as stubborn as the other until Molly’s old shoulders suddenly slumped.
Amy’s hand crept across the table and squeezed Molly’s lovingly.
‘You’ve been really ill,’ she said tenderly. ‘I can’t let you start weaving again until you’re properly better, and in the meantime we’ve got to live. You don’t need me to tell you that though, do you, Gran?’
Molly shook her head as tears welled in her eyes, and seizing her chance, Amy went on, ‘It’s high time I got a job.’ She held up her hand as Molly opened her mouth to protest. ‘You know that all the other girls hereabouts have been working for years, so why should I be any different?’
‘Because you
are
different, that’s why! You’re a cut above everyone around here, just as yer mother was before yer, and I want the best fer yer.’
‘But you’ve
always
given me the best, Gran, and now it’s my turn.’ Amy’s eyes were bright with tears too. ‘
Please
let me do this,’ she begged, and Molly chewed on her lip as she sensed defeat. She could see that Amy was determined to have her own way this time and all the fight went out of her.
‘I’ll tell yer what, if yer can find a job somewhere respectable, where it’s safe fer a well-brought-up girl to be, I’ll consider it. How does that suit yer?’
Amy’s whole face lit up. At least this was a step in the right direction.
‘It’s a bargain.’ She laughed and they hugged each other fondly.
In actual fact, finding a job that suited them both proved to be a much more difficult task than Amy had anticipated. It was actually Mary on her next afternoon off who came up with a solution to their problem. They were all sitting around Molly’s scrubbed oak table and Mary was filling them in with the goings-on at Forrester’s Folly.
‘The poor master’s in a right old flap,’ she told them. ‘The influenza epidemic that has been going around has swept through the hat factory and the workers are dropping like flies. I heard the master tell the mistress when I was serving their tea that he’s desperate for workers to fulfil a big order he’s got.’
Amy’s ears pricked up immediately. ‘Do you think there’d be any chance of me being taken on?’ she asked hopefully.
Mary shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. Why don’t yer go round there tomorrow and ask. You’ve nothing to lose, have yer? The very worst they can say is no.’
Amy hugged herself; she had always longed to work in the hat factory. ‘Would that be all right with you, Gran?’
The old woman sighed in defeat. ‘I suppose it would be safe there,’ she admitted grudgingly.
‘It’s decided then,’ Amy said. ‘First thing in the morning, I’ll go round there and try my luck.’ And that’s exactly what she did.
It was bitterly cold when she set off the next morning. The wind had dropped and for now it had stopped snowing, but the sky was grey and leaden. Molly saw her off from the door like an old mother hen.
‘It’s going to snow again, I can smell it,’ she warned Amy. ‘So just mind yer come straight home and don’t go talkin’ to no strangers.’ All the time she was talking she was tucking the collar of Amy’s woollen coat tighter under her chin.
Amy grinned. ‘I’m not a baby, Gran.’
In that minute Molly had to admit to herself that indeed she wasn’t. Besides her warm new coat she had a pretty warm shawl that she herself had decorated with burgundy velvet ribbons to match her coat, and it kept her head warm. Her hair, which only minutes before had been brushed, was already springing out, the shining auburn curls spilling down her back, and with her bright eyes and rosy dimpled cheeks she looked incredibly pretty.
As she went swinging off along the snow-covered cobbles, Molly watched her sadly. At the end of the lane, Amy turned and waved, and then she was gone. Suddenly Molly felt very old and alone. She had always known deep inside that she couldn’t tie Amy to her apron strings for ever, and now it was time to start to let go.
Amy was bubbling with excitement. She knew all the short-cuts through the labyrinth of cobbled alleys in Nuneaton town centre, and despite the hindrance of the deep snow, she made the journey to the hat factory in record time. When she got there, her cheeks were glowing with the cold and her breath hung on the air, but suddenly the excitement waned and was replaced by nervousness. The factory was a large building with the hat shop that displayed its wares to the front and a door to the side of it which led to the factory. In the hat-shop window were hats of all shapes and sizes, some trimmed with artificial flowers, some with feathers or veils, and some with the locally woven ribbons all the colours of the rainbow. She stood for some minutes admiring them as she had ever since she was a child.
From the back of the shop in the factory she could hear the dull whirr of the machinery, so taking a deep breath, Amy drew herself up to her full height and made her way in, her head held high.
By the time she left it had begun to snow again, just as Molly had predicted, but Amy hardly noticed it, and flew down the alleys in a most unladylike manner. She was breathless by the time the familiar cottages came into sight but she never once slowed her steps and almost fell into the kitchen in her haste to tell Molly her news.
‘I’ve got a job, Gran!’ she shouted. ‘Only as a runabout for now, but it’s a start, ain’t it?’
Molly couldn’t help but be pleased for her. ‘Well done, lass,’ she said, and while Amy chattered on about the factory she hurried about getting her a warming mug of broth.
Amy was so full of her good news, it was hard to get a word in sideways but eventually Molly managed it. ‘When do yer start?’ she asked.
‘Tomorrow …
and
I’ll get paid on Friday.’
