The Ribbon Weaver

Chapter Eleven



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.

It was in front of one of these houses that the carriage eventually drew to a halt. Amy peered out at it. It had a lovely, brightly painted front door and a great brass doorknocker in the shape of a lion’s head. Steps led up to the door and an ornate iron railing ran all along the frontage. To one side of this were steps leading down to what Amy correctly guessed was the basement kitchen. The frontage of the house was nowhere near as big as Forrester’s Folly but impressive all the same, and as Samuel helped them down from the carriage, the front door suddenly opened and an elderly lady dressed in a severe black dress appeared on the steps. This, Amy soon discovered, was Mrs Wilcox, the housekeeper. She greeted her master and mistress politely, and then after helping old Mrs Forrester up the steps she beckoned Amy to follow her.

Amy’s heart was in her mouth. She felt totally out of her depth and was suddenly so nervous that she almost tripped as she hurried to do as she was told. Once inside the hallway, where the porter had deposited their luggage, Mrs Wilcox helped Mrs Forrester into the drawing room and Amy stood quietly taking in her surroundings. It was an extremely spacious hallway with a beautifully carved balustrade stairway leading up to the first floor. From the ceiling was suspended a beautiful chandelier, and on the wall above a highly polished hall table hung an enormous gilt-framed mirror.

She had no more time to gaze at her surroundings, for just then, Josephine Forrester entered, closely followed by her husband who was carrying two of her large valises, one in either hand. At almost the same time, another doorway opened at the far end of the hall and a young maid, whom Amy judged to be about her own age, appeared.

She smiled widely at the sight of her master and mistress and Mrs Forrester beckoned her over. ‘Nancy,’ she smiled, ‘this is Miss Ernshaw, the young lady I informed you would be staying with us. Have you prepared a room for her?’

‘Oh yes, ma’am, I ’ave.’ Nancy bobbed her knee as Mrs Forrester nodded her approval.

‘Excellent. Then may I ask you to show Miss Ernshaw to her room?’

‘O’ course, ma’am.’

Nancy turned to Amy with a timid smile as Mrs Forrester told her gently, ‘Go along with Nancy, dear. She’ll show you where everything is and then you can tidy up and have a short rest before dinner. I’m sure you must be tired after your journey.’

Amy nodded obediently, though in truth she was far too excited to be feeling tired. As they mounted the stairs, Amy noticed that Nancy’s uniform was identical to the one that Lily wore, and she guessed that Nancy was probably therefore the parlourmaid here.

Nancy led her up three steep flights of stairs and Amy noticed that the higher they climbed, the less elaborate the furnishings and carpets became, although everything was still spick and span. Once Nancy was quite sure that they were out of earshot of the mistress she grinned at Amy tentatively.

‘I’m afraid you’re up in the gods wiv me, miss.’

‘Oh please, Amy will do just fine,’ Amy told her quickly. ‘I’m simply a servant, the same as you.’

Nancy seemed to relax somewhat then as she led her along the final landing and pointed at a door. ‘That’s your room and this is mine ’ere. I ’ope I won’t disturb yer when I get up in the mornin’s.’

She threw open a door and Amy stepped past her into a surprisingly large room. ‘Oh, this is lovely!’ she exclaimed, crossing to a big brass bed as Nancy looked on and smiled.

‘Well, it ain’t as posh as the rest o’ the ’ouse downstairs, an’ it does yer in sometimes, climbin’ all them apples an’ pears, but I dare say yer’ll find it comfortable.’

Amy looked curiously around the room, but then more interested in Nancy for now she asked, ‘Are you the parlourmaid here?’

Nancy laughed merrily. ‘Nah. I’m more of a general dogsbody, to tell you the truth,’ she chuckled. ‘There’s only three staff ’ere an’ that’s Cook, Mrs Wilcox an’ meself, so I suppose yer could say I were sort o’ the laundrymaid, the parlourmaid an’ general maid all rolled into one – not that I’m complainin’.’ Her eyes were sparkling with mischief and Amy knew at once that she would like her. When Nancy then plonked herself down on to the quilted counterpane, Amy sat down beside her and began to undo the ribbons of her bonnet.

‘You ain’t exactly what I were expectin’,’ Nancy informed her cheekily. ‘I thought you’d be much older.’

Amy laughed. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

Nancy quickly shook her head, setting her brown curls bobbing. ‘Oh no, I ain’t disappointed,’ she hastily assured her. ‘It will be nice to ’ave someone me own age about the place fer a change, especially now I know you ain’t all la di da.’ Then suddenly remembering the time she rose guiltily and scurried towards the door. ‘Good ’eavens! Mrs Wilcox will ’ave me guts fer garters if I don’t get a move on, but per’aps we’ll have time fer a proper natter later on, eh?’