It was going against the grain for Molly to think of Amy as the breadwinner. But the girl was so pleased with herself that Molly wisely held her tongue, not wanting to spoil it for her.
‘It’s only a temporary arrangement,’ she warned. ‘Just till I’m back in me stride.’ But even as the words were uttered they both knew that it wasn’t true, and that their life as they had known it was about to change.
Right from when Amy had been a little girl, barely tall enough to gaze into the hat-shop window, she had imagined it as a very glamorous place. But within a very short time of working there she came to realise that the only glamorous thing about it was the hats it produced. Her day began at 5.30 each morning when she would make her way there with some bread and cheese that would serve as her lunch wrapped in a clean piece of muslin.
All day she would sweep the floors, supply the weavers who worked the great looms with huge reels of silk and cotton, fetch, carry, and in general do anything that she was told. Sometimes if there was an order being prepared, it could be seven or eight o’clock at night before she finished, and then at last she would make her weary way home.
No matter what time she finished, Molly would always be watching from the kitchen window for her and would meet her at the door with a welcoming kiss and a hug. Sometimes Amy would be so tired that she would fall asleep over the meal that Molly had ready for her – but even so, never once did she complain. Often when in the large factory she would stand and admire the finished hats and imagine how she herself could decorate them.
Of all the women that worked there, she envied the designers most of all. They worked in a separate room right at the end of the factory floor, and occasionally Amy would glimpse them bent over their drawing boards or busily pinning together the unfinished hats. Unfortunately she was never allowed into that room. The women in there were highly respected and highly paid, unlike herself and the women who toiled long hours over the looms and machines.
Mr Forrester’s office was at the other end of the factory on the first floor. To reach his office you had to climb a flight of steep metal stairs and occasionally on his visits, Amy would catch sight of him peering out of his office window as he surveyed his employees. Though now well into middle age, Mr Forrester was still a handsome man, but as yet Amy had never once seen him smile. Once a week he would walk amongst his workers with the supervisor, inspecting their work. He always had a word of praise for good quality work, but woe betide anyone whose work was not up to his standards. He himself had toiled long and hard to build up his little empire and he expected only the best. Anyone who couldn’t meet his standards was swiftly shown the door and never given a second chance.
But on the other hand he was also known as a fair man. Recently a heavily pregnant woman had lost two of her fingers in one of the machines after working a thirteen-hour shift straight through to try and fulfil an order. It was a known fact that not only had Samuel Forrester paid all her medical expenses, but he had given her a very hefty bonus and a small pension too. All in all he was feared, yet at the same time respected as being a fair man to those who were loyal and hardworking. Amy had no regrets about going to work for him whatsoever. At the minute she was right at the bottom of the ladder, but she was also young and ambitious, and her deep love of design held her there.
Molly, however, who was growing stronger by the day, was still not too happy about the situation. ‘It’s bloody cheap labour, that what it is,’ she would mutter when Amy came in at night tired to the bone. But Amy would only grin and let it go in one ear and out of the other.
It was satisfying being able to tip her wages on to the table each week. All of her life Molly had cared for her and now Amy felt that she was giving a little back. She was well aware of the sacrifices that Molly had made for her. To Amy’s mind, Molly needn’t have taken her in when her mother died. But she had, and for that alone, Amy would always be grateful. Molly had never really spoken too much about her daughter, except to tell Amy that she had been beautiful, and that her father had died before she was born. Amy didn’t like to ask too many questions for fear of upsetting her, although at times she ached to. But sometimes when she was tucked up warm in bed at night, her imagination, which was lively at the best of times, would run riot.
Molly had told her that she looked very much like her mother, so Amy would lie there in the darkness trying to picture her mother in her mind and wishing she could have known her. Even so, she was more than happy with her lot and though she regretted never knowing her parents, she couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone more than she loved her gran.
The evenings she spent with Toby were few and far between now, for most nights after her evening meal, all she wanted to do was fall into bed. Toby himself was very busy, too. As well as doing his shifts down the pit, he was also working for a few hours a week in the village school now, teaching the local children – and more than ever he now longed to make that job his career. On Sundays though, which was their day off, Amy would draw him sketches of some of the hats that were being produced, and then alter them to her own designs.
Toby was greatly impressed. Like Molly, he felt that Amy’s talent was being wasted. But every time he voiced his opinion, Amy would simply smile. For now she was content.
‘Everyone has to start somewhere, and patience is a virtue,’ she would say and Toby would smile back, his face softening and his blue eyes proud.
As Mary’s wedding day in mid-June approached, the cottages became a hive of activity. Bessie had scrimped and saved for months to buy the material to make the wedding dress. And then once it was purchased she and Molly sat long hours into the night stitching it. Molly’s fingers were nowhere near as nimble as they had used to be, but even so the finished product was breathtaking.
Amy herself had designed it and supervised Molly and Bessie closely. She bought a plain poke bonnet and stitched a veil into it, and the few people who were allowed to see it before the big day swore that they had never seen anything quite like it. Once the veil was stitched to her satisfaction she then took scraps of ivory silk and made them into tiny flowers that she sewed all around the brim. And then at last it was finished and all they had to do was wait.