‘Yes, I’d like that,’ Amy told her. ‘And by the way, don’t get worrying about disturbing me in the mornings. I’ll probably be awake anyway; I’m here to work too so I get up early myself.’

Nancy nodded and after flashing her a final friendly grin she disappeared through the door.

Amy now looked about the room that was to serve as her home for the next month. It was a nice room with a huge mahogany wardrobe standing against one wall. Next to that stood a matching chest-of-drawers and on the wall to one side of the door was a washstand with a pretty flowered jug and bowl and a small pile of fluffy towels folded neatly on top of it. Compared to the little shaky-down featherbed that Amy had at home, the brass bed appeared enormous, and she bounced gleefully up and down on the side of it until the springs squealed in protest. Smiling, she hopped off it and, crossing to the big window, she drew aside the cretonne curtains. The sight almost took her breath away, for she felt as if she was on top of the world. The rooftops of London stretched away before her, reflecting all the colours of the rainbow as the late-afternoon sun played upon them, and Amy tried to lock away every little detail of the wonderful sight in her memory.

By the time she went down to dinner later that evening she hadn’t managed to sleep so much as a wink although she had washed and tidied herself and put her clothes away. She dined in the kitchen with Mrs Wilcox, Nancy and the cook and they all went out of their way to make her feel welcome. Cook, who was a round ruddy-faced woman, wrapped in a voluminous snow-white apron, had roasted a joint of lean beef for the master and mistress, but for them she had baked a large steak and kidney pie. The pastry melted in Amy’s mouth. ‘It’s as tasty as my gran’s,’ she praised and from then on, in Cook’s eyes she could do no wrong. The main meal was followed by Cook’s special jam tart, which again was so delicious that Amy had a second helping.

‘Dear me, I shall be as fat as a pig by the time I go home,’ she complained as she rubbed her full stomach.

Cook beamed with delight. ‘There’s nowt wrong wi’ havin’ a good appetite,’ she assured her cheerily. ‘An’ nowt worse than seein’ someone pick at their food.’ She then went on to tell Amy that she too originated from Nuneaton and had worked at Forrester’s Folly until the master had offered her a full-time position here.

‘I nearly snapped his ’and off,’ she admitted with a grin. ‘I like London an’ I’m settled ’ere now.’

Much later, when Amy had helped Nancy to wash and dry the pots and put them all away, she was summoned to the drawing room, where the family had retired to, following their meal.

Old Mrs Forrester had gone to her bed, worn out after the long journey, but the master and mistress were enjoying a glass of sherry as Amy nervously entered.

‘So, my dear, has Cook fed you?’ Mr Forrester enquired kindly.

Amy began to relax a little as she answered, ‘Oh yes, sir. In fact, I don’t think I could manage another single mouthful. It was delicious.’

‘And your room – is it to your satisfaction? Have you everything you need?’

‘Yes, thank you. It’s lovely. In fact, everything’s lovely. I can hardly believe I’m really here.’

‘That’s excellent then. I just hope you will still feel as enthusiastic in a month’s time.’ He chuckled mischievously. ‘But I warn you – I intend to keep you very busy indeed, young lady.’

Josephine, who had been listening with amusement to this interchange, now patted the seat beside her. ‘Come and sit down, Amy, and tell me about some of the designs you have in mind,’ she invited.

Amy did just that and the next hour passed pleasantly as she eagerly told Mrs Forrester of some of her ideas. The woman listened with interest, and when Amy finally climbed the seemingly endless stairs to her room she was in a happy mood. Undressing and hanging up her clothes, she then took up a pen and paper and began to write her gran a letter, telling her of as many of the day’s events as she could remember. She could just imagine Toby reading it aloud to Molly in the cosy little kitchen at the cottage, and a wave of homesickness washed over her. It should be with them within a couple of days if it went on the mail train, but she would still be here, seemingly a million miles away. After putting it into one of the envelopes Josephine Forrester had thoughtfully provided, she addressed it neatly before curling up into a ball on the comfortable bed where Nancy found her almost half an hour later.

‘What’s up wiv you then?’ she demanded.

Amy sniffed tearfully. ‘I reckon I’m just missing my gran a bit,’ she confessed.

‘Well, I suppose that’s to be expected. I missed me ma an’ all when I first came ’ere but yer get used to it after a while.’ The other girl was wearing a long white cotton nightdress with a warm woollen shawl wrapped about her shoulders, and without waiting for an invitation she clambered on to the big brass bed and began to tell Amy about her family.

‘Me da’s a bit of a bugger,’ she began suppressing a giggle. ‘There ain’t a finer man walkin’ the earth when he’s sober, but by God, when he’s had a skinful, woe betide you. Not that he ever raised his hand to us or nuffink like that. He was just silly when he was in drink and couldn’t hold on to a penny piece.’

She frowned now at the memory before going on, ‘Me ma used to chase him about the kitchen wiv the rollin’-pin, which was no mean feat if yer try an’ imagine that we all lived in a cottage not much bigger than this room. Eight of us altogether there were. Me mum and dad, me, three sisters and two brothers. There used to be ten of us but me youngest brother and sister died from the sickness two years ago. Not that it was surprisin’, if you saw where we lived,’ she said sombrely. ‘There’s a ditch dug between the cottages where the sewage runs away, an’ some of the rats are that tame the cheeky bleeders don’t so much as blink even when yer try to shoo ’em off. When I came here it was the first time I’d ever got to sleep in a clean bed all to meself in me whole life.’

Nancy grinned apologetically. ‘Hark at me ramblin’ on, eh? I’d better get off an’ let yer get some rest. Yer must be weary after the long day you’ve had, an’ you’re out wiv the master tomorrow, ain’t yer?’

Amy nodded as Nancy slid from the bed before padding barefoot to the door.

‘Night, night, sleep tight,’ she whispered, and Amy smiled sleepily as the girl slipped out on to the landing and closed the door softly behind her.

Just as Nancy had said, it had been a very long day, so Amy quickly slipped between the cold cotton sheets of the bed. And there she lay in the darkness listening to the noises in the street outside. Everything felt so strange and she was convinced that she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink, so it was a shock when her eyes flew open to find Nancy standing at the side of the bed with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. She was once again dressed in her maid’s outfit and she grinned as Amy’s tousled head appeared from beneath the warm blankets.

‘Come on, Sleepy’ead, rise and shine. It’s already ’alf past seven in the mornin’ an’ yer supposed to be meetin’ the master in the foyer at nine. If yer don’t get a shufty on you’ll not ’ave any time fer yer breakfast.’

Amy blinked as she knuckled the sleep from her eyes, for a moment forgetting where she was. Then she pulled herself up on to the pillow and gratefully took the cup that Nancy held out to her.

‘I must have slept like a log,’ she yawned as Nancy headed back towards the door.

‘Yer can say that again,’ Nancy agreed. ‘I reckon yer’d ’ave slept the clock round if I hadn’t woken yer. Still, there’s no harm done. Yer must ’ave needed it, so drink yer tea then come down to the kitchen. Cook’s got some breakfast all ready for yer.’

Once Nancy had left, Amy quickly drained her cup before scrambling out of bed and selecting a plain black skirt and a white high-necked cotton blouse from her meagre wardrobe. She then poured some water into the bowl and hastily washed and dressed. Finally she brushed her hair till it shone and tied it back with a fancy red ribbon that her gran had made with her own hands. Now she was ready to face the world but first she crossed to the window and drew aside the curtains. Although it was midsummer a thick smog hung in the air and Amy was amazed to find that she couldn’t even see the houses on the other side of the street.

She commented on it to Cook while she was tucking into freshly fried bacon and eggs, and the big woman laughed, setting her double chins wobbling.

‘Oh, you’ll soon get used to London,’ she assured her as she poured more tea into her cup. ‘Come mid-morning it will be as clear as a bell. It’s the winter smog you have to worry about. I’ll tell yer now, I’ve known it to be that thick yer can’t even see yer hand in front of yer, an’ that’s the ’onest truth.’

Amy shuddered at the thought but by nine o’clock she was standing in the hallway waiting for Mr Forrester, all ready to go. When he appeared minutes later from the dining room he smiled at her as he adjusted his hat in the hall mirror.

‘Did you have a good night’s sleep, my dear?’ he enquired pleasantly.

‘Yes sir, I did,’ Amy told him. ‘In fact, I think I’d still be in bed if Nancy hadn’t woken me.’

‘Good, good. Well then, it’s time we got down to business now. I’m going to take you to my shop here in Kensington today. I think you will find it very different to the shop we have back at home and I hope you will find it interesting.’

Crossing to the front door, he opened it and gazed up and down the foggy street then taking a solid gold fob watch from his waistcoat pocket he tutted impatiently. ‘I ordered a horse and carriage to be here for nine o’clock prompt,’ he grumbled, but at that moment the sound of horses’ hooves clattering on the cobbled street reached them and seconds later a carriage drew to a halt outside.

‘Ah, here we are.’ He quickly tucked away the heavy gold watch and chain and politely stepped aside for Amy to precede him. They then descended the steps and boarded the carriage. Amy had to pinch her wrist to make herself believe that this was really happening, for somehow she knew that this would be a day she would never forget